It gets hard sometimes, seeing his brother clanking in the armor like everything was normal. It wasn't normal, no, not at all. This isn't how it was supposed to be-but that's how it is, the morbid reality of Edward's sin. It makes his heart ache, and of course it does, but he has no right to be selfish like that. He isn't aloud to feel sorry for himself; he made that vow a long time ago. Alphonse, his sweet brother-Ed wouldn't blame him if he up and left.

"Tell me when you find the stone, brother," Al should say. He should leave and stay with Winry. He should live comfortably, without a single worry, and wait until he can be truly alive again. Edward should be the only one to search. He deserves the punishment of loneliness. Yet, because Al is a better brother than Edward could ever hope to be, he's there, fighting just as much as his brother. He shouldn't, shouldn't, no, Alphonse, you should have stayed-

If he could go back in time, oh, if only, he would make sure the attempt at transmutation had never happened. This stupid mess he got his brother in should have never happened, never, Al deserved better.

Without a question, he would switch places with his brother, just tell him how. What's some automail? That's just some limbs. You don't even notice them after a while, after the first, devastating pain. Edward should be the one who feels nothing, not even the pound of one's own heartbeat, and sleep never. Because it was all his fault, not Alphonse's, even though he lent a hand. Ed knew how to manipulate his brother to do whatever he wanted, and he abused that power.

But those thoughts, they crossed his mind mostly late at night, have to be shrugged away.

"Head held high, Fullmetal," Mustang would tell him when there was reason to be upset. Yes, the Colonel was right. At a different time, when thing are better, Ed could think about those things. Shake it off, shake off the feeling, and wait for the better days.

It gets hard sometimes, when he remembers Nina. It took all of his willpower not to, but thoughts slip.

Nina. Nina. That beautiful little girl. He could have saved her, he should have caught on, he could have caught on!

"Let's play!" She would shout. "Let's play little big brother!" He should have been watching around him, left playing for when he was done. Tucker was shady, that was Ed's first impression of him, he should have been watching the signs, listening more carefully...

No chimera had been able to understand English before Tucker, right? Amazing things like that, at least from Edward's experience, only happen when you've been doing things you weren't supposed to. He only got less and less happy during the brothers' stay with him. Ed should have asked, should have looked for slip-ups.

Lesson learned. Some genius he was.

He wished, for Alphonse's sake, that brown-haired girls wouldn't wear braids.

"Brother..." he would barely hear his younger brother croak. "Nina..." And Ed would look, probably with a mournful expression on his face, at the little girl his brother was gesturing to, and notice that, no, she wasn't Nina.

"Al," Ed would have to say, trying to keep his voice strong, without remorse, not wistful, "That's not her." Al would nod, and Edward was sure, if his brother could feel, he would be wishing he couldn't.

Head held high, that's all. Save the thoughts for later, after, not right now.

It gets hard sometimes, knowing that there isn't a home to go to. And with that being said, it isn't hard because Edward knows he can't return, per se. It's hard because the memory of true, simple happiness is gone, nothing to look back on.

The books, they taught them well, have burned up in smokey flames. The beds that promised a night of perfect sleep are only dust. The kitchen where many early-alchemy projects were conducted remain an empty space that tries to tell stories of what once was.

The yard, once in full bloom of weeds and wild grass, are attempting to grow back to their former glory. The blades are so soft you mistaken them for delicate, but no Elric grass is delicate, never, of course not.

The days spent with their mother-not right now, Ed tries to keep her out of him mind even more than Nina.

The days spent with Winry, playing out by the creak, under the living room window, can never be re-lived, and Ed made sure of that. He's on a mission. Fix what he broke, find what he lost, that's right, get his brother back.

So, yes, focus on the goal, held held high, high...

It gets hard sometimes, seeing the happy military personnel. Ignorant to their manipulation, it's disgusting, it's helpless, it's another thing Ed wants to fix, but he can't, not right now.

"Don't you know that you're dogs?" he wants to scream, "Don't you know that the rumors civilians say about you are true? They're the smart ones! They didn't join!" But he can't, no.

The stupid wars that they wage, they're not wars. Cold-blooded, evil, horrible, genocide. And the soldiers, proud as they are, go along with it, because what else can they do? They didn't know what they signed up for; no one did. The conflict in Lior, who knows how that's going to turn out?

That's another thing that was Ed's fault, another thing he wishes he could undo. Ignorance is bliss, he learned that the hard way. At least, if Ed hadn't opened their eyes to what a big fake their oh-so-holy Father was, no one would be dying.

He should learn to mind his own business. Their visit there was when he and Al- though Al has every right to be- shouldn't have been selfish and tried to get that stone. It wasn't even real. There are times when Ed laughs at himself. He is, indeed, indeed, selfish to a point one is most unfortunate to be at.

Desperately, he tries to think of the outside world, the one that doesn't revolve around what he needs.

Lior, that stupid, pointless conflict. People, killing, people dying. Edward just hopes it doesn't become another Ishbal. He wasn't sure if his soul could take that.

Head...

Held...

High...

It gets hard sometimes, when he makes the mistake to think about his mother. She wouldn't approve of anything that happened. She would probably hate him. He hurt her Alphonse- No, he lost Al. He tried the most forbidden alchemy in the books. He joined the filthy military, something she taught her boys to not trust, not one bit. He let a little girl die. He caused a conflict that may result in a war, a genocide.

Those thoughts, tied with his mother, the woman who kept the fire in his heart, cause the selfish tears he hates to fall.

Fifteen years old, that's Edward Elric. It only took him that long to fuck up his and Al's life.

Oh, Al, you don't deserve this. You shouldn't have forgiven me, never, oh, Al-

Maybe Winry's, too.

Maybe Pinako's.

Hell, who knows who else's?

Drip, splash; the tears didn't make those sounds, but they might as well have.

I-God-I'm so ashamed, Mom, don't forgive me-

This is the time when he can release everything, think those thoughts, forget about the other people. When he was away from Alphonse, out doing duty in the office, at night, when no one was around, not a soul.

He's done so much wrong, so much, not enough right. What kind of equivalency is that? Oh, who care, so much wrong...

He can remember the day he tried to bring her back, back from the dead, the day he attempted the taboo-

So much blood, Mom, I'm so sorry-

And the tears fell, he was sobbing, and there was nothing he could do about it.

So much blood, it was yours, Mom,-

His sobs blocked everything out, he was letting himself be self-absorbed, again, and he was hoping no one would forgive him.

He didn't hear the door creak open.

"Edward?" The voice of Colonel Roy Mustang asked.

Ed continued sobbing, he didn't hear a thing.

So sorry... Al, Mom, Winry, Teacher, oh my God, why? What's wrong with me?

"Edward!" Roy said louder, and by then, he had reached the boy and began shaking him softly, not harshly, and only to get his attention.

Ed couldn't stop crying. "Sorry, Colonel... I finished cleaning so I'll be going..." he choked out between the sobs. Maybe he shouldn't have, maybe he shouldn't expect anything anything anymore, but Ed expected the elder to let him leave.

"No. Stay, go sit on the couch," he commanded, and Ed complied, shocking both of them slightly.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Roy spoke graciously, "But you cannot leave until your tears have dried."

Hearing that only made the small boy cry harder. And that's all he was, no matter how mature he tried to act. He was a boy, a boy, that's all, with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

They both sat in a silence only interrupted by the sobs.

The tears began to slow after a while, maybe Ed had gotten it out of his system, neither of them knew for sure.

"Thank you..." Ed said softly. There was nothing else to say. He stood up slowly an made is way to the large, wooden, military door.

Later, it would hit him the the Colonel, Colonel Bastard, saw him cry.

"Edward," Mustang said again just as he reached the door, "Head held high."

And Edward almost started his sobbing again. Those words...

Yes, head held high.

Higher,

higher,

up to the clouds,

until all you see is sunlight,

pure, glorious,

and everything fades away.

There's always tomorrow, right?

A/N- So, I tired to be sad...