Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own FMA. tear
A/N: This is more a glimpse at Ed for the time-being, but there is Roy/Ed slash implied. You have been warned; don't claim you haven't. The title of this fic comes from the Frou Frou song "Let Go" (which is in "Garden State" at the end, if anyone has seen that). I recommend listening to it, but it is not at all necessary to understand the story. Enjoy!
This is a repost of this story, here's why: it has not changed from the original posting of it, however, I am currently writing another chapter (obviously it will become a Roy/Ed story instead of implied), instead of keeping it a stand-alone piece. So, I need to see that there's some interest, therefore, I need current comments. So please give me some feedback!
Beauty in the Breakdown
I like it when things make sense.
I like it when I can come to a reasonable conclusion about a reasonable concept by considering reasonable factors.
And this is why I like alchemy.
When you get down to it, alchemy is physics-plain and simple. Equivalent exchange. You can't get something for nothing. It's very basic really. Well...if one doesn't consider all the processes it involves and looks at the pure artistry of it.
I "create"; I build something by breaking down it's element.
And because of its utter simplicity, for me, there is beauty in the breakdown.
I wish it always made sense. See, there are times, like that day, when I was alone, sitting by myself, that I just don't get it.
When I was little, before human transmutation of any kind had entered my mind (and up until just before out little science experiment went south), I had thought that because life was based in physics, that it was as elementary as it.
How wrong I was.
And as guilty as I felt about my mother and Al, that experience did something else to me.
It shook my unshakable atheism.
Al assumes I hate religion. And I do. But it used to be because I was sure it was nonsense. Life was physics then. Not so much now.
If life were still only physics, that transmutation would have worked.
And herein lies my problem. When it failed, as I lay there in Winry's house bleeding and near death, it had hit me. I discovered there was more than I thought to a human. There was a soul. Something that, for once, I couldn't make.
If it wasn't something I could make...if it was something no one could make...then it couldn't exist. So there had to have been someone bigger who could...didn't there?
I shook my head roughly, almost to the point that it hurt. I was thinking crazy. I had decided long ago on my faith. Or lack thereof.
But sometimes...I just want so badly to believe in...something. Something more than cause and consequence. Something more irrational. Something more.
But my mind was far too analytical. And all this frustration would build up inside of me until I felt I would burst if I didn't let it out. So that day, with Al out of our dormitory and no mission to leave for until the next day, I did.
It started out as indignant, manly crying, because I sort of refused to. I hadn't even noticed I was losing it until I actually felt the moisture on my cheek. When I did, I immediately willed myself not to. I squeezed my eyes shut and this worked for several minutes. But then I felt a few tears squeeze through.
"Fuck it," I relented. If I had already started, I might as well do it right.
I didn't attempt to stop now. In fact, at this point, I couldn't have stopped if I had wanted to. I cried so hard it hurt. And when it began to, I still couldn't stop. It had been too long since I cried last. When had it been? Mom's funeral? I hadn't even cried when I lost my arm and leg. Nor when my automail was attached. So needless to say, it had been a long time coming. In that moment, there was no world outside my pain. For once, I allowed self-pity.
That's probably why I didn't hear anyone enter the room.
"Full Metal?"
I looked up at the sound of the all too familiar deep voice. Sure enough, there the Taisa stood. Perfect timing, as usual. And you know what? I didn't care. I was too tired. Too tired of holding it all in. So while the shock of seeing him silenced me momentarily, I soon continued, only a little quieter now.
He stood stock still, looking, not really uncomfortable so much as out of place and somewhat bored.
"I knocked," was all he said when it was clear I was not really going to acknowledge him, as though that explained his presence. That he had the right to enter. I didn't reply. I simply turned my gaze to the window and continued, silent now, but the tears no less fervent. My breath would rattle occasionally.
When I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, an involuntary, and, might I add, exceedingly loud hiccup escaped.
I didn't see the smirk, but I sure as hell felt it.
But since he refrained from commenting on it, I didn't punch him in the nose and actually let him sit beside me and pull me into his arms. Hell, I leaned into him. There was a smell of smoke (from Havoc or snapping, I wasn't sure) and cologne and something just...I don't know, undeniably Roy and I clung to him. It was nice. An odd feeling, comfort. Like love.
I heard him softly shush me and a few ragged sobs later, it worked. His grip on me tightened and I nuzzled the hollow between his shoulder and neck, scooting closer. I was calming at this point and he must have sensed this, for his next words were: "You can let go, you know."
So I let more tears come. And discovered that I was right about one thing.
There was beauty in the breakdown.
Comments please if you want me to continue!