SUGAR COOKIES AND MEMORIES

A Collection of Drabbles

Disclaimers: I do NOT OWN FMA.

A/N: I, uh…this is weird, after reading MachineJunkie's fic (YOU WILL READ HER STORIES, DAMMIT.) Breakfast for Two, I remembered this, and how on Monday…heh, at school, I wasn't feelin' too good, and I had NO ATTENTION SPAN WHATSOEVER, so I dropped all my work and just…wrote. –grins slightly, shrugging.- Edo's POV.

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Dreams

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She had just been sitting there, for the longest time, on the swings. When we were little, my brother and I would tease her, by pushing her on the swings as high as we could, then running off and leaving her stranded, squealing, suspended in the air, as her legs had been too tiny to drag on the ground just yet.

Her head was hung, as if the pebbles beneath her feet were more interesting than the swing she was lounging on. The sun, its rays filtered through the leafy top of the tree I leaned against, hit her hair at such an angle that it shone. The swing made noises as if it were senile, and wanted to stop moving. Squeeeeak, squeeeeak, squeeeeak.

My eyes caught onto the empty swing beside her, and my lips quirked into a tiny smile. Stepping out of the shadow of the trees, I strode onto the playground from our past, my shoes making crunching noises on the pebbles. One hand shoved in my pocket, I reached out and took hold of the rope that poised the swing above the ground with my free one.

"Hey, Winrii," I said, rolling into my trademark grin as I plopped down onto the swing. She glanced up at me, and I could see her eyes light up, though she only let a small smile form expression-wise. Nothing big. Nothing that made it seem like she was happy to see me there.

"Hey," she murmured, then looked forward again. It was cold out, I thought as my gaze flicked up and down her body: her black boots, black stockings, the plaid skirt, brown coat, and white scarf that she was wearing. She caught my stare and I blushed and turned away.

"So, why are you out here alone?" I mumbled after a moment. From the corner of my eye I saw her shrug.

"It got boring at the house."

After that statement, our conversation turned to the creaking of swings as we swung, what we hated, and how boring days could get; all in all it was very uneventful chatter. It was when I started to explain what Al and I did for amusement when days got boring at Central that she dug her heels into the pebbles beneath her feet, halting the swing.

I blinked a few times, and glanced over at her. "What's wrong?" I inquired, a brow raising as I slowed my own pace.

"Ed," she said clearly, shifting her eyes over to me, "when will you just come home?"

I tensed up slightly, remorse spreading into my gaze. "But I am home," I insisted. "This is Resembool…I'm home."

"No," she spat, her brows furrowing. "I mean, when will you come home so I can stop waiting?"

Slowly, my face twisted into a frown. Watching her carefully, I mumbled, "I'm gonna be home soon. For good. No more visits. Just as soon as I can get everything back to normal." I knew she wouldn't understand, so I snapped my mouth shut and turned away. An edgy silence settled over the park and I shivered. It really was cold out there.

Gradually, she stood up, and, watching the ground, she brushed her skirt off, and turned to me. I eyed her sidelong, by now sitting motionless on the swing. It surprised me when she plopped down into my lap. I grunted, another blush forming on my already red face, which really made me angry. Frowning in a juvenile manner, I leaned away from her.

"I'm glad you're home," she whispered, smiling over her shoulder at me. I couldn't tell if her smile was forced or not, which turned my frown into a childishly perplexed grimace.

"For now," I grumbled to correct her. She sighed.

I couldn't help it. I wrapped my arms about her waist and pulled myself closer, resting my chin on her shoulder. Ignoring the tinge of red I caught on her face, as that would have been a good chance to taunt her, I closed my eyes and allowed a small smile to cross my face. I felt her settle against me, and I could swear I heard a whisper of, "I love you"; whose mouth it slipped from, mine or hers, I'm not sure.

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I hate the feeling of waking up to find that a dream you wanted to last forever had been extinguished, the flame dying, suffocated by reality. It always left me hopeless, staring at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry—though that rarely ever reared its damned head anymore.

So that's what I did. I lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling, hastily pulling the blankets up over my head, as if to shield myself from the disappointment that was as sharp as my gaze.

After a moment I couldn't take it. Flinging my blankets off of me, I swung out of bed and grabbed my coat. I wouldn't bother to call, nor let anyone know I was leaving. My brother wasn't stupid; he'd decipher this mess when he awoke.

Sometimes dreaming is the only thing you can do, but I wouldn't accept that this time. Relief flooded over me as I read the train schedule, a blustery wind clawing at my coat. The ticket was expensive, but I always had the money. I lacked clothes of normalcy, but, again, I had the money. Nothing mattered at the moment. This time, going home would not be a dream.

OWARI.

A/N: Eheheh…