AN: another boring, sentimental chapter, but I promis that plot is on the way, we are almost compleetly finished the morbid drivl I am sproutin so depressingly.

Well I hope u enjoy the next depressing chap!

Xx belledonner.

DISCLAIMER: they own the neighborhood, I just rent the house.


And I don't want the world to see me,

Cause I don't think that they'd understand,

When everything's meant to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

Goo goo dolls- iris.

The senary past by his window, marred by the faint webbing of fingerprints where he had pressed his hand to the cold glass, congealing with the mist that billowed out across its surface with each exhale of breath that coursed through his unfeeling lungs. He felt like he didn't need to breath, all the movement was doing was clouding the view of the world. A world that slowly turned from farmland and crop fields to the sparse and uncultured emptiness with only a few rocks between the dunes to break up the endless nothingness. And through the hours that had past with the world outside the train, he had stared at it all, not seeing the glistening brilliance of the hot sun sparkling across the fine grain of sand, nor the storm that he had left behind; now barely a bruise on the horizon of the perfect sunset.

That bruise would be still hovering over Resembool, so he forced himself not to see the background as he past it. Passing too swiftly to take in the real beauty of it all, too fast to notice that there was nothing at all left to witness it. For all its perfection, the golden desert was still flawed, harsh and unforgiving: ugly.

He had not slept, though his body ached from the stiff position he held himself in, the uncomfortable bench digging in at his back and chafing with every jostle of the train. He hoped Al was at home, asleep with Winry by his side. Roy…he hoped Roy was safe… once again he stopped thinking. Letting his mind fall numb with his body, blocking all senses and thought, giving into a type of self inflicted comer.

Unresponsive to the world's flawed perfection around him.

OOO

The sound of grinding steel grated on his nerves and echoes through his head to stir his consciousness from its catacomb as the train slowed to a stop. Outside in his perefial vision he could see the sprawling ruins or Lior, the town he had ignored. He had stopped running from one mistake to flee from another; at least he would have time to fix this one.

As he stepped off the train, he left a weight behind and bore another in place.

Roy staggered through the torrent of rain that blinded him, drenched his senses to a mind numbing nothingness. The water didn't fall from the sky; it cascaded as through tipped from a child's cup in clumsiness, the sheets of bone chilling water so cold as to form a slush of sleet that pounded against the ground and turned the dirt to an oozing mud that caked his shoes and sucked at his feet as though to keep him there with its grasping arms of rotten sludge.

It fitted, he supposed, that this would be the weather to best suit his mood; but then, he would never be so undignified as to cry.

The tear shaped droplets fell so fast and close they merged into sheets, poring down his cheeks and running rivets through his slick ink black hair. Down to join and mingle with the sweat that beaded in the pores of snow pale flesh only to drown helplessly in the crystal ribbons that ran down his throat; pooling for barely a moment at the base of his neck, in the hollow formed there before trickling beneath his a collar so saturated with water and misery it could no longer soak the liquid or retain any heat.

Roy didn't care. He felt every droplet on his skin, felt the sticky clench of wet fabric, to tight with water, cling to his body and impair his movements. He felt the chill that slowly seeped into his bones and forced his teeth to click against each other almost silently in the roaring rain as his jaw clenched against the shivers that threatened to quake his body. He felt the raised gooseflesh on his arms and neck, the slight heaviness of rain droplets on his eyelashes and the intense cool as they slipped over his eyelids and down the sides of his face to join the rivers he could feel trickling over his jaw line and down his tightly strained neck. Felt the tendons and muscles ach from constant straining to see through the ceaseless downpour.

Roy wanted nothing but to forget.

The sight that was blurred through his vision looked drained of color, through the gray of the rain like a filter from the real world that he would not let touch him.

Not mentally.

He immersed himself in his physical senses so he could forget the psychological wounds that dug deep into his grey soul and sapped the pigment of gold from everything; turning all his priceless memories to cheap, silver plated souvenirs that he would rather leave in a corner of his mind to collect dust than take the bother to throw them away.

He blended with the background, becoming grey and lifeless in the torrent of never ending rain that fell from the sky.

He trudged towards the train station that never seemed to get any closer no matter how long he walked.

Alphonse would be there; he knew and hated the fact. But he still struggled forward away from the sucking sludge that he drug his feet from time and time again when all the wanted to do was let the ground open up beneath him and pore the stinking mud down his throat. To let it wash away the vile taste of loss and take him from the misery he could not hide from even in his own dull mind hung with cobwebs of unkempt.

The water tasted too pure as it creped through the corner of his mouth, a hollow and faded echo of what was once his.

He didn't want pure. He wanted nothing to remind him, he wished for the taint that could drown him as it once did.

His foot hit the first wooden step long before Roy heard Alphonse's whispered questions barely heard through the veil of rain and pain that clogged his mind and suffocated him.

.