#047- Heart
He knew that, technically, he didn't have a heart. He was, quite literally, hollow.
There was nothing of substance, nothing tangible contained within himself. He was a walking, talking suit of armor with nothing but a small seal of dried blood tying him to this world.
If you thought about it, it'd seem a wonder that he could feel at all. How was it that he could feel compassion from a kitten's pleading gaze? How was it that he could feel sharp fear when staring at the end of a polished wrench? How was it that he could he feel glad seeing a tight, grim mouth curve into an easy smile?
He never really understood how it could be. He had answers after poring over various thick tomes, asking alchemists, and even cautiously venturing the topic with his brother. He had answers and none of them made sense.
He clenched his fists.
If he was so empty inside, a vessel for faded memories and a wispy soul, he should not have been able to register, to feel, the dark, lonely pain clouding her eyes. He should not have been able to feel the frustration in his tense shoulders and downcast face. He should not have been able to feel a faint hopelessness within himself as they left yet again-
"Be safe," he heard Winry call out. Her smile was brave as he and Edward waved. And then, quieter as they turned, "…don't keep me waiting so long this time."
He should not have, but he did. He could feel her words, her love, her hurting heart.
A/N: although this collection is meant to be Edward and Winry focused, you can't really talk about the two and leave out Alphonse.