Drabble 2
Title: D1
By: Cringe

Archives: my LJ and FF . net
Note: This is a wierd humorous angst thingy...(is there even such a thing?...well I guess there is now!) semi-sequel to Death(hence D1 or drabble/chapter 2)
Warning: ANGST! what else? TWISTED angst!
Disclaimer: Me no own...-sob-
Summary: His fault, all his fault. That is the only thought that runs through his mind, his fault. He shouldn't have sent Ed, he knew what could happen.
A/N: Sorry, this has been posted in my LJ for about a week, completely forgot that I hadn't posted it here yet, Gomen. And I am a fan of multiple reviews! one, it lets me know if the previous readers are still reading!
Reviewers: Thank you! Especially since I know angst isn't usually people's favorite genre, i'm flattered. :)

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The black haired man slumps over. A bottle of whiskey is clutched in his hand as his eyes flutter shut. He thinks nothing of it, nothing at all, after all, what is one bottle compared to the 6 empty ones that reside below his desk?

His fault, all his fault. That is the only thought that runs through his mind, his fault. He shouldn't have sent Ed, he knew what could happen. He knew, but he never thought that it would happen to Ed, Ed was, was well, he was Ed, he wasn't supposed to die!

The man blinks blearily at the bottle, why was he drinking again? He wonders. The drunken foggy haze clouds his minds, when the answer hits him with devastating clarity, Edward's dead. He shudders, a choking sob emerging from his throat. If he remembers, then he hasn't drank enough. He chugs down the remains of the whiskey and slumps forward, unconscious.

"Stupid baka colonel, you're going to drink yourself to death." The golden haired entity mutters, he pulls off his red coat and drapes it across the man's shoulders. "Not your fault I'm dead, was mine, I should've been more careful." He runs his hand through tousled hair"Bah, you're a mess" he sighs"well, I might as well stay round for a while, you all are a mess." He sighs again"Now I gotta go visit Al…Oh, and Hughes says Hi." He smirks… "And to make sure you take lots of pictures of Elysia" He fades away.

Roy wakes up blearily, and the echoes of a familiar voice drift towards him, Not your fault I'm dead, was mine

Had it been real he wonders? But only for a moment, bitter reality crashing into him, he reaches for an 8th bottle, and freezes. He feels a warm, solid, comforting weight on his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye he sees red cloth. Red cloth and a black flamel on the back.

He grins, a watered down version of a smirk. No, not his fault, he'd be sure to rub it into Fullmetal's face, the next time he saw him. Then he looks at his hand, realizing it was clenched around an unfamiliar weight. He looks at it puzzled. Why the hell was he holding a camera?

-owari-