More angst...
Standard disclaimer: I don't own any of FMA.
Alas "For if wishes were fishes we would walk on the sea". Ne, Kumiko!

Written by and posted for TimCHell by Kumikokun...we share this account, XD

The Paleness of Sorrow

White surrounded him.

He had always disliked the color. Stains were all too visible on its purity. They were only too easy to see, and so difficult to remove.

Not like black.

He'd always preferred black. You could stain something that was black a thousand times never know the difference. With the obvious exception of the person inducing the filth, of course.

Maybe that is why he hates this place. Too much white. Too many stains that are easily seen by his mind's eye. Reminding him everyday that something important had been forgotten. That a task had been left undone, or worse, had failed entirely.

He often thought of staining the whiteness completely, therefore rendering it dark. Perhaps not quite black, but better than the alternative. After all he was quite fond of red as well.

He would then look down at the confining jacket that held his arms immobile. The buckles and straps would glint with their innocent intent to constrain. No, even that option had been taken from him. There wasn't anything sharp in the room, not even the walls offered the possibility of escape from the whiteness. Pity, because he really did like red.

It was nice to think of red and black, because they always nearly brought back a memory. His mind would always vaguely recall warmth and golden color when he thought of red or black.

However, it was always bittersweet. Because the memories were never enough. Because then the rage would come. His rage at the berevity of his shattered memories. His cries would be buffered by the padding of the walls. His ragged breath would fill his aching ears.

Always the memories of warmth and golden color came to a close with the harsh bitterness of white winter. He was left only with the hated paleness and a terrible feeling of loss and sorrow.

But with the sorrow came a small measure of comfort. For when the glittering wetness darkened the white cloth of the floor, he would smile brokenly at the effect. He knew always, that this release from the accusing paleness was fleeting. So he would shed just a few more tears and watch. He would hold that slight darkness with his eyes, and wait.

Always he would wait.

fin

Geez, I don't know why but, well here it is. I don't even know if it makes sense. sighs
Well, at least it is out and I can move on to some fluff.

Grr...I couldn't think of a good name either.