Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: Don't tell me it's short, because I know it's short, even shorter than the two previous ones. ;.; Yet, I think it's pretty as it is. References to Hughes, no major spoilers.
Thanks to all reviewers, I love you all to bits! And to Hellokitty-4-ever, for her review in Kissing, we can't live without them because they're part us, the same way we are part of them. And yet, they are still very much troublesome. n.n;;
Apple pie
18.03.2005
They sit together in the same red couch, silently, side to side. Neither is able to say anything to the other. No reassurances or comfort, no soothing words. Instead, in the darkness, he slips his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer in a hug.
She is startled at first, and seconds later, Winry finally settles her head in his shoulder and her blonde hair falls over her eyes. The girl struggles to stop sobbing, because it only makes his face twist further in that painful smile.
She grimaces in distaste at her state. Hadn't she vowed to herself that she would make him smile and laugh once again? And yet, there she is, hiding her own tear-streaked face against his chest, weeping like a lost child.
How is she supposed to make him smile like this?
Edward wants to tell her not to cry anymore, to gently scold her for being so silly and a cry-baby. He tries very hard for her, very hard not to cry as well. And suddenly, he misses his ally the rain this moment.
He wishes for the rain even when it turns the tombstones cold and the ground muddy, when it forcers people have to say goodbye under a gray sky. On a gray day, a mother and her child were left alone.
"It's not fair, Ed…"
She whispers his name almost breathlessly, and he kisses her hair out of sheer instinct. She puts all her will in suppressing another mournful sob and nods against his chest, over his already dampened shirt. She understands.
It hurts, to both of them. And so, her arms circle slowly his neck and she leans a little closer.
"Everything will be okay, Win. I know it will." She grips his white short tighter, nodding once again. "I promise."
The apple pie lies on the coffee table, two tiny slices missing already. And two teas grow cold along with it.