Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its franchise. Those belong to their respective owners.
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 199
Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: Broken Ceramic
Summary: Edward Elric hates his gloves.
His gloves are white.
His gloves are white and he thinks it's deceiving. He's truly surprised they managed to stay pristine after-
They hide mismatched hands. Hands that show the truth. His heart wavers between metal-hard and flesh-soft and is a study of contradictions at even the best of times.
He's even more astounded that thos gloves aren't soaked red all the way through. Considering his brother ( and if it weren't for him, his brother wouldn't be an unfeeling sould encased in armor), his mother ( it was bad enough she died – her ressurection of agony only to be killed by his own hands), and others he despaired of even naming.
Sometimes he wants to take those gloves and throw them against something and watch them break apart – no, shatter into millions of jagged pieces, irreparable.
But he is the Hero of the People. And when you are the hero, the first thing they look for are the hands – clean hands reassure them the best. They see the white gloves and think, surely he's as pure as the driven snow. We'd see it in his hands if he wasn't.
He's too compassionate – or too cowardly – to tell them otherwise.