Fault
A boy, a small one, sat on the edge of a low bed, his hands tangled in his blonde bangs that framed the side of his face. On the other side of the room, sitting on the opposite bed, was a large, silver suit of armor - but this, too, was a boy, despite the immense size of it.
"It's all my fault!" the golden-eyed boy yelled, angry. "It's all my fault that we did what we did, that you got trapped in that suit of armor, Al. It's not fair to you. It's my fault -"
"Brother -!"
"- that Hughes died. It wasn't fair to him, ei -"
"Brother!" the suit of armor said in a harsh tone, effectively cutting off his brother. "Stop blaming yourself. None of that's your fault, okay? I wanted to bring back mom, too, and I'm paying my price. Hughes went to help us on his own accord. Even if we'd've tried to stop him, he wouldn't've!"
The blonde looked at armor and sighed. "But you don't see it, Al. It is. It's my fault."