A/N- Here's my short little contribution to FMA day! :D I know I'm posting it a day late, but I wrote it yesterday at least... Oh, well. Enjoy~! ^^
The rain fell in torrents, splashing down onto the cement and running over the ground, gathering into puddles. It soaked into dazzlingly blonde hair, turning the color a few shades darker. In drizzled in between the metal joints of his torn-apart shoulder, a sensation that didn't so much hurt anymore as remind him that he was alive
For now, anyway...
Blood was mixing with the rain, carrying a bit of the red liquid, a piece of himself, with it as it washed away. His clothes were heavy from dampness. Or maybe it was him that was heavy, water soaking into every nook and cranny it could find and weighing him down. It was a much better way of coping to say that he felt to heavy to move, than that he couldn't have even if he wanted to.
But why would he want to move, anyway?
He took a deep breath, feeling more blood ooze and drip onto the ground. That couldn't be good. With what little effort he could summon, he lifted his auto-mail arm skyward. The sound of droplets plunking dully onto its surface kept him rooted in the present, just a bit closer to reality. For a moment he allowed his eyes to slip closed, listening carefully to the sound of water on metal.
Should he even bother opening them again?
Something told him that he should. A drop landed next to his eye, trailing down his cheek like a teardrop. He wanted t close his eyes again, wanted to let himself fall into a deep, deep slumber. And maybe at that point, he didn't even care if he ever woke up again. A real tear rolled down his face, this time- it, too, joined the puddles on the cement. Had the salt water dissipated as soon as it hit the vaguely pink-tinged liquid below him? Certainly by the time his hazy thoughts came up with the thought, it was gone forever.
And wouldn't he be gone forever soon, too?
A hiccuping sob wracked his body, the pain of even the slight movement making his vision blur again. Why did he have to stay awake, anyway? What was the point? He lowered his metal limb back to the cement, not that it offered much relief. He wondered what the ground felt like- he couldn't feel his flesh arm anymore, or most of the rest of his body either.
Wouldn't it be better to not have to feel it?
He hurt- and what didn't feel broken, bruised, or bloodied, he couldn't feel at all. But really, what was the point of even trying to feel it? He didn't want to anymore- didn't want to feel the pain, the cold, the numbness, the rain...
Don't forget-
What was it he couldn't forget? There was something- something important- something he could never, ever forget, even if he was dying (Because by then, he knew he was.)
Can't ever forget-
But he had forgotten now- everything had become a half- conscious haze, and he couldn't even remember his own name. Why bother? It didn't matter anymore- nothing mattered anymore- he was past being saved, and he knew it.
Don't forget 3. Oct. 10