Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Dispair and Revival ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Eternal Fire Bird 
Anime/Manga: Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.09.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 747 | Visits: 295 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.09.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 747 | Visits: 295 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: don't own it
Chapter 5
The moonlight looked so pretty glittering across the floor like that, the white of the tiles almost silver without the sun to glare upon them. A soft, cooling breeze fluttered in through the open window and cooled the tears upon his heated cheeks. How many times had he woken up crying? It was getting so hard to keep count. Every time he woke up it seemed like he was crying or wanted to cry. Why? Why did he keep crying? Was it because of the nightmares? He hadn’t cried because of a nightmare in years so… why now of all times? Or was it… because… for some reason it felt like something had been snatched cruelly away from him. He heard the door open softly and the soft tread of boots. Winry was soundly asleep on the couch that had been moved into the room for her and didn’t stir when his nightly visitor took a seat on the chair beside the bed. Neither of them said anything for quite some time. The breeze continued to flow into the room softly carrying the song of the night birds and the summer bugs. His visitor probably didn’t even realize that he was awake, the shadows being as thick as they were. A shiver spiraled down his spine and he felt the visitor stand and place a thicker blanket over his fragile frame. Unbidden, his mouth and throat worked to voice the message of his nightmares.
“He’s dead,” broke through the night and stilled his visitor’s movements. “Isn’t he,” more of a statement rather then a question. Silence met his ears and he felt his gaze move to his visitor’s face. Dark eyes looked away as soon as he had turned his head, long fingers usually encased in pristine white gloves knotted into the fabric of his slacks. It was on that unblemished, usually frozen mask of a face that he got his answer. He wasn’t all that surprised really. His mind had known it all along and had tried revealing it to him many a time through his dreams. Shock and sadness didn’t rush through him as expected. Only a tendril of guilt crept into him as he returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“I want to see him,” he said. His visitor looked up surprised but he ignored the look in favor of counting the ceiling tiles in the dark. He could feel his heart stilling in his chest, though it still pumped life’s elixir through his body, as it grew cold from the absence of his younger brother’s presence and constant smiles. He would have to see his brother to know that he was truly gone and he would have to make a grave for him. A voice tried to get him to pay attention to his visitor yet his mind refused to acknowledge him. It was filled with memories and images of his brother, Alphonse running along with him through the fields of Risembool, laughing with Winry, training with teacher. Maybe he would bury a giant plush cat with his brother, since he always tried to hide them in his armor. Yes, he would make the long journey home and bury his brother beside his mother’s grave. He would help Winry and aunt Pinako with their automail business, settle back home, eat lunch at Al’s grave.
Maybe he’d start writing a book or something about his travels with his brother and how he was so heartlessly wrenched away from him. He’d probably build a small little house near where his old one was burned down and leave the military that Al had never wanted him to join in the first place. That would be fine wouldn’t it? Right, Al? That would be a good life to lead once he got out of this hospital. Right, right, he’d also have to apologize to Winry for hitting her and apologize to Aunt Pinako for yelling at her. He’d write up his formal resignation and hand in his pocket watch. That would be fine. Resign, go back home, and settle down. Is that ok, Al? Al? This is ok right? Al? …You’re probably mad at me for abandoning you but I’ll visit you everyday, Al. I promise. I promise, Al. I promise.
Chapter 5
The moonlight looked so pretty glittering across the floor like that, the white of the tiles almost silver without the sun to glare upon them. A soft, cooling breeze fluttered in through the open window and cooled the tears upon his heated cheeks. How many times had he woken up crying? It was getting so hard to keep count. Every time he woke up it seemed like he was crying or wanted to cry. Why? Why did he keep crying? Was it because of the nightmares? He hadn’t cried because of a nightmare in years so… why now of all times? Or was it… because… for some reason it felt like something had been snatched cruelly away from him. He heard the door open softly and the soft tread of boots. Winry was soundly asleep on the couch that had been moved into the room for her and didn’t stir when his nightly visitor took a seat on the chair beside the bed. Neither of them said anything for quite some time. The breeze continued to flow into the room softly carrying the song of the night birds and the summer bugs. His visitor probably didn’t even realize that he was awake, the shadows being as thick as they were. A shiver spiraled down his spine and he felt the visitor stand and place a thicker blanket over his fragile frame. Unbidden, his mouth and throat worked to voice the message of his nightmares.
“He’s dead,” broke through the night and stilled his visitor’s movements. “Isn’t he,” more of a statement rather then a question. Silence met his ears and he felt his gaze move to his visitor’s face. Dark eyes looked away as soon as he had turned his head, long fingers usually encased in pristine white gloves knotted into the fabric of his slacks. It was on that unblemished, usually frozen mask of a face that he got his answer. He wasn’t all that surprised really. His mind had known it all along and had tried revealing it to him many a time through his dreams. Shock and sadness didn’t rush through him as expected. Only a tendril of guilt crept into him as he returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“I want to see him,” he said. His visitor looked up surprised but he ignored the look in favor of counting the ceiling tiles in the dark. He could feel his heart stilling in his chest, though it still pumped life’s elixir through his body, as it grew cold from the absence of his younger brother’s presence and constant smiles. He would have to see his brother to know that he was truly gone and he would have to make a grave for him. A voice tried to get him to pay attention to his visitor yet his mind refused to acknowledge him. It was filled with memories and images of his brother, Alphonse running along with him through the fields of Risembool, laughing with Winry, training with teacher. Maybe he would bury a giant plush cat with his brother, since he always tried to hide them in his armor. Yes, he would make the long journey home and bury his brother beside his mother’s grave. He would help Winry and aunt Pinako with their automail business, settle back home, eat lunch at Al’s grave.
Maybe he’d start writing a book or something about his travels with his brother and how he was so heartlessly wrenched away from him. He’d probably build a small little house near where his old one was burned down and leave the military that Al had never wanted him to join in the first place. That would be fine wouldn’t it? Right, Al? That would be a good life to lead once he got out of this hospital. Right, right, he’d also have to apologize to Winry for hitting her and apologize to Aunt Pinako for yelling at her. He’d write up his formal resignation and hand in his pocket watch. That would be fine. Resign, go back home, and settle down. Is that ok, Al? Al? This is ok right? Al? …You’re probably mad at me for abandoning you but I’ll visit you everyday, Al. I promise. I promise, Al. I promise.