Leave A Scar

I awoke to the sound of rain pattering against the inn window.

My eyes opened, seeing the other half of the bed embedded with the ghost of Ed.

I moved my head down, watching him get ready for the day. But his eyes still looked so tired, just as exhausted as they did before I dozed off last night. My own sight closing, giving into the darkness descending over my vision and trying to balance the weight of myself. Fracture and repair at the same time; make everything not so unstable when he held me like that. Broken in the warm of a strong, flesh arm that shouldn't have to burden itself with my space. Occupied with trying to focus enough on the slight chill his automail gave out, even with the heat we radiated between mattress and sheet. Trying to break and build at the same time until sleep forced itself upon me.

I felt just as exhausted as he looked, sometimes. But then I remembered I didn't deserve to make such a comparison.

I slipped out of bed, padding on tiptoes until my feet stopped at his suitcase, already open wide for whatever I needed to pull out. My fingers walked in between a few folders, military documents, and dug up a fresh change of clothes. Things I wore, covered my physical existence with—a sight that was almost as scarred as the inside of me.

I nearly smiled at that comparison. In the other room, water shot out with a squeak, landing on a bath floor and creating solid patters. Rhythms that kept repeating.

I looked up, staring across the room and seeing Ed's body bow forward, arms reaching up to claw off his shirt. I focused on his hands, how they started off so pointed/clawed, a primal look before they latched onto the fabric, slipping the darkness away from his skin. Freeing himself from it.

I wondered what he would do, if he knew I couldn't free myself. I couldn't slip my skin off like he could.

With his hand hanging down at his side, metal fingers straightening and relaxing enough to drop the shirt in a small puddle near at his feet, his other hand rose. Tending to closed eyes, probably trying to wake himself up a bit more. Make that fatigue less noticeable.

He sniffed for a moment, making me worry he was getting sick again. And then he spoke, head bowing a bit. Eyes still closed away from me.

He began with my name, a word I was shocking those walls with. Testing them still, making sure they wouldn't break this early in the morning. With him here, standing far away like that. Speaking to me so softly.

"You know we care about you, right? Al and I."

I didn't expect him to say something like that. Anything... But that. I stared, stunned with my eyes wider than usual. And when I didn't say anything, he turned around, looking over his shoulder. Those eyes meeting my large ones. And a soft smile came to his face, as he stepped around to face me a bit more head-on.

He held my gaze, waiting patiently with the water still thumping in rapid movements behind him. Wasting energy, I wanted to say. My mouth opened, wanting to remind him he should get going. There was a lot of work to do today, and he didn't need to start with nurturing me. I didn't even have to continue on, if he didn't want me to. I could stay, leave as they did. Both of us parting ways again.

A wall cracked, breaking in between two middle layers. It was enough to flinch my expression into a wince, a light twitch of my brow. But instantly, even with that distance between us, that smile he always gave me flatlined. He said my name again, and I broke a bit further.

I tried to recover, regain myself as quickly as possible. My hand extended, waving out to him quickly, words coming out from grinning lips. A wide grin. One he wouldn't be able to see through.

"I-It's fine, Ed! I'm alright! You should get going; busy day today and all! I'll be waiting outside with Al, okay?"

Before I could do anything more, he took my hand in his, the one I held near my face. A soft, firm pressure wrapping around the width of my fingers. Pointing them all to the middle as if it were a one-star constellation.

I didn't realize the blush that was on his face, bȧrėly taking note of the faint color as I watched his lips move. Telling me something,

I just felt those walls harden, grow an extra story. Blocking out his voice, the tone of his words. I bȧrėly saw the light twitch of anger in his face, when I didn't respond.

And then his head tucked inward, forehead pressing against my hairline. And then, with one tilt of a metal hand, my face was lifted, our lips connected.

I relaxed instantly, every wall lowered, every torch lit.

He spoke, the faintest of smiles in his voice as he murmured against my lips.

"Yeah, you respond to this, don't you?"

If only he knew...

I kissed him a bit firmer, hand coming to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the start of his unbraided hair. The sounds of the shower captured my focus, bleeding into my range of attention. I felt the dėsɨrė burn, a hatred I hadn't felt in a long time. I wanted to drown myself, completely submerge everything that still kept me alive in the darkness I deserved. And if every drop that hit my existence was from him... Every look, stroke, every word spoken so softly I felt needles puncture something deep within me... If everything he did for me was one drop, I'd have enough to drown.

I realized how selfish I was. When we were on the train and he offered a drink. I hadn't heard him order it at all, only seeing the glass extended out to me, liquid squishing against the inner curve of the glass.

"Ed..." I raised my eyes to him, hoping he couldn't see how dead mine looked. But his were perfectly curved, hidden away from me. "It's nine in the morning."

"Which means it's five o' clock somewhere!" he chirped, motioning the glass to me again.

I sighed a little, taking the glass from him. Feeling one of his fingers sweep down, metal pad petting the back of my middle knuckle. Electricity sparked; some distant flash of something I instantly snuffed out.

I raised the glass a bit, as he drew back, talking to Al about something I didn't listen to. Trying to stare at the bubbles surfacing, popping. Their existence against pure oxygen so short.

What was I doing?

Traveling with them?

Existing still?

What had I done, so far?

I looked up, feeling like something had just called me. But no eyes met mine, Ed's didn't turn. That golden stare continued to focus on Al, who nodded along excitedly to whatever he was saying.

A memory flashed; the first request he had made. How... Embarrassed he looked. How much care he put into each kiss, every movement his hands had made against internally trembling skin. The way he waited, patiently planting kisses against a rapid pulse. Caring for me, a shell of someone I didn't know.

He turned to me, still talking away as he leaned forward, arms on their respective rests as his boot-clad foot gently pushed against my knee. Some question, some asking of confirmation that I could only smile at. Enough to curve my eyes, and the heat that rose to my face was something I didn't plan. Unexpected, and I felt that warmth grow as his grin expanded.

I bowed my head a bit, raising the glass to my lips and feeling those bubbles pop as they crossed over. Extinguished, but I held my focus to the Alchemist across from me. Listening to that voice yammer on, and focusing on nothing but that. I knew he needed me here; he'd said it himself.

The wound on my upper-leg protested, as I shifted my weight to the ball of my foot. Pressing down on the train's carpet, until the scabbing cut screamed in protest.

I built another wall, using the blood that wasn't spilling. The liquid that was trapped underneath the healing wound.

I built again, ȧssuring I wouldn't break this time.

I focused on Ed, smiling a little as I raised the glass to my lips, feeling the bubbles gently pop as I listened to his yammering.

They needed me here, and it was here I would stay. In whatever warped way I could exist.