Leave A Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Rain

"When the rain comes down and hits my face,

I try and remember a day when they weren't tears of pain.

When will it all go away?"

- So Easily, Rains

_________

The rain was already streaming against solid glass, when we pulled up to Exlomir, a small town in the north.

I watched those drops fall, slip from my view as they all found their way, sliding against the window pane. The train had ceased to follow in the rain's progress, continuing to stand at a stalemate with the tracks.

I thought about this, how trains were like games and tracks their opponent. Thoughts Ed would enjoy hearing, I was sure.

But the alchemist had already stood, and when he called my name, I rose, following the two brothers out.

_________

We were walking without an umbrella when Ed spoke.

"Doesn't this remind you of something, Al?" There was a pause, between his statement and his brother's name. Sometime thought he was leaving out, like it could be heard within the raindrops falling between all of us. The splash his boot made as it lightly kicked a puddle before stepping onto the cobblestone street again.

Al looked up, rain steaming down his helmet. I wondered if it was rusting; if he'd had problems with that before. If the rune that kept his soul intact was still dry.

Al finally spoke, quiet voice echoing out with patters of rain against tin-like metal.

"Yeah," he said. "I wonder how they're doing."

I didn't ask what they were talking about, continuing to look over to the other side of the street, where the alleys were darkest and the shadows were cut with the body of a dog trotting into view. Fur ratted and muzzle in a mess. It didn't pay any attention to me, snout nuzzling against a pile consisting of a banana peel and a carton of milk.

I turned back to Ed, seeing his gaze up at the sky again. Feet continuing to move, like they knew this path all too well. I'm sure they did, but I didn't let myself think on things that didn't concern me. I should've stopped myself from moving, too, should've stopped my hand from rising enough for my palm to curl against his upper arm. Feel the warmth of his skin and the firmness that wasn't metal. I hated myself for touching him like that; like I actually deserved to be in contact with something that wasn't hard and cold and inhumane.

I didn't let myself think on that, either. I spoke, voice quiet against the rain pelting my head. Reminding me of the train station when we had all bumped into each other.

"There's a hotel close by, right?"

There was nothing but selfishness in that statement. I was pleading for an escape from them, a fortitude for myself and a hideaway for the broken pieces I needed to repair. Today had been too long, too many thoughts slipping and shards staking into the floor of my mind.

He turned, just enough to let me see those wide(large) golden eyes. Perfectly calm, expressing no worry or anger or whatever emotion I had expected them to give. Whatever it was, I was foolish for thinking I could even see it. That I was worthy enough to even witness anything so above me.

"Yeah," he told me, something about the softness and care in his voice snapping a inner wall. I felt my fingertips tremble against his arm, and immediately he looked down to my hand. He stopped walking, and I stopped as well. Hand still there, as he kept talking.