[Fullmetal Alchemist] Timeless
Title: Timeless
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: K+
Characters: Edward/Winry
Word Count: 488; Flashfic
The simplest moments tend to remind of him of Winry-in his mind, they’re still ten years old and playing together in the grass, letting the rays of the sun soak their cheeks into red.
(The color red makes him remember their childhood; he thinks red is more than love, more than blood.)
He spots flower shops and passes them by, not bothering to look for her favorite bloom. Instead, he always keeps an eye out for automail shops and jots down the new models in a small, separate notebook. (He usually begins their conversations by mentioning one of these; of course, he makes sure that no one finds out about him taking his notes. Al saw the notebook once, but Ed made sure that his little brother brushed all of it off as unnecessary research.)
He doesn’t know what her favorite perfume is because he believes she never wears any, because she smells like sunburned hay-like home.
He finds out that she comes back to his memory in the strangest places.
.
He looks at a restaurant menu and orders decently healthier food (but never milk) because of her voice ringing in his ears. He usually shakes his head and tries to get rid of it all-her stern expression, the way she crosses her arms-but every time he brings his pen to write down an automail model number, every time he looks outside and sees a cheery girl her age with shopping bags in her arms, he wonders if he’s doing enough for her.
.
When he goes back home with nothing in his hands, she asks not a single thing. Instead she says, “Don’t surprise me all the time! Tell me when you’re coming.”
Ed would question why, but he knows she’d reply with something like I never know when you leave or come back.
He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to stay long enough to see her with half-closed sleepy eyes in the morning; he doubts it will be tomorrow, or the day after, or months later when her birthday comes around. When the calendar that morning signals that she’s a year older, he might not be there. (Not that he’d offer a big congratulation, really, because last time he tried to say "happy birthday" it came out as something like “You don’t even look that old.”)
He’ll always be younger than she, he thinks. He’ll always have to catch up, though she’ll stay where she is for him, ever-changing in her moods but keeping that same heart inside her-she’ll be his constant memory.
.
“So, you'll tell me when you’re coming next time?”
“…I’ll try.”
“Don’t make me go look for you again. If anything goes wrong with your automail-”
“I know, I know. I’ll call, or something.”
(He tells her that, but he will write letters instead-short and sloppy ones that she’ll receive a week late.)
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: K+
Characters: Edward/Winry
Word Count: 488; Flashfic
The simplest moments tend to remind of him of Winry-in his mind, they’re still ten years old and playing together in the grass, letting the rays of the sun soak their cheeks into red.
(The color red makes him remember their childhood; he thinks red is more than love, more than blood.)
He spots flower shops and passes them by, not bothering to look for her favorite bloom. Instead, he always keeps an eye out for automail shops and jots down the new models in a small, separate notebook. (He usually begins their conversations by mentioning one of these; of course, he makes sure that no one finds out about him taking his notes. Al saw the notebook once, but Ed made sure that his little brother brushed all of it off as unnecessary research.)
He doesn’t know what her favorite perfume is because he believes she never wears any, because she smells like sunburned hay-like home.
He finds out that she comes back to his memory in the strangest places.
.
He looks at a restaurant menu and orders decently healthier food (but never milk) because of her voice ringing in his ears. He usually shakes his head and tries to get rid of it all-her stern expression, the way she crosses her arms-but every time he brings his pen to write down an automail model number, every time he looks outside and sees a cheery girl her age with shopping bags in her arms, he wonders if he’s doing enough for her.
.
When he goes back home with nothing in his hands, she asks not a single thing. Instead she says, “Don’t surprise me all the time! Tell me when you’re coming.”
Ed would question why, but he knows she’d reply with something like I never know when you leave or come back.
He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to stay long enough to see her with half-closed sleepy eyes in the morning; he doubts it will be tomorrow, or the day after, or months later when her birthday comes around. When the calendar that morning signals that she’s a year older, he might not be there. (Not that he’d offer a big congratulation, really, because last time he tried to say "happy birthday" it came out as something like “You don’t even look that old.”)
He’ll always be younger than she, he thinks. He’ll always have to catch up, though she’ll stay where she is for him, ever-changing in her moods but keeping that same heart inside her-she’ll be his constant memory.
.
“So, you'll tell me when you’re coming next time?”
“…I’ll try.”
“Don’t make me go look for you again. If anything goes wrong with your automail-”
“I know, I know. I’ll call, or something.”
(He tells her that, but he will write letters instead-short and sloppy ones that she’ll receive a week late.)