Smile
ichi
Do you remember when you used to laugh? When you would smile so big that I thought your face couldn’t possibly contain it? Do you remember those days when all we would do was draw circle after transmutation circle – not because we had to, but because it was who we were?
When I remember, it is of those long summer days spent reading over his notes and books. It was when we would compete with each other, but the final result was just to see her smile. You got your smile from our mother: that brilliant, bubbly flash of emotion. We always thought we were enough to keep her alive, but we weren’t even enough to bring her back.
I wish we could go back, wish we could simply forget and move on. I wish that you would smile again.
---
He turns his head slightly to study the figure hunched over beside him. His companion’s face is scrunched, brow furrowed in concentration. His blazing eyes pour over the thousands of words set out on the ground beneath him, not even pausing as they skipped from book to book. A gloved hand reaches up to flick a lock of golden hair out of his vision, and Al winces at the flash of metal beneath his brother’s cloak.
Ed’s head rises up casually, and his eyes take on a look of pain, of remembrance. Alphonse watches as his brother cradles his automail ligament against his body tenderly, for a moment forgetting the world. Neither boy moves, both hardly dare to breathe, just lost in the silence of the library.
“Al?” the blonde inquires, barely a whisper.
“Mm,” he mumbles his reply, shifting his gaze from his brother down to the floor.
“Do you blame me? You know, for…” he trails off, but Al knows he is referring to the metal casing in which he now resided. He always knew this would come up eventually, but he wished his brother would retract the words.
“Never, brother.”
“I just…” Ed pauses, shakes his head, fighting inner thoughts, inner demons. Al reaches out a cold hand, hoping to offer some sort of comfort. “I’m sorry,” Ed bursts, turning away.
And for another long moment the room is left waiting in silent expectation, the very air stilled in anticipation. What could he say? What was there to say?
“I’m sorry, too, brother.”
“I just…it still doesn’t feel real, y’know? Like any minute Mom’s gonna come right through the door and tell us to put his books back when we’re done, like he’ll come back some day. And we will. We’ll memorize every word, and put ‘em back on those dusty old shelves, and everything will be normal again. We’ll make things, and Mom will laugh, and –”
“And you’ll smile,” Al thinks.
“And you won’t be stuck in that metal suit.” His voice fails him once more as he is transported into the past, into the carefree days of their childhood.
And if you were to ask him about that day, Al would swear that under the golden hair, and the shadows, he caught Ed’s mouth lift, ever-so-slightly, at the edges. It would form an upside down arc, a simple little shape that would forever carry them both through life. Through death. Through the trials of their journey, and the battles in their own hearts.
Just a simple smile to make a small boy’s wishes come true.
When I remember, it is of those long summer days spent reading over his notes and books. It was when we would compete with each other, but the final result was just to see her smile. You got your smile from our mother: that brilliant, bubbly flash of emotion. We always thought we were enough to keep her alive, but we weren’t even enough to bring her back.
I wish we could go back, wish we could simply forget and move on. I wish that you would smile again.
---
He turns his head slightly to study the figure hunched over beside him. His companion’s face is scrunched, brow furrowed in concentration. His blazing eyes pour over the thousands of words set out on the ground beneath him, not even pausing as they skipped from book to book. A gloved hand reaches up to flick a lock of golden hair out of his vision, and Al winces at the flash of metal beneath his brother’s cloak.
Ed’s head rises up casually, and his eyes take on a look of pain, of remembrance. Alphonse watches as his brother cradles his automail ligament against his body tenderly, for a moment forgetting the world. Neither boy moves, both hardly dare to breathe, just lost in the silence of the library.
“Al?” the blonde inquires, barely a whisper.
“Mm,” he mumbles his reply, shifting his gaze from his brother down to the floor.
“Do you blame me? You know, for…” he trails off, but Al knows he is referring to the metal casing in which he now resided. He always knew this would come up eventually, but he wished his brother would retract the words.
“Never, brother.”
“I just…” Ed pauses, shakes his head, fighting inner thoughts, inner demons. Al reaches out a cold hand, hoping to offer some sort of comfort. “I’m sorry,” Ed bursts, turning away.
And for another long moment the room is left waiting in silent expectation, the very air stilled in anticipation. What could he say? What was there to say?
“I’m sorry, too, brother.”
“I just…it still doesn’t feel real, y’know? Like any minute Mom’s gonna come right through the door and tell us to put his books back when we’re done, like he’ll come back some day. And we will. We’ll memorize every word, and put ‘em back on those dusty old shelves, and everything will be normal again. We’ll make things, and Mom will laugh, and –”
“And you’ll smile,” Al thinks.
“And you won’t be stuck in that metal suit.” His voice fails him once more as he is transported into the past, into the carefree days of their childhood.
And if you were to ask him about that day, Al would swear that under the golden hair, and the shadows, he caught Ed’s mouth lift, ever-so-slightly, at the edges. It would form an upside down arc, a simple little shape that would forever carry them both through life. Through death. Through the trials of their journey, and the battles in their own hearts.
Just a simple smile to make a small boy’s wishes come true.