Leave A Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Absence & Presence

He left almost two years ago.

It was an October morning when I came home from a light jog, setting my house key down on the kitchen counter. There was something off about the air—the emptiness that comes when a constantly occupied home becomes vacant.

The note was left on the counter, waiting for me when I got back. And I knew why it was there. I knew even before my shaking hand had picked it up, paper folded once in a perfect rectangle. The letter was short. Not even addressing me by name. Just telling me he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't live with me. That even if I found out where he was, I shouldn't try to contact him, because we were both better off living our lives apart. In just a few sentences and a signature, he had condemned me to that small property with painfully big rooms.

I stayed out my prison sentence, knowing I deserved each second. I had done so many things wrong. I didn't treat him right; and it was best that he left. Better for himself, because he deserved someone so much better. Whoever he ran off with was someone who would treat him with the love I couldn't give.

I loved myself, before this happened. I loved my work, too. I didn't feel this constant weight gravitating me towards every floor, every surface. Holding me down until I eventually accepted it as a part of myself. I knew I deserved it, like everything else in my life. I knew I only had myself to blame. I'd hold that knife against myself for the rest of my life.

I wanted to tell them this. I wanted to say all of it. But I couldn't get the words out. I was too weak, completely unable to say anything. Not like any of it mattered. Not like anything I said was really worth the air space.

I had long since collapsed into Ed's embrace. I had no concept of time, no clue how long it had been. I just let that heaviness pour out of me. In tears, in gasps, in sobs with my open mouth against his shoulder. I could tell he hurt when I did this; his arms pulling me against him a little bit more. That just slammed a new wave against me, and eventually I could no longer cry. Just give these weak, pathetic moans against him.

He held me tighter, the side of his head shifting to move against mine. He called my name, softly. It hurt to hear it again, even if it was spoken that gently. Even if it was from Ed and not left out of that note. When I flinched at the sound of it, I could feel Ed's embrace get a tiny bit firmer, his mouth muttering an apology near my ear.

He shifted his head again, and I let myself focus on his presence as a quiet sob skittered through me, shaking out of my throat. I focused on the warmth of his body, the slow deep rhythm of his breathing. Gradually, very gradually, the feeling of him returned me to reality again.

My sobs stopped in my throat, cut down into whimpers as my eyes opened in a squint. My lids stung, the inner skin raw. I could barely make out the darkness around us.

Night time, the rooftop partially brightened by all the lights of the buildings surrounding us. I had cried until the sun had set. Completely wasting their time. A small hiss cracked out of me, a sob racking my body.

"Sorry." I practically mouthed the word, my voice reduced to that of a mouse's. "I'm so sorry..."

Neither of them said anything. Ed just held me a little tighter. I could tell most of his weight had shifted, leaning a good portion onto his left leg. His metal one. I sniffed, moving consciously for the first time in a while and feeling the stiffness in my joints. I drew away from him, slowly putting distance between us. He resisted at first, keeping his arms around me before gently slipping them away, sliding his hands down to rest near my elbows. His eyes rose to meet mine.

A flinch of pain came to my chest as I looked into his eyes. He looked like he was in pain, and I could only figure it was because of how my eyes looked. Probably so red, so inflamed. Like some kind of monster.

He broke eye contact, taking a moment to study what I knew to be all the different lines on my face. I could feel them. Every one. Lines from tears, lines from pressing my face into the folds of his clothes. I blinked, still feeling my eyelids burn as I looked away.

My gaze rose, noticing a large figure in the darkness close behind us. Alphonse was on his knees, and I knew why. I knew why both of them were so broken at my outburst. There was so much pain in the world, and they were powerless against it.

Ed didn't ask about my breakdown. I expected him to at least say something, but he only watched as I brought my hands to my lap. He was still holding my arms, his gentle grip staying still as I clenched my skirt into my fists.

"I just got out of the hospital..." I tried to smile. "And I'm already slowing you down when I promised I wouldn't."

"You're not slowing us down." Ed's voice was incredibly quiet; broken. He looked away, clearing his throat. "If we aren't able to at least help one friend..."

He shook his head, filling the silence his words couldn't. Alphonse softly walked up to us, and sat on his knees beside Ed and I. He kept his stare down, hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not sure what happened, but I'm sorry it did."

He moved one huge hand, and I realized the offer he wasn't saying aloud. I forced my lungs to hold in a breath, keeping myself from breaking down as I reached out to his hand.

My hand really only wrapped around one of his fingers and most of another. I squeezed, mostly out of habit. Partially out of the idea that he could actually feel it. I watched those big lights curve into a smile.

"We're here for you," Alphonse said, and I felt my heart painfully expand. "I want you to remember that, okay?"

I forced myself to nod, glancing away from his face enough to see the soft smile on Ed's. That one he was always giving me.

I couldn't bring myself to reach up and take his hand in my own, but soon enough I saw his automail hand slide down my arm, fingertips hovering against my wrist. A silent offer. With my heart feeling like it was about to break from all this kindness, I slid my hand back, allowing him to cover the back of my hand with his. The metal fingers wrapped around my palm, still incredibly gentle. I watched, felt, his thumb move along the backs of my fingers and the start of my knuckles in a soft, delicate stroke. Loving.

I felt myself break, nearly cracking half of the wall I was rebuilding again. I forced myself to think about something else, and my mind went back to finding out what had happened to them. How they got the way they were.

"How can you two do this?" I asked, and my voice just sounded so shot. Like my throat had been burned. "How can you still go on?"

Ed took a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was quite. He spoke with the same gentleness he'd put into moving his thumb across my hand.

"There's people that make the journey a little less hard."

I looked up, seeing his eyes still on me. Still giving that same smile. I felt like breaking down all over again, but for a different reason this time. I didn't know how to thank them. I didn't have to words to. I could only watch Ed force his expression to be a little bit brighter as I sobbed again. I could only focus on the feeling of his hand gently squeezing mine. A reminder not to worry.