Pairing: Elricest [Ed/Al]
Warnings: Angst, death and death! D: Also, not beta-d so... careful, there. Plus this is the first time I post here (not being an icon post x_x).
Spoilers: Don't believe there are any...
Word Count: 860-ish
Summary: For the many months you were sick, I locked myself in your old room and played piano, trying to teach myself how, actually. I remember you told me it was the only music you liked, you said it calmed you down, that it reminded you of me, because the melody was sweet, and so was I.
This is what happens when you listen to the OST's Wakare no Kyoku (Piano Version) TOO MUCH. Don't. Also, this was greatly inspired by annabeth great and awesome Evanescence fic. This isn't even compared to it, though. :3
I believe there is a heaven for all of us designed to fit our souls and empathy. And memories. And sins. They say that hell is worse than what the mind can imagine, but we never think of heaven. We dare not picture a clear and authentic vision of paradise; we dare not to close our eyes and take a picture of what our heart shows us, to let ourselves dream. There is always fear of being wrong, of expecting too little or too much of the real thing.
I believe people die. I believe the breathless body can rot, and in consoling a weeping family. But I believe the soul still cries, it longs, still, after it has seen it all and experienced golden glory and the best of all; loss.
I see a loving picture, perfect in time, still and frameless. It dances and sings to my heart to awaken my mourning memories, and reminds me of the blissful past. I dare not cry, for I know the burning sun will dry my ocean, wipe my tears, and help me rise.
But, oh my brother, it’s so hard.
Not an hour has passed... yet here I am, writing of your life, your smile, your stories, and your anguish, in a darkened room with your body by my side. Soon Winry will come, and Auntie Pinako, and maybe the Colonel and the rest of our friends. I do not know where Dad is... I’m sorry.
I’m sure Winry will cry, even though you promised you’d never let her do that for you again, but she’ll be glad you took care of her automail this time, hopefully.
For the many months you were sick, I locked myself in your old room and played piano, trying to teach myself how, actually. I remember you told me it was the only music you liked, you said it calmed you down, that it reminded you of me, because the melody was sweet, and so was I. Everyone was bringing you gifts, and I didn’t know what to give, what would be best. I was afraid, so afraid you would leave me, but I knew things were how they were and I could not change the facts. So, I tried composing a song I could play for you while you breathed for your last moments, I wanted to be there, playing. I guess... it is too late now, isn’t it?
My pen is running out of ink now, and my sleeve is smearing the edges of the paper.
I hope I see you again, brother, in heaven. Our heaven. Where I will eternally play for you, soothe, and caress your soft, complete, god-given body.
To my father and my beautiful mother... thank you.
I love you, Edward.