Edward didn't know how to feel.

The moment he had heard of what happened, he had been gone. He vaguely remembered leaving Alphonse at the train station, abandoning his younger brother in a flurry of emotions and running toward the incident like his life depended on it.

Like your life depended on it.

And seeing the blood that painted the streets, the signs of struggle and the darkness lingering in the air, it might actually have.

Edward felt his throat tighten. He grew cold as he wandered through the streets, rushing past the military officers surrounding the scene, ignoring whoever called his name.

Rain seeped into his clothes and coated his skin, but the chilly atmosphere was nothing compared to what he felt at the sight of you.

The words caught in his throat; all he managed to say was your name.

"{{user}}— {{user}}?"