Summary: Ed hates automail.
A/U: No idea where this came from... Remember to review!
If there is one thing he hates in the world- it's automail. This is something he and Winry don't- and never will agree on. She loves the way it sounds when it moves. How it looks and smells. How it feels cold to the touch. The way that it won't be damaged by mere flesh alone. How it is more beautiful, more perfect than any mere human could ever hope to be. If it had been his choice- he would have lived the rest of his life crippled- more so than now, anyway. He would have happily lived in a wheel chair, doing everything one handed and never walking again. If it was his choice- his life alone, that rest in the balance of decision- he would have welcomed death to his side.
But he had a responsibility to his little brother. Al, who meant more than life itself to him. Al, who meant more than death.
He hates the way it whirs and clicks. The smell of grease, the way it shines and sparkles like some sort of deity. The way it stays the same, unchanging, ungrowing- perfect. He hates it because it is not alive- and because it is not alive it cannot feel. Metal does not feel the pain and heartbreak- the exhaustion or desperation. Metal does not tire, weaken or give in. Metal does not love. Or fear.
He hates it because sometimes he's sick of living, sick of fighting- but afraid that to do so would be failing. Metal does not know when to give up. Metal does not know how.
He hates it because it does not die, does not decompose and does not end. Not for those tuned to the mortal passage of time. Steel, does not rot, or bend, or break or tear or fracture. He hates it because it's always there. Strong- like he pretends to be. Strong, like he is not.
He hates it most of all because it because it is flawless. But men are not flawless but creators that mock god and true perfection.