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Rain pelted the windows like hail, wind tossed leaves and dirt in every direction, thunder clapped mercilessly and lightning lit up the sky. The worst storm in 42 years had arrived in Risembool on October the 5th.

A large, circular table was cluttered with poker chips, cards, alcohol and half-empty cigarette packets. They were there to celebrate the elderly mechanic’s birthday; a day that was sure to involve drinking, gambling and a colorful vocabulary that the children upstairs were forbidden to hear.

Drinks were passed and laughter echoed through the kitchen and up the stairs where a young blonde child struggled to get out of bed.

After a long, strenuous fight with the snake-like sheets, the child managed to get untangled and slide off the mattress. The soft thud of their feet on the cold floor, followed by the padding of the repeated steps they took out of their room and down the hallway were the only sounds on the upper level of the home.

The blonde stopped as a baby’s cry paused the celebration, but only long enough for a brunette woman to soothe the baby back to sleep.

“The older one, Edward, would make a fine husband for our little Winry.” A man with a knowledgeable and kind face suggested. The others nodded in agreement. “Who knows, the other one isn’t that far either.”

Said toddler whimpered lightly on the couch but soon drifted back to sleep and the celebration continued. The blonde let out a small breath and continued down the hall.

Lightning lit up the hallway and the blonde bit down a scream of fright and the thunder that followed didn’t help to soothe the child’s nerves at all. Whimpering in self-pity, the child hurried their steps and stopped their journey at a door near the end of the hallway.

The door was known to creak; the child knew this and waited for the perfect time to sneak in. Lightning flashed again and the blonde fought to keep concentration. Making sure to keep their mind on pushing the door open and closing it in unison with the thunder, the child made it into the room without much difficulty.

Another blonde child was asleep in the only bed in the room. Sheets piled high, that sleeping child remained completely oblivious to the new presence in the room.

Hesitantly, the blonde child took a step towards the bed, and another, and another until half of the original distance was covered. Thunder boomed again, closer to the house this time, and the other half of the distance was quickly covered.

Whimpering softly again, the child tugged on the comforter on the bed, trying to catch the dreamer’s attention. A soft groan signaled success and the child tugged a little harder.

“What’s wrong?” The muffle question arose from the head of ruffled blonde hair that covered the previously sleeping child’s hair.

“The storm,” was the whispered reply from the frightful child standing next to the bed.

A nod of understanding and the bed’s occupant shuffled to make more room. The petrified child still stood rooted to the spot but was uprooted when another flash of lightning lighted their anxious eyes and a clap of thunder resounded through the room.

Now safely snuggled into the warmth of the blanket; the upset child relaxed into the presence of the calmer child.

“It’s okay to be scared.” A whispered reassurance sounded louder in their quiet surroundings.

“I’m not scared.” Came the stubborn reply. Another boom of thunder, and the stubbornness melted away. “Okay, I am scared!” The anxious whisper quivered with the speaker.

The calm child smiled brightly as they looked down at their worried friend. “I’m here, so it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Al?” The suspicion that coated the sentence didn’t go unnoticed to the smiling child.

“Not even Al.” Their grin widened with the other child’s look of relief.

“What about the adults?” The suspicion was back again but less evident this time.

“Nope.”

They stayed up and giggled over plans for games due to come in the morning, pranks to be pulled and memories of both the pranks and the games that were played in the past. Hours past and eyelids drooped before the two were deep in sleep; forgetting about the storm that had brought them there.

The laughter downstairs swindled down to chuckling and the adults finally decided to put down their drinks and put away their cards. Dark smudges were promised to arise in the few short hours left until dawn, but they headed up to but nevertheless.

The sun was up and the smiling, although rather tired, faces of the adults looked quizzically at each other as the usually hyper children had yet to emerge from their bedrooms.

Together, the two mothers traveled up the stairs and into the first room. Upon discovering that the room was vacant they rushed to the other. The sight they found eased their worried brows and smiles reappeared on their lips.

Lemon-blonde and golden-blonde hair intertwined each other as two young children lay in a mess of limbs on the bed. Sheets kicked about and long forgotten lay on the floor unattended to.

Smiling knowingly to each other, the women closed the door softly and retraced their track down the hallway.

“They are so cute together.” One giggled lightly.

The other nodded in agreement, “Indeed they are. I can’t wait to see how they grow up.”

“How did they fair through the storm?” The slightly cranky, but still happy old woman asked while scrubbing away at the cigarette-ash-filled kitchen table.

“They got through it together.” Conversation ceased as the two young children made their way down the stairs, hand in hand.

The young boy immediately let go once the adults came into his vision. Reaching up skinny, pale arms to his mother, he hugged her tightly and chirped a quick “Morning Ma” before being placed down again.

The blonde girl tugged on the boy’s arm and directed him to the mountain of toys they had left the night before.

As the adults ushered themselves into the kitchen to make breakfast, the children sat discussing their favorite topics.

Silence fell over them as they fiddled with their toys. The boy turned to the girl and nudged her to get her attention. “Win, are you okay?”

Winry nodded, her eyes hinted to her slight confusion at the question. “Are you okay, Ed?”

Edward thought it over before nodding an affirmative. The silence resumed, occasionally broken by a self-made sound effect or an amused giggle.

The last of the storm faded and the two families parted ways. Ed wiggled his hand free of his mothers and ran up to Winry, bowing his head down to her ear. “Promise you won’t tell?” He pulled back and presented him little finger to her.

“Promise.” She whispered back and linked her little finger with his and a pact was made that day.

No one was to know that Edward Elric was afraid of storms. And no one was to know that the only person who could soother him through them was Winry Rockbell. It was their special secret, one they carefully guarded when in the company of others and treasured in the company of each other.

-Tsuki No Rin
:3