So I'm using fanfictions for school projects such as short stories and writing prompts for writing class and after all that's done and over with, I post them here for you guys to enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMAB

The night sky lit up with bright colors, the ear-shattering boom echoed through the large field. It was New Year's Eve night, and everyone in Amestris was attending Central City's large display of fireworks, including the infamous Elric Brother's.

"Gah," Edward leaned back on the blanket that was spread out for him to rest on. "Why do I have to be here? I should be out looking for the Philosopher's Stone."

Alphonse, Edward's younger brother, sighed. "It's New Year's Eve, Ed, we deserve a break. Besides, the Hughes family were nice enough to invite us out here, be polite."

The said man, Maes Hughes, turned his head and smiled. "Fireworks are fun, don't you think Elysia?" The man in glasses asked his two year old daughter, even though she couldn't reply with words.

"Fine," Edward groaned. "but why did Colonel Jerk-head have to come?"

"Colonel Jerk-head is right here, and he can hear you." Roy Mustang, the guy's real name, retorted from his own blanket, besides Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

"That's the point," Edward snapped back.

"Hey Chief," Havoc, another soldier attending the event, interrupted the usual bickering between child and adult. "Catch," He threw a bottle of water to the oldest Elric brother, who caught with ease.

"The team is all here because Hughes decided to make this night special for the two of you." Roy told Edward, who was in the process of chugging the water. "It's the first time you and Alphonse are spending New Year's with us, might as well invite everybody."

"Yeah, whatever." Edward went back to lie down, there was still an hour and a half until midnight, and he was going to sleep while he could.

It's only been a few months since Edward joined the military at the age of twelve. Well, it was more the State Alchemist program, but it was part of the military. Almost three months since Alphonse and himself burned down their home on October 3rd, destroying the memories along with it.

The images of that night the two brothers performed the forbidden taboo, still haunted his sleepless nights. The date carved into his pocket watch mocked him, reminding him every time he checked the time, that he was a failure. If that wasn't enough, his two fake limbs smacked him into reality, the pain of his failure was real and physical. The blood seal painted onto that suit of armor he now calls a brother, made his pain, mental and emotional.

Every once in a while, Edward will wake up in a bad mood, and for the day, he won't do anything but stay in bed. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, as Winry and Granny Pinako like to call it. Most common to anyone who lost a limb one way or another; even more, it's found in every soldier who's ever had to "dirty" his hands in the midst of war. Apparently, after Edward tried to bring his mother back to life through Human Transmutation, leading to the loss of his arm, leg, and his brother's body, he was diagnosed with PTSD not a moment later.

When he tried asking Granny Pinako for a cure, she plainly said "there isn't one." Of course, Edward didn't know that, he was only eleven at the time. As the year went by recovering from automail surgery, he realized it was true. People cannot be cured from PTSD, they get to learn how to live with it.

"Hey, Ed," Roy threw a cookie at him. "You and me, gotta go grab some more food."

"Go by yourself, you lazy hog." Edward rolled back over, only to flinch at the dark aura around a certain sniper.

"Edward," Riza warned, and it was all it took for Edward to jump up and join the black haired colonel.

"It's not that bad," Roy laughed at Edward's fear of the Lieutenant.

"Then why don't you ask someone else to help," Edward glared at his superior officer.

"Calm down, it wasn't my idea." The two made it to the stalls where food was being sold to the civilians and soldiers attending the event. "Riza thought it would be a good idea for us to "bond", as she put it. I'm sure if you have a problem, you can take it up with her."

"And another thing," Edward stocked his box up with chips. "Since when do you refer to the Lieutenant as Riza?"

"We're not on duty, so I'm allowed to call her by her first name." Roy answered, filling his own box with different types of beers and sodas.

Edward rolled his golden eyes, and nearly jumped when another firework went off. Roy laughed of course, and Edward growled in annoyance as the two continued to gather more food.

It was on their way back to the group when Edward heard it, the laughing of young teenagers around the corner of a stall. Edward peeked around and eavesdropped on their conversation, as Roy followed his example, also curious.

"You should have seen that guy's face," one of the teenage boys with brown hair laughed. "Priceless."

"He looked like he just witnessed a murder," The other slapped his knee, this one had black hair.

"Should have known, the military's nothing but a bunch of cowards."

Edward frowned, trying to recall the soldier they were gossiping about. Hiding behind a stall, there was a man covering his ears and shaking tremendously. He, like most soldiers fresh from the war, were terrified of the large noises cause by the fireworks.

"I bet the Ishvalan War was nothing but a hoax—" The black haired teenager was cut off with a punch to the face by a shorter kid.

The guy fell down as the assaulter stepped into his view. A short blonde kid with his hair tied back into a braid, black attire minus the bright red coat on his shoulders.

Roy stared in awe as his subordinate raced forward without a thought, nearly knocking the poor gossiper out from his fist.

"It's called PTSD, you uncultured swine." Edward snapped, his hands clenching into fists.

"What?" The brunette kid sneered. "Who cares about whatever TSPD is."

"PTSD," Edward growled. "It's a disorder to anyone who has come into contact with a traumatic event in their life."

"So just cure it," The dense teenager sat up, holding his bruised cheek.

"If there was, don't you think I would have cured myself by now? Or any other soldier in the military? Huh?!" The two boys stepped back nervously as the tiny alchemist advanced forward threateningly. "PTSD has no cure, we get to live with it for the rest of our lives, and you have the audacity to laugh at those who suffer?"

"We're sorry!" The boys screamed as Edward flew forward and proceeded to pound his fists into their faces. Roy could only sigh from the background, turning back to join the group with, or without Edward.

A half hour later Edward finally came back, much to the worry of Alphonse.

"Where were you?" The younger sibling freaked.

"Taking care of business." Edward answered as he set his box of food down for everyone to reach.

"Roy told us what happened," Breda said as he grabbed a hot dog.

"Did he now?" Edward glanced at the said colonel. "Did he also mention he did nothing to help me beat up the brats?"

"I'm an adult, I don't participate in trivial matters."

"Trivial, he says." Edward scoffed, glaring down at his own gloved-covered hands. "I don't get it,"

Some of the adults turned their heads towards the blonde alchemist. "Don't get what, Ed?" Alphonse asked.

"I don't get how you guys deal with it, the PTSD I mean." As soon as the words were out, the soldiers around him looked down in sadness. "I try to live it, sure, but. . .I don't get how you guys still manage to smile and laugh like everything's okay."

"Simple, they're not." Roy answered gruffly. "We hide what we feel inside so others don't see our weaknesses. We hide what went on in the battlefield because we don't want others to know the same horror we experienced. Sure, we've killed a lot of people and ruined a lot of lives for the enemies, but it was for the safety of our country and families, and I'd gladly put on the uniform again if that meant I could protect the people I care about."

Edward stared at his superior in surprise. In the year or so he's known the man, not once as he ever said anything meaningful and significant.

"It helps when you have a family who understands," Maes added as he brought his wife and daughter closer to him. "They can help bring a smile to your dead face and brighten your day just a little bit more. Maybe they won't understand completely, but families are there to help you, you just gotta know how to ask."

"If family doesn't work, there's always us, who have really experienced similar traumatic events." Riza added, smiling at the two boys. "If you have questions or just want to talk about your PTSD, we're always here. Don't forget that."

The fireworks seemed less like meaningless explosions in the sky, and more like colorful lights that seemed to brighten Edward's mood just a little. "I suppose," Edward looked at his brother and grinned, punching his brother's armored chest with his automail hand. "We should give Granny and Winry a call soon, then huh? Wish them Happy New Years."

"Yeah," Alphonse agreed.

Towards midnight, the Elric brothers counted along with their group of misfits as the time reached closer to twelve o'clock. Maybe there isn't a cure for PTSD, but there sure is remedy to making the pain go away momentarily, and it's called family.

PTSD is not a joke. My dad, grandpa, some of my friends have it. It's not funny, and it deeply affects those around someone who does have it. I'm sure the reason my parent's divorced was because my mom couldn't deal with the way my dad dealt with his PTSD after two tours in Iraq. Make fun of anyone who has PTSD and you're going on my hate-list.

Any-who, I hope you enjoyed this segment, can't wait to add more.

-EZ17