First off, I have to thank my amazing beta, walkthrough. She's wondermous -squishhh. But moving on.

Warnings for this story: Angst, Yaoi, Alcohol, OOC-ness, etc.

And I don't own anything, unfortunately.

Soushitsu

Chapter I

Night was drifting in the streets of Germany as Edward pushed past people on the sidewalks. The ladies of the night were making their rounds, tugging on the ties of the stressed husbands, forcing them into a lustful desire that could no longer be denied. Shamefully the men would follow the women into the back alleys, hushed moans filling the night's air. Edward scoffed at the obscenity and made his way into a small bar. He positioned himself on a barstool, and waved the bartender over.

"Bourbon on the rocks."

The man nodded and slid the drink over to Edward in a moment's time. He lifted his hand just enough to catch it, lift it up to his lips, and take a drink. As it lowered from his lips he swished it around, looking at the liquid moving from side to side in the glass. His thoughts drifted as he watched the two ice cubes repeatedly knock into each other. He was stuck in Germany and was a world away from his hometown.

Hell, he didn't even want to call it his hometown. He was officially able to call himself selfish now. After sacrificing himself for his brother, he started to have second thoughts. He didn't want to be here, deeming his brother being real again or not. He wanted to be back in central, spending his days conjuring up reason to run down to the Colonel's office to scream at him, cause a ruckus, or whatever he could just to see the Colonel acknowledge him. It had been 5 years now since he'd seen the bastard.

Bastard.

That's exactly what the man was. He was a high ranking officer. He was a master in the art of swooning. He was sophisticated, indicating a good and possibly wealthy upbringing. His features were undeniably gorgeous. His smirk and smug attitude were endearing to Edward's senses. There was something about the man's stature that intrigued him. Bold as Edward was, he could never approach the man on an intimate level, nor suggest anything of the matter.

"Fullmetal, you are a child, not to mention a male, and that's not professional. I'm disgusted and disappointed."

More than likely that's what the man would have told him if he had said anything pertaining to a love interest in the man.

"Would you like another drink, sir?" the bartender inquired, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yeah, just keep them coming, please."

Edward said, finishing off his first glass of bourbon.

Edward left no indication or tried not to leave one for the man to think of him other than being his subordinate. He wanted to walk up to the man and kiss him, or to tell him how he felt. Unfortunately though, real life wasn't like that, and you can't just approach someone so carefree and expect them to always say yes, and an "I love you," in return. Taking into account that he was a man, much older than him, and his higher up in the military. It was clearly common sense that it should be a dead issue. Se La Vi.

"What kind of fucking equivalent trade was that? Al got his body. I lost my home and the fucking chance to try and be with the man I love. What the hell did I gain? It's not like I got my limbs back or anything. I mean yeah, now he can eat and touch things. But now I'm just like he was, cold and unable to feel. What a conceited asshole."Edward thought, bitterly, finishing the second glass quickly.

"I hope he's happy," Edward mumbled to himself, sipping on a fresh glass of bourbon.

Edward tried to convince himself on countless occasions that he no longer loved Roy Mustang. He could pretend, but that was simply the extent of it all. Why was something that was not even mentioned to the other so painstakingly important to him? More than likely this was because it just so happened to be unfinished in his mind.

"I bet the bastard is married now."

Suddenly, he was hit with deep sorrow, clutching the next glass and drinking viciously. His forehead laid on the bar, eyes following the condensation falling down the side of the glass. He lifted a finger and slowly traced the pattern along the glass. His surroundings were quite oblivious to his existence. People were hopping about to the music playing. Some were singing and shouting. Others were talking with friends, laughing, telling jokes. It was an upbeat place, and it started to annoy him. Couldn't anyone see his anguish, his pain? Why is it that no one pays attention to him? Was he completely invisible? Did he even matter?

He sluggishly lifted his head, again letting the alcohol pass through his lips, consuming all he could, needing, and trying to forget. Perhaps it could all just dwindle away and be forgotten in this amber tinted liquid. The taste was strong in his mouth.

"Fuck you, Al."

The snow stung his face as it blew harshly, bearing no mercy. He was steadfast and kept his unsheathed eye only peering forward, waiting for dusk to breach the horizon, being his cue to turn in for the night. Nothing at this point could cross his mind while on duty, all there was to do is watch and not succumb to any self satisfaction. Looking out to the edge of what seemed to be the world, a white snowy surface reflected the radiant evening.

It was undeniably boring. A small sigh emitted from his lips before he straightened up again, snow beginning to lightly wisp around in the air, establishing a blanket which subdued the blue hue he was, contrasting against the white all around him, save for the small cabin positioned behind and slightly to the right of him.

He peered to the west, ah yes. That's it. The sun was slowly sinking, ready to fall steadily to the dusk that Roy had been expecting. He moved to the side of the cabin, fumbling with a small box of matches in his pocket. When the breeze calmed, he lit the inside of the glass casing that was his outdoor light, being careful to close the small door promptly upon lighting the cloth inside. A rose color had spread across the area, allowing him to step inside of his cabin and shake the snow off of his uniform. He removed the said uniform, replacing it with warm robes. Lighting the fire in his fireplace, he watched the flames grow over the wood, surrounded by charming stonework. Heat slowly rose in the cabin, and he sat down in chair, allowing his eye to wander to the small picture frame on top of the fireplace.

His subordinates, rather his past subordinates, were aligned, all with hearty smiles and in the corner stood two blondes that specifically intrigued him. The first one was Riza Hawkeye.

Riza was a loyal subordinate and companion. She was trustworthy and was constantly getting things done without delay. She solved most of her problems with a gun, shooting, or at the very least, threatening to shoot them. Riza did have a soft side though and it was for Roy. Yes, he was very aware of it. He thought on it before and tried dates with her, but it never could quite work out for her. She tried desperately to make him fall for her the way she had fallen for him, but it never seemed to faze him.

The other blonde was the only one not wearing blue, and he was being poked in the ribs by Jean Havoc, trying to let a smile emit from the small character.

Edward.

He was always unleashing his wrath in one way or another. Edward was a prodigy, probably the brightest person he had ever met. His logic could be argued, but his theories could never be proven wrong. Even though his childish outbursts made him seem immature, he was probably keeping himself sane by keeping that childish side with him. It was what kept him driven, along with his other purposes. One thing, though, was this boy was a boy of many secrets. He too, was most definitely a man of many secrets. Roy was able to decipher some of these secrets. But he was too complicated and a lot was still hidden from him. He desired the answers from this boy, to hear the wisdom pour out of his young mouth.

Everyone had proclaimed the small alchemist to be dead after his sudden disappearance upon bringing his brother's body back with a self sacrificial method of alchemy. Roy knew better though, it didn't take something so complicated, yet simple to kill this boy. He felt and believed that wherever he was, he was still alive. All he could do was wait for him to return and spill the secret of the universe to him.

As the sky outside darkened, Roy's thoughts began to darken as well.

His only speculation about his sudden loss and desire for power was a loss in hope. Was there still a reason, or inspiration for the man? He still suffered from his memories about the war in Ishbal. The screams, the utter terror and pain that was inflicted because of him, were haunting his dreams, turning them to nightmares, every night. Everything that he touched seemed to break or fall apart. Everything great about his past was swept up, like old ash in the fireplace. Not easily forgotten, due to the black stains of soot, but had no importance to him, and thus discarded. It's a funny thing about power and what those will do for it.

He was pondering the meaning of life itself as he had done so many times before in this small cabin. His thoughts found themselves delving deep, deeper than could be comprehended by many. He wondered what motivated people to do the things they did, why words were left unspoken. Reflecting back on himself, he knew damn well he wasn't perfect. Even though he was now in his thirties, why didn't he feel satisfaction? Why was he so empty and what exactly was missing?

He had tasted the finest wines, lived in pure luxury, bedazzled women beyond all means necessary. His evenings had been spent in the warmth of his fine home, inherited by his wealthy family, library filled with books of high taste, much to his liking. He was a respectable officer at his job and was considered a hero among the higher ups. The world had been laid at his goddamn feet and he felt nothing had inspired him or made him want to let each day be worth living. He was so alone, so miserable.

Women had loved him, but he never felt anything. He had never met a lady that particularly stood out in his mind. They were all the same. The challenges would be overcome and he would become so easily bored with them all. The sparks were nonexistent. The circulatory pattern of never changing forced him into isolation.

Roy began fixing himself coffee, waiting for the whistle of the small pot to be audible. While he waited, he abruptly turned the picture frame around, making it invisible to his peripheral of vision. As steam rose, he slowly began to realize that in losing an eye, he lost all perception of depth and precise measurement in distance, and the distance and depth that he could no longer render was not only visible to the eye.

Edward scratched his head, observing his surroundings. He was in his apartment.

"Fucking shithole."

He wasn't exactly exaggerating, either. It was a quite the ramshackle apartment. The floor was old, being wooden and worn down to a dark color, scratches adorning every other board, and giving the room an overall musty smell. The wallpaper had been peeling in areas; the adhesive where it had been on the wall had left yellow streaks. In one corner of the room there was a refrigerator, a small stove, and a few cabinets. There were two windows, with ratty curtains pulled open, allowing some light to break the tone of the room.

He stood up and scratched his scalp. The way his hair clung to his fingers indicated the need for a shower. He slightly scoffed and wrapped back up in his blanket, and pressed his face into the cushions of the couch. He shifted and glared at the windows that were allowing the joy of sunshine to disrupt his sleeping. His head was throbbing from the amount of alcohol he drunk from the previous night, and he fought his way over to the window before hatefully jerking the curtains shut and crawling back onto the couch. Sure, his place wasn't much, but for the time being, it was home. It was somewhere that he could collect his thoughts peacefully. It was a place where he didn't have to face his past. Living with the person who resembled, and even had the same name as his brother, was far too troublesome for his already distressed mind. He remembered the day he moved out, and it wasn't so long ago.

"I'm moving out."

Edward had just stepped into the room and he looked like hell. He was thinner than usual, indicating that he was not eating enough. His fingers traced his temple, suggesting another hangover. Dark circles lay under his eyes, and ah. His eyes were distant and dark, not the same golden, energetic eyes that everyone was used to. He threw himself down heavily onto a chair, peering at the other man.

"Why?"
"I can't stay here anymore."
"...Why?"


"It's none of your goddamn business, is it?" Edward said, matter-of-factly. "I've already got a new apartment lined out." He added, nodding to the door where his things sat, packed. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Alphonse shook his head, acknowledging this fact. Edward walked over to retrieve the luggage and stepped out of the door.

"I'll keep in touch."

Of course, he lied. He wanted nothing to do with someone who resembled the one that was vile to him. It had been 2 months since he moved out, and he wasn't exactly getting along that much better either. He spent his days researching, and thankfully, his father had left behind enough money for him to live off of for a nice portion of his years. More than anything though, he wished to find a way to return, a way to say what needs to be said. Though, to his dismay, he often thought if it would all be in vain. As Roy had been pictured before by Edward, the man had probably settled down and fallen in love with a woman.

He lowered the covers slightly, allowing himself to peer out across the room. His stomach growled, indicating an immediate need for food. He headed over to his refrigerator and upon looking inside saw a few items, nothing that was particularly appetizing. He pulled on his shirt, not bothering to tuck it into his pants. Slipping on his shoes, he headed out the door to the grocery store, bound to find something worth consuming.

The clouds that passed overhead indicated precipitation of some sort to fall later. The afternoon sunlight would sneak in and pass through the clouds, only occasionally though as the gray atmosphere continued to surround him. It had been gray for the past several months and seemingly had no way of lightening up. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes set straight ahead as the grocery store was close by. He tried persuading his thoughts to take leave for the day, but they persisted. Oh god, how they persisted.

Children ran past him, loud and filled with laughter. Couples strolled by, hand in hand and nuzzled together, not acknowledging their surroundings. Summer was embracing everyone except for him, it seemed. Perhaps he was the only one seeing the gray skies. Maybe it was all an illusion in his mind. The lives around him seemed surreal and so ignorant to the true hardships of what it truly is to live. It just wasn't piecing together properly. Everyone else was content with themselves, why could he not feel this way? Was it against the morals of this world for him to be happy?

He wanted to take it all back. Everything was fucked up beyond his comprehension, and he was a prodigy. Or maybe, it was that he was useless without his alchemy, without his passion being able to keep him sane. Perhaps the blonde was finally going insane. He could only remember the way the gate terrified him. Passing through it made him feel as though he had lost a part of himself. He realized the answer to everything in there, and once he had come to the other side, the answer was still there. The damned answer did nothing but mock him by lingering on the tip of his tongue. He knew, subconsciously how to get back to the other side. Yet, his subconscious was not one to help him lightly. It preferred to torture the answer out of him.

Particularly, it would frustrate him when he was studying. His eyes would always widen with the realization, and once he went to record it, he felt as if he had stepped into a box. Echoing in his mind was, “Write the goddamn answer down!” It retracted off of the walls of said box, and would slap him in the face, leaving him in a daze and unable to remember the reasoning for what he was going to write down. It no longer made sense, and he felt illiterate.

His head hung low as he stepped in the store, fluorescent lights annoying his gloomy disposition. His fingers grazed across the woven pattern of the small grocery basket before he finally picked it up. Every person he passed could feel the intense depression radiating around him and would stop for a moment of their time, pitying the blonde. The age that had been worn onto his face made him appear much older than he should have been, due to the severe amounts of stress and pain he had been enduring.

He made his way over to the icebox located around the back of the store, containing liquors and other assorted alcoholic drinks. His eyes scanned over the variety, before choosing a bottle of schnapps. Furrowing his brow, he picked up another bottle, this one being a bit stronger and tucked it in beside the schnapps. He figured it would be another boring night, and what better to entertain him than by these substances in glass bottles.

He decided to treat his self by buying an assortment of pastas and fresh vegetables for a nice pasta dish tonight. Picking up a few other things, some chocolate of the sorts would sound nice. Perhaps a nicely whipped mousse would suit his tastes for the night? He gathered the needed ingredients, dragging himself to the dairy section; he looked over to the milk, and for once in what seemed to be ages, smiled. He could remember the Colonel teasing him about his height, joshing around about how he needed to drink milk. Those moments caused any struggles that seemed unbearable a little manageable, even if the man wasn't 'his'. Once again, the frown returned to his face as he picked up a container of heavy cream and continued on.

After finding a few things to purchase, he made his way up to the register and was greeted by a familiar face.

He stopped in his tracks and stared. The basket that was in his hands hit the ground, contents falling out. The world, spinning at 800mph, seemed to halt to an abrupt stop. Edward's heart jumped and all he could do was stand in his place. He felt as though he was defying all laws of gravity and motion at that point. All he could feel was a divine bliss.

"..Roy?"

Next chapter will be up as soon as possible.Reviews? And please, no flamers. Especially about the Al thing. Don't worry, let the plot develop :