The Lack Of Physically Being
By Lady Argon
A/N: Maybe posting older work of mine would give me the inspiration I need to continue writing.
In the silence of the night, Alphonse secretly admitted to himself that he did not like his new body. He was not able to feel the wooden floor underneath him, nor if the air surrounding his metal cage was warm or cool. He was not able to smell the scent of life that he had always taken for granted, and he had not eaten or craved consumption in what seemed like days. What was worse, he was not able to experience the pain that his older brother had gone through.
Even at that moment, Al could just barely hear Ed's muffled groans and whimpers floating in from the bedroom. He sighed, leaning forward to put his empty shell of a head in between his empty tubes of legs as if to block out the wounded noises, though he knew it to be futile as he lacked the flesh ears that would need to be covered.
Despite this, however, Al did not hate his new body. It was the body that his brother had binded his soul, for which he had sacrificed his arm, to. It was, inadvertently, his slim chance of a savior when he had been licked by the tongue of Death. There was no room for loathing or self-pity on his own account. Not when Edward had been through so much worse.
And that was enough for him to endure the sleepless nights.