Nothing really made sense to him anymore, in the end.
Hughes was dead. A full-time friend and a part-time lover, in the past… gone, in the blink of an eye, in the pull of a trigger.
The Fuhrer… well. He wasn't going to think about that one for a while. The heavy weight of a child in his arms, the heavier weight of guilt.
And on top of all that, the Fullmetal was gone.
Not dead. Just… not here. He couldn't trace cool metal with his fingertips, couldn't look into golden eyes and make-believe.
He couldn't make it make sense.