Title:
Warnings: Suicide/Character death. Emo(ish)!Al. Graphic(ish?)
Summary: Ed commits suicide to fix a problem, leaving Al to fend for himself. No one knows what problem Ed killed himself to fix.
Word Count: 1,463
Solemn Deceit
Alphonse,
You're reading this. I know you are. There's no way in Hell that you're not. This is not a suicide note. Those who write suicide notes want to be caught in the act. I don't. That'd ruin everything I've planned. This is merely a note that should've been written, suicide or no. Though, suicide probably wasn't the best way to go about this, it was still an effective way and kind of an instinctive thing. I figured this needed to happen about a few minutes ago so this was the immediate solution that popped into my head. I guess I should've just slept and talked to you in the morning though.
Oh, Al, you know how there are those fatal veins everyone knows about in your wrists, trailing up through your elbows and in both sides of you neck? Did you know there's a fatal vein in your thighs too? It's a lot easier to hide than your arms and wrists, don't you think? People never see your thighs. Well, unless you're stripping for them. But I don't strip for anyone, so all's well.
...that made it sound like I've been thinking about this for forever, but, honestly-it was just a quick fix to a problem. I swear. You didn't do anything, I didn't do anything. No one did anything. I just wanted/needed to fix something so here I am doing just that. In the wrong way/ this'll put you through so much pain....
I.....I love you. I guess that could be blamed for why I committed suicide. It could be blamed on the fact that we were becoming too dependant on each other. But either way, you've got a fully capable body, I'm just glad I didn't come back from the gate missing more limbs for it. You've got a fine body. Use it how you will. Support yourself. I know you can.
Alphonse....Al....My little brother....my love. I love you, don't let this destroy you. I didn't kill myself cause of you. I killed myself cause of things out of either of our control.
Honestly. Be good, take care of yourself. Winry can help you through this if you need help. I know she will.
I love you, honestly, I do.
~Edward
Al continued to stare at the note for a few more emotionless seconds before turning his eyes to the curtains fluttering in the open window. There was blood on them. There was blood on the bed. There was blood on the walls. There was blood on the clothes in the closet. There was blood on the floor. Like it spurted everywhere after Ed committed one of the worst sins of Catholicism. Al was kneeling in a huge puddle of it. Ed's blood. Tears start seeping out of his eyes before they bulge slightly and his hands fly to his mouth and he stumbles up onto his feet and into the adjoining bathroom, trying his damnedest to run, emptying his stomach of foods and fluids that weren't there, note fluttering to the center of the blood pool, almost forgotten. He puked up his stomach acids for a few minutes before he started dry heaving.
When he finished, the fluids kept dripping from his lips, hands holding their death grip on the sides of the porcelain god in front of him, shock still setting in. Ed had killed himself. But....but that was impossible right? It simply was not possible....right? Someone had to have killed him and forced him to write that.....right? That would explain why there was no body. ......There was no body!
Al rushes back into Ed's room looking around frantically, feet planted firmly in the doorway. All he could see was the mass amounts of blood and the note sitting almost innocently in the middle of that huge puddle of blood. Blood. Al could feel the bile rising at the back of his throat again but he chocked it back as he forced his feet to move and he gave the room a though search, snatching up the note and stuffing it in his pocket. Under the bed, under the covers, hidden by the curtains, behind the dresser. The body was no where. But it said suicide. Al poked his head out the window looking downwards from their apartment building on the ninth floor. There was no body as far as he could see. Plus the police would've already bee here if there had been. The cops...!
Al scrambled to the phone on Ed's nightstand dialing the number for the local police office and reporting everything that had happened. He would've dialed 911 but he figured it wasn't something needing to be looked at immediately. He was starting to get small bits of rationality and common sense back. But very very slowly. He falls backwards, laying on his back on the blood stained sheets, blood on the bed, of his elder brother's bed, ignoring the blood stains on his pants, blood on his pants, from knee down from kneeling in the puddle and ignoring the blood he could feel soaking though the back of his shirt, blood on his shirt. The blood was still at least slightly fresh for it hadn't dried yet. Oh god, the blood. Al was starting to feel not quite sane-rational but not sane.
Al heard sirens through the open window, but he felt completely numb. He couldn't move. Couldn't feel his limbs. Oh god the blood! He focused on moving and on moving alone until the uniforms made it into Ed's former room. He ignored the crimson torture all around him in the sinful room that used to be his brother's. Blood, oh lord, save me.
"What happened?" the one seeming to be in charge asks and Al turns his head slightly to look at him blankly and emotionlessly. Numb. That's what he felt. Numb. Utterly and completely numb. And he could feel the blood, seeping crimson, into his shirt, feel it staining his legs from where he kneeled in it. But yet he was numb. He couldn't move. He couldn't care.
"My brother killed himself," He says with the flattest monotone ever known to mankind. He was completely void of emotions. He was in shock. He was surprised he could talk. Well if he could feel he'd be surprised. All the blood, surrounding me. Suffocating me.
"Any evidence?" Al manages to put his hand in his pocket and hand the officer the crumpled letter. He reads through it while everyone else does a through search of the room, just like he had done earlier. They find no body and no signs of suspicious activity like someone stealing the body as Al was questioned about anyone that'd do this to Ed or who'd steal his dead body. Al said he honestly didn't know. He could only think of the blood. Blood and numbness consuming him, eating him. Oh dear god, the blood. The officer hands the note back to Al, flipping his pocket sized notebook closed and putting it back in his chest pocket.
"It seems it was a suicide," He says. "All things point to it."
"Then why's his body missing?" Al asks desperately. Feeling was coming back, but all the wrong ones. The ones he never felt since his mother died. The over whelming urge to join them in the afterlife. Oh, blood...
"We don't know. But if he's still alive somewhere-though it would seem he's not-he doesn't want to be found. We've got our plates busy as is, we can't go searching for a body with nothing even remotely suspicious around the death." With that the officers file out of the house just as neat and orderly as they came in. Al's dead eyes drift to the doorway as he sees Winry standing in the doorway wide-eyed and hands over her mouth. Al concluded he must've blacked out for a while. Before the cops came. Blood splattering everywhere. Winry looked horrified and Al dully wondered if it was the blood everywhere, Ed's death, or the blood all over him, so much blood. Maybe it was a combination of the three.
"Winry," he says it quietly but in the deathly silence that was all they needed. She runs into the room and launches herself at Al, sobbing, the blood all over him temporarily forgotten and Pinako continues to stand in the doorway, analyzing the scene-or so it seemed. The feel of Winry's tears dampening his shirt melted him into crying too. No longer numb. No longer sane. No longer rational. He was now an emotional wreak. Ed's note had said to have Winry take care of him if he couldn't do it himself, and it looked like he couldn't. The police quietly slip from the room, not wanting to disturb the moment.
A/N: this is not really an AlWin fic, though it'll have hints. It may be unrequited, might not. I dunno yet. But, it's, in the end, Elricest. But the only way for that to be is kinda almost necrophilia. So it's one sided yearning and finding solutions in a real person that's been right there with you no matter what. I guess that means He doesn't like Winry....? Score! Inspired by having "Tourniquet" by Evanescence stuck in my head and looking up what stupid people thought the song meant. People are really stupid online.
Your Loving Author
~Evelynn
