Truths
It's as though this is the dream, and I'm just waiting to wake up. Every day I sit here, and I look into my empty glass and think "What would my brother do if he were here, not me?"
"Edward!" The door of the small bedroom swung open, and Edward, still in his boxers and nothing else, was sitting on the floor with an old, dusty type writer. His father had told him writing memoirs might make it hurt less. Then he disappeared.
"What?!" The golden blonde stood up, and brushed himself off, wiping the ink off his hands and onto his blue boxers. "What is it, Alfons? I was in the middle of something." He was being snippy today. Maybe it was because he had been thinking too much. Maybe he shouldn't have had that scotch. Still. He couldn't change the past. No matter how badly I want to.
"I've been calling you for the past ten minutes! Some girl is at the door to see you!" Alfons yelled back. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. Which Edward thought was stupid, because Alfons was gorgeous, he could get any girl he wanted. He just didn't want any of them.
"A girl?" Edward grabbed pants and a shirt, and slipped them on as he walked out the door, pushing past Alfons. "That's weird, I haven't talked to any girls of interest since.." He paused. Since he had left his world. Since he had last seen his brother. Since he had left behind the people he loved in order to save his brother. He stood at the top of the stairs. "Since I talked to Gracia last!" He laughed, and shrugged it off. He realized it wasn't funny the moment he used it to cover his pain.
Alfons didn't laugh either. In fact, his blue eyes looked enraged, and his cheeks looked tear stained.
Edward blinked. "You okay?" He stared at his roommate, and went to put a hand on his shoulder.
Alfons flung it away. "No. I'm not okay. Just answer the God damned door." He was acting like a child now, and it was pissing Edward off.
He didn't respond, and turned to the door. He opened it, his shirt half unbuttoned, and the only thing there was a basket of cherries.
Edward stared. He picked up the basket, and closed the door. No note, no nothing. "Well, so there was no girl." He called to Alfons. "Unless by girl you meant fruit." He laughed, and set the cherries on the table in the kitchen. "Alfons?"
He looked around, and Alfons was sitting in the living room, curled up in a chair, breathing heavy and coughing.
"Alfons?" Edward walked closer. "You okay, pal—"
Alfons stood up swiftly, and grabbed Edward's right hand. He knew Edward couldn't feel it, so he squeezed the metal prosthetic with all his might. "Why did that girl say she knew you!?"
"There was no girl!" Edward protested, tugging on his arm. "Only cherries!"
"Who was she!" Alfons tried to yell, but it turned into a begging sort of whimper, as he placed his head on Edward's shoulder.
"W-what?" Edward looked down at his friend. He pulled him up by the shoulder, and looked into his deep blue eyes. "Alfons, what's gotten into you?"
Alfons slumped back down to the chair, and looked up at Edward, letting go of his arm. "First you're talking about this world I can never be a part of, dreaming to get back to your 'home', and now there are mysterious girls here to see you."
Edward sat on the table across from the chair. "What does that matter?"
Alfons looked at Edward incredulously, tears slipping from his eyes. "What does that matter?! Edward, you never listen!" He cried out. "Can you even imagine how I'm feeling right now?!"
Edward paused, confused, but he let Alfons continue.
"You never wanted to be part of this, you just want to get back to your home and leave this all behind!" Alfons went on, but it was twisted up, with sobs and whimpers and hiccups. Not to mention coughing. A lot of coughing.
"Al…" Edward whispered the nickname. It stung him. That had been his brother's nickname too. "No, I do want a part of this." He reached over to touch the young man's arm, with his left hand. Real human contact, that's what he needed. "I know this is all really hard for you, but I want to be part of this. With you."
"But I'm not your brother." Alfons fired at him, hatred in his voice.
"I don't want you to be my brother." Edward smiled at him softly. His eyes were tearing up now. Yes, he'd rather his brother be here than Alfons, but things were different with Alfons. "I… These feelings would be too strange if you were my brother." He gave a halfhearted laugh.
"Feelings?" Alfons sat up straighter, and his voice was softer, calmer.
"I care a lot about you, Alfons. In a different way than I do my brother." He began to attempt to explain. He knew his efforts would be futile.
"How- How so?" Alfons leaned in closer, and brushed the hair out of Edward's face, as he hadn't put his hair in a ponytail yet.
"In a different way." Edward stood up, and walked towards the room's exit. "A way I can't explain." Because he'd only felt them once, and they were only for someone he was so close to, that the he could still smell her, even when he dreamed.
"Why not!" Alfons stood up, and protested.
"Because I don't want to hurt you. I'm going back to bed." He walked back to his room, and shut the door, locking it this time. He sat down with his type writer, and began to type.
Now I understand. Now I know. Alphonse wouldn't have fallen in love. Unlike me.
And with that, Edward took up the piece of paper, and burnt it into his waste basket with a match. It fell into the tower of ashes, along with all the other three hundred pages of his memoirs.