We had the picture perfect family.
The one everyone envies.
I had a loving mother and a younger brother I'm still fiercely protective of.
And then there was you.
You spent most of your time in your office, pouring over those alchemy texts. It's no surprise we inherited your talent for the art.
You wouldn't come out of your office all day, but you always came out to eat dinner with us. I loved that time of day, because that was when our family really came together.
Al would usually refuse to eat, desperately wanting to be back outside, where he could run around and play. Mom would try her best to convince him to eat, especially his vegetables, but it was always me who got him to eat.
If I ate my vegetables, he was usually more inclined to do the same. Mom always told me to, because it made Al eat his, so I did it, even though I sympathized with the kid. I hated vegetables too, like any respectable child.
I don't know why it was that way. Perhaps it was because I was the older brother. Perhaps I might have been a good role model once. Or it might have just been that he looked up to me.
It didn't work with milk, however. Even if I refused mine, Al always drank his. I swear he did it just do spite me.
That was what you did occasionally at dinner. Mom talked Al into consuming the veggies, and you scolded me for not drinking my milk.
'You'll never grow tall without it', you said. I would refuse to drink the vile substance, but when you told me to, I always would. Maybe that's why I never drink it anymore. Maybe that's why I'm so sensitive about my height, because I know you were right.
I don't know why I would drink it when you said so.
Maybe it was because, like how Al looked up to me, I looked up to you.
Maybe it was because you were my idol once.
Perhaps it was because I once loved you.
'He looks more and more like Hohenheim every day', they said.
I used to shine with pride when they said that.
Back then, I wanted nothing more than to make you proud. I would have done anything for your approval.
We were a family, and we had friends too. Your friends.
The Rockbells; Pinako, Sarah, Winry, Winry's father.
They loved you, and cared for you the same as I.
No one loved you more than Trisha did.
But then you left.
Left your family.
Left your friends.
Left me.
For a time, nothing changed.
Mom smiled less and less, but life continued as normal. Al and I believed that you were simply away on a business trip.
I never told Al, but I soon figured out it was a lie.
Still, nothing happened.
Every day, I would get up early and run to the front door, to see if you had come back yet. I knew you weren't away on business, but that didn't stop me from hoping you would return.
Every night at dinner, I would pick at my food, staring at the empty seat you had once occupied. What did I care if Al didn't eat his vegetables? My father was gone, that was all I cared about.
I never drank my milk voluntarily again.
Years went by.
Still, you didn't return.
Al and I delved into the art of alchemy, constantly searching for things we could create that would make her smile, something that happened less and less.
Winry's parents died.
When she said that you were out there, that there was a possibility you could come back, unlike her parents, I knew she was right.
I didn't know the circumstances of your departure, and I didn't understand why you never came back. I began to wonder if you had ever loved Mom, loved us. If your life with us was all a lie.
You still hadn't returned by the time Mom fell ill. She told us that you had left us money, and I realized that you had never planned to come back anyways. Then we realized that it wasn't the things we made for her with alchemy that she liked, it was simply the fact that it reminded her of you.
She died holding my hand, yet all she could think about was you.
And you never even came to her funeral.
Days after the funeral, we expected at least a visit from you, or even a call.
Yet none came.
Al and I took matters into our own hands.
Just because human transmutation had never worked before, didn't mean it couldn't work now, we told ourselves.
In a way I wanted to prove myself.
More than anything, I wanted our mother back.
But I can't deny that if it had worked, perhaps you would have come back someday.
Perhaps you would have seen what we did, what I had done.
And you would have been proud of me.
Next to having mom back, to having you back, I wanted that more than anything.
But we failed.
I knew I had to right my wrongs.
I joined the military to find a way to get our bodies back.
We came so close to the Philosophers stone many, many times, yet each time it fell out of our reach.
Near the end of our journey, we found you.
After so many years, you finally returned.
Yet it was still far, far too late.
Maybe if you hadn't left, we wouldn't have tried to bring mom back.
The day you came home was a day I had once dreamed and fantasized about.
You were supposed to be proud of me.
Yet all I could show you was a ruined home and two young boys with ruined bodies.
All there was of me at that time was two automail limbs, a talent for alchemy and a broken mind.
For some reason, I no longer cared if you were proud of me or not.
I can't say exactly when things changed, but I just can't bring myself to care about you anymore, Van Hohenheim.