A World Apart
Chapter One
I glance around warily, eying the man walking down the street, stumbling as though he were drunk. He's jovial and his movements are over exaggerated, and it's a big tip off that he's not as he seems. Sure enough, soon I see him, sitting on my perch on the roof of a small building, he's pickpocketing some unsuspecting elder woman. Amateurs. He's lucky she doesn't notice, but I doubt he'll be lucky much longer.
Kicking my legs to get feeling back into them I continue to observe. Observation has always been a specialty of mine, even when I was a star alchemist for Amestris, but now it's survival. I have to keep my eyes on people or I'll get screwed. There was a time I didn't think like this, sure, but it's far gone in the distant past. With people clearing the streets, it's no time to be making any transactions, so I fold my legs up under me and slide back down so the roof hides me. I hate this place, and I recognize just how spoiled I've been in my life.
Getting up on my feet, I throw my arms up and stretch my torso before wandering to the makeshift home I've come up with. It constitutes mostly of things that belonged to my father before he died, as much as I could carry when they came to evict me because I hadn't paid the rent. I want to hate Hoenheim for it, but somehow I can't, when I know he struggled to hold onto life. One thing I can't hate him for, but still, there are many more I can hate him for. From the way he acted when he was strong enough, I definitely thank whatever made him leave because he was clearly an asshole.
This place is relatively safe, of course. The owner of the building was a friend of Hoenheim's and he lets me stay here. He's a merchant and sells food to the public. He's even pretty good about bringing me whatever's going bad in a few hours to feed me. He doesn't ask where I've been or what I've been doing, so I know he's not going to protect me should I ever get caught, but that's fine. I'm hoping that I won't be here much longer.
It's been two very long years. Almost a whole one since Hoenheim died. I'm tired and run down, but I can't afford to be sick, so I tell the germs to fuck off. If I get sick and let down my guard, well... I've seen the way his friend leers at me. I'm not interested in that kind of payment. He wouldn't be especially nice and that's the last thing I need, impeding how I live.
The human body is incredibly resilient, I've realized. It will digest almost anything I give it. Of course, I know better then to eat expired dairy products, milk being the root of all evil, but vegetables and fruit just past their prime seem to be alright. Stale bread too, lasts longer then the rest and I can make that last a few more days until he gets me more. Sometimes he hasn't got anything and I just wait it out. Last week was like that, and so I wait.
I've torn my pants again so I undo them and slide them off my hips for repair. Sitting cross legged on the makeshift bed, prosthetic exposed, I quickly patch up the hole. The fewer people who know I've got prosthetics the better. I might get a legitimate job otherwise. Of course, I haven't yet and I'm really starting to look a right mess. I don't know why I live like this.
Wait, I do. His name is Alphonse. Any time I've thought about putting an end to this madness, his voice reminds me of what I used to say, what I used to think about on the subject. I really didn't have a clue back then, did I? Not like I do now. I realize that people must have sheltered me and I don't know whether to thank them or hate them. I suppose though, the shell shock of learning everything at seventeen was less then it would have been at twelve.
Pants sewn, I get them back on quickly, lest someone find me. I could still fight them off, to be sure, but I'd take some damage, and I don't need that. I sit back down on the bedding with my knees drawn to my chest. I miss Al. I miss everyone back in Amestris. I was always alone, I thought, always had just Al, but that wasn't true. Even that boy Russell I met came to help me in the end.
I was such an idiot.
It doesn't take long once my thoughts settle on the other blond that they wander. I wonder what he's doing now. I wonder if he's still using my name to acquire materials that he and Fletcher would need. No, they must think I'm dead. He wouldn't be that stupid. I wonder what happened when I didn't come back like I promised. Another reason to live, I don't break my promises, and I never have. No matter how long it takes me to accomplish them.
I wonder if at seventeen, he's found a nice girl to take him out, maybe marry him. That would be good for him and Fletcher, I mean, he deserves it. Why does that leave me with a sick feeling in my stomach when I think he might be married? I guess I don't want him to be, not that I get that. What do I care if he gets married or not? I shouldn't even care if he's okay! I don't even know him!
Maybe I do know him though, maybe I do because he's just like me and we made that connection. At least he's smarter then me, he didn't try and kill Fletcher.
My stomach churns again, reminding me how hungry I am and how bitter the memories are between Al and myself. I doubt Al will ever forgive me, no matter how much I beg him or he says otherwise, and he shouldn't. I deserve that. Everything was my fault because I was just that stupid.
The promises I made also haunt me. Why did I tell Russell I'd be back? What was the point of that? I even knew damn well I wouldn't! I was expecting to die then, but God's not done punishing me so I'm not dead. This is what it's like to live in sin, everyone should take note. No wonder God gets pissed when you try to take his job - and he just keeps punishing you, slamming your head into the wall.
Sometimes I wonder about the futility of researching to go back. I do, of course, I have and that's how I spent most of my time here, not working, which would have been smart. Then again, I always make stupid decisions. I just wanted to see Al again, and Russell, to show I hadn't broken my promise to him. I find if I promise to be back, they stop haunting my dreams.
Especially Russell, because when I do, I wake up hard and that's just confusing as hell. I think my brain's taken a few too many hits from God and Hoenheim to still be working. I'm not like that. Because if I was, well I'd have a hell of a lot more problems to deal with. Wouldn't it mean I was looking at others? But no, my brain doesn't listen to me and I dream of Russell and the things he and I could do if I were there. As if Russell were available and willing, neither of which I would count on. After all, he is cute.
I roll my eyes and squash that train of thought right there. I don't need to go there right now, because I'm somewhere unsafe, uncomfortable and nowhere near a cold shower, or any shower at all. I sigh and watch sun slowly dip down, fading away into the horizon and watching darkness cover this cursed city.
As the chill comes with the darkness, I lie down among my dirty bedding, pulling a blanket up above my shoulders to keep the worst off of me. The reason I can't die is because I want to see everyone again, I want to go home.
In the dead of night, I cry myself to sleep.