WARNING: Trigger warning, PTSD, down right depressing, Abandonment
This fic is just an amalgamation of a whole lot of depression for Ed, so please do not read if you do not feel up to it
It was funny, how quiet things were. Ed was used to noise, his brother rattling around, Team Mustang chatting back and forth. The whispers in the library as he researched his newest alchemical interest, Ling chatting in the background, even the clattering and banging when he and Al had stayed in the dorms.
Things had changed, though, after the Promise Day. Al had regained his body, and Ed was so so indescribably happy. His face had hurt for weeks, constantly smiling, because Al was back, and everything he had hoped for, everything he had dreamed of, had paid off. He didn't mind that he hadn't gotten his leg, didn't mind that his alchemy was taken. He had Al back, and that meant he had done what he had needed to do.
Al's recovery was slow, he had to get full physical therapy, but it was paid for by the government, which was a nice gesture for them saving the whole country, maybe world. Ed had stayed with him day after day, bringing in books, supplies, always making sure his brother was safe. Al kicked him out of the room a lot, telling him to go enjoy himself, that he was finally free to do what he wanted.
He didn't know what that was, though.
His entire life had been spent on alchemy, every moment trying to bring his mother back was spent studying, or fighting, or doing stupid missions for the bastard. Even before that all he had done was study alchemy, trying to learn as much as he could, use as much as he could, do as much as he could.
But now he couldn't.
He had resigned from the military, after all, what was a State Alchemist who couldn't do alchemy?
For a while, he had kept up with Team Mustang, meet ups, and sometimes stopping by the office to yell at the bastard, but they were cleaning up after the entire government had collapsed, and so had gotten busier and busier.
So they had stopped meeting up.
As he wandered the streets of Central, people would call out for him. Fullmetal Alchemist. The People's alchemist.
But he wasn't.
Al was getting better and better, he was finally able to go outside on his own, and he started exploring the world.
Ed was ecstatic, Al was finally free of the mistakes he had made, of what he had caused, of his sin.
He thought about sin a lot.
He knew he shouldn't, he knew Al always told him it wasn't his fault.
It wasn't his fault that Lior had fallen.
It wasn't his fault that Havoc had been stabbed.
It wasn't his fault that Lan Fan had lost her arm.
It wasn't his fault Mustang had been blinded.
That a war happened.
That so many people died for a cause they didn't even know they were fighting for.
That a wife and child were left without their loving husband.
That a little girl and her dog could never play together in an open yard.
That he had almost killed his brother, trying to bring back their mother.
It wasn't his fault.
But it sure damn felt like it.
Maybe it had been going for centuries, maybe it all started with the bastard Hohenheim, but everything had started to move when Ed tried to bring his mother back.
Everything connected there.
So how was it not his fault?
With Al around, he was distracted enough most of the time to not let his mind wander too much, he was able to pull it back.
Then Al left, too. He went to Xing to study, and Ed was so proud, so happy for him, that he could finally live the life he wanted.
But then he was left. Alone. With too many scars on his body and mind that would never quiet down.
He moved to a small apartment near the edge of Central, not near anything or anyone.
He hadn't thought of Resembool for a while.
He didn't drink, he knew it would be a waste, and he tried to find new things to occupy his time, new fields of study, new technology, and for a while that worked out.
But it was getting too quiet, and his thoughts were too loud. Things he could have done better, should have done better, if he had been smarter, quicker, more prepared, less stubborn, more willing to listen.
He couldn't sleep anymore, even his dreams were trying to overwhelm him. His brother lying dead on the ground, the world burning around him. Faces, some familiar, some only seen in pictures of those who had fallen in the fight, stared at him and told him. Told him it was all his fault. That they wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for him.
How was that equivalent exchange?
The noise and the quiet battled inside his head, through his body. He was thinner than ever, unable to keep anything down, and he found his hands constantly trembling.
Why did he live, and not them?
Was he even truly alive anymore?
It had been thirteen months since the Promise day. Thirteen months since the entire country stood together in defense of those they loved. Thirteen months since a God had been destroyed, and peace could finally been claimed.
Thirteen months, five days, and two hours, was the exact time when Ed packed his bag, left the apartment, and locked it behind him.
Thirteen months, five days, and four hours, was the time when Ed left Central, and all the people and things he used to know behind.
Thirteen months, five days, and four and a half hours, and Ed was gone.
Authors Note:
I have no idea why I wrote this, maybe Equivalence was going to happily, and I needed something to make up for that.
Whatever the case, here it is. It might remain a one shot, or become a two shot with peoples reactions afterward. It depends on my muse.
kudos to Rikkamaru, who puts up with me moping about really depressing one shots
~not necessarily in between