Patience
He was nothing but a husk.
Staring ahead with blank eyes that glowed red.
Unable to cry, unable to smile—
Unable to show any sort of human emotion.
He was bound to the armor he was in and in the deepest, darkest corners of his heart, he hated everything and everyone around him who caused him to bear such a burden.
Who was he, really?
Alphonse Elric, the youngest brother of Edward Elric, always seen in a suit. Always confused for being the Fullmetal Alchemist.
But also, deep inside himself, he knew that he could never amount to anything that his brother was. His brother, though ruthless and brash in his actions, had a heart of gold while Alphonse could only ponder the thought of did he really have a heart for himself?
Beating.
Thumping.
Coursing warm, thick blood through his veins and arteries. In and out. Bringing delicious oxygen to his lungs, working their way to his muscles; his brain.
He forgot what it was like to breathe.
To use his five senses. He had to judge distances now, ensure that he would be able to reach out to pick up his brother from the ground after he would try to protect him. Ensure that he didn't squeeze the fragile life in front of him whilst trying to give a hug—unable to feel the warmth from it.
What did an apple taste like?
What did it smell like?
Was it true that the sun was warm?
Alphonse Elric was deprived of life.
Life…a soul…bound to a human body. Flesh and bone tied together with a consciousness that bore no real reason in a body other than to have the person perform at a higher intelligence than the animals around them. Something only God himself could bestow upon a mother's womb and touch the being inside her with the will to simply live.
But if you're half dead, what was the use of living?
What use would it be to live if you're naught but a hulking piece of metal being promised empty oaths from many people with good intent but no idea how to help? No idea how to bring back only whatever God there was that had given him?
It frustrated him.
Frustrated and angered him.
"Be patient." They would say.
Be patient…
Patient….
How much more patient could he get? He spent a better part of his life as a tin man and nothing seemed to make him more angry than those words! Be patient!
He envied them and hated them both. Jealous at the way their facial muscles could turn upwards in happiness, the way their eyebrows would furrow together in anger or sadness. The way that they all seemed to be having fun and even if he could laugh, what the hell use was it if he couldn't show that he was happy!
How was anything in life fair!
How is it fair to be able to watch everyone around you do things that you're not able to, being promised to one day be able to, and still feel so utterly lied to, that it was sickening!
The smiles sickened him.
The way they cried angered him.
The way that they would all try and sympathize with him utterly infuriated him to no ends and even practicing with his brother would bring naught but even more frustration because he was not even on par with his brother, he couldn't feel pain! He had to take it easy on him! Ensure that he didn't accidentally smash his face in or snap an arm!
How was it fair that everything he did was so completely useless and painful, that his world would crash around him at the single, slightest mistake!
All of this because they acted like children and wanted their mother back.
Who could punish children so cruelly when all they wanted to do was get their beloved mother back? The one that cared for them when their father walked through that door that one morning. The one who hugged them and kissed them and chased the monsters away during thunderstorms. The one who was always, always there?
What God was cruel enough to tear the only family left away from them and then punish them with metal limbs and steal away an entire body!
But still…
Although everything in his life was hard, he had to look ahead and realize that there was only so much he could do.
Only so much he could get angry at.
So little people to get angry with…so little people to understand that he wasn't who everyone else thought he was.
A soul attached to a piece of armor.
Barely a person anymore.
Just a voice.
The cold truth is that one voice doesn't have as much power as many people think.
One voice can be ignored.
One voice can be overshadowed, spoken over, squandered to a mere whisper and then left to mumble incoherently in the corner, trying as hard as possible to speak louder and louder in vain until finally to be heard once they explode like fireworks!
But then…of course…to do so is to, again, get squandered and regarded as a miscreant. Someone who doesn't have control over their emotions. Someone who should learn that ugly word: patience.
So patience one must practice.
Because if anyone were in need to get back a body, and wait until a way would show up for him to be able to finally inhale through his nose and take the sweet taste of Gracia's apple pie in his mouth and enjoy the moment, that's what he would have to do.
He was only happy that they wouldn't be able to see him angry at the moments that frustrated him the most.
AN: Sorry Al…having a moody night and you were my outlet…it's been too long since I've written angst, so sorry for the length but this was merely written to blow off some steam to feel better. It kinda worked…not bummed really anymore. Enjoy!