Next part after Sein Wort Halten. Set in Munich in the Fullmetal alchemist-verse.
Princess Tutu fans be warned, major gender-bend.
Characters owned mainly by Hiromu Arakawa and Ikuko Itoh.
"You're so lucky, you know."
Edward was using his pissed voice again. About the ten thousandth time he'd heard it, it still upset him a bit. Don't be upset.. Edward isn't very good with people, but it doesn't mean he hates you.
Alfons explained it long ago, but he still felt bad seeing Edward upset. For the most part, he was aloof, uncaring, buried in books and his own little world. When he was upset, it came too often and was quite an ordeal.
Another thing was that, though the boy had been with them for a month now, they still hadn't quite warmed up to one another.
When the young adolescent redhead appeared out of nowhere a little while ago, without a name or identity or a memory to serve him, and good-natured Alfons Heiderich and not-so-heartless Edward Elric allowed him a place to stay. He helped them pay bills by working with Gracia in the flower shop, and it was the woman who wished to give him a proper name.
He didn't have a name he could remember, but they couldn't quite put their fingers on an appropriate name. Only after a week of constantly slipping on every piece of in-the-way objects in the residence, consisting of books and the like, as well as the gait Edward claimed he walked, they decided to call him Ente.
Meaning duck.
Initially, the newly named Ente might have felt insulted to have such a silly name denoting clumsiness and his supposed 'waddle', but the name's connection to him fell in so naturally that they continued to call him that.
"Ente, please bring the roses. It seems that we have a hopeless romantic." Gracia called cheerfully, one hand to her mouth in a gentle, amused grin. Ente smiled his open smile and brought the flowers over, gently handling the thorny holds while relishing the sight of such redness.
As he watched the student go off on his business with the rose in hand, looking ecstatic and ready for the world, Ente felt a strange pang of loneliness. Well, that was at least one word that fit the description.
"Ente, do you know what that reminds me of?" Gracia asked. "No, Frau Gracia." Ente said honestly, though he wished that he himself would be reminded of something.
"Oscar Wilde. From his story, of the nightingale and the rose. Well, I hope that boy isn't so trivial and uncaring. It's sad to think... but... oh, never mind. I'm just rambling. Sorry, Ente." Gracia said sheepishly, with a wave of a hand.
"Oh, it's alright. I want to hear about the Nightingale and the Rose. What's the story? I love stories." Ente said cheerfully. "He used to tell me stories all the time..." The carrot-haired trailed off, his open face falling into confusion.
"Oh? Who, Ente?" Gracia asked. Ente shrugged. "I don't remember. Never mind, Gracia. It's nothing." Gracia smiled at the boy, but her eyes were pensive... sad...
"Ah, I'll give you Wilde's book later on. You can read English, can't you?" Gracia asked. Ente nodded. "Ah, that's good. You're a smart boy, and I suppose you read a lot before." The older woman said with cheery relief.
"Oh no, I'm not so smart, and I don't think I'm quite the bookish type." Ente said sheepishly. "I just... have this attraction to beautiful stories." He finished wistfully. "Well then I hope you make one of your own, Ente. And when you get your memory back, I hope you'll tell me one." Gracia said with a smile.
Die Nachtigall und die Rose. Ente said it naturally, though the words just flew around his head like butterflies, and his mouth was the net that caught them and set them in place. He set each word like he knew how, but he didn't really know how. He just knew the words, but couldn't speak the language.
If only the fates were kind enough to dump him in a place that spoke his language more. Alfons said that he knew English better than anything, so England, or America would do him most good. He didn't even know these places anyway. He didn't know Germany. He knew German, that much was certain from his ability to understand the people speaking around him in Munich, although he was neither native nor knowledgeable of the country.
Alfons was definitely a great help. Edward was quite the opposite. Any sane being would keep away from the blond, with his short temper and almost apathetic aloofness. He just didn't seem to care, Ente noticed. Like the world didn't deserve his time.
Or at least, this world.
He itched his head and rubbed at the spot right below his stubbornly standing carrot-colored antenna and mused, He's like me, with that gravity-defying lock.
Besides that, there were a lot of things the two seemed to share. They were two out of place strangers without any pasts they cared to explain. Ente hadn't gotten close enough to Edward to ask, but he knew about how he seemed to fall into silence, or change the subject when someone asked about his life.
And then there were the stories. Alchemy was their center, and Ente would hear him speak of an 'Al' Alphonse who was his little brother, and how they traveled together to places no one else seemed to have ever heard of. They were beautiful stories.
Unfortunately, the people who heard of these simply regarded them so. Stories. That was all it was. The mad rants of an imbalanced genius. People respected Edward and his brilliance, but the fact of the matter was that it was too difficult to approach him.
He was kind when he was kind, and so quiet around others. He always had that dream-like look on his face. It was too calm, too far off for a person. That was why Ente found it a blessing to have Edward lose his temper on him.
It seemed to be a regularly occurring thing, and their jabs and jibes completed the ordinary day in the household. They just didn't agree with each other, and with the few opinions they shared, neither would admit defeat and stubbornly hold their ground.
On some days, it was about the food. Others, about their things. But most of all, it was Ente's view on Edward's connection with anyone else.
BAD.
"Cut it out! She was being nice!"
"She was a floozy. Believe me, when a woman offers you a drink, she's not being nice."
"It was GRAPE JUICE."
"She was convinced it was wine! Do you have any idea what that says about her mental capacity?"
"Ugh, you're hopeless."
Walking home was bearable enough with the sounds of rumbling trucks and the talks of various Germans drowning out their argument, but Edward felt his luck downed by the fact that he could still hear his (annoyingly shrill, and, Ed commented, girly) voice.
Almost more annoying was the fact that he knew that Ed knew that he was right. His pride didn't allow that to be known, of course, but why did the guy have to butt in anyway?
Of course, the more sensible, Al-ish half of Edward Elric, which he probably received from his little brother, wanted to fight less with the redhead, and talk more. Talk about stories.
It was a bit strange for Edward to say that, think that, or even have that kind of thought drift by his head like plastic bags on the polluted wind. It was a thought, which found its roots the first time Ente and he had had a decent conversation.
"Tell me your stories." Was what he had said. Of course, he had probably heard it when Edward was recounting these things to Alfons, and he remembered the same reaction Alfons had to these things that were told to him. Of course, the blond boy humored him, but Edward knew that he, like all people, found it hard to take him seriously.
The strange part was that, when Ente had asked, he looked quite serious. He really wanted to know. He really wanted to hear what he had to say. Being presented with that scenario made Edward pretty tense. In the end, he got angry and argued that they weren't just stories, and why should he care anyway? Ente argued back, not to be insulted, and things just went on from there.
Edward found some small comfort knowing that Ente was like him. The two of them were unlike the rest. It was cruel of him to think so, but Ed reveled in the fact that he had another outcast to share his thoughts with. It might have worked better if he actually shared his thoughts with the duck boy, but well, Ed was Ed.
And now Ed was pissed. He couldn't find Ente anywhere. His mind drifted off for just a moment, and suddenly, the young redhead was nowhere to be seen. This was not the best position to be in, in a place like Munich, especially not with the unrest.
Recent events made it so that children scarcely played in the streets, and the cobblestones of Munich were blackened by gunpowder and various things from the recent war.
Ente, only a boy of fourteen, as far as Ed could tell, wasn't safe anywhere without the blond. "Ente!! Hey, Duck! Where the hell did you go?" He turned and turned but caught no glimpse of the carrot hair, and that was when Edward Elric began to panic.
Not good not good not-
"Edward!! Over here!" Ed ran back to the place they'd passed, and found Ente stopped over at the side of the street, looking frustrated and irate.
"What the hell, you idiot?! I've been looking all over for you!" Said Edward angrily. Ente looked up at him, the boy's serious face making Ed falter.
"The book. Someone knocked me down and it got wet." Ente said simply, brows furrowed uncharacteristically as he wiped and brushed grime and dirt from the little hardback as graying stains began to spread on the brown cover.
It was then that it occurred to Ed how similar Ente looked to Al. With the round face and big eyes (blue, unlike the Elric gold) and that open smile, Ente almost mirrored Alphonse better than Alfons did, and that was saying something.
It hurt.
"Don't do that, moron. It's not safe to straggle on the street. What book is that anyway?" Edward wondered, picking up one of the two grocery bags Ente was carrying previously. The redhead picked up the other and held the book close.
"The Happy Prince and other stories. Gracia lent it to me. I didn't know she had English books, but this one was pretty old, she told me."
Edward quirked and eyebrow but said nothing on the topic. They made their way home without further event, but the expression on Ente's face earlier got Ed thinking.
"Hey, Ed, are you okay? It looks like you could crack nuts with those furrows on your brow." Alfons stated.
Edward looked up. "Ah, nothing." The blond said, his expression softening. Alfons didn't want to buy it, but he left it at that.
The next few days, Ente was reading the same book with its simple brown cover and yellowed, stained pages, always found in odd corners of the house.
"Never thought you were such an avid, reader, Ente." Alfons said, looking curiously at the old book. "I'm not very good." Ente said sheepishly. "I read slow, so I can take time to understand the story. I'm not very smart."
"You're smart enough, Bübchen, to appreciate the story." Alfons said, grinning. "Stop calling me that, Alfons! I'm not such a child." Ente muttered, pouting.
Alfons pressed his point by pinching one of Ente's freckled cheeks. "Hah, but your face says different. Anyway, I'll just leave you to your reading." Alfons said quickly, before Ente could retaliate. He glanced once more at the redhead before leaving the room.
Alfons imagined, at some point, that Ente might have been like a mini-Edward, with his short temper and irate ways, but generally kindly personality. It was endearing to think that Ed might have been like that before Alfons met him.
Sadly, though Ed trusted him most, supposedly, the blond Elric kept so much away. He was so isolate that Alfons felt like he was being pushed away, away from this young man that he respected, that he was so curious about.
Ed was shrouded in the mystery of what Alfons couldn't figure out, and by the stories Ed told, he didn't think Ed would break the tale any time soon.
At some point, the rocket scientist almost believed him. But the fantasies that Ed spun and believed were a luxury that Alfons could not afford.
He had to focus on reality, on THIS world, not on some childish ideals. He didn't have much time anymore...
Ente started, upon hearing hacking coughs from the other room. He snuck to the doorpost and saw Alfons stooped over, coughing into his sleeve in such a way so that no one would hear.
Too late for that. Ente thought.
He stopped after a little bit, wiping his face and getting up again, picking up dropped papers.
Ente wanted to go in and help, but by the look on Alfons' face, he probably didn't want to see anyone yet.
Ente was scared, scared that all he had now was about to crumble like his unattainable memory.
So cookies for whoever guesses who our mystery redhead is 8D
In any case, hope for reviews. Oh man, late already? Gotta sleep, school tomorrow. This one's gonna have more chapters soon.
EDIT: Thanks, irenia, for the correction. 8D
