He remembers the ideas of small things, like taste, touch, but cannot remember how they worked. The urge to breathe has since faded from instinct long ago, a constant nagging discomfort in the beginning even though he can no longer perform the act itself. In the beginning, it's food he misses the most. The sensation of warmth, love. In the beginning, it feels strange, but not wrong.
Not anymore.
He knows Brother won't understand, so he doesn't push it, because he doesn't want anyone to worry, least of all him.
.
.
.
There are times he forgets to remember.
The first time it really happens is at Winry's house, after their run-in with Scar. Alphonse cannot sleep; there is no escape from his thoughts. But Edward can. At least, to some extent. He feels vulnerable, shining like a beacon in the moonlight, like a knight, a silent protector. He cannot wake from this nightmare; he lives within it.
And he can't pretend he doesn't resent Brother, just a little. He's aghast with himself at first. Horrified, because he can't harbor such a grudge, he tells himself as he watches the steady rise and fall of Ed's chest.
At first.
.
.
.
Some nights Edward wakes up crying out for someone. Sometimes it's Nina, sometimes Mother, sometimes Winry or…or anyone, really. Often he will beg for forgiveness. He will never let Alphonse see him like this. He will never let anyone see him like this, because he is the eldest, he is the head of the family. He must be strong.
But sometimes Edward forgets that Alphonse is always awake—because sooner or later everyone does, everyone always does—and his guilt chases him into the waking hours, leaves him wretched upon waking. And this fear is, to Alphonse, better than staying awake, because then at the very least he could remember what it was like to be alive.
There's one night where Edward is sobbing on his side with his face buried in the pillow so Alphonse can only see his shoulders and back, an uninhibited trembling in the soft light of the moon.
There comes an urge to comfort him. Alphonse nearly does, he's about to call out, but then, quicker than thought, he wonders, for the first time, if it would really solve anything. It'll break Ed's heart to know that his younger brother has seen him like this, but that's not even the point, not really. It never has been as simple as that.
So Alphonse stays where he is, and wishes so strongly that something may stir in his empty metal insides, and that he could cry along with him.