Author: I know I'm literally killing myself here writing 4 fics, having to update for most, but the idea for a new FMA fic couldn't leave my head, and I truly wanted to write it.

It's been long since I've written a suicide related fiction. Last time I did was more than a year ago, and I left it because I didn't like it. Well, save for the D.N.Angel one. I dropped that one shot because the manga-ka never released the 12th. Anyhowww-

This is the beginning, not an epilogue, but the first chapter of a new suicidal, Yaoi, rated M, fic that is long enough for reading pleasure. Now, before I begin, I'd like to ask for comments in advance, and corrections.
And here's a summary if your A.D.D/A.D.H.D made you forget what your reading.
Also, cookies are appreciated, I just won't eat them. But I will make a tower with them, then knock em down. Then re-do the process out of sheer boredom...

WARNING: If you hate yaoi, don't think ROY and EDWARD should be together, think suicide fics are dumb, don't want to review so that I could update, can't bear to read a page (i'll save it for some who don't wanna know), then turn now.

Summary:

Ed contemplates on his past, and come to a conclusion to end the nightmares. Full of self loathing, Edward wants to end his life. But someone won't allow it, is forcibly keeping him alive, stopping his attempts. That someone is Roy Mustang.

He awoke with a start. His golden blond bangs swayed over his down-cast face. His body was soaked with sweat, that he couldn't understand because it was nearly below zero outside, and he was shirtless.

He settled his facial composure, taking notice that he stared wide at his blue army covers.

The boy scoffed, punching his cheek lightly.

Someday he would have to grow up. Someday, when he did, those dreams would have to banish.

Edward came with the solution for that was growing up, but now that seemed to have fallen into the pit of wrong choices.

The now seventeen year old sighed, falling back into his large pillow.

And he had grown. Now only by age, but by height. He was no longer below the five foot measure. Now he stood at a reasonable enough five foot five. Yet still, he sighed. Yet still the Colonel found ways to swerve into the confines of Ed's patience and bite him in the ass with another insult.

He looked around the dark room. He could tell it was empty without having to get up and search. And he granted it with every cell in his body.

This loneliness was not depressing, it was amazing.

Edward could get up when he wanted, eat what and when he wanted, say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and not have a nagging suite of armor tailing him with righteousness.

No, Edward would never regret what he did, run his brother out of the dorm, and into a shelter in Risembool with the Rockbell's. It did seem harsh, and the people at HQ had their doubts that he would go on like this, but he did, and that was that.

The freedom. This freedom.

His smile dropped, and he looked out the window, the sky as dark as his boots. The stars played a rhythm, playing hide and seek behind gray clouds. The only light was from a street lamp post near the entrance of HQ dorms.

He groaned, ruffling his long blond hair with his flesh arm.

Edward wasn't tired at all, so what better to do than-

First his pants other his blue gray checkered boxers. A belt to secure them from falling. His black tank top, then his long sleeve over shirt.

Lazily he combed his hair into an unbraded ponytail, not having to look at his reflection to know it was right and neat.

Walking to the heap of clothing by the closet, he grabbed a pair of black socks.

Once they were on his feet, he slipped on his big boots.

Finished and ready, Edward head to the door. So, what better to do than explore town?

He walked down the stairs softly, making sure the stairs didn't creak enough to signal his leave. These nappers at the HQ dorms always had a tendency to snitch something out when they knew something. That's why he decided to rent a dorm on the third floor. Besides, what can people hear from up there other than his stomps, something he never did, unless he was in an argument on his phone, or has an unpleasant visitor.

Out came a breath that he wasn't aware he was holding. He made it to the entrance door, no one was at the desk, and the lobby was completely empty, dead silent.
He found the moment he reached for the knob fortunate. Edward left handed, stuck it out to grab, instead of his right, creaking, automail arm that would have surely caught some ears.

Slowly, but not too enough to wail the hinges into a cry of rust, he opened the door and angled himself through the small opening. Once out completely, he closed the door quickly, holding back before accidentally slamming it.

He sighed, both from held back anticipation and victory. But before such a small, unnecessary victory could take such place, he would have to get out from prying dorm windows that seemed to linger over him, whispering words of knowing.

But, he shook his head, since when did he care for the little things? Roy prohibited that any alchemist leave because of the murder of a young girl of seven who died due to illegal use of alchemy.

As the boy dashed down the streets into dark ally ways he looked to the sky. He didn't remember using alchemy for murder was actually illegal.

The though lingered in the cloudiness of his mind. Why was it illegal? Murder, sure, it was made out to be illegal years ago, or at least until someone with a sense said so. But alchemy was a skill. None of it's techniques should be labeled illegal.

From what he heard the girl was skinned. Only her insides and naked carcass lay on the array of a transmutation circle. No doubt, from the array, it was due to alchemy. But a normal being could've done the same with his own hand.

He shook. What was he thinking? Why was he thinking like that?

Edward had given his life up a long time ago. But that gave him no reason to believe that the girls death should be pushed aside, or that alchemy was to truly blame for homicidal actions that could've been done by anyone.

Gasping for breath, Ed stopped his running, bending over, his hands pushing the knees of his shaking leg. A buzzing noise that came from over his head caught his attention.

A small store stood before him. It was lit up, lively people inside smoking, talking, swaying.

He read the name, twitching slightly for his small mistake. This was no store, it was Sharona's Bar.

In this land, where he lived, in this city, unlike others in the world, he was a legal age. By that, he was legal enough to drink the night away. But before he walked through those doors, he was clever, sober enough to have his second thoughts.

Surely, Sharona's Bar wasn't as famous as most. But how could he not guarantee that people from his work weren't sitting there now? It was in fact really close to the dorms. But then again, be had their pride, something Ed was lacking, and they would never enter a bar named Sharona's Bar.

They'd piss off, calling it too girl, or something like that, and go to the extent of walking a block or two farther just to go to some place call Cronaham's Bar.

If he remembered correctly, Hughes, long ago, had invited Edward to go on a drinking binge one night, -because Elysia yelled at him because he was practicing his aim with one of her dolls-, at a place called Cronagam's Bar. Edward hesitated a decline, mentioning that he was underage.

In other words, he might actually be in the gray. He walked to the bar doors, poking his head in to check if anyone he recognized, be it his dorm building or HQ, was here.

A smirk crept on the teens face. He waltzed in, the black cloud of fear in his chest clearing off.

How he loved his freedom so.

"A keg of vodka." Edward called out, sitting onto of the the tall stools.

A rather round, but husky man of around fifty turned his neck around, looking at Ed over hid shoulder. His big hands lingered on the shelf of alcoholic beverages. He gave a stoic face, and turned to the blond.

"Havn I see ya before lad?" The man asked, his brow arched, looking down at the sitting customer.

"Doubt it." Ed mumbled. It was true. He'd never been here in his life, or a bar at that. He believed that the bar tender didn't ask the customer questions, and he wanted to have such service served to him. "Now may I please have what I asked for?" Edward said, not holding back the inpatient bitterness of his young voice.

The man nodded quickly, forgiving his lack of tending. He yanked the cotton cloth off his shoulder, placed it on the bottom shelf of the colorful drinks, and reached for the beverage.

He sighed looking down to the cradled bottle in his large hands. Turning to Edward, he gave an unsure look.

"You sure you can take this in?" The man asked, setting the bottle before Ed, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, why ask, hm?" Ed spat. This was edging towards memories of Roy's daily plumage.

The bartender sighed, running a hand over his shaved head, back and forth, neck to forehead. "It's just that, you ain't look like a person to be able to. Ya'know, cuz your-"

"What? Short?!" Edward yelled, catching the attention of other around. He wasn't even drunk, and he sounded nearly tipsy.

"No-No!" The man quickly answered, waving his hands out. "I meant you don't look tough. Ya' kno-" He paused, choosing his words carefully this time. Of course the blond didn't know. He nearly chopped the man's head off when he said so last time. "You look sortsa thin boy."

Last time Edward checked, body mass didn't really matter.
Sue, from HQ, was an anorexic. She would drink all the time, allowing only alcoholic calories in her thin body. She never told Edward that she had been ridiculed from alcohol because of her weight or body. And her death had nothing to do with drinking.

"So?" Ed finally answered. He looked to the bottle, grabbed it, and uncapped it. "I'll do it myself." He grumbled.

"Boy, you sure about that? You wanna take Vodka in a keg?" The man looked astonished. Who was this brave youth? "Normally, you take shots."

To hide his embarrassment, Ed glared at the empty keg. He snapped his head up, looking at the man with flaming eyes. "Yes, I am sure, very much so in fact! And you know what? Get me some Whiskey and Brandy."

Edward had no, zilch, nada knowledge of which alcohol was the strongest, the nastiest, or the way it was served. However, what he did know was that the idea of getting drunk and forgetting himself in the whirlpool of ecstasy, began to sound addictive.

He poured the vodka down into the large cup. Ed almost asked why it wasn't fizzing at the brim like most pictures advertising drinks, almost, but kept it to himself.

The bar tender brought the other two drinks, staring at Ed with wide eyes as he saw him place the keg under his nose, gazing at the sticky looking liquid.

The golden blond took a whiff of the Vodka, not being able to hold back a squirm. His tongue danced in his mouth. It smelled like medicine! And no the pleasant ones.

"It's best you not smell it." The man advised, finally noting that this was Ed's first time. "Here, I'd best give you a shot glass." He held a chuckle, turning, but stopped mid-way to witness the craziest thing he'd ever seen in his bar. Well, not the craziest but the boldest.

Edward chugged the whole keg. The twenty four oz keg into his throat. He was nearing the end, his face was a flaming ball of red. His shoulders where tensely slouched. If only he had an audience.

He finished, forcing the remains that puffed his cheeks down his throat, his face twisted in pain and displeasure.

Ed swallowed it down, none left behind.

Victory swarmed within his agonized posture. He wanted to smile, but the burning in his stomach kept his mouth in a tight purse.

His body heated inside, his outer skin feeling like ice. His body began to take control of Edward's action's without permission. Slowly his body fell back, but the bar tender had grabbed him by the collar in time to yank him onto the counter, where Ed rested his head, his hands limply to his sides.

Then, he smiled. He smiled, and he laughed. "Daaaaamn." Was Ed's comment in this new to him situation.

"Damn is right." Huffed the bar tender, still stoic. "That was absolutely amazing! And.. from what I can tell, your absolutely drunk." He chuckled, then shrugged shaking his head as if this were a rather troublesome event. "Not somethin that is avoidable. 'Specially to the new guyz."

"Hey!" Edward shouted, having difficulty moving his flesh arm to his face. He stuck out his index finger and placed it over is small O shaped mouth. "S... SHHHHHH!" He demanded, face angry.

The bar tender did, but not because Ed ordered him. Mostly because you can't mess with the drunks. They don't listen.

He turned from Ed, and began to clean some chores he ignored earlier that day. Something he should also tend to, since closing time was not more than twenty five minutes away.

Quite humorously, the bar tender jumped at the sudden noise of glass dropping to the wooden floor.

Quickly he turned, almost flying over the counter. He sighed in relief. "Lucky you didn't break dat. Or ma boss wulda had ma head!" He huffed.

"Yeah yeah." Ed slurred, wafting the air with his less heavy flesh arm. He stumbled off the stool, not forgetting to leave the pounds and tip behind, and head for the open doors. "Seee ya... ol... Ol man." He mumbled, leaning against the wall for the support.

The bar tender stood still and watched. Edward stood at the door, staring at the open wooden oak with serious eyes. 'Probly noticed there ain't more wall ta lean on.'

Next thing he saw, Ed was on his knees, crawling on the floor to his leave.

The man would've said something along the lines that Ed should stay until he could even think straight, but went against it. He wanted to head home, and taking care of a teen wasn't on his list.
He sighed and, walking through the flapping doors heading around the counter, attended to the tossed keg. Not a drop of Vodka left behind.

Ed laughed at himself. He still had a clear mentality, but his actions were far from what he wanted. His body just acted on it's own, despite the fact that he knew it was embarrassing and stupid.

He stood, leaning against the old, paint chipping wall, getting some of the puke green chips on his muddy white gloves.

As of now, his main priority was to get to his dorm before sun cracked, or four AM, the time he was meant to wake.

He didn't want Roy to come knocking on his door to wake up. Or to see him like this.

Like a heavy mountain of bricks, sorrow hit him. He felt sad now, drained. Like his mother had died all over in his hands.

He wanted to fall to his knees and cry. Cry of such foolish, random, emotions. But he couldn't. If he wanted to cry, be it in his room, not in the streets. But crying was for babies, for little kids who give up.

Ed no longer thought himself weak. And crying was along those lines.

Looking up with his shaking golden orbs, he saw his dorm, the sky giving off a dark purple. Late morning, in terms of after three AM, after those hours, they were considered late like afternoon, and mid afternoon.

He paced to the doors, only one, insecure thoughts running through his spinning head. Today, he was gonna stop his crying, his dreams, his weakness, his job, his bothers, his memories.

"O... K... Edward..." He spoked to himself, calling out his own name, hyperventilating as he held the automail arm over his flesh arm, looking at the skin wide eyed.

He wasn't as drunk as he was an hour ago, regaining some body control, and clearer thoughts. (spiritual trance).

With a quick glance, he stated the time in his head, then aloud. "It's near four AM. It takes more than thirty minutes to loose enough. Then an hour..." He calculated.

He irritably tskd. "Damn!" He didn't have that kind of time!

Since Al left, Roy had taken the task of waking the teen up, since, well, Edward began to have a knack of waking late. Way past four. More like way past ten AM.

It was a daily routine, save for Sunday.

He shook his head. Now. It had to be done now.

In his last four years of being in the army, he had watched gory autopsy's after another. During those autopsy's, though as gruesome and disgusting they sounded and more over seemed, Ed watched with observing eyes how the doctors tore the skin open to allow massive blood flow. By slicing it vertically() instead of horizontal(-).

He quickly clapped his hands, and ran his flesh hand over the metal of his right, transmuting it into a long, sharp knife.

Unlike most who loved the blade, Ed didn't gaze at it, or adore it's twinkle. He thought that doing so was retarded, dumb, and psycho. It was just plain stupid. Not saying what he was doing wasn't. He just saved the over dramatics of cutting for the dramatic twits.

Without hesitation, deciding this was it, he placed the tip of the metal on the end of his palm, near the wrist, stabbed, and flexibly, yanked the knife down his arm to the tip of his elbow.

He threw his head into the pillow he set on his lap, screaming the pain he felt into it.

The blood did flow quickly, quicker than he imagined possible. He held out his arm, wincing when the muscle cried in pain, and watched as the blood seeped through the deep long line and onto the floor.

Now it hit him. He was loosing too much blood! He was trying to kill himself? What?! No... no no no!

But... But as it sunk in, he didn't regret. In fact, this is how he wanted it. The short panic attack just overwhelmed his gut when he realized his life was edging near the cliffs fall.

Ten minutes had passed, and still his mind was at blank, watching the crimson seep through like the sand in a sand glass. He was beginning to feel it. Dizziness with a pinch of nausea.

His body commanded he lay. So he did.

Like a stone he fell to his bed, staring at the ceiling, his arm to his side, flooding the white sheets with a puddle of his blood.

His automail arm rested on his farm forehead, cooling it down. But he wasn't using it like an ice pack. It was more like a self slap to the face.

Roy wasn't going to come. He chuckled to himself, saving the insane laughing for his welcome to hell, which didn't exist. The Colonel bastard wasn't going to bang at the wood, shout his name, or open the door with his key. Because today was the lucky day. Ed's day off.

Today was Sunday.

No one was going to save him. No one was going to barge in and find a fresh corpse.
Instead, that would take place tomorrow.

His eyes looked above him and out the window. There it was. The magnificent orange sky. It was around four ten am now.
He sighed, taking a slow breath afterwards.

A sad smile lingered his lips. This was it. He was going to die a coward. Die in shame.
He was going to die like a bucket of water with a small rusty, self created hole, leaking out its liquid.

Not the hero way at all.

'Oh, who cares?!' Ed thought. Right now wasn't the moment, or ever more, to think shamefully of himself. Instead, he should feel happy he was leaving all this behind.

This crappy world. Full of damnation.

He eyes closed on their own, his heart beating fast. He was scared, or his body did, but honestly, he felt calm.

The memories and dream streamed like a small river behind closed eyes, fading away.

Yes! What he wanted.

And he also found himself hallucinating. Like the noise of his door unlocking. And then the calm voice that soon started shouting, cursing in confusion and fear. Then his body rose like he was flying.

Maybe he was insane?

But he could've sworn, as he fell to his forever sleep, that the cracking voice that didn't cry tears, but yelled for him to stay, belonged to the Colonel bastard, Roy Mustang.

Author/Nihonjindesu: liked it? Hated it? Anyhowww. Um, the humor. I tried to tone it down. This is supposed to be a somewhat serious fiction... But then I thought (like just now), that would be so unlike Ed to be mopping around like some sad dog. That ain't Edward!

As for the fics POV (for the noobs, this means point of view), I'm thinking of separating? I mean the characters wouldn't be talking in first person, but it'd be their witness.Why? Well, because Ed's out cold, and probably dead, he can't talk (and sure as hell not as a frikin Angel, cause Ed isn't religious). So someone has to have their views. So why not Roy?
And don't say it's up to me! Everyone knows that out there, there are those selfish readers who say "do what you think's right" then they blow off the story cause they thought their own way better! Don't lie to yourself's!
I have A.D.D did you know that?

Anyhow. Please review! Please please please! Fucking pop-ups!