How The World Ends
AN: I know I already have two – no, three – series going on… but I couldn't resist. I really couldn't. I'm going to try to make this as non-cliché as possible.
Disclaimer: All characters of Fullmetal Alchemist belong to Hiromu Arakawa – not me.
Edward
"Alphonse… we did it… we did it…" Edward felt a dull throbbing in his head as he muttered into the floor. "He… he's gone… and your body… oh God, Alphonse, your body…"
Edward Elric wasn't the type of person to break down into tears, but he had to force them back now. He was just so happy – everything they'd worked for, all the pain they'd suffered, everything seemed completely worth it. He blinked rapidly as he rolled over, staring at the darkness above.
Where am I? His vision seemed fuzzy. He remembered that – that creature that looked so much like his father – activating the circle. He remembered a pure white space, the familiar door looming in front of him, and he remembered turning around to see the door's mirror image facing him, a malnourished, blond-haired body seated in front of the gateway…
The tears pressed forward insistently, and he closed his eyes as he allowed them to trickle down his cheeks. What did he have to hide now?
"Alphonse… Al…" he whispered, opening his eyes and looking around. His hair felt matted, and he reached up a hand to touch it – when he drew the metal fingers(they were still metal… still metal…) away, there was red on them.
Blood. Whose blood? He couldn't remember. Was it his own?
It didn't matter.
"Hey… Al… where are you?" A foreign emotion made his throat close over, and his next words came out as a soft, choking noise instead. Hohenheim – the bastard – had been fighting his doppelganger, hadn't he? And then… and then…
His head swam.
He'd died.
Edward suddenly felt contrite about calling his dead father a bastard.
Well, at least he was with his mother now… but where the hell was Al…?
He spied a small bundle, half-hidden by the shadows. Edward didn't even bother getting to his feet and crawled over hurriedly, anxious to check on his brother, anxious to see his living face again…
His long blond hair was tangled and unkempt. In an uncharacteristic display of tenderness, Edward brushed it away from his brother's face. Alphonse was curled in a fetal position, his eyes screwed shut. Edward swallowed at the sight of his younger brother's skinny frame – his ribs were clearly visible, and his arms were no more than sticks…
"Don't worry, Al," he whispered to his unconscious brother. "You'll be fine in a couple of weeks. I'll take you to the military hospital, and we'll get you up and running before you know it." He dashed one arm across his eyes. "Think of how happy everyone's going to be… although I'm gonna get so much crap for not being able to get my limbs back… but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're here, with me, and you're… oh God…"
The tears were still dripping down his cheeks, and Edward scrubbed at his face, ashamed of his weakness. But he was so glad.
Alphonse did not respond.
Edward patted his brother's head gently. "We've been through hell, haven't we?" he murmured. "But we're home again. And we're going to stay here, aren't we?"
No response. And Edward suddenly realized how silent his surroundings were.
His heart racing, he pressed two fingers to his brother's neck, hunting for a pulse. Nothing. Biting his lip, Edward lowered his head to Alphonse's chest, praying, praying to hear it, the thrum of his living, beating heart…
Silence.
Nothing.
Edward lifted his head and sat back, staring in front of him numbly. Alphonse's lips were turned up at the corners in a faint smile. He was… he was sleeping, dammit! He was only unconscious! There had to be an explanation for this!
"Al," he spoke his brother's name harshly, "Al, stop messing around. Get up."
Nothing.
"Alphonse," Edward spoke again, his voice cracking, "this isn't funny. Quit it."
Nothing.
Edward screwed his eyes shut and slumped forward, allowing the tears to fall again. Blindly, he reached out and clutched his brother's cold hand – why hadn't he realized how cold it was? – and hugged it to his chest, feeling his throat tighten and his body shake with sobs.
"No, Al, no," he wept, and for the first time, there was no one there to reply.
This is how the world ends.
AN: That last line is how every little piece will end. Yes, Edward isn't an overly emotional person by nature, but he'd thought his brother was alive, and he found out he wasn't – I think far stronger people would break down and go mad.
It's probably still clichéd, but I can't think of any other way of Ed's world ending – now he has no family left whatsoever.
I'm sorry it's so sad! D:
710 words.