The sun has long since set when Edward drifts off to sleep.
Al just watches and straightens the blankets.
Hours creep by. Al sits there, never tiring. The armor tries to lose himself if thought; one of the few ways he can pass the time.
Later, he's reading a book he's already read twenty times before. He doesn't disturb Ed. Outside, an owl hoots.
More hours pass.
He observes his older brother's sleeping habits: the way the blond lies and occasionally snores, how he twists up the blankets unconsciously, the sounds he makes.
Alphonse stays there throughout the night, like a guard.
When the older brother cries out in distress, Al is by his side, holding Edward's flesh hand, letting him know he's there. He never shames his brother by speaking of the pitiful noises made in the grips of a nightmare.
He simply watches over until it subsides.
Time drags on.
Alphonse readjusts Ed's blanket.
Then, there's finally light on the horizon.
Al watches it grow brighter; he can't go blind from looking into the sun. And he never sleeps.
Then Ed is moving, waking up.
The armor turns and greets him.
One more night down…
How many left?