Just Follow

Disclaimer: I wish I did own Fma.

Summery:Ed is tired of Alfons thinking he's crazy. So he leaves. He just wants Alfons would follow.

"Talking"

'Thinking'

emphasis

"Saying thoughts out loud"

'Memory Talk'

"I'M crazy?! You bastard!" CRASH! " How dare you! I'm sick and tired of you being so damn hypocritical! You call my peaceful, happy home a fantasy! Yet you act as though just because some guy says that people with a certain religion is bad, they deserve what happens to them! Or when he says that because you have blond hair and blue eyes, your a superior race!" SLAM! "Well I have news for you! Hitler isn't part of that 'great race' and neither are you!"

Ed stood panting, hunched over the table, hands pressing down so hard, the wood creaked and groaned. His golden eyes were lit with fire, sorrow, and something Alfons couldn't name. They seemed to glow, even in the dim lighting of the room. His lungs burned and the familiar sickly feeling washed over him; it'd been happening more often lately, but he refused to tell Alfons. He'd probably dismiss it and tell him its part of his imagination or just stress. But the doctors said otherwise.

It made his insides ache to know that Alfons knew nothing about him. And what he did know, was dismissed as fantasy. He knew what he had to do. Even if it killed him.

"I'm leaving, Alfons." he tells the still stunned blond across from him. It would hurt like hell, but he had to do it.

There was no other choice.

He tore his burning eyes from Alfons' shocked ones and walked to his room; fast enough to show that he would do it, but slow enough to give Alfons time to stop him. He gave a shuddering gasp and paused, shirt in hand, as he focused on keeping the tears inside. Alfons was stubborn and he ached at the realization that Alfons wouldn't run after him. He squeezed it to his chest and gave a sob before sniffing and wiping his eyes. He began to carefully place stacks of his clothes into his suitcase, tossing in photos, a couple books, and a stuffed animal. When he snapped it shut, he didn't even realize that he still had a little more room inside; he didn't have many things to pack.

He bent and picked up another suitcase, carefully placing an artificial arm and leg inside; he could come back for the others later. Checking the latches on both, Ed wipes his face again before pocketing his medication. Picking up the suitcases, he left his room, not bothering to look back, and walked to the front door.

He had to sit down a suitcase to grab the door knob, and when he did, he looked back to the only man he cared to live for in this world. He barely held back his tears when he caught the look in Alfons' eyes. Realization, anger, surprise, and sorrow flashed through the younger blond's eyes in quick succession. He felt a couple tears fall down his cheeks and somehow managed to hold back the others.

"Goodbye, Alfons." he says, voice shaking with the effort to keep back sobs. He yanked open the door and picked up his suitcase, walking as fast as he could with tear-blurred eyes; he hoped he didn't fall down the stairs. Although that may take away the pain of knowing that Alfons didn't care enough for him to try to convince him to stay, to follow him.

He was half-way across the street when he heard Alfons call his name. He stopped and turned half-way to look at him, heart picking up its pace when he saw that Alfons was leaning out the window. He saw the German boy's eyes glance to something in front of him; a fleeting thought of 'It's probably a car. I should move.' flashed through his mind. His eyes widened and a panicked look dominated his face and filled his eyes.

"Edward! Move!" He shouted.

Ed stared up at him and, in those moments, time seemed to slow down.

'Please...Alfons...'

"Just...

...Follow."

He never saw the car that hit him right as he was turning to face whatever was making Alfons panic. He never felt the cold steel slam into his fragile and sick body. His body was slammed backwards and his head cracked on the hard ground, blood flowing out and staining his golden hair red and specks of blood spotted his white shirt. His hair tie had broken when he was hit and his hair fanned out around him, making him look, ironically, like an angel.

(Here's a preview for a possible sequel.)

Alfons' breath caught in his throat at how beautiful Ed was, even in death. If he could've breathed, he would have laughed at how much the self-proclaimed atheist looked like an angel. The screams of terror and yells of "He's still alive!" and "Someone get help!" met his ears, but only Ed's last words seemed to echo inside his mind.

'Just...

...Follow.'


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And that's a wrap. I nearly cried writing this.Just imagine how Ed looked when he got hit. It's up to you to decide what happened to Ed. He either died, went into a coma, or coma then woke up with amnesia of everything before he met Alfons and right before he had that fight with him. Ed's disease is for you to guess too. I may do a sequel to this as a second chapter. But it will only be Alfons' POV about their fight. Enjoy! And TCH IS going to be updated. As soon as Sloth moves out.