I am so, so, so, so, so sorry about the long wait. Finally, all of my exams are done and it is summer break from uni. However, now that I am not in school, I am working 40 hours a week and at the same time trying to sew 4 different cosplays. I wasn't interested in continuing writing this story for a while and I considered not updating, but here it is. I do want to wrap it up sometime soon, so this part of the story will be shorter than the last. I hope you are all still with me and will continue reading. Forgive me for the long time gap in between updates.

A sequel to "The Sharpest Lives", this part of the fic sort of follows the song "Stay" by Rihanna and Mikky Ekko. I'm not a fan of her normally, but a reader, Sub C, suggested it and when I listened to the song, I think it works and now I've listened to it a million times.

Sub C also did mentioned how Roy didn't have too many symptoms of alcohol withdrawal from going "cold turkey". A fair point. So, I'll try to incorporate some of these things. I think all people react differently to going "cold turkey" from alcohol anyway.

Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

Chapter 1- It's Not Much of a Life You're Livin'

He had only been awake for a fraction of a second, and already Roy was regretting making the bold statement that yesterday was the first time he woke up without a hangover. The mind searing pain of his current headache was stabbing tiny perforations in his words, mocking them as it pulsated through his skull. He silently thanked the sun for still being set. The clock read 3 am. His mouth was sticky and dry; it felt like dry cotton wool had soaked up all of his saliva and he hated how it left his gums feeling tacky. His hands were shaky and he felt unsteady as he stood from the bed, leaving his blonde lover tucked snugly under the blankets.

Roy pulled his white cotton shirt away from his clammy, sweat-soaked skin as he slowly made his way down the hall. Flipping on the lights, he took one look at the state that his apartment was in and groaned loudly. The sight of all the empty bottles stirred an immense feeling of anxiety in him and he dragged himself to the sink to get a glass of water to clear his head.

After chugging an entire glass, Roy remained leaning over the sink, a hand on each of the edges, staring down into the drain. He was so out of it that he didn't hear Edward come into the room and he nearly jumped a mile high when the blond quietly slipped his arms around his waist from behind. He recovered quickly from his sudden shock and relaxed into Edward's arms, leaning back into him and laying his hands over Edward's mismatched ones on his chest.

"What are you doing up this early?" Ed mumbled lazily with his face pressed to Roy's shoulder.

Roy turned around in Ed's arms to face him and pulled the man in close. "I woke with a terrible headache and I feel dreadful." Despite how uncomfortable he was, he had to smile at Edward, who was squinting his eyes against the bright kitchen light, his long blond hair looking a complete mess.

Edward snuggled into his chest and heaved a tired sigh. "Maybe take a cold shower and try coming back to bed? Take some pain meds too; they'll help your headache." He pulled away from Roy and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom and proceeded to dig through the medicine cabinet. Ed came back through the hall and tossed a pill bottle to Roy before turning away to return to the bedroom. He coyly turned back to his lover and smiled innocently, pushing his bangs behind his ear. "Please come back to bed with me." Roy only nodded with a ghost of a smile.

When he heard the bedroom door close, he took two pills from the bottle and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. He stood leaning back against the counter and surveyed the room, feeling that familiar anxiety settle in again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pushed off from the counter and walked into the living room to evaluate the mess in there. He was baffled by the amount and variety of empty alcohol bottles in his house.

He bent to pick up a light green bottle which still held a few centimeters of some sort of alcohol; he couldn't remember what it was supposed to be since the label had been peeled off. Roy held the bottle up to eye level watched the liquid gently slosh around. His stomach did a tiny flip as he realized he couldn't remember buying all of this alcohol, let alone drinking it. This made him feel even more anxious.

With a low grumble, Roy stalked off to the bathroom with the bottle, turning off the lights as he went. Locking the door behind him, he set the bottle on the edge of the sink and started a hot shower. Roy couldn't wait to wash off the cold sweat he woke up with and he hoped to shake the intense headache that was ravaging his brain. He removed all of his clothing and stared back at his reflection. His skin was pale and grey and the bags under his eyes were dark and drooping.

Without even thinking, Roy lifted the bottle to his lips and tipped his head back. He swallowed two large gulps of the burning liquid before he actually realized what he was doing. Coughing, he spit up what remained in his mouth and slammed the bottle down on the bathroom vanity. Shit! What the hell am I doing? His eyes shot nervously to the bathroom door and he froze, listening to see if he had disturbed Edward. He waited for a few minutes, hoping to hear nothing and when he didn't hear a sound, he concluded that Ed slept through pretty much anything.

He stepped into the shower and the hot water rushed over his face as he ran his hands through midnight black hair. He played over what just happened in his head over and over again, but for all of that, he couldn't remember consciously thinking, "I am going to drink this now." His body just did it. Roy cleared his throat at the memory of the alcohol going down so easily not just five minutes ago. He hated the fact that the saying, "old habits die hard" was 100% true. He knew it to be true. Whenever he was overwhelmed by the thought of forgoing the bottle, the anxiety caused by quitting made him want to take another sip. This time he chose not to.

He sighed heavily and sank down to the floor of the shower, tucking his legs up and resting his head on his knees. He knew now that changing his lifestyle was going to be more difficult than ever. It was more than just making the decision; he needed to make a conscious effort to avoid alcohol. Roy had more than just himself to think about. He realized that he wanted to be clean for not only himself, but for Edward and the rest of his friends. He owed them all a massive apology for acting that way he had been for the past few months. I'm surprised that they are still hanging around me, he thought sourly.

After a good long while, Roy began to feel a bit dizzy from the hot steam accumulating in the bathroom. This paired with his already shaky form made for a horrible combination. He stood from the shower floor a bit too quickly and the dizziness was too much to handle. His vision went black as he fell back to the floor, pulling the shower curtain down as he went. The hot water soon ran cold as it pattered on the tile floor around his unconscious body.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think. If you haven't read my other fic "The Sharpest Lives", I suggest you do, so you know what's up. ;) Cheers!