There was a noise. Edward turned his head on the arm of the couch and blearily raised one eyelid halfway. He grunted to himself. Not again. The noise was a quiet disturbance, a slight shuffle around the room. A page would flutter, a creak would come up from the rotting wooden floor, something. It was always a small motion, but it was enough to draw his attention.

Most people probably wouldn't have even registered it by now, but Edward was pathetically resigned to always be a little paranoid when it came to odd or unidentifiable occurrences. It came from experience.

So it was becoming irritating when every single time something moved in the night, he was practically forced out of his sleep to survey the room. It was nearing three in the morning, according to the analog clock resting on the wall near the kitchen. The disturbances had been persisting nearly hourly since he'd resolved to go to sleep, preventing what could have been a restful night. The rain pattered on the window and the cold wasn't actually that cold. Outside, it might've been miserable, but inside it made perfect conditions for sleeping.

Ed shoved his face into the arm of the sofa, not bothering to look around this time. At every sound so far he had searched endlessly for some sort of common cause, but nothing. Sometime around eleven he'd gotten up in a fit of rage and tore the apartment apart, toppling book stacks and checking between every crevice, behind every door. Hell, he'd even looked in the refrigerator. Nothing. Not any clue as to what could possibly be causing him so much stress.

And still he felt as though he was being watched by some sort of presence, the same feeling that had been with him from the time when he left the locker room.

He'd given up assuming the offensive position at one, gave up on rising at all at two, and now at three he wasn't even bothering to look around. He knew it was dangerous. But he was tired of these stupid noises that anyone should be able to ignore. Really, it was unfair.

He relaxed into a more comfortable position and tried to rest. He had to get up early tomorrow. He cringed. Today. It was already past midnight. The thought only added to his aggravation.

Edward forced himself to relax again. He really was tired. What a useless reason to be up all night. It was probably just another one of Al's cats wreaking havoc in the dorm.

No. His face crumpled. He felt familiar warmth behind his eyes. No, that wasn't it. Those days were over. No more Al, no more cats, no more military dorm. He wouldn't see those times any more, except in memory. That was all he had.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly (which was pretty much the same thing as a sigh but he decided he wasn't going to do that anymore) and sat up on the couch. He curled his legs up into his small frame and wrapped his arms around them. He definitely wouldn't be able to get any sleep now. A sudden chill hit him and he was glad he hadn't chosen to strip to his boxers.

Edward shifted forward, letting his head droop and bangs cover his face. What the hell was he doing? This whole situation was useless. But that was his life after all; facing tragedy and trying to fix things that could never really be fixed. It only ever made things worse, this endless cycle. Why didn't he ever learn? He curled tighter into himself. No matter how many times he asked this question, it never changed his course. He kept moving.

He let that one thought run through his mind, empowering him. Yes, he was Edward Elric, determined, prodigal, and… determined again. He had to keep moving, for Mom, for all the people he left behind. For Al. He shot straight to his feet, fist raised triumphantly. He would keep moving forward. He had to. Even if it was wrong, even if things turned out worse for it (which was unlikely to be possible at this point), he had to keep going. For the chance, the hope, that it could get better. That things could be fixed.

A chair squeaked in the corner.

"SHUT THE HELL UP," he yelled as he turned and threw a nearby book in the general direction of the sound. There. That was for interrupting his inner monologue. Even if the cause of the noise was still intangible, it felt good to exert some of the frustration that had been mounting since he left the arena. Really, it was still odd-

"Ow, shit, that hurts like hell, Fullmetal. How long have you been able to throw like that?"

Edward froze. The presence was no longer intangible.

-philos