Sorry it's so late, my bestest friend in the world came over on Friday and slept over. A half hour before she left we drew on each other with sharpie, I drew a face on her bellybutton and she wrote that she owned my right arm. So I spent an hour and a half trying to scrub a pie off of my elbow, but she kinda had something worse on her arm. Fine I'll say it, I drew a really gross thing on her arm (a boy's private parts, don't want to get into to much detail cause younger people read this)

Yeah and we were using sharpies in a closed off room, so I got sick off of sharpie fumes (they do NOT get you high no matter what people say, they made me uber sick and tired)

Animer will take it from here so hope you all enjoy and know that Ed, Animer and I you

Thank you for the favs and comments

:3

Slowly Fading

I wake up to feel the warmth that was next to me is gone and I'm lying on my side facing the couch, holding onto Mustang's blanket tightly. I can hear talking from somewhere far off but the words are warbled and faint, like someone whispering through a tunnel. A hand is gently stroking my back in a loving way, careful not to put much pressure on the sore muscles.

Everything aches but my stomach, sides and chest hurt the most, like someone has been kicking me over and over without mercy. I let out a small cough that rips up from my chest to escape from my throat; just one cough hurts like hell.

"Brother, are you awake?" Al's voice sounds from next to me. I slowly open my eyes and see the back of the couch, looking at the blurred fabric as it swirls in and out of focus. I turn to face Al but instead of seeing the details of his armor like I normally can he's just a blurred figure, the only thing that stands out are his soulful eyes.

"Yep." I rasp, struggling to sit up in my weakened state. Al instantly moves to help me, propping up pillows so I can rest my back on the armrest of the couch. I have so much to ask and so much to say but I can only manage a small grunt that sounds like a thanks.

"Mustang's in the kitchen with Hawkeye and Armstrong. Their thinking of a plan to get out of here but so far they don't have anything. But if worse comes to worse I'll walk out of this place with you in my armor so those things don't get you." I nod and my head lolls in the direction of the others' voices, I know their talking quietly so I don't hear what they are saying.

"Those things…how many are there…?" I look back at Al and he lowers his head, thinking about telling me or not.

"Over fifty now, it seems like the whole little town nearby got infected. They haven't gotten in but they've been scratching on the windows. The garage is safe and if they get in the main part of the house we'll all retreat into there since it's made of steel." He looks back over at the kitchen, probably trying to hear or see what they are saying.

Then a horrible itching sensation fills my chest, like a cat is trapped in my ribs and scratching at my lungs and throat. I wrap my arms around my chest and my body instinctively folds itself in half to protect my chest and stomach. Voices echo around me but they are lost in my coughs which seem like they will never end. I feel a towel being forced under my chin and a hand moves down my arched spine, trying in any way to make the pain stop.

Tears stream from my eyes as I gasp for air, raising my head to look around the room as it spins and blurs. Then the taste of copper and salt rushes up my throat and into my mouth, some of the fluid trickles from my mouth. The rest of it is spat out into the towel and I fall back in exhaustion, panting and shaking from the horrible coughing fit.

Horrified gasps sound from around me but I tune it out, closing my eyes in an attempt to get some sleep. A hand shakes me roughly and I open my eyes, glaring the figure above me. That's Mustang right? Yeah it's him; even though everything is unfocused and blurred I can still make out worried gray eyes.

"Edward, stay awake please. Stay with us." I glance at the towel in his other hand and feel the blood in my veins freeze. The white fabric is stained with crimson liquid, my blood. I raise my right hand and rub the fluid that's still lying at the corner of my mouth. I look at the steel and see blood.

"M-m-mustang…" I feel my voice rise in panic and confusion. I look around the room with wild eyes, seeing everyone looking at me with fearful eyes. My body begins to shake and I moan in pain and fear.

"Someone get me a thermometer and a wet washcloth." Mustang orders, placing his hand gently on my forehead. Footsteps storm out of the room and I close my eyes, feeling tears leak out from under my closed lids. Next thing I know a thermometer is being shoved under my tongue and a washcloth is placed on my forehead. Water drips down my temple, joining the cold sweat that lies in a puddle on my pillow.

"A little over one hundred and five." Mustang's voice answers someone's question and the thermometer is withdrawn. I open my eyes and see his face just inches from mine.

"How do you feel Ed?" Mustang's voice is getting fainter and fainter, just like my breaths. I lean my head back and look at the ceiling, feeling my thundering heart slowing in its rapid beating. I feel Mustang shake me, desperately trying to keep me awake, but I'm so tired and sleep seems so good at the moment.

"Sleepy." I whisper, drowning out the faint cries that echo in my head. I slowly close my eyes and fall into a painless sleep.