THREE WISE MONKEYS
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I've changed the summary. Is it better? Thank you to everyone who reviewed :) and especially notabot—who I can't PM! Thank you
I hope you like this chapter :)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN • The Fourth Sunday
Al honestly didn't know who he expected to be knocking on the dormitory door at nine in the morning. Yet when Winry shouldered her way through, closely followed by Pinako, he wondered how it could possibly be anyone else.
"Eugh," Winry groaned, lifting her free arm to cover her wrinkled nose. "Al! It stinks in here! Didn't you use the candle I bought for you?"
"Of course," Al rushed to assure her as she dumped her bundle on the ground with a loud, heavy clank. "B-Brother just… He didn't like the smell, and…"
That was technically the truth—just not all of it. Al had lit the candle soon after Winry left the previous day, sure, but it had only stayed lit for a total of two minutes. That was how long it took Edward to manoeuvre himself over to the nightstand and blow it out, writing 'It smells like rose vomit now' before he pulled the blankets back over his head.
It was the only thing he'd 'said' since Friday night.
"And does that pipsqueak really think this is any better?" Pinako asked, striding into the room. A large toolbox weighed down her left arm, throwing off her balance and creating a slight limp. "Alphonse, at least open a window. You might not have a sense of smell, but we do. Tell your brother if he wants his automail back, he'll need us to help."
An indignant, blond head protruded from the Ed-shaped lump on the bed, glaring daggers at the unanticipated guests. Just from the annoyed tilt of his eyebrows, Al knew the older was pouting. Well, at least it was an emotion…
"Oh, stop with that attitude, Ed," Pinako reprimanded as she tossed her burden onto the bed, narrowly missing his foot. "Do you want us to fix you or not?"
The blankets flew up once more, covering his face for hardly an instant before he pulled them off again, letting loose a loud groan as he did so. Ed looked tired. Dark rings encircled his unusual eyes, making the rest of his complexion seem paler than it really was. Cracked lips parted as if to form words—words that no one else could hear nor understand. Tired wasn't the right description… Ed was exhausted.
Al hurried over to help Ed sit upright, unable to ignore that—no matter what he did—Ed just wouldn't look at him. It hurt almost as much as the search to find him had, never knowing for sure whether he was still alive. Edward was there, hunched over on the edge of the bed, and yet… it wasn't him.
It couldn't be.
Ed was a child of sunlight and gold, home to a passion for life as strong as the midday sun. This creature—no, it was him, dammit!—had none of that. The sunlight was hidden behind a heavy cloud, and the gold of his hair and eyes had faded to a dull brass, weathered by the unkind years. But it was Edward! It had to be! What else could adopt such a strong likeness?
"Al."
The armour shifted to gaze down into anxious blue eyes. Winry tossed a glance over to Ed—who appeared to be listening attentively to more empty space—before nodding towards the bathroom.
"I wanna talk to you," she said.
The bathroom was the only semi-private room in the entire dormitory, given how small it was. Comfort and isolation weren't high on their priorities when Ed and Al had purchased the tiny living space. The walls were thin, the floorboards often creaked, and the kitchen tap leaked constantly, but it was convenient, and convenience was important in an emergency. Most emergencies.
For a moment, though, Al was unsure if both he and Winry would fit in the bathroom. He rarely went in there—what was the point?—so its cramped walls were surprisingly near to his shoulder plates. Winry had to weave around his arm to find a place to stand—beneath the shower head, unused since Friday night—once the door had been closed. Her mouth was a thin line, and a black smudge of grease lay over it like a child's attempt at makeup. Grimness radiated from Winry as if it was a disease—and maybe it was. Alphonse also felt that their situation was incredibly bleak.
"So?" Winry started as she folded her arms. "Has anything happened?"
Al shook his head, giving a discouraged sigh. "He still won't talk to me."
Her face fell into an expression of pity. "Still?"
"Still."
"Ugh." Winry let her head slump back to thump against the tiled surface. Just outside, they could hear Pinako reprimanding Ed for something. "He's more trouble than he's worth, isn't he? We should just leave him in… in the middle of some desert somewhere. Maybe that would teach him some sense."
Al shifted uncomfortably. "I-I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Of course not." Winry frowned in irritation. "It was a joke, Al. That idiot wouldn't survive a minute without you. Just look at what happened! And did you see the state of his automail? I almost had to throw it away as scrap metal!"
Despite the heaviness of the situation, Al found himself chuckling. In the tiny bathroom, listening to Winry and Pinako ranting, he couldn't help but feel… encouraged? It seemed like a fairly optimistic word, though, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to use it. But what other adjective could he employ? Happy? No way. Despairing? He… wasn't quite at that point. Maybe soon, if Ed maintained his silence, but not yet.
Ed would get better.
"Winry!"
Both Al and Winry jumped, Al's arm upsetting a plastic cup lying beside the sink. Pinako stuck her head in just as it lost its fight against gravity, toppling to the tiled floor and spreading its insides in a small puddle. She spared the spilt drink less than a glance before tugging the door open.
"What're you doing in here?" she asked brusquely. A few strands of hair had escaped her bun and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Al had to wonder what Ed had done. "Come on, Winry! Hurry up—we have a patient! And a rather disagreeable one, at that."
A sock flew over Pinako's shoulder, landing on Al's breastplate with a soft thud. The shrunken woman spun around, fixing Ed with a steely glare.
"Don't do that again, Edward!" she scolded, a single gnarled finger pointed threateningly. Ed simply rolled his eyes and fell back onto the mattress. Though they couldn't see his face, Al noticed Ed's bare toes wiggling, and knew that he hadn't quite given up.
Winry rapped on Al's helmet, evoking a metallic ringing noise that reminded him of a church bell. "Let me past," she said, already trying to squeeze around but prevented by the shallow puddle.
"Ah, sure."
Shuffling and the grind of metal on metal led them back to Ed's side. He glowered stubbornly at Winry and Pinako from his horizontal position. Pinako rested her hands on her hips and met his glare bravely.
"Sit up, shrimp."
It was more than slightly unnerving when Edward stayed silent at that remark. He didn't move at all, though his face coloured just a degree. Then, he seemed to slump even further into the bed, resignation swallowing his entire body. With a small kick, Ed teetered into an upright position.
Pinako patted the port in his thigh and looked to Winry. "D'you think he's ready?"
Ed pulled away from her touch angrily, jerking his head in what may have been a nod. Though he had seen it done many times, Al felt like an outsider. An intruder. It was fairly obvious that Ed didn't want him there—he hadn't even acknowledged his presence past a quick, furtive glance—but… well, it was his responsibility, wasn't it? As the younger brother? He needed to be there in case he was needed in turn.
But that assurance didn't help him feel any less redundant.
Winry unwrapped the metal limbs and gently placed them on the bed. An indent formed around them, blankets straining from the stress of the added weight. She looked, Al thought, almost nervous. Her teeth were tightly clamped on her lower lip, and her eyes never strayed from the automail. It wasn't difficult to understand her apprehension; Ed was rarely so uncooperative, and he was never so quiet. It created quite the somber atmosphere, as if they were not giving Ed new freedom, but taking it away.
Al tensed as his brother forcibly relaxed, the automail lined up against the vacant ports. Ed's hand knotted in the looser sheets, clenching and releasing along with his erratic breaths as the countdown started:
"Three, two, o—"
Ed burst off the mattress, as if to run, and fell to the ground like a child's broken toy. The following cries of "Ed!" and "Brother!" weren't heard above the frantic gasps and whines surrounding his crumpled form. When Winry reached for his shoulder, Ed jerked back, pushing himself away with his single foot. His back hit the wall beside the bathroom door and he somehow pulled himself into an upright position, grasping and clawing at the thin material above his chest, as if the dislodge something. But while his grappling fingers grabbed at nothing tangible, the panicked, feral attacks never stopped.
The shock broke with the sound of tearing fabric as Ed ripped through it and jagged nails went to work on his skin instead. Before he could draw blood—but not fast enough to prevent angry red welts—Winry jerked forward. Her slender arms attempted to embrace him, perhaps in an effort to calm him down, but all she received was a harsh knock to the underside of her chin. Instead, she restrained his wrist. It would never have worked if Ed had all of his limbs—and granted, it didn't seem to be working even without half of them—but Al supposed that adrenaline leant Winry some of her strength.
That's right: strength. Alphonse was strong. He could, no… He needed to help!
But when Al stepped closer, Ed's terrified, unseeing eyes caught him and the whining turned to a scream. It was rapidly cut off by his own head thudding into the wall behind him, and so Winry had two things to worry about.
"Granny!" Winry yelled, trying her hardest to keep Ed immobile as he tried his hardest to crack his skull open. "Bring something!"
"I am!" Pinako bellowed in reply as she riffled through their bag. "Cover his eyes!"
Winry didn't have enough hands. She abandoned Ed's, the nails immediately dragging down his chest again. Swearing uncharacteristically, Winry wrapped her entire arm around Edward's head and seized his wrist. Reflexively, his leg kicked out, missing Pinako by less than a couple of inches.
Pinako reached around Winry, the needle in her grip jolting with each of Ed's desperate movements. But finally, her wrinkled face pulled tight with strain, she wrestled the point into his upper arm. At the intrusion, Ed stiffened, his uncovered mouth opening in a gasp.
"I-is he okay now?" Alphonse asked hesitantly. Watching how Winry and Pinako dealt with his brother, he knew he really was useless. He'd allowed Ed to hurt himself, just because of indecisiveness, and… he still didn't know what he was doing.
Pinako stood after a few moments, the needle held loosely by her thigh. She sighed, dragging a wrist across her forehead in an effort to appear unruffled. But Al saw her fingers shaking. "Yeah," she muttered. "He'll be alright. You can let him go, Winry."
The girl did so hesitantly, though there was little need to be worried. Unless the blank, unthinking eyes that her arm uncovered counted as a reason. Edward's mouth was slightly ajar, and tears were beginning to well along the base of his eyes from the lack of blinking. He looked like he had that first day in the hospital, Alphonse admitted; like all the life had been sucked out of his small body.
"Well," Pinako said abruptly, knocking Al's shoulder hard enough for it to produce a loud clang! "We have about half an hour to get this automail on him. You ready?"
Winry looked up from her crouched position, face alight with shock. "Granny!" she exclaimed. "We can't put it on him now! Just look what happened!"
"The idiot's basically asleep now." Pinako didn't even have to duck to get around Alphonse. The metal leg she reappeared with was almost as tall as her, and no doubt just as heavy. "We might not have another chance, so just do it, Winry."
Alphonse had to glance away when Winry switched her imploring gaze to him. Within his armour waged a war like no other: should he listen to his granny or his brother? Logic screamed for his granny—she was so wise, so unexpectedly kind, and she would know what to do!—but Ed looked as if he could break. Again.
He was just about to agree with Winry when a loud voice cut him off.
"Alphonse!" Pinako snapped, brows drawn together in a tight frown. "If you want your brother to get back on his feet, he needs two. And Winry!" She turned her attention to her granddaughter, leaving Al shaking in his metal boots. "I don't care what you think is best! This isn't Edward anymore—it's a patient. Do you understand?"
Winry flinched, but didn't reply.
"Good." Pinako tossed the automail to the floor, uncaring of where it went or the scratch it carved in the worn wood. "You take that one. I'll do the arm."
The automail clicked into place, but aside from a quick wince, Edward's expression didn't show any emotion. Even after he was left alone, lying on the floor with both palms facing upwards, he retained a statue-like degree of motion. Perhaps a figure encased in ice? Neither dead nor alive, but something in between.
Al had to get him back.
XxX
He was…
He was floating.
Eyes were open, but blind. The darkness was so beautiful; black and charcoal grey swirling in chaotic, organised patterns, around and around and around and around—
Ed was letting his mind wander, unhindered. The delightful drops of ink in ebony water ground to a halt, slowly gathering into a superfluous warning:
Dangerous.
He knew it was dangerous. He was smart—the youngest to ever join the military! He was a prodigy. A genius. Anything new was dangerous, unnatural, but… it was strangely calming at the same time. The thought of encountering something unknown was fascinating, and he wasn't going to give it up just because of some tiresome foreboding.
But already his cloud of calm was evaporating in the heat of the sun. The shadows clumped together to form hands, desperately trying to shield his eyes from the offensive light of day. Of life. As the dark fingers tore away, scratching at the delicacy of his mind, Ed wished them back. The blurred, bright scene ahead of him was too… too real. He wasn't ready for it.
Not yet.
He wasn't ready for the addition of sound, either. It was like watching a silent film—something he had always wanted to do—and being startled by another's loud cough. It was unexpected.
"—rry, Alphonse." Winry didn't seem to notice Ed's return to reality. Even he was struggling, blinking slowly in an effort to quell the disorientation. "If anything happens with Ed—good or bad—make sure… make sure to tell me, alright?"
Ed couldn't see his brother, but heard his affirmative reply nonetheless.
And then Winry was looking at him, and Ed dared not breathe, lest she notice his semi-alertness. But no flicker of recognition or relief ran across her face. It remained solemn and discontent, as if she might break down any second. Ed wondered why she hadn't already, since keeping her tears in check seemed to cause almost physical pain.
Winry hefted her toolbox up easily, though the thing must have weighed a substantial amount. It was like that saying: 'practice makes perfect'. And Ed knew that Winry would expect nothing less of herself.
"Bye, Al," she murmured from the doorway. Edward could understand from her reluctant voice that there was so much more she wanted to say. The quiet farewell she then gave him didn't even touch upon her thoughts.
Winry closed the door. There was a long, drawn-out beat of near-silence before Alphonse let out a startled gasp.
"Brother!" He quickly moved into Ed's line of sight, metal glinting in the late morning light intruding through the window. "You're awake!"
Just those few words stirred up a great feeling of unease in Ed's already turbulent mind. Among all the other problems, a new one had awakened. He didn't remember falling asleep. Fighting—that's what he was doing. He was always fighting. It was a part of his job… but why was he struggling against Winry, of all people? And why had he fallen asleep?
"They shot you with some stuff," Envy offered from the far corner. His face was partially obscured by the sunlight, giving him an ironic mockery of a halo. "Like an injection."
Ed felt the blood drain from his face. They had given him an injection? He hated needles—hated losing his control. H-hated sharp, pointy, metallic things. He hated Envy, Colt, Mustang, Granny, Winry… Al. Everyone who had seen him so weak—even those who showed no contempt—they were laughing at him.
Oh, look at the Fullmetal alchemist! How the mighty have fallen!
"Brother?" Alphonse repeated, sounding quite hesitant. But when Ed twisted to look into his glowing red eyes, he didn't see his younger sibling.
Black irises, glowing only with the glee contained within, stared at him from above an excited smile. It was a gaunt profile, with sharpened cheekbones—sharp like knives—and pale countenance, as if the man who watched him had been resurrected from beyond the grave. If Ed focused, he could even smell the stench of death, thick in the air.
But the ghostly apparition struck no terror in comparison to the blade dangling loosely beside his folded knees. The thin-lipped mouth opened in a leer, saying,
"Brother? Brother, are you okay?"
Envy cackled, hair waving about from the force of his mirth.
"Can you hear me?"
Colt reached forward jerkily, his bony fingers coming closer and closer… It wasn't perfect, but someone had done it. Human transmutation. Because Ed had no doubts that Envy had killed the character named Jeremy Colt, yet there he was, ready to play his part, and take over the stage once again.
And how was that equivalent exchange? Ed and Al, who had spent so long studying and training, lost everything when they tried to bring back a woman who was kind, loving. All they gained from that was a shuddering mess of organs and a soundtrack for their nightmares.
Yet that man… a twisted beast of a human, was allowed to return—
"Brother, snap out of it!"
—was allowed to find him. It was that, if nothing else, that convinced Edward that the Gate really did seek to devour his sanity.
If so, it had it.
He was done. Finished. It was a valiant effort, he was sure. Not one worthy of the Fullmetal alchemist, but he was barely Edward Elric anymore. He was just… Fullmetal. The name carved in his collarbone. He knew it was 'Fullmetal', though he couldn't say how. But that wasn't important. It was his brand, his title, the curse he adopted at the tender age of twelve.
Colt lurched forward, blade pointed straight ahead. It pierced Ed's chest, icy fingers scrambling towards his heart, chattering in a thousand exuberant voices.
"Brother… Brother… Edward…"
Not his name. Not anymore. He didn't deserve it. A numbness was spreading throughout the top of his body as his heart found itself obstructed. He was gonna die—again—and Al…
Al.
Ed blinked, closing his eyes for as long as it took for his breathing to go back to normal. The pain faded, though there was no accompaniment of red light. It just… left. All that remained of his hallucination was the shadowed figure opposite. Ed was starting to wonder if Envy would ever leave.
Al's glove was on Ed's shoulder, the source of the strange, deadened sensation. Al probably didn't realise how hard he was holding him. Ed glanced upwards, but couldn't keep his gaze for fear that too much concentration would birth another vision. Just the sight of all that metal made him uneasy.
"Brother?" Alphonse urged softly, most likely noticing the change in behaviour. "Did… something happen?"
Ed didn't react. Suffering beneath the stares of both Envy and his brother, he shakily got to his feet. Feet, plural. Gleaming steel surrounded him on all sides, disorientating him and causing him to stumble back against the wall, a headache pounding in his temples. To his great surprise—and relief—Alphonse didn't try to give any help. Ed heard his armour clanking, as if he had gone to step forward and stopped himself, but only the wall let him stand upright. Al didn't say a single word as Edward staggered over to the bed. After a few moments of uncertainty, the blankets flew upwards and hid the boy beneath.
In his cave of pale blue sheets, Edward clenched his eyes shut and tried to ignore the cool touch of automail on his skin. When did he ever say he wanted it back? Well… he had. Profusely. But he hadn't understood what that meant! He needed… I-it…
A hand reached out of his warm cove, feeling along the bedside table. A lamp, empty glass… pencil and notebook. He retrieved the last two items hastily and scribbled down his request with just as much speed. But then he was stuck. To 'deliver' the note, he'd have to leave the safety surrounding him.
No, Ed steeled himself. He had been the Fullmetal alchemist, once upon a time, and he hadn't lost that much of that past character. If he had… maybe faking it could convince himself that he wasn't completely different. He was brave, he was strong, he could beat the Gate at its own game.
He could push the thin piece of paper onto the ground.
And so he did. Alphonse made a noise of relief when he noticed the movement, but went worryingly silent as he read. With his vision effectively cut off, Ed relied on his hearing to locate his brother. But unlike most other soul-filled creatures, his brother didn't need to make any noise. The most accurate that Ed could guess was some place to his left, where he'd dropped the note.
Then another fear entered his mind. What if Al refused? It was a strange request, Ed admitted. He'd never asked anything like it before, and it made him feel like an invalid. A young child, unable to fend for himself.
"But you're a homunculus now," Envy commented in a bored tone. Ed imagined him lounging against the windowsill, watching the pathetic lump hidden beneath blankets. "You're more than human, and yet you act like you're less." The voice turned ugly, laced with hatred like poison. "Stop acting like a fucking human, Fullmetal!"
Alphonse unknowingly interrupted, shuffling off towards the dresser with a quiet, "Alright, Brother."
Envy hissed lowly, and Ed flinched. The image his mind had conjured morphed, darkened, until the indifference in the elder homunculus' expression faded to spite, anger, disgust. The unusual violet eyes glimmered with frustration at the thought of the blood they had been denied. Edward was fairly sure Envy's presence was nothing more than imaginary, so… where was that hungry expression coming from?
"You'll be a better homunculus than a brother," Envy spat, his light footfalls announcing his approach. Ed tried his hardest to bury further into the mattress, but the laws of physics were against him. "Can't you see what you're doing?"
Ed shook his head weakly, teeth pulling at the under sheet. Yet he couldn't suppress the soft 'No'. And he knew. He knew before Envy said it, because… Envy wasn't really there. Ed's thoughts were.
"You're hurting him." Envy chuckled, a deeper sound than Ed was expecting. "You're hurting your own fucking precious brother, just by being here."
Ed gasped aloud as Alphonse lifted the blankets down to the foot of the bed. The sudden change caused his automail to glint, to shine, to remind. It was horrible—he could almost feel the knife within his ribs, the false blood filling his mouth and staining his tongue—and he couldn't get away.
No escape.
Sorry.
He didn't realise he was repeating the word over and over in his soundless voice until Envy started to mimic him sarcastically in a high falsetto. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! It was followed by a loud laugh—
What was so damn funny?
—and as the homunculus began speaking once more, Ed had to resist the urge to scream over him. He was quite sure that Alphonse knew his brother had lost it, but Edward still desperately clutched to those last few remnants of pride. He hadn't lost it—not really… Not really…
Things were just complicated.
"Brother." Alphonse laid the requested long-sleeved shirt and pants beside Ed's clenched automail fist. Ed didn't open his eyes, but his free hand unconsciously crept up to cradle his forehead. If he let his concentration slip, the knife would meet his touch again.
"Brother… I've been thinking."
The uncertainty in Al's voice spiked Ed's curiosity, but not in a good way. It was similar to the way he had felt as a child, when he and Al passed by a dead animal on the side of the road. It smelt, it was often half-eaten, and its gaze was glassy, but it held a morbid fascination for the two boys. Yet Edward had the uneasy feeling that what bothered Al couldn't be poked with a long stick.
Ed ran his palm along the uneven surface of the sheets until it struck something foreign. It was one of his better shirts, rarely worn due to his uncanny ability to tear clothing whenever he got in a fight. But he shrugged into it quickly, waiting for Alphonse to continue as he sat on the other side of the mattress and worked on the buttons.
"They were talking about it in the hospital, and…" Al shifted nervously. "I think you should see a psychologist."
Ed spun around quickly, mouth agape with shock. For once, the sight of Alphonse's body didn't urge up fear or nausea—he was too stunned. It took quite a while for Ed's befuddled brain to sort through Al's declaration, to understand what was being said. A psychologist?
Alphonse's gloves twisted together nervously. "I-I think it'd be a good idea. I mean… It's… You're not acting like yourself, Brother. It's scary." Urged on by Edward's forced silence, Al kept talking, the words coming quicker and quicker. "Y-you haven't said a word since the colonel found you, a-and they could fix that! They could fix… well, whatever this is! Please, Brother! Can you just… try it?"
Al didn't say anything, and Ed didn't hear it, yet the unspoken 'For me?' echoed stubbornly on the edges of the one-sided conversation.
Ed's features set into a stubborn frown and he bent to put on his pants. Already, with half of his automail hidden, the throbbing in his chest was slowing, though he doubted it would ever go back to 'normal'. Was it even a heart anymore? What constituted a heart for a homunculus?
If he ever managed to find the real Envy, Ed would rip him open and see the answer for himself. But there were more important, more pressing issues to be dealt with before Edward could even fantasise about the warmth of that damn monster's life flowing over his skin… More important, perhaps, but they held nowhere near as much appeal.
Ed stood to button up his pants, vaguely grateful that Al hadn't chosen any of his 'usual' clothing. Namely, the leather. With his automail hidden, a tremendous weight slithered from Ed's shoulders, immediately replaced by those lurking just behind it.
Without turning to look, Ed nodded at his brother. He didn't want to see anyone about his 'problems'—they were his to do with what he pleased!—but home-life demanded that he offered Alphonse that small victory. Both he and Envy scoffed at the thought that, maybe, it could help.
Again, the notebook found itself nestled in his lap, new words etched into its recently-abandoned pages.
'It'll be useless. You know that.'
"No, Edward," Al insisted forcefully, pushing the book into Ed's hands. Ed started at the use of his full name, his mouth falling further at the edges. "We don't know that. Not yet. If we can just get your voice back… we can…"
We can—we can—we can—we can—we can—
What?
Ed had never felt the need to do something just as much as he did in that moment. 'Something', however, was too broad a term. His insides churned as if filled with acid, spitting up fury, raw and jagged and biting. He was a pot of inhuman, unreasonable rage, boiling and screaming and casting up noxious clouds of fumes to choke, suffocate, kill all rationality left within him.
And why?
Because Al had hesitated. How dare he preach about matters beyond his understanding? Al didn't understand—he couldn't! He couldn't see the floral print mattress, mould creeping through the rusted springs that protruded like discoloured bones. He couldn't see the blood—Edward's blood—that periodically stained the floorboards, red and brown and taunting. He couldn't see Envy, the fucking source of all Ed's problems! He didn't understand! He didn't understand!
"How could he understand, Fullmetal?"
Ed glared at the hallucination, golden eyes molten in their anger. That didn't stop Envy one bit.
"After all…" The homunculus wandered leisurely towards the blood splattered mattress and tugged on one of the springs, allowing it to retract with a squeal of protest. "Your brother doesn't feel pain. It's likely he doesn't remember it at all."
Ed stubbornly ignored him as he wrote down an agreement to Al's request. Hopefully, Ed would be able to convince him against the idea before the first session came about.
"Come on, Fullmetal!" Envy groaned in annoyance upon reading his acceptance. "You're our newest recruit!" He crept up close enough to purr into Edward's ear, "Let's have some fun, yeah?"
Thanks for reading :) Because I'm sure this will come up—no one saw any red sparks when Ed scratched himself because he didn't draw any blood
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