as always, hoho-papa is love. -fireun
Ed scratched his head in a bemused sort of confusion and surveyed the situation before him, all of his sharp commentary and scathing remarks abandoning him in the face of the incomprehensible.
The old bastard was sick.
Ed glared down at Hohenheim, but without the man matching his gaze or even aloofly ignoring him, even that failed to restore any sense of normalcy. Hohenheim lay in his bed, terrifyingly still but for his shallow breathing, looking paler than he had any business being. The presence of the man was so diminished…
Ed found himself experiencing an emotion he had never thought to link to this particular person; he was scared the bastard was going to die. His pallor, breathing, his entire demeanor was so like that of Trisha before she had passed away that a small corner of Ed's mind was howling with the dismay of a son terrified of losing his last remaining parent.
"Not fair, old man. You can't sneak out of our last argument this easily." Ed hissed, embarrassed when his voice cracked. "I was winning and you knew it." He hauled a chair to the bedside and slumped there, his legs no longer willing to support his anxious pacing.
A few moments later and he inched the chair forward, so he could slump and lean his weight onto the bed. So as to observe Hohenheim for changes, monitor him more closely…
A little later he rested his head on Hohenheim's chest. Had to make sure the heartbeat was mostly steady. Surely if he was this close he would know if there was a drastic negative change in that weak rhythm.
And when Hohenheim's fever managed to break some hours later, and he shifted one weak, unsteady arm to stretch across his sons back in a sort of feeble embrace, Ed chose not to fuss.
Just this once.
hey all, i will respond to comments in my next drabble, aight? having a tough time over on my end, but i wanted to get a drabble up lest you all think i was dead. -fireun