A/N - Exams approaching, stress building, inspiration having a feeding frenzy on my focus. (Oooh. Alliteration.)
Thanks to - Su-chan! I wuv you to bits! And to MusicalRileyChan, QueenBrooke, K. A. Maples, WildfireDreams, Spearette and ElasticBobaTurtle, thanks a million for your warm and encouraging reviews!
Snapshots, Sketches and Scribbles
Insomnia - Part I
There are several advantages to having a body of steel. One of these is the elimination of physical exhaustion. In all the time Alphonse has inhabited his suit of armour, he has not once had to complain of the cold, the heat, shortness of breath, aches or pains, hunger, illness or discomfort of any kind.
Due to this lack of physical wear, Alphonse has no need to sleep. This presents one of the disadvantages of having a body of steel:
Killing six to eight hours by lying still in a bed you can't feel isn't much fun.
Sometimes he sits by the window of whatever room they've managed to secure a place for the night as if attempting to memorise every last detail of view, but most of the time he's in a chair by Edward's side, watching his older brother sleep, listening for the slow, steady pattern of inhale, pause. Exhale.
At times, the interval between breaths extends for too long and Alphonse strains to catch the exhale, waits for an excruciating eternity before the gentle sigh escapes the parted lips and relief quells his irrational anxieties.
Then, the wait starts over.
Provided with excess time and unable to retire his mind, Alphonse has developed the tendency to over-think. It makes him feel much too old, this endless, unbroken consciousness, with his only means of rest through deep meditation.
The technique allows him to empty his thoughts, free his awareness from stress and for a while, forget. Their Sensei had been the one to teach it to them, and Alphonse has exercised his knowledge of this practice enough times to make up for the fact that Edward doesn't.
When you're mad or upset, tired, or you just want to get away from it all...
Inhale. Count - two. Exhale.
He pretends to imitate his brother, matching the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, counting until the numbers climb to twenty, then backwards, down to zero, over and over, and eventually, it's all hazy nonsense, like trying to read smudged characters on a palate of black.
Zero. Empty. Nothing.
It's bliss being able to know nothing.
But it does get so terribly lonely.