A/N: Thanks a lot for all the reviews! I didn't expect so many, I guess I'm not the only one who likes this fic. Ed cutting just seemed to cliché, I don't know. When I wrote this, it didn't seem too dark, it wasn't until I reread it a few days later that I almost cried. It's the same with this chapter, it doesn't seem real sad, but I still need to reread it later. Lastly, I just got back from kendo so my hands are sore, but lets see if I can manage to type.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA
"Ed, can I come in?" came the muffled voice of first lt. Riza Hawkeye. Ed's throat was sore from crying, so he simply lay in bed. The door opened up a crack and the bright light from the hall shone in, as Riza walked inside.
She stared at Ed for a moment, before closing the door quietly and sitting down beside him on his bed. It was dark, the only light coming in through the cloudy, dark window. The raining had stopped, but it still felt just as miserable. "Ed, I'm sorry about the colonel, he didn't know what had happened and thought you were fine."
"…" Ed finally sat up on his bed, looking at Riza with large, golden eyes. They were red and swollen, and had dark rings underneath them. He somehow also looked thinner, but Riza decided to ignore that, he had always been slim. "I gave up my arm to keep Al on this world… and I'd have given up the other too if I'd had to."
"Ed, you can take as many days off as you want to help the sadness subside," Riza replied, "we can all pitch in to do your work fine, ok? Just be sure to eat something and get lots of rest."
Ed smiled weakly, "I think I'll be able to start coming in again tomorrow, thanks for taking care of everything while I was gone though."
Riza stared at him, before hugging him and getting up and leaving. She looked sad, Ed thought, really sad. Ed felt his eyes watering again, and lay down. He wanted to eat so badly, his stomach hurt.
He tried to ignore the hot prickling sensation his cheeks were having, feeling the tears slide down in small drops and off of his nose, but after a while he couldn't stand it. He got up, his stomach clenching and unclenching, burning his insides, wiped the tears off of his face, and walked to the cafeteria.
Roy wasn't there this time, but it was later at night so Ed didn't think he'd come anyways. It was relieving, but in a small way, his heart burned harder, the hole in his chest getting wider, wanting more. He ate four platefuls of food at 12:46 in the morning. New record.
IIIIIIIIIIIII
Ed got up the next morning, his muscles cramped up and sore from doing practically nothing at all the past few days. He brushed his teeth, using an immense amount of mouthwash. No one could know what he'd been doing now. Tying up his hair in a braid, he got dressed, and stopped, considering whether he really had the strength to leave his room today. The room he and Alphonse had always shared, if he left it, it almost felt like abandoning the remnants of his brother again.
Ed stared at the bed, then walked out the door. He needed to get to the office; he had slept in that morning, and was feeling weak.
I could just go down that hallway and stop to get something to eat, Ed thought, reasoning with himself, then it wouldn't be so hard to face them all, and my stomach's completely empty. He thought of Alphonse's empty bed, how he had left his room only moments before, the tears from the night before that he could almost feel crawling down his face, and ran down the hall to the cafeteria. Everyone needs breakfast, right?
He shoveled the waffles into his mouth, using both hands and not even caring who stared in disbelief as he got more. Eggs, waffles, bacon, pancakes, and orange juice all went down, and then, several moments later came back up. Ed pulled his hand out of his throat, leaning forwards at he felt the wave of nausea coming over him.
A couple minutes later, Ed pulled his gloves back on, rinsing out his mouth. He was now seriously late, but they couldn't blame him, they were all lucky that he had even decided to come in that day. God, I need more mouthwash, thought Ed, spitting out the last of his mouthwash and walking back out the door.
He eventually walked into the office; everyone was knee deep in paperwork. It
took them all a moment to realize Ed was there, but none of them able to think of anything to say, they simply said a few hellos and got back to work. Hawkeye got up and handed Ed his work, smiling in a hopeful, semi-happy sort of way. A way that said 'I'm glad you were feeling good enough to come in, are you okay?'
He sat down and stared at his work, his throat was burning. Filling out paper after paper, Ed didn't really think. He could have sworn that that entire day was just a dream, not even real. Nothing seemed real anymore, other than the bursts of depression that would sometimes take over. It was all just like a bad dream; he just needed to wait until he woke up.
IIIIIIIIIIII
"Ed, aren't you hungry?" asked Riza.
Ed stared at his plate. He was hungry, and finally began to eat. He finished a sandwich, drank a bit of soup, then got up and left. He could have eaten more; he could have eaten almost half the buffet, like he had the night before, but he made himself stop. As long as he didn't feel the gaping hole in his chest, he would be fine. Ed walked back into the office, and sat down to a pile of paperwork. He was the first one back from lunch, which suited him fine. The next one back was Mustang; he also sat down and immediately got to work, griping about Hawkeye pulling out her guns on him
"Ed," he said suddenly, "about yesterday…" Ed listened, his heart pounding in his chest.
"I, I'm sorry for-"
Don't"Calling you short-"
Don't say it"I didn't realize-"
Just stop talking right now, please"That your brother had… passed on." This, apparently, was supposed to make Ed feel better. But hearing it come from Roy, the words tumbling haphazardly out of his mouth, suddenly the dream was over. It shattered away, and suddenly life seemed a lot more real.
Ed got up, bile rising in his throat, and ran out the door. The reality tumbled down on him like a pile of large, sharp rocks dropped from a considerable height. His heart was being torn out and ripped up. Nothing could describe his feelings right now better than simply emptiness. Cold, frightening emptiness, that Ed only knew one way to try and fill. Eating, as long as he kept eating, he could feel full.
Only a bit more if I only eat a bit more it'll leave. Only a bit more, thought Ed frantically, stuffing his face full of food in his closet. He finished eating a hamburger. It tasted salty. He finished eating a beef sandwich. It tasted salty. And as Ed bent down over the porcelain toilet bowl to force out all that he had just eaten, the first, second and third time, all he could taste was cold, bitter salt. Drops of salt, creeping down his face, that never seemed to stop.
A/N: …I'll update when I get the muse, probably next weekend. Anyone get why everything tasted salty? Oh well, please review and tell me what you think!