Bane; "We're back with chapter 6. Okay, since this one will be over in another 1-2 chapters, I suggest I get it off my chest now. I won't bother with voting because only one person voted, and everyone else (especially the one that voted) wanted another EdWin. Too bad. Limitations (a pretty Al story) is going up next. THEN, I have another EdWinry planned. Both are angst, but romance as well. : 3."
A; "I'm bored. Wish Drumstick hadn't…gone away…"
Bane; "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? You murdered her!"
A; "DID NOT!"
Bane; "DID TOO!" tackles A to the ground
A; "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
-Door booms open-
Drumstick; "hey guys—what… are you…doing…" surveys two friends tackling eachother on the ground. 0.o
Bane; "Drumstick!" runs and hugs Laura
Drumstick; 0.0 "What…You're acting as though you thought you'd never seen me again!"
Bane; turns to A "I thought…you…"
A; "Okay. So she didn't go to Brazil. She went to visit her grandma."
Bane; 0.0
Bane; "Disclaimer; I was walking down memory lane, and suddenly, it occurred to me; I'm officially bored with disclaimers. Aren't you? SO- I'm not writing any more for this story. I'll just say it once or twice per story. But, obviously, once it gets to the 6th chapter, I think you will have memorized the fact that; I DON'T OWN FULL METAL ALCHEMIST. -.-'
Bane; "I'm sorry it took so long to write. I will tell you, however, that I check reviews every few hours (or every 20 minutes). I wish to thank all the writers of the (20) reviews. And I wish dearly to tell you that without your kind words as my motivation, this would have taken twice as long to make. However, the time it did take was due to several reasons;
-grammar mistakes are obnoxious.
-it had to be perfect for my awesome reviews, that is to say;
-it was difficult to portray the development of each individual character. And, again, if I made it vague, my readers would have no idea exactly what was going on.
-and I mean, it was so difficult to maintain a time frame. It was easy to make thing happen fast and escape detail, but, then again, time adds consistant suspense.
-I had to change every damn 'Alfonse' to 'Alphonse'. Thanks to the person that tipped me off.
-This isn't a reason, but you will review complaining about this later. The reason that Ed doesn't just alchemize his arm into a blade is that Winry placed a transmutation circle into a layer of the automail that blocks transmutation of the arm for the time being. (later, I guess they'd remove it.) And this was done under the will of Alphonse.
-enjoy."
Bane; "I realized what a slob I was with dividers and grammatical mistakes in previous chapters. I added one small scene to the end of the last chapter and I plan to replace each of the other chapters as well. (With corrected ones…) My deepest apologies."
He inserted the cue-tip slowly into the bottle of alcohol. It wasn't 'cutting'. And nobody could think of it as a sign of dire-need of a psychologist. Of which he already had.
The cue-tip resurfaced drenched and ready for use. He lay the alcohol-ridden tool against his just-healing rib. He didn't even change expressions, only closed his eyes at the refreshing agony that swept his side. For some reason, it gave him freedom for a few minutes just to know that it wasn't a dream, that all of this was really happening.
Since the moment he had awoken in the hospital, an insufferable torment had darkened his perspective. And the torment had a name, but no form, no way to show it's cruel breath and unfeeling grasp; life. And the only way to lessen the grief of this discovery was to create more pain to lessen the other.
Suicidal and solitary throughts revolved freely about his mind. If only he could break free- if only he wasn't bound by flesh and steel.
Suddenly unsatisfied, he lowered himself off of the bed in which he'd been lying. A small black booklet brimming with inserted leaflets protruded out from underneath the mattress. Edward gave it a quick nudge, and it went out of sight. Nobody could find it- nobody could know his thoughts. Nobody should.
The door to his room opened with a creak. Across from his, was Winry's bedroom. She ought to have been asleep by then. He mourned the way she kept her door closed every night. It would have been so wonderful to watch her sleep on evenings like this.
Soundlessly, he passed the stairway that spiraled up to the attic, of which he had made his thinking nook every so often. It was the one place nobody ever went. The floor up there was old and creaky, but the center of the area rested directly above Winry's chamber. By pressing his ear against the floorboards, he could sometimes hear her soft breathing as she slipped in and out of slumber.
Downstairs, Alphonse was watching t.v. . And below that floor was the basement, or basic workshop for Winry. The broken eighteen-year-old had to pass the living room in order to reach his destination. This acted as a complication; it was hard to sneak knives past his younger brother. Al had become increasingly concerned, and been almost forcibly father-like. And at some point, Edward had the impression that Alphonse knew more about what he was feeling than he let on.
The kitchen tile was frigid against his bare feet. The refrigerator hummed softly, it's tune a consistant hum that almost soothed Ed. But not enough to calm his pain. He slid the blade out of a wooden holder.
Edward calculated exactly which side he'd have to hide the knife on while he passed Alphonse.
Still, younger though he was, Al wasn't dull-witted. He had some idea as to what was going on. A glint of silver caught his eye.
Rising from the couch, the younger sibling made his way across the room until he was a foot away from Ed.
"Brother, what in hell are you doing?"
Alphonse had been blunt and somewhat unlike himself lately.
"Nothing."
His brother's glance towards the hand in which a knife was being unsuccessfully hidden caused him to look away.
"I...uhh…there's a loose floorboard in my room, I just need to…couldn't find the screwdriver…"
Al grunted, then snarled through gritted teeth, "Yeah. Give me the knife. I'll get the screwdriver later."
"Don't worry about it. I can live with a loose floorboard."
The blade switched hands. With the weapon in his grasp he let out an antagonistic sigh. In frustration Alphonse threw it away from him. It collided with the far wall and proceeded to delve deeper. It remained an intrusion of the wall to mark exactly how much rage he could possess.
"Show me your arm."
"What?"
A look of panic overtook Edward's expressions.
"I said show me your damn arm, Brother."
Slowly, he lifted his left arm and placed it in the outstretched palm of his younger sibling. Brow furrowed, Al looked it over, tracing every scratch carelessly. One looked fairly fresh; a thin line that ran down his forearm. It had begun to heal over, as though it were maybe a week old.
Edward could tell Al's temper was rising. He almost threw Edward's limb from his hands. As long as he didn't find out about his more recent technique of self-mutilation. As long as- something guilty must have surfaced in his eyes, because Alphonse said slowly, something like fury mingling with his unusually low voice, he growled, "Let me see your back."
He obliged,pivoting and lifting his shirt to reveal a line of steel that ran down his spine, and six small, vein-like branches parting out to act as a part of the ribcage. It was thoroughly obvious that he hadn't been eating regularly. The bone showed through, as though his skin had just been stretched over his bone-structure. The still-healing flesh around it was raw from the 'cleansing'. For a moment, the sharp smell of alcohol lingered about them.
"Leave the bottle outside your door. I'll get it later."
Ed went upstairs without another word. What else was there to say? Al didn't understand- would never understand. Because he, unlike Ed, was human. Edward would never be human again.
On the way to his own room, Winry's door creaked ajar. There she was, in a silky white nightdress. She seemed particularly dazed.
"Winry?"
"Mm."
"You okay?"
She smiled at him, somewhat entranced.
"Gotta'…talk to…Al… soon. But…he's not…cute…not…not…"
She was sleepwalking. The thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Maybe you ought to got back into your bed, Winry."
"He's…he's not cute..cute..not…gorgeous…not…not like…Edward…"
Ed's eyes widened in shock. Did she mean that, or was it just the sleep talking?
"Like…like the way he…flips his hair… And…and …how he smiles…how…
how…how he used to…he never smiles…anymore…never smiles…"
"Why don't you get back into your bed now, Winry."
She yawned, and nodded, closing her door as she stumbled back into her sheets.
He lay on the bad, scribbling madly into the black journal; the psycologist had instructed that he do so, although she promised that she wouldn't inform his brother that she had. His thoughts and actions were to be written daily into it, and nobody else would take it from him. It was his alone, his to reflect on.
Edward didn't even know why he bothered, but, in a sense, it was like a friend that would listen to his thoughts, like a friend who couldn't bother him about skipping meals.
Ed's thoughts haunted him. Never had he felt so incredibly useless.
She doesn't deserved you. Winry shouldn't even know you exist. You're not worth her time. You're not even worth the money your brother spends on hopsital bills.
But still, his love for her could not be denied. That was why he couldn't tell her. He couldn't bear her love- her affection for someone that was as low as him.
Tears ran down his cheeks, his grief for a brother so vast that his lungs burned. Anger and hurt mingled everywhere. He longed to understand. Where Winry and his efforts so insignifigant that Brother felt a need to harm himself?
A deep disgust formed in the pit of his stomach. He loathed himself. He hated every drop of blood that flowed continually throught him; keeping him alive, keeping him stable. But Edward wasn't stable- not in the least.
Slowly, he ripped the corner covering of the mattress up about four or five inches. Ed pulled a spring from it. Careful not to make any sound, he opened a drawer from the bedside table. He brought from it a used stick of chalk.
He drew the symbol directly infront of the electricity outlet. He lay the spring in the center of the circle, letting blue light change its shape. The iron twisted into a straight iron rod less than two milimeters thick. With his foot, Edward wiped away most of the chalk marks.
Back against the wall, he poked one end of the wire to the inner-elbow. The other side, he stuck unhesitatingly into the outlet. The jolts caused him to shudder violently, and still, he persisted several times. Each voltage brought agony that uplifted him. And yet, with each passing 'uplift', he found it more and more difficult to remain lucid. His consciousness ended with a spark…and that's where Alphonse found him an hour later. He threw away the wire, laying Ed onto his bed with a look of introspective activity.
If only mother hadn't died…Brother might not be so… unsteady. Maybe if father had…No.
Unlike his brother, Al wasn't one for blame, only solution.
"Wake up."
"W-wha…"
Sunlight shone ruthlessly through the window. Alphonse looked rather stressed, and to a point, wouldn't look directly at him. His gaze was directed downwards. It rushed back to him, the shocks, the knife…Al…Al must have found him next to the outlet… A web of fury spun within him. Why did Al have to be so damn brotherly?
"I'm not some kid you have to watch over."
"But you're some brother I have to keep from hurting himself."
The retort came blindingly painful.
"I'll handle it my own way."
"Oh, and how is that? First, dip yourself in alcohol because it-what- hurts? Then slice your skin, and finally, to top it all off, electricute yourself. That's your way of handling things?"
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Yeah. I do. You're derranged. Disturbed!"
The silence blared. Two pairs of golden eyes studied the floor. Edward was the first to speak.
"Look, I'm just not worth your concern. Let me do my own thing."
A tear fell to the ground. His pace was odd, revealing exactly how shocked he was. Clearly, Al hadn't expected such a reply. He had to fight to keep his voice devoid of melancholy as he whispered from the door, "Going to Central to tell the Colonel that we're resigning. Want to come along?"
"Sure."
"Don't pack any knives."
The door swung shut.
Bane; "Phew. Oooh. Aaah. Wasn't that nice?"
A; "Brotherly love."
Drumstick; "Am I missing something here?"
Bane; "Don't worry about it, Laura. Anyway, I'm mean; I decided everyone would prefer an update that took two days less time than one ultra long one with barely any dramatic wait for the next one…YAY! So, let's count the things you got! You have;
-1 confession from a sleeping Winry,
-2 major screaming fits between 2 brothers,
-2 exhibits of self-mutilation,
-1 attempt at self-mutilation,
-1 hint of an item well worth remembering in the next chapter (oh, it'd be cheating if I told you which item),
-and more angst than you probably bargained for! Muahaha!"
A; "So…are you all happy?"
Drumstick; "Of course they're not. The story's not over."
A; "Oh…Yeah."
Bane; "Now, for minor comments.
-Silent:Tears:Fall, I was wondering when you'd show up. : 3.
-Kikyoreborn9295, thanks. YAY! ANOTHER CHAPTER TO READ!
-Basser & Anime-lover-95, It's good to know someone likes it! Thanks for the boost. Probably wouldn't've had so much motivation if it weren't for your reviews."
A; "Okay. That's it. Chapter's over. -.-' Nothing left here to see! CLEAR OUT!"
Drumstick; "Hey, A?"
A; "Yeah?"
Drumstick; "Isn't this public property?"
A; blushing "Oh. No wonder they started throwing stuff at me…"