Thank you also to any NEW readers, whether you stick with the pain, review or not, or tap out, I'm glad to have you! I also welcome all comments, no matter whether you hate or love or torn about the story.
NOTE FOR OLD AND NEW READERS: AS ALWAYS, THE CONTENT IN THIS STORY MAY BE TRIGGERING, SENSITIVE READERS TREAD LIGHTLY
- I apologize for any mistakes, this is not beta-read
- Song lyrics in this chapter belong to Skank Anansie
Retain. Distrust. Resign. Your lust. Your call. These cuts. Run through. My guts.
Alphonse had had a plan.
He'd intended to get himself sorted and out of Central, out of Amestris altogether, as soon as possible. But after being inside the isolated safety of the hotel room, at some point between preparing to sleep and waking the following morning, he found he'd slipped into a state of apathy.
What followed his unexpected dissociation was that Alphonse's physical activity and focus were reduced to the bare minimum. Aside from tending to Cookieboots whenever his pet required something and actively demanded it, he forgot about taking care of himself and just did a lot of not-really sleeping, only getting up to go to the bathroom a scarce few times in a haze. Time passed as if in a slip, where he didn't even check his watch and only somewhat registered when it was dark or light outside the hotel room windows, which wasn't a clear indicator either, because 90% of the time he left the room in relative darkness, keeping the heavy curtains drawn closed and the outside world at bay.
It was only when his stomach started to hurt that the fog of his mind cleared enough for him to become aware that he felt dehydrated and cotton-mouthed. He tried to recall then, when he'd last eaten or drank anything, but he didn't linger on figuring it out, his focus unable to latch onto the amount of time that might have passed, and instead he just made himself get out of the bed to reach for the phone, which he made use of to access the hotel's room service. But even then, he didn't order much and after the food was brought up to his room, he ate purely on autopilot, a simple sandwich with plain water, just enough to feel full. He didn't even taste it.
The state he was in was odd though, and he was aware of it, but he didn't feel able to change it, didn't feel like he actually had a grasp on it even if he wanted to. No control. But somehow far from out of control. Also, he didn't feel the need to cry or weep, and he didn't feel stressed, or tense or scared or angry. In fact, as more time passed, he didn't feel much besides occasional hunger or stiffness from the lack of movement, and he didn't have any clear thoughts about anything, certainly nothing that stayed in his mind long enough to churn up feelings or reactions. And it wasn't as if his situation wasn't on his mind; it was impossible not to think of Edward, not just in general, but especially after what had happened, after what he'd done. It was impossible to not think of the colossal heap of fuck ups he was responsible for. No, he was thinking of Edward almost constantly...and seeing his face over and over, angry and hurt and resentful, but it blurred, and it faded each time. Leaving just the lingering memory of the searing, betrayed anger in Edward's eyes, as if the other man was watching him in the back of his mind, glaring at him. But even so, his feelings about all of it felt so far away, so slippery, and none of them got to him , or penetrated the strange fog in his mind, which was...good, but also probably bad.
Yeah, it was probably bad.
There was nothing he could do about it though. He couldn't shake off the hollowness, the cloud and fog of it keeping him wrapped up and out of touch. Even when he made himself focus on it, he would only briefly feel present enough to take in an overwhelmed, shuddering breath before the fog descended again. It clung to him, keeping him numb, slowing his breathing and keeping his eyes half lidded and his senses largely mute and disconnected.
It was bad, yes, but it was better in the end, because he didn't want to face reality, he didn't want to feel anything for a while. It hurt too much...
He hated himself too much when he felt things. Anything. Everything.
As more time passed, at some point as he'd been lying numbly in the bed, petting Cookieboots who was curled up next to him and not even registering the softness of the cat's fur, he'd paused to wonder whether he should be more concerned about himself. But the thought disappeared not long after, when Cookieboots had moved away to sleep at the edge of the bed and Alphonse had shifted to cover himself completely with the duvet.
Closing out the world.
Welcoming the silence
He went for three days and most of a fourth before he was able to force himself to get moving again.
He wasn't consciously aware of what changed, but on the fourth afternoon he somewhat abruptly stumbled out of the bed and made his way into the hotel suite's bathroom to go and relieve himself. And perhaps it was because he absently hit the light switch as he entered, which led to him turning around from the toilet after peeing, to where he saw the sharply reflected view of himself in the large mirror above the bathroom counter.
There, he saw the unwashed, unshaven and generally horrible state he was in. He looked like absolute shit; paler than usual under the stark white overhead light, which also made the bags under his squinting eyes stand out more. His hair was greasy, almost flat and his clothes looked loose and big on him, as well as very rumpled and creased. He looked pathetic.
Alphonse blinked a few times until he could keep his eyes opened properly, and then he stepped closer to the mirror, looking at himself more clearly with each step, until he was standing with his thighs pressed against the counter and leaning forward a bit. That close he saw the obvious sallowness to his skin, the cracks in his lips, the blonde stubble growing unevenly on his face. But he saw even more than that the longer he stared; like the weakness in the lines at the corners of his eyes, the misery in the downturned shape of his mouth and the defeat in the slump of his broad shoulders.
As he stared at himself though, and the longer and more intensely he did, his eyes started to burn, and when he finally blinked again, his breathing had started to accelerate, eyes becoming shiny...and it wasn't a feeling he could place or describe, but it was like a different switch inside him flipped. He swallowed thickly several times then, his mouth feeling dry and tasting so, so stale, and his stomach was suddenly beginning to cramp, his temples throbbing with the wave of emotion that rushed over him, bringing heavy tears to his eyes. His next breath sounded like it was punched out of him as he watched fat tears fill and then slip from his unblinking green-gold eyes, his mouth falling open as he exhaled more harsh breaths between stilted inhales. And the beginning of his crying hyperventilation had him feeling weak enough that he leaned forward, hands clutching the sides of the basin to brace himself when the room started to spin.
It was already silent there inside the bathroom, with the door closed, just him alone, but that silence only made the noise starting up inside his head seem much, much louder. It started out sounding like rushes of blood, in time with his heartbeat...but, but...
Alphonse hung his head then, unable to look into the scrunched-up, pained expression of his reflection any longer, especially as the noise in his head started to sound more definitive, it started to sound vivid and close, and like a voice, forming words.
Alphonse...this…I want you to know, this doesn't change anything...
Some stray pieces of his oily hair fell unevenly forward as he started to shake with sobs, strained bitten back sobs, sobs that he tried to keep silent behind his clenched teeth and in his sore throat. He slowly lowered himself down until he was leaning on his elbows, the top of his head pressed against the mirror, one faucet pressing into his cheek as he held himself up over the basin, crying despite not wanting to and doing so as quietly as he could, with agony pulling and twisting in his stomach and chest.
...Alphonse. I want you to know, this… this doesn't change anything. This… I want you to know... Alphonse. As long as you're happy, Al...Alphonse, I want you to know, as long as you're happy...
He stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time as the words played out in his mind, echoing in his head louder and louder, causing him to sob out aloud, feeling the ache of it in this throat, heard himself gasp and felt that ache in his chest too, felt his stomach turn over and his body shake with it.
You have no idea how much I love you.
All at once the suffocating onslaught of negative emotions and the noise in his head turned to white-hot anger and he heard himself yell something, probably a curse, so furiously, so violently, that he tasted blood in his throat and felt spittle on his lips from how forcefully he spat out the word. He also felt a shock of pain in his hand from where he slapped it open palmed against the large mirror, taking in another loud shuddering breath, curling his fingers in a fist against the glass.
Along as you're happy, you have no idea how much I love you...
Alphonse, when I knew what was wrong, it kind of seemed…like you shouldn't have done it.
Alphonse, I want you to know, you shouldn't have done it...
The words, spoken to him at different times, in different tones, were starting to merge together confusingly, bitingly, horribly, and he continued to cry, but the anger was draining out of him as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling weaker and dizzy, his hand tingling and hot, and his throat sore. He was soon softly gasping inhales, while the other half of his breaths were shaken or choked out. And it was with an uncoordinated movement that he pushed himself away from the counter some minutes later, not looking at himself in the mirror, instead squeezing his eyes closed tightly until he'd turned away and then opening them again, finding his vision blurry from tears.
Regardless, he stumbled as he moved toward the bathtub while starting to forcefully pull his clothes off, tossing each item onto the floor gracelessly until he was naked.
This…I want you to know...it's okay, Alphonse, I'm not upset…
He stepped into the dry tub unsteadily and kneeled down, not wanting to slip as he hastily reached forward with both hands, opening both the faucets wide so the water from the mixer tap, mostly cold to start, gushed out loudly. He fumbled with the plug next, pressing it into the drain, and then he shivered even more as the initial rush of cold water started to rise and swirl around his knees, toes and shins. He didn't move though, just kneeled there tensely, uncomfortable and shivering with his hands clenching into fists, arms half wrapped around his torso, shuddering sobs hissing out through his clenched teeth. But even when the hot water started to turn the bath lukewarm, he still shivered.
Feeling desperate for some warmth in the moment, he abruptly reached forward to turn the cold water off, slipping a bit on his knees and gripping onto the closed tap for balance as the water sloshed around him, the unyielding floor of the tub hurting his knees. He held on there with one hand, roughly wiping at his tear wet face redundantly with his other wet hand. With the rushing water and the sound of his sniffing and breathing being so loud, the sounds reverberating around him in the bathroom, he'd had a brief reprieve from the voice, but only just so brief, before it started to filter back in...
Alphonse, I'm not upset… as long as you're happy, you have no idea how much I love you. Alphonse, when I knew what was wrong, Alphonse, you shouldn't have...shouldn't have done it...
It went on like a broken record, making him clench his eyes shut and shake his head futilely.
He couldn't stop the crying, or the pain of it tightening his throat and chest, and so as he sat there in the filling tub, he finally stopped trying to, instead he just let himself cry. The mental switch that had flipped a moment before seemed to have made him go from feeling nothing to feeling everything, and he could barely catch his breath once he let himself go, let himself cry. He couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the sobs that choked out of his throat, or the tears burning his eyes and running off his face, or the tremors wracking his body, so he just endured it.
He endured it, even as Edward's voice resounded in his head, a different playback now, one of lies and judgement...
Alphonse, you shouldn't have done it.
Alph-phons-se…st-stop…stop, stop…stop… Alphons-se. Alphonse,
I'm sorry I hurt you… st-stop…stop…I'm sorry. Move...move your fucking hand, Alphonse. Alph…Alphonse…please…get off of me…
Alphonse shouted out a sound of protest hearing Edward's tremulous voice saying those words in his head, and he lost his balance a bit and slipped sideways, so he was lodged uncomfortably in the tub as he curled in on himself, the water sloshing roughly around him. He just remained that way, covering his ears with his hands, trying to block out the memory of Ed's voice begging him, and lying and pleading and asking and judging.
Please…please stop crying…I can't…take it…please, Alphonse…pleasepleasepleaseplease…stop crying…please…please Alphonse…I'm begging you, Alphonse, I just need some space… pleasepleaseplease, you have no idea how much I love you...I am not your lover. Alphonse, We. Are. Not. Fucking. Lovers. Alph…Alphonse…please…get off of me.
St-stop…stop… it's okay, Alphonse, I'm not upset…
The sound of Ed's voice was so clear by that point it was as if he were hearing those words in real time, all over again, spoken right into his ears. Edward's voice brokenly asking him, asking and pleading with him, sounding lost and uncertain-
Would you…would you want to have sex with mom or dad, Alphonse…? A-Alphonse…would you, really leave me…if I d-don't...if I can't g-give you…what you…w-wa-want? How should I…kiss you? Alphonse? Alphonse…please…get off of me, A-Alphonse…would you, would you want to leave me…if I d-don't... …please stay, my brother…no matter what happens, I don't want to lose you, Alphonse.
Alphonse...
…
...
Alphonse gasped in air as if he'd been shocked awake when the rushes of blood and words finally quieted down in his head. It was suddenly very quiet in his mind, so quiet that he could crisply hear the sound of his own crying, and the sound of soft scratching at the closed bathroom door, and of the water, still running. He took in a few more pointed breaths then, and despite still feeling dazed, he came around enough to weakly lean forward to turn off the hot water. The tub was so full by then, and the water temperature was almost too hot, his skin burning and tinged red from the heat, and the bathroom was filled with clouds of steam. He was gasping in whole gulps of steam.
He kept still though, just sat that way, uncomfortable and stiff, just breathing and breathing, his mind quiet, chest heaving. But as it'd been happening all along, numb though he'd previously been, his thoughts again drifted to Edward, to memories of the last year, images flashing and filtering into the forefront of his mind, reminding him of manipulation and deceit, hurt and broken promises. All his doing. His lies and ugly truths and so many awful, awful things he'd said and done. But he wasn't in the dissociated state anymore and so the memories hit him hard, like another punch to the gut.
Then his blood was rushing again, pounding in his ears.
He swallowed tensely, clenching his eyes shut again and starting to shake his head even before Edward's voice broke through, suddenly asking;
How should I kiss you, Alphonse?
Then, his voice again, but loud and harsh and desperate and angry, almost shouting;
I-it-s not working…fucking stop it…stop… it-s not working. Alphonse…I promise, I would have if I could…I swear, I promise…I'd give you anything you wanted, if I could…I'll never leave you. I promise. You never disgusted me. I'm sorry, stop it…stop, I promise…I'd give you anything you wanted... Alphonse, please...
Alphonse started to breathe too fast, bordering on hyperventilating again in between chanting little 'no's', because he knew where his mind was reeling to, could see the memories he was dredging up, torturing himself with. He was already seeing them unfold in his mind's eye. Edward standing before him, his demeanour defeated, eyes empty, just looking at him, surrendering, holding his hand open, palm up-
"No, no, nononono..." Alphonse sobbed, but he couldn't stop it, he couldn't stop the memory, or the guilt -
Can you pour me a little wine, I can't dry swallow this… Alphonse...
Alphonse, please, it-s not working, I'm sorry, …for you, Alphonse. I hope…I hope this is really what you want, because once we do this…it's done...it's done, it's done, I'm sorry...
There was a crescendo then, a breaking point that thoroughly and violently unspooled in his reeling mind-
Alphonse… it's working …I'm getting hard, I love you…remember that when this is over. Alphonse…it feels fucking incredible...inside of you. I love you…remember that when this is over. I love you Alphonse…fuck. I shouldn't be doing this to you. I'm not lying , Alphonse, I love you, I'm not lying, it feels fucking incredible, I'm not lying, I shouldn't be doing this to you. I'm not lying, I'm sorry, Alphonse, I enjoy touching you, I can…I think I really can be with you like this. Alphonse, what fucking difference does half a bottle of wine make!? You didn't have a problem with it the last time…or the time before that, when it fucking suited you . This was your choice Alphonse. Alphonse…you said you were sure, when it fucking suited you! What are you doing? This was your choice Alphonse. I never ever pegged you for the vengeful type…little brother. Hit me if you want to Alphonse, little brother, I won't fight you. Alphonse…you said you were sure...you and Elizabeth look you guys look good together. It's right, she's right for you Alphonse. I actually think it's better if you're with her and if I find someone else. I actually think it's better, we can be brothers again. There'll be no more fighting, no more resentment, I don't want you to end up hating me. Because I need you Al, you know that. I'm not lying, I want to always be with you Al, Alphonse, you're my brother, my only brother, you're all...all that I have...it's better...Alphonse, do you forgive me? Alphonse, I said…I want to be with you. Al, fuck…you're beautiful…I love you Alphonse…I tried to deny it. You're too good for me, Alphonse…but you're stuck with me. I promise. I'll take care of you, Al. I'm not lying. Do you forgive me? I'll take care of you, Al. No thanks…I'm too tired. I can't, I don't want to talk about it, Alphonse. Alphonse, Alphonse, a reason, Alphonse, I haven't heard one yet. I just need to know why. Just spit it out. What is this? You're breaking up with me? Just spit it out. Just spit it out! How long do I have to wait this time before you change your mind? How long...just spit it out, if that's what you want. What...why...wh...Are you really that fucking narcissistic, can you not see past anything but your own fucking end? Do you give an actual shit about me, Alphonse! When you look at me do you really see me? Am I some fucking source of entertainment for you, something that you think you can treat however the fuck you like? Do you really see me? You've seen me hurt Alphonse, I have wants and needs and feelings and I compromised everything for you, do you really see me? What kind of fucked up…what kind of fucked up…I don't... Alphonse, I don't even know who you are , Alphonse, s-sto-p , I'm sorry -
-it was water rushing into his nose that had Alphonse flailing and spluttering as the bath water burned its way into his throat and windpipe. He spat a lot of it over the side of the tub as he sat up with a heavy sloshing shift, then he tried to cough but couldn't, just felt the pressure of it stuck in his chest. He panicked, scaredscaredscared when he couldn't breathe at first, ungainly in rushing to clamor his way out of the tub, knees and shins and elbows and ribs knocking and bruising against the hard unforgiving porcelain. It hurt to hit the tiles next, wet and sharply slapping and thudding, and it also hurt to finally start coughing up the water that had rushed into his mouth and nose. But at least he was breathing again, even it was to heave out and gasp in choked, shuddery noises.
And that's all he did for the next stretch of time that passed; lying naked there, sore and cold and exposed on the white tiles, trying to catch his breath. Trying to orient himself, keeping his eyes shut.
I crave. Your words. That spill. And burn. My bones. My soul. I'll burn. Them all.
Gradually, he was able to open his eyes, albeit slowly, and as he blinked water off his lashes he mentally took stock of his position sprawled on the floor. He was mostly on his stomach with the side of his face pressed to the tile and his arms and legs awkwardly positioned. After taking notice of that, he registered all the physical aches throbbing along his body in the places he'd be bruised from scrambling and falling out of the tub.
Alphonse closed his eyes again, then closed his mouth. He'd been breathing loudly with it open, but he was calming himself down now and so he started by breathing more controlled and quietly through his lips and partially blocked nose. In and out, in and out.
Gradually, he became aware that he'd just had some kind of episode, maybe some kind of breakdown. It had been frightening in its intensity. Edward had sounded as if he'd been right there in the bathroom with him, and the weight that had made his body slip under the water had felt like Edward's hands on his shoulders and neck, pushing him under, under to drown in his guilt as various memories had deafeningly swarmed in his head.
It had been frightening...terrifying.
But now that it'd passed and he was once again glaringly aware of himself, of his pathetic state lying on the cold bathroom tiles with water everywhere and cooling steam swirling around him, he didn't feel afraid anymore. The crying had abated at some point too, tapered off from gasps shuddering in and out of him to steady slightly audible, congested breathing. Each breath was starting to become easier and easier too, even though his throat felt raw from yelling and crying.
Most notably, Edward's voice in his head was gone, completely, finally, and the feeling of those angry golden eyes watching him, was gone as well.
He was alone again, in body and mind.
And while he still felt a little dizzy and he wasn't sure he was ready to try to get up, when he lifted and turned his head to press his forehead to the cold tile, the feeling started to recede more and more. So, he just waited, kept breathing, in and out, in and out...
He stayed that way for a while longer, despite it being uncomfortable, just waiting for the dizziness to subside completely, shivering intermittently from the water cooling on his skin. But the coolness was helpful as well, giving him something physical to focus on. He was breathing. He was cold. He was alive, in some sense of the word...and he could hear Cookieboots scratching at the door more insistently. Could hear the meows, which reminded him that it would be a bad thing for Cookieboots to be heard. He was in a hotel where he wasn't supposed to have a pet.
Shifting slowly to sit up on his hip first, his bare skin sliding fairly easily on the slippery wet tile, Alphonse made a soft cooing sound toward the door, while also remembering that he wasn't supposed to still be in the hotel anyway, in fact, he was supposed to have left Amestris already. His whole plan had been to leave quickly. Well, he was still going to. It'd just been delayed. But he would leave. There was no other option anymore. The fucked up episode he'd just experienced made that plenty clear.
He needed to get away.
Clearing his throat, he absently cooed again toward the door, trying to calm his pet while mentally he was deciding what to do. He was going to start by getting up and then he'd clean himself up properly, essentially, he'd pull whatever was left of himself together and stop being so pathetic, and then he was going to move the fuck forward...he would do it! Just as soon as his legs felt like they could hold him up.
He snorted out a mirthless sound before shifting again to sit on his butt, but then when another wave of dizziness hit him, he slowly eased to lie down on his back on the tiles. He settled with a soft smack of skin on wet tile and coughed a bit when some stray saliva and water dribbled down the back of his sore throat. Yeah, so, he wasn't ready to get up just yet.
"Fuck..." he muttered raspily, thinking of what a mess he was. But at least he wasn't throwing up. He'd come a long way from being disgusted by himself to the point of nausea and being sick, now he was just disappointed and disgraced instead. Just as Edward was disappointed in him, disgraced by him, resented him. All those words, everything that had swirled in his head earlier, everything said...it had all been real, had been said to him, cried to him, yelled at him.
Ed had always been lying, and always telling the truth. He'd been sincere, even when he hadn't been, he'd been in love, even when he hadn't been. He'd been present even when his feelings were absent, his desires absent. He'd given so much...actually, they'd both given, and they'd both taken, but what they'd given, taken and what they'd needed and lost were not the same, and what was left hollowed out in each of them was completely different.
Lying there, cold and wet and sore and staring at the ceiling, for the first time in so long, Alphonse found himself wondering,
' What would have happened if I'd never told, Ed.' and then 'What if I'd never come back to Amestris? What if I'd stayed in Xing...what if I'd never erased that line of blood, of being just brothers? What if I, what if I wasn't so fucked up...?'
He blinked sedately as these thoughts occurred to him. Uselessly.
They'd actually had a chance to be happy after all the pain they'd gone through as teens, so long ago, after they'd successfully completed their quest. And for a time they had been, been happy and healthy and had set out to live their lives. They'd had a chance, a chance they'd found in a miracle, in sacrifice and suffering and survival. But Alphonse, in a truly depressing and laughable show of human folly, had made the mistake of wanting more. His human body had been weak...so weak. He'd opened that door, little by little, and then all at once he'd ripped it clean off its hinges...and there was no going back, just as Ed had said.
'Time only moves in one direction.' he reminded himself, and the voice talking in his head was his own. Toneless, flat and resigned. His breathing had evened out by then, and while lying on his back his congestion had mostly cleared up, making it easy for him to sigh long and slow, his stomach shaking through it, still recovering from the shock of the episode he'd had.
The episode had at least provided him even more clarity, because he felt more determined that there was only one direction left to go in...for both of them, each of them, separately.
"It's over." he rasped out, swallowing sorely after saying those two quiet words. Slowly he blinked, and a few fresh tears slipped from his eyes. But they were different tears. Not tears of self-torture and regret, guilt or misery. Not tears of pain over Ed's false presence bombarding him with hurtful lies and truths. The tears that slipped from his eyes were something of distant mourning, mourning for what he'd lost.
His brother. His dignity. His morals. His mind?
He sniffed softly, finding the few tears that had fallen were all there was, and then he sighed again when Cookieboots meowed loudly and scratched on the door again. He absently took in a deep breath to gather his strength, and frowned when he suddenly felt the total opposite, he felt exhausted , as if he hadn't slept for days. Despite feeling so drained though, he had to get moving, so he attempted to sit up again, and with success that time. Alphonse rolled over carefully to get up on his bruised knees, before slowly moving to stand. He used the side of the tub as well as some of his clothes lying on the wet floor for balance and traction to steady himself. His legs still felt weak, so he was careful not to slip in the mess of water all over the floor as he moved toward the towel rack.
He sniffed again and cleared his throat as he grabbed up the nearest towel with pale, unsteady hands, letting it fall open before drying the clammy lingering moisture of water, tears and steam off his face first. He proceeded to dab and wipe at his body next, drying himself slowly and cursorily. He could still feel the burn of the water that had gone into his windpipe and so he irritably cleared his throat again as he wrapped the towel around his waist. And he was still cold and he didn't feel particularly clean, but he had no desire to go anywhere near the bathtub again at the moment, so he decided to put it off and instead remedy the stale taste in his mouth and stubble grown out on his face.
When he was once again facing his reflection in the mirror, he tensed up and swallowed sorely...waiting. But there was no noise in his head, just his reflection staring back at him. He waited a moment longer though, wary of his own reflection, but after a minute or so passed and nothing happened, he relaxed slightly and let his eyes drift down over his naked upper body. Alphonse blinked one time too many as he touched a hand to his stomach, to his tensed abs, while looking over his torso. Then he dropped his head down, looked at his lower legs, his pale feet, then up again, at his shaking water-wrinkled hands and veiny forearms, his stomach, his chest. Closing his eyes, he thought of how his body was only real again because of Edward...
He was supposed to be Ed's masterpiece. A successful human transmutation, an incredible feat, an all or nothing sacrifice. The latter parts were true enough, but getting his body back turned out to have been a mistake that left Al with everything, and Ed with...nothing. Or no, not nothing. Not initially. Ed had had him afterwards, Ed had sacrificed everything, the essence of who he was as a person, an alchemist, the Fullmetal Alchemist, to have his brother back. He hadn't cared about his body, his own losses. No, it'd all been for something once. It was Alphonse who had taken everything it had ever meant, and destroyed it.
And then he'd still managed to make it worse...by telling Ling. Insult to injury, rubbing salt in a very open wound for Edward. Selfish, selfish, selfish. He'd, he'd...
"Argh." Alphonse brought his hands up to roughly run them through his greasy wet hair, "I know, I know what I did, I know I...fuck. I can't keep going over the same thing again and again, it changes nothing, nothing." he said quietly but vehemently to himself. "I can't take it back, I can't take anything back, so what's the point? I just have to...I have to..." his breathy whispering trailed off, and it was hard to accept but it was true. He exhaled loudly then, shaken, thinking, '...I have to let it go. I have to let him go. Once and for all.'
There was no way around it and no point in trying to find one.
It wasn't a new thought though, yet, for some reason his resolve felt different and when he decided it right then, compared to the times before when he'd tried, Alphonse didn't feel the usual stubborn denial or urge to make excuses or justifications to not follow through. His mind and heart seemed to fall into total alignment, there was no struggle, no mental or emotional push back. Just a finalized state of mind...which felt very similar to the fog from before. It blanketed his mind, weighted and soft. He breathed slowly in and out again and drew his hands out of his hair calmly.
Whether it was as a lover, a friend or a brother, their time for being in each other's lives had run its course.
The acceptance settled into the previously gnawing hollow space inside him, cold and heavy, but fulfilling on some level. His mind also remained quiet and his breathing didn't escalate even a little, nor did his heart rate and...and the trembling in his hands was easing as he stared at his upturned palms. Even the tightness in his chest loosened. He was becoming numb. It was the same numbness he'd been experiencing up until he'd looked in the mirror and had triggered some kind of emotional episode.
Presently, he felt detached again. Floaty. Not good but not bad.
Alphonse had no idea what was going on with him, but if the numbness was going to be the new 'normal' for him, he'd take it. He didn't even feel like he had the energy to care about the strange mini breakdown he'd just had, and he honestly wasn't even sure there was a medication that could fix whatever kind of fucked up he was. And what did any of it matter anyway? Who was left to care?
He snorted softly, derisively, and then sniffed again just when Cookieboots meowed much louder and started a continuous rhythmic scratching. Alphonse ran his hands over his face a bit roughly before choosing to forget about his teeth and shaving for the time being, instead going toward the bathroom door. He knew he'd have to sort himself out eventually, but he needed to see to Cookieboots first and then he'd focus on himself and getting out of Amestris.
He reached the door, pulling it open as Cookieboots meowed again, stepping into the bathroom to rub against his legs, and then following him out as he cooed down at her while walking out. Alphonse crossed the main room, walking over to where the light switch was, to flick it up. He paused to look around the lit up room, seeing that it was very messy, but he didn't even register any surprise. He did mentally scold himself though when he noticed that the floor around Cookieboots' food and water bowls was messy with kibble pieces and some water spillage. He sighed again, but that was all the reaction he could muster, not even able to find the energy to be properly annoyed with himself.
He didn't rush to do anything right away, first he stood for a moment mentally figuring out where to begin cleaning up. He also suspected he'd have to leave the hotel soon, because there was no way Cookieboots hadn't been heard meowing during however long he'd been losing his shit in the bathroom, and the extra money he'd paid wouldn't keep neighboring guests from complaining. Alphonse felt frustrated about that, but he wasn't even remotely concerned by how detached he felt about his own mental health, he just dismissed it and mentally finalized his plans while turning his attention down to Cookieboots, who was rubbing up against and circling his legs again.
He leaned down and scooped his pet up, and despite having always enjoyed cuddling Cookieboots, the happiness and enjoyment of it also felt dulled, subdued. He held on anyway, petting and nuzzling the cat's soft fur, until Cookieboots decided he was done and wriggled to be put down. Alphonse's smile slipped off his face as he set Cookieboots down, his thoughts wandering to the idea of touch and affection. Then, purposely, he thought of Edward; of his smile, his hands, his touch, his kiss, his affection... his hesitation, his misery, his pleading, begging, how he looked every time he'd give in, would succumb, would smile just because Alphonse was smiling. And then he made himself think of Ed's anger when he learned how far Alphonse had taken their truth, his brokenness. Edward had never been broken, not before Alphonse, because Alphonse was the only one who had the power to break him.
He let the thoughts run through his mind a few times over, the same thoughts that had sent him spiraling earlier, to test himself, and curiously, or perhaps disturbingly, he found himself void of any real emotional reaction. His eyes were completely dry, body numb and relaxed, not even-
Alphonse easily shifted his attention when Cookieboots began to circle his legs again, and he crouched down to pet him instead of picking him up. And as Cookieboots purred and bumped against his hands and legs, Alphonse thought about Edward again.
He thought about leaving Edward, leaving for good, and of how to begin the end.
Should he just leave without saying anything, as he'd first intended? Or should he wait and talk to Edward? Or perhaps to write a letter would be better? But about what? No, there was no way, he didn't want to see Edward again if he could manage it. And there wasn't even anything left to say, Edward had said enough already, and Alphonse had also bared all of his truths...
Right, his truths. Telling the truth.
He paused in petting Cookieboots and slowly stood up as he thought about how his truths, being truthful specifically, had been the catalyst to everything. For so long, since the beginning, all he'd done was be honest with Edward about how he felt. It was where it had started, confessing to Edward in Risembool and telling him truthfully what he wanted, and then on and on, every step of the way. And telling the truth was where it had ended, too, where Edward had been stripped down to bare emotional bones, where there was no pretense between them anymore, where Alphonse had betrayed Edward by telling the truth to someone else .
Honesty really wasn't always the best policy it seemed, a lesson painfully learned since now, after everything, they'd ended up so completely fucked up on Alphonse's truth.
So, maybe to counter that, he would have to do the opposite. He'd have to lie.
That solution seemed quite simple and straightforward, and it probably wouldn't even be that difficult, for all that he'd been so desperate to be honest with Ed, he'd been thoroughly lying to everyone else, so he'd gotten good at it.
So it made sense then, that if he encountered Edward again before he left Amestris, Alphonse would need to lie like his life depended on it. To forge some kind of closure. Or rather, to force it.
After making the decision to get his shit together before having to face his uncertain future, Alphonse chose to remain in the hotel for a final night, especially since no one came to his room or called to tell him he had to leave with his pet. It was a nice stroke of luck, whether he felt he deserved it or not, and he used the time in the room productively, first cleaning up the room and especially the bathroom, and then giving Cookieboots some much needed attention, playing and petting the furball until he was tuckered-out and fell asleep in an awkward position on the bed. When it got a bit later he ordered some food and then after eating he braved taking a bath again, that time succeeding in bathing, brushing his teeth and shaving his face without incident. It was around 11 PM when he finally lay down to sleep, but just as before, he mostly just 'rested' restlessly as the hours passed until dawn broke over a new day in Central.
Of course, luck didn't remain on his side, and he wasn't surprised when the following morning one of the hotel staff came to see him, regarding someone informing them that they'd heard a cat in his room. It was expected, even if the complaint was very delayed, so Alphonse didn't argue about the extra money he'd paid or even make a fuss about it, he just curtly, only polite as necessary, told the staff member he would be checking out within the hour. And it didn't take him long to pack up and tidy some final things, since he'd sorted out almost everything the evening before. He was already dressed in dark jeans, with a beige sweater pulled over a blue button down shirt, so he just neatly combed his hair into order, taking a little more time than usual to make himself look presentable since he was aware of how pale and sleep deprived he looked, and he was also aware of the slight bruising along his cheekbone from where he'd knocked it on the tile the day before. He had many bruises actually, but only the one on his face was plainly visible.
When he was done, he gave himself a cursory once over in the mirror, noting that even with the slight bruise and being visibly tired, he looked okay. He hadn't lost any weight this time around, at least not obviously and he didn't look like he was about to keel over. His eyes though, didn't seem quite right, less bright somehow, but he dismissed it, not feeling concerned about the details of his state so long as he was functional. Deeming himself ready to leave, he put on some socks and shoes and then urged Cookieboots into his carrier before he grabbed the rest of his belongings and left the hotel room. And a short while later, he checked out of the hotel and then he headed outside to where he knew some cabs would be parked outside the hotel, waiting for business to come along.
With Cookieboots, he ultimately didn't have any other immediate options besides going back to the apartment, so that's where he had to go. Beneath the blanket of numbness, he was feeling slightly on edge about having to go back, but he was functioning on a steady stream of limited to no emotional reaction, so he didn't hesitate to get into the first available cab. And even as he spent the entire drive wondering whether Ed had returned home yet, feeling both irritation and anxiousness simmering beneath the numbness, neither feeling amounted to anything other than the occasional sigh.
Alphonse's plans and ideas had been fairly well formed when he'd left Xing , but since his strange breakdown, he was having trouble focusing on any of it. He felt like he was in cruise mode, his thoughts all there and acknowledgeable, but just out of actual reach. One thing that remained unchanged though, was that he didn't yet feel prepared to face Edward. Because facing facts; aside from knowing his and Ed's relationship –on all fronts- was completely wrecked and totally over, the feelings he had for Edward, the non-platonic feelings, remained. Even sullied by all the pain and conflict and presently buried under the numbness, they remained.
Alphonse had long ago accepted that they would never go away, because even as he had regrets over the ruin of their brotherhood, he still didn't see Ed as only a sibling. It was clear cut, yet another hard fact Alphonse had to face, specifically after the weird episode he'd had. Those memories of Edward's words to him, the damn near hallucinatory quality of what he'd experienced, had evoked so much regret and guilt that he'd nearly drowned in it, literally. But still, when it had been over and he had settled down and begun the process of picking up his mental pieces, the overall result was that his incestuous feelings for Edward were still intact.
He didn't know if he'd been hoping for some kind of epiphany or breakthrough after what had happened in Xing , but no, no epiphany or life changing moment of awareness seemed forthcoming. Whatever it was that had changed his feelings toward Edward, it was more obvious now that it didn't have anything to do with whatever was mentally wrong with him. He wasn't even sure it was something he could definitively say when or why about.
So, yes, he was in love with Edward, that was a fact. Secondly, it was also a fact that he had some kind of...psychological problem, but in his own opinion, those two states were not mutually exclusive in any way, and one didn't trigger the other...but maybe, one had affected the other?
The thing was, over the past year and some, of going through so much shit with Edward, Alphonse had unconsciously noticed that the two issues were separate. However, he'd mostly overlooked it because he'd been so focused on getting what he wanted from Edward. But in hindsight, as he sat in the back of the cab slowly moving through traffic, considering the situation with no emotion to interfere with his thought processes, he could see that if he'd taken a step back and looked at the situation properly earlier on, he would possibly have realized much sooner that his psychological problems had actually been exacerbating the way in which he'd handled his non-platonic feelings for Edward.
Yes, that...that actually made sense. His psychological issues very probably came first .
The ease with which he'd provoked Edward into guilty acquiescence, executed manipulations in various ways, the pretenses, the mind-games, using sex for and against Ed. He'd probably already been inclined to do those things on some level, those behaviours and pathologies were very probably in his character to start. Or else, he probably would have handled the situation very differently. Not that he thought there was a healthy way to handle incestuous desires, but he knew it didn't involve persuading his brother into sleeping with him.
He wasn't about to bother with what ifs and maybes, nothing would come from him clinging to the idea that if he'd done things differently the outcome might have changed. He wasn't trying to pretend anymore. He did what he did, how he did it. No more blinding himself to reality, especially when he was acknowledging and seeing what'd gone wrong, seeing the wrongness of his actions without the filter of his justifications and excuses. No, he'd pushed Edward in the direction he wanted, and it had become easier and easier to keep pushing because Ed had started slipping, and once Ed had lost his balance just enough, Alphonse had taken full advantage of Edward's remaining unstable grasp. He'd realized he could have gotten away with almost anything at that point and he'd plucked at those grasping fingers one by one. Until the only thing left had been Edward's dealbreaker; keeping it between themselves.
That last bit of strength in Edward, though, regarding that dealbreaker, just that much strength, had been enough to pull Edward back from the brink...
He sighed loudly and abruptly enough that the cab driver looked at him via the rearview mirror, but he looked away again quickly, possibly due to whatever expression Alphonse was making as he thought,
'There I go again...thinking about shit that doesn't matter anymore.'
He turned his head to look out the window then, watching the city go by slowly as he absently reached a hand out to the cat carrier beside him, poking his fingers into the openings so Cookieboots could sniff and rub against his fingers. He didn't need to waste time thinking about the past, he couldn't change it. He had to focus on whatever decisions he made going forward.
That was all there actually was in the end, the past and its future consequences. All the things that no one could change or control.
Like their father leaving.
Their mother dying.
Edward deciding it was a good idea to try human transmutation.
Him agreeing.
Izumi becoming their teacher.
Surviving a transmutation rebound...
Thinking of those major things and not really feeling anything, had Alphonse trying to recall his emotional responses back then, at those times. They'd been normal, right? He'd once had normal emotional responses. It was sometimes difficult to recall things clearly from before he'd been in the armour though, but he tried anyway, because for some reason it seemed quite important all of a sudden.
Alphonse had been really small when Hohenheim left, so the man's absence hadn't affected him much...although, it had certainly affected Edward quite a bit. They were only a year apart in age, three and four at the time when Hohenheim left, should he have been more affected by it? Why hadn't he been? Hell, at that age Ed had even formed bad opinions of Hohenheim, while Alphonse hadn't been thinking much about it at all. He just remembered he'd wanted to play outside or do something fun with his big brot-...with Edward.
And their mother dying, yeah, he'd cried, he'd been sad, he'd missed her, all the normal stuff. Ed had done the same, but also, he'd...well, Edward, he'd immediately thought to bring her back. He'd thought of doing something so extreme just to bring her back, while all Alphonse had been feeling on that day of the funeral, was that he wanted to go home because he'd been hungry. They'd eaten when they got back home, because Edward had prioritized it, but it'd just been some cereal and other snacks. And then after he'd eaten, he remembered that he'd pretty much just gone along with Ed's choice to transmute their mother. He fondly remembered staying up late each night in their empty house, just the two of them, reading, talking, planning, falling asleep on the floor close enough to be a comfort to one another...
Had that been normal?
And he'd mostly enjoyed training with Izumi. But he recalls sometimes it'd felt like too much, he'd have too many aches and pains, or there'd be too much yelling between Ed and Izumi and too much effort put in for what would feel like very little reward for a kid. He remembered he'd get annoyed or irritated and sometimes he'd complain to Ed, who would remind him that they were doing it for their mother. He'd always feel like he was being gently chastised, which he recalls also annoyed him. But he never showed it, and in the end he'd agree easily enough and Ed would be happy again. Still, even during that time, his best memories of training were mostly of the sparring and exercises he did with Ed.
Edward had always been so driven during that time, all he'd wanted was to bring their mother back, so he'd wanted nothing less than to master alchemy. And Edward was so damn smart, he hated being called a genius but that is exactly what he was and Alphonse had watched him fall more and more in love with science and alchemy day by day, learning and improving so fast. As for him? He couldn't recall feeling that same drive. Sure, he enjoyed alchemy, it was fun and handy and challenging, but he'd never been as inspired by and taken with it as Edward. He'd also never been quite as good at using it.
But back before the armor, he'd loved learning alchemy with Ed and training alongside him. He'd loved watching Ed's eyes light up, especially when he'd mention some alchemic idea or theory that Ed hadn't thought of yet or wanted to discuss. He'd loved the praise from Edward, loved how he always had Ed's full attention in those moments. He'd loved how Edward had always been so open and genuine and would let his guard down around him.
His trip down memory lane was interrupted at that last thought, the reality of how he'd betrayed that genuine, open love coming back around in his mind. He didn't get stuck thinking in the same old pattern though, the lack of emotional pain making it easy to dismiss it. So he went right back to thinking of the very distant past, because since he was sure the psychological problems had come first, he wanted to compare himself before the armour, with himself after the armour, to see if he could make sense of anything. He wanted to see if he could figure out what had changed in him, or whether he'd possibly always been that way, but hadn't grown up enough in a human body to realize it.
He was already more aware that his responses to the tragedies and events in their lives before the armour seemed to be more focused on Edward's role and presence in his life. But that wasn't that strange, since he'd been so young and Edward was his older brother. And he'd been the best older brother he could under the circumstances. Alphonse had considered Ed to be his compass for life and guidance and joy. He'd been the one Alphonse was meant to turn to. They'd always been close, after all.
His thoughts were again interrupted when the car came to a stop at a red light and he glanced around, noting where they were. The drive had been very long for some reason, but he estimated they'd be at the apartment building soon judging by the area they were driving through. He then looked at the carrier, seeing that Cookieboots was still mostly awake, blue eyes half lidded as he purred softly, totally ignoring Alphonse's fingers still stuck in the openings of the carrier.
He sighed again, quieter, pointedly not trying to draw the cab driver's attention to him again. Withdrawing his fingers from the carrier, he folded his arms over his chest and turned to look out of the window again, narrowing his eyes slightly as the sunshine shone directly on him through the window for a moment as the car started moving again, turning into a new street.
The sun was so warm on his skin, and it drew his thoughts back to when he was in the armour and hadn't been able to feel anything physically. Edward would complain about heat and cold and itchiness and sore muscles and headaches and hunger and whenever his hair was tangled or would snag somewhere, and Alphonse would always respond appropriately. Sometimes he'd laugh if Ed was being theatrical about it, or he'd be concerned if it looked like Ed was genuinely in pain or uncomfortable, or he'd scold Ed if the older blonde was being reckless.
He'd been pretty much the same as before he'd been in the armour actually, except his feelings had been more memories and ideas than anything else. He'd remembered how to act when he was amused, or worried or angry, so he'd reacted the same way. He'd remembered to always be polite and cordial and pleasant to people, because that's how Trisha had been, calm and nice, always, always nice. Alphonse had been the same way in the armour, hell, he'd even been that way to bad guys right before he'd fight them. It was how he'd remembered being, and since he'd had a connection to his brain through the Gate and the soulmark, he'd been getting by on the memories of himself as a kid.
He'd remembered how to react or behave, and his brain had processed those feelings since he'd known what feelings they were, but during his time in the armour, he'd never physically felt them. He'd...well, he'd just acted out the physical responses, he'd mimicked them from memories of his childhood, and from watching Ed and his mother and then other people around them as time went on, merging his old behaviours with new input and developments and experiences, all mixed in with what he'd assumed his own personality to be. Observe, adapt and apply.
And during his most developmental years in that armour he'd observed and experienced many, many new things, and his brain had processed those things, but some of them were things he hadn't ever felt in a real body, which he'd handled experiencing as well as he could at the time. He'd either responded to other people's outward reactions, or he'd resorted to his default setting of nice and polite and diplomatic. He'd always made a point to be attentive and alert and aware of everything though, specifically because he hadn't been able to feel new things, but he'd needed to process and categorize them, try to make sense of them or decide how he felt about them, so he'd file them away in his mind to think about at length when he was alone for hours at night while the world slept.
While Ed slept.
Alphonse had often watched over Ed as he slept, and sometimes, when they were in a safe place and being on guard was not necessary, he'd just watched Ed sleep.
He blinked his eyes to half-lidded as he recalled how he'd used to catalogue Ed's movements, watching as Ed would shift idly in his sleep, sometimes calmly, sometimes restlessly. He'd watch Ed's chest rise and fall, watch his eyes move beneath the skin of his eyelids, watch as his hair became untidier and messier around his head and over his face as he moved around. He remembered how Ed would sometimes drool, sometimes talk nonsense in his sleep, would snuffle and breathe out sleepily. Sometimes Ed would get cold and Al would be able to see the goosebumps break out over his skin, and in times when Edward would reach for the blanket and not be able to grasp it easily, Alphonse would go over and cover Ed.
And then there'd been times during summer months when Ed would kick the covers off because he was too hot, and Alphonse would see all of Ed's regular movements, except Ed would be wearing nothing but boxer shorts. And Al clearly remembered looking at Ed's body and missing having his own. He'd even used to wonder back then whether he'd also be as impressive as Ed physically if he'd still had a body...
Alphonse frowned slightly, forcing himself to analyze the thoughts he'd had when he'd seen Ed sleeping half naked during his time in the armour, with so much bare skin on display, boxer shorts riding low on his waist and high on his thighs in unconscious sleeping positions. But...no,
' My thoughts were never sexual.' he confirmed to himself as he thought over it again for good measure. But no, he felt confident that he'd never looked at Ed in a sexual light when he'd been in the armour. He'd been aware of Ed's body, of the impressiveness of his lean musculature, the smoothness of his skin and all that, but he'd never had a single thought of anything...inappropriate.
He'd never-...but then...he'd also never experienced sexual thoughts even a day in his life before he was put into an unfeeling hunk of metal. And of course, in the armour, he'd felt nothing...so then, if he'd been seeing Ed like that and been thinking about how impressive he looked for nights and nights and sometimes during the day too, could he have...could he have not been aware of what feelings his thoughts would have led to in a real body?
Maybe, oh, oh, god, oh shit, maybe...becaus-
The cab came to a stop again and Alphonse blinked a bit dazedly out of his latest startling memory correlation to focus on where they were, and seeing they were parked across the street from the apartment building, he swallowed dryly and cleared his throat before shifting to get his wallet out to pay the cab driver.
For the moment he had to ignore the slight tightness in his chest and turning of his stomach, feelings and reactions that had actually managed to make it past the numbness for the first time in hours.
He paid the driver without a hint of a smile and a monotone thanks, before he grabbed the carrier and got out of the cab. He stood distractedly by as the cab driver helped him get his luggage out of the trunk and then he picked up everything and made his way across the street and into the apartment building. He didn't even glance around the lobby once he was inside, instead just crossing the space and heading straight for the staircase, and it was a bit awkward hurriedly carrying his bags and Cookieboots up the stairs, but he did so without falling or dropping anything.
Cookieboots wasn't pleased though, meowing a bit in annoyance as he set down the carrier and his bags outside the apartment door. He was obviously a bit stressed about all the sudden none-too-gentle movement. But Alphonse barely had a moment to feel bad about it, because all at once, just as he stuck his key in the apartment door, he was flooded with new panic beating back the numbness at having forgotten he may be about to face Edward for the first time since...
Taking in a deep breath and swallowing down his mounting stress, he turned the key and hearing it unlock, he immediately let out the breath, because it was the middle of the day and if Ed was home during that time of day, the door wasn't likely to be locked.
The numbness blanket had partially lifted though, so his stress twisted into confused anxiety as he opened the door and pushed it in to reveal the apartment appearing, sounding and feeling exactly as it had when he'd last been there almost a week ago. Empty and unused. Edward clearly had still not been there. What that meant or where the older blonde was, Alphonse had no idea. But, maybe Ed had also chosen to stay in a hotel?
He'd have to check Ed's room to know whether that was the case.
Alphonse stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing himself back to a state of relative calmness, wanting the blanket of numbness to return as he cuffed a hand through his hair and then rubbed at his neck. When his anxiety started to settle again, he breathed out loudly and started moving again, picking up the carrier and his bags and taking everything inside, bumping the door shut behind him again. He immediately let Cookieboots out, smiling absently as his pet went straight into the living room, rubbing up against the door frame along the way, clearly happy to be 'home'.
Alphonse was already walking into the hallway though, approaching and entering Edward's room without hesitation. In the same way, he went over to the wardrobes and opened them, and there he paused and frowned. Edward's clothes, and all of his other stuff...was still there.
"So, he still hasn't been here." he said softly to himself as he looked over everything that was untouched. After a beat he closed the doors and stepped away again, turning to look at the unused bed that he'd previously spent months sharing with Ed. It appeared to be exactly the same as Al had left it after making it up the day they'd left for Xing .
His eyes and chest were burning a little as he stared at the bed and wondered if this meant Ed had beaten him to the punch; had he left before Al could? Without even taking anything with him? Without even a word? Was he just never going to come back? Alphonse clenched his jaw, thinking it was selfish of Ed to do that, and yet he'd been going to do the same thing.
Knowing full well that he had no right to be angry at Edward, he just shook his head and swallowed down his mild anger as he turned away from the bed, taking his hypocritically messy feelings and thoughts and leaving the room. Even though he had nowhere to go with Cookieboots, he had no intention to linger in the apartment; he'd just wanted to settle Cookieboots. If he was going to have to stay there while he made his plans to leave, he would only return at night to sleep. He didn't want to stay in the apartment too long. What was once his 'home', now just felt like a bitter and uneasy space.
He worked efficiently then, taking his bags and dumping them back into his room before setting up everything Cookieboots needed. He also noted, after he used the last bag of litter, that he needed to buy more cat supplies, and it made him stop what he was doing, sigh and hold his head for a moment. He was all over the place and he knew it. The plan that had seemed so clear and clean cut back in Xing seemed more like an outline by that point, and the unfocused state of his mind wasn't improving his mood at all.
There was nothing for it though, he couldn't stop and give up, and he certainly couldn't get stuck in some weird despondent rut again, he had to...he had to work at leaving, however slowly he made progress. Dropping his hands from his head, he considered the biggest tasks he had to accomplish before cutting ties, and what came to mind first was something he could only sort out specifically in Central, and that was at the university. He needed to go there to inform them he was dropping out and also to see how much of his tuition he would have refunded to him. He had no idea what the time period was for that, or if there was one, so he needed to go there to find out. Since he was dropping out, he didn't think it was fair to leave Ed's money there if he could help it, so he'd like to get back what he could and return it.
Perhaps that would seem petty to Ed, but Alphonse wanted to do it anyway.
After twenty-five minutes he was ready to leave again, and when he stopped in the living room to give Cookieboots some pets before he left, he noticed the sound of light rainfall outside. The abrupt change in the weather was as much a pain as everything else, and he sighed again, feeling annoyed as he went back to his room to grab a coat out of one of his bags. Feeling frustrated, he abruptly changed his mind about digging in his bags and instead he went to his wardrobe instead, where he'd left a few items he'd decided not to take with him last time. One of them was a dark grey parka coat, which was warmer than he'd prefer for early autumn, but it was good for rain, especially since he intended to walk to the university.
He pulled it on as he left his room again, checked in on Cookieboots one last time in the living room and then he exited the apartment, taking his key from his pants pocket to lock the door again before leaving.
March on. Freak out. Release. Your doubts. Resist. Reborn. I can't. Move on.
It was early afternoon when he arrived at the university, and he spent almost an hour discussing his choice to drop out before they'd finally started the process of applying for a tuition refund. They'd tried to get him to disclose his reasons for leaving, wanted to talk him around to staying, but Alphonse had less than politely made it clear it wasn't their business and that his mind could not be changed. They'd seemed surprised by his bluntness but they'd stopped trying to be 'helpful', which had ended up more helpful in the end, because they'd begun the process faster.
It obviously wasn't their fault he was in a bad mood, but on top of everything else aggravating him, since the break in his numbness earlier and following his long walk, he was feeling ten times more irritated. The rain wasn't even the problem, even though he'd gotten fairly wet, it was his train of thought making him tense. During the walk, where he'd had nothing to focus on besides putting one foot in front of the other, he'd circled back to thinking about what had been on his mind in the cab earlier.
Alphonse had had a minor revelation about watching Edward sleep just as the cab had stopped at the apartment earlier. And he'd been thinking about that again, about how he had possibly, or even probably, actually been affected by watching Edward's body during his time in the armour. And as he'd walked, giving the idea more thought, he'd recalled something else. Something that was...unsettling, because it'd happened after he'd been back in his body.
See, one of the unconscious actions Ed would occasionally do in his sleep was to slip his hand down the front of his shorts. It was always completely innocent, he'd be shifting himself for comfort, or he'd be scratching lightly, the same way Ed would scratch his nose or move his hair out of his face. The same way anyone would. A natural action for all intents and purposes. Al had noted those actions in the same way he'd noted all the others, and like all the others, he'd wondered what it'd feel like for himself to do it. But then...fast forward to when he'd had his body back and he'd been just about halfway back to good health after being in The Gate for so long.
At that time, on days when Al was feeling off or not too physically well, Ed had often ended up sleeping on the floor on a mattress beside his bed just in case he needed help in a hurry.
And during one of those times, there'd been one instance that he'd never thought of before, and would never have thought could be related, even when he'd spent weeks and weeks wracking his brain trying to make sense of his feelings for Ed after he'd first discovered them. But now, after his most recent realization, it seemed that seemingly innocuous instance could mean something after all.
It'd been such a small, fleeting thing; Al had been asleep one moment and awake the next, and he'd rolled over in his bed and spotted Ed asleep on the floor as had happened many times by that point. He'd smiled, pleased that Ed was there, had fondly rolled his eyes at his overprotective brother, and then he'd lied facing Ed, watching him for a while, even syncing their breathing in a way he hadn't been able to do when he'd been in the armor, which had felt so comforting. And then after some time, Ed's hand had slipped into the front of his sleeping pants and he appeared to touch himself briefly for whatever reason before removing his hand and rolling over to face Al's way. And Al had eventually fallen asleep like that, smiling softly, eyes focused on Ed until his lids had drifted shut.
The next morning though, he'd woken up sticky inside his own shorts and it had been the first time in his life , at almost 17 years old, that he'd experienced the aftermath of a wet dream. It had in fact, been the first time he'd experienced anything sexual at all. And he'd known what it was, because he was intelligent and educated and mentally mature, but waking to the real, actual mess and knowing he'd had some kind of sex dream had made him panic in embarrassment and he'd almost tripped over Ed in his hurry to get to the bathroom on weak legs.
He hadn't remembered the dream then, and presently it was also impossible to remember what he'd been dreaming about, but considering how things had turned out, maybe he didn't have to remember. Because adding that experience in with the fact that he also recalled immediately liking the way Ed smelled, and the way he'd enjoyed Ed's physical attention in the form of hugs and affection, and how he'd loved seeing Ed smile at him, how he'd often thought of how handsome Edward was. Yeah, adding all those things up, things he'd thought were all pretty innocent...in retrospect, they'd probably never been quite so innocent. He just hadn't realized it.
He hadn't even considered such a thing as being possible. Incest? Never. But then later, once he'd actually fully sexually matured and his human body had been healthy and 'normally' functioning, it seemed the 'sudden' onset of his feelings for Ed had just been a lot of past shit catching up with him. And it had hit him like a freight train.
Presently, he was walking across one of the university quads, heading for an exit, but he stopped as his breathing accelerated slightly and the anxiety that had been lingering in his chest seemed to squeeze his lungs. He just stood still, waiting for the emotion to pass or settle as he stared at the grey concrete, rain pattering down onto him and the ground. And no matter how pointless the question was after everything that had already happened, Alphonse still asked himself; when had his brotherly love turned non-platonic?
He went over it again in his head as he stood in the rain,
' I was always attached to Edward, long before the armour. I focused on him more than anything else after our father left and after our mother died. But I don't remember it ever being anything more than that. Probably the start of our co-dependence, but nothing inappropriate. Then the transmutation, the armour, the disconnection from physical feeling.' he blinked a few times, frowning slightly, ' The disconnection from physical feeling, yes, but no disconnection from Ed. We did everything together, I was almost always with him. So, mentally, I continued to process those experiences. Not feeling anything though. But as a preteen, as a teenager, seeing Ed the way I had, every facet of him, I was meant to be going through puberty at that time, just as he was. If I'd had a real body, would I have started experiencing sexual feelings toward Ed then already?'
He sighed frustratedly and leaned his head back, letting some rain droplets hit his face before dropping his head forward again and cursing softly. It felt like the answer was unconfirmable but still somehow obvious. But if that was the case, if that truly was the answer, Edward could never find out, because as it was, he took so much blame over Al ending up in the armour. So, if it turned out that his time in the armor had actually been the cause of subconscious confusion during Al's development, Ed would hate himself, more so due to all the pain and misery that it had gone on to cause between them.
'But what about my psychological issues? Did they start before the armour or after?' he continued to mentally question himself. But honestly, Alphonse had no idea, he'd been really young, far too young to be sure of whether he'd had any kind of problem mentally back then. The idea came to him though, that maybe he needed to read up on it, maybe he needed to research and educate himself...and he could research incest too.
With an idle sniff and twitchy blink, he recalled the last time he'd been to a library for research. He'd come so far and been shaken by reality enough that he could acknowledge right then that those topics were what he should have been looking up back then. He should not have been looking for ways to get his brother into bed. Shit. He'd really been fucking up all this time. Being in love with Edward, for whatever reason or since whenever, was no excuse to have dragged Ed into his sickness.
After a moment of slow breathing, standing still in the drizzle, Alphonse sighed it off, shoulders dropping back before he rolled them. He then proceeded to glance around the quad to figure out exactly where on campus he was, and then he started heading in the direction of the university library. He knew that whatever he was going to find there would likely not be all that helpful...worse still though, he felt that even if was helpful or even just informative, it wouldn't change anything, and he would never tell Edward about it anyway.
Still, he needed to see if he could finally make some sense of the mess he'd made of his life.
Alphonse went through the process he had the last time he visited a library, picking out the books he thought he could find helpful information in, and just like last time, he found an empty spot in the library and settled down to read up.
He found several books, in which he looked up information on three things; development of mental disorders, genetic hereditary impacts of mental disorders and genetics in sexual attraction.
And after about an hour of skimming, page flipping and reading, he discovered he'd been right to assume it wouldn't help him. All it did was shed some ugly bright light on how apparently...it'd probably been unavoidable. At least, on his part, on the side of his feelings for Edward and his psychological issues. He hadn't even had his hopes up, but he was still disappointed. Disappointed and...sad, to read that reverse sexual imprinting , the very thing that made siblings and other close blood relatives not feel sexual attraction to one another, was considered to be in effect from birth to the age of six or seven.
But since he and Edward had never been separated at all during that crucial time, which was suggested to be one of the causes for family members later feeling attraction to a relative when they grew up, meant that Alphonse's non-platonic inclination and attraction toward Edward happened despite reverse sexual imprinting, or perhaps it hadn't happened for him at all.
Reverse sexual imprinting was just a psychological hypothesis though, it wasn't exactly set in stone whether siblings might go one way or another. It was just a study on the subject...a study which suggested that ultimately, it was uncommon for siblings to go another way.
The way Alphonse had.
So, it seemed that his biology had failed him somehow, and that he'd always been attracted to Ed on some level, probably just emotionally as a kid, due to their closeness and codependence, what with their father leaving so early and their mother becoming distrait and then ill not long after. The sexual side of things had only reared its ugly head when he was old enough and actually had a body to feel things. Being in the armor had not helped at all, it'd possibly just delayed the inevitable, and at worse, it was solely to blame for the emotional attraction developing into something sexual, because it compounded his lack of physical understanding of himself. Maybe if he'd been able to be aware of his distorted physical feelings earlier, he could have...well, he had no idea what he could have or would have done, but maybe he'd have had a chance .
And then there were also his psychological issues, which according to what he was reading, seemed to be some kind of personality disorder which wasn't well documented. The books did say enough to explain some symptoms that could have influenced his unusual feelings toward Ed though, which was equally disappointing. But overall, it was no help because there was no clear way to discern how many of his issues were hereditary and how many were developed from the shit that had happened to him at a young age.
He had been too young to really know his mother, all he ever saw of her was a loving smile and optimism. She didn't even change after Hohenheim had left, she'd just kept right on smiling...mind you, maybe that was pretty indicative that something wasn't quite right. Had she been hiding pain? How had she dealt with her sadness? Had she felt any? Even when she sick, she'd been as pleasant as possible. Was that normal? He'd been too young to notice anything else, so it was pointless to try and pick that apart. And Hohenheim was impossible to figure out. The man had been alive for centuries by the time he'd had kids. Genes tended to evolve over generations as it was, so what had he been like back when he'd been a slave in Xerxes? Had he had mental problems from his own not so great life? Had any of that genetically stayed with him after so many centuries, what he passed on to his kids? Considering he'd been barely human, how did that affect anything?
Alphonse had closed the books and set them in a pile and then he just sat there in the uncomfortable wooden chair, leaning his elbows on the table and holding his head as he swallowed around tension in his throat and tried to process what exactly all of it meant and didn't change about his situation. Because in the end, even if he was destined to be so fucked up, it had been his choice to put that on Edward.
Edward...who seemed fine mentally. Wasn't there anything wrong with him? He was impulsive, or he had been, age had tamed him a lot. He'd also had some self-deprecating qualities Alphonse had noticed, but then, he'd only ever showed that side of himself to Alphonse. Did the shitty genes just skip over Edward completely? Or could it be that whatever was wrong with Edward was just not as prominent, not as bad?
It didn't even matter, though. Because whether or not Alphonse had always been on a fucked-up path, he never should have dragged Edward into it. Edward had tried to help him back then, had tried to take him away from a place and people who wouldn't understand. But Alphonse hadn't even tried to control himself, not really, never with any great conviction. He'd been selfish and demanding and sly and he'd only felt pain or guilt when things got really bad, and never for very long or with any real effect.
All of that fit right in with what was apparently some kind of personality disorder, and wasn't that just the cherry on top. And it got worse still, because he hadn't wanted to tell Edward when he'd thought it was because of being in the armor, because he hadn't wanted Ed to hate himself. But now? Now Alphonse felt like if Ed found out he'd always been fucked up, that the armor had probably just delayed it all, then Edward would possibly hate him . If he didn't already.
So, Alphonse would have to keep it all to himself. And he didn't even know if he was right about it all, if he'd really figured anything out, because there really seemed to be no definitive way to figure out how this had happened to him, but it changed nothing. He still felt fucked up, he still felt like...like the problem.
He felt his already tight chest tense up even more and he hung his head, hands buried in his hair and he worked his jaw and swallowed back the need to cry. He was completely alone now. Before, he'd at least had Edward, but not anymore. Honestly, even if Edward was willing to reconcile as brothers, Alphonse knew he couldn't let it happen, because he was still in love with Edward and being around Edward while feeling like that would never cease to be a problem.
So long ago, he'd threatened to leave Edward, like a total asshole, but he should have left then. Or rather, even longer before that, he should have just never returned to Amestris. He should never have told Ed anything . The answer seemed clear now, that Alphonse should have put distance between himself and Ed the moment he'd realized he was weak to his desires.
He smiled sarcastically, bitterly, to himself to think if how different things might have been if he'd never... never ...
But of course. hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty.
Begin. Again. Revive. The dead. All quiet. All calm. Your gain. Has gone.
My love, I feel the fall, again.
My love, I feel the pull.
By the time he left the library, it was early evening and halfway dark out.
His mind was still a mess of past and present thoughts, future considerations, nothing clear. His thoughts felt slippery yet sharp, no one thought fixed and yet each one giving him a painful headache. That feeling, coupled with the state of numbness that seemed to come over him in fits and starts, was doing him no favours in ceasing the pounding behind his eyes and the tension in his throat and chest.
He was aware that he still needed to buy supplies for Cookieboots before going back ho-...to the apartment, and he also knew from the tug of hunger that seemed ever present in his gut, that he should get something for himself to eat too, but feeling the way he was, he just wanted to lie down and block every thing out for a few hours.
As he walked toward the exit of the university grounds, he began doing a mental inventory of whether he had enough stuff to last Cookieboots until the following day, all the while clenching and unclenching his fists in his pockets, trying not to grind his teeth, blinking his sandy eyes one time too many...and so he was actually vaguely startled when he heard someone call out,
"Alphonse?" sounding sad and uncertain, voice oddly tense as well, and then more surely for the second, "Alphonse Elric?"
He slowed his pace as he turned his head toward the source of the voice, and when his eyes fell on the woman who'd called after him, it took him a beat and sedate blink to recognize her.
It was Elizabeth's mother.
Alphonse stopped walking, watching over his shoulder as she begun approaching him from the distance of several meters away, her heeled books tapping loudly on the concrete with the force of her steps, expensive coat length flipping a bit in the light evening wind. He blinked again as he turned to face her, trying to focus on what her tense and rushed demeanor could mean, about whether she was angry or in a hurry, but his mind was still foggy and he failed to be able to determine how to react to her by the time she stopped a mere two feet away and said,
"Alphonse, I've been trying to contact you for days. " sounding quite like she thought he should have been readily contactable by her, as if he hadn't only met her a single time, and she also sounded concerned about something.
He felt himself frown without really thinking about it, his reaction to a concerned tone, but he didn't feel any real alarm or even curiosity, even as he said,
"Sorry about that, Mrs. Dunn, I was out of town." but not feeling sorry in the least, since he didn't think he owed her any kind of apology for such a thing, but it was the polite thing to say, as so it was to ask, "Is everything alright?"
She huffed out a breath, shifting the long strap of her purse on her shoulder as she shook her head and her long ponytail swayed, her eyes averting as if she were thinking about what to say, hesitating.
Right then, Alphonse actually found himself hoping she'd decide to leave him out of whateve-
"It's Elizabeth." she cut his thoughts off with a tense, frustrated tone of voice and looked at him again, meeting his eyes directly as she shook her head again, "I thought maybe you'd already know about what she's done."
Those words caused a twinge of curiosity in Alphonse's numbed mind and the frown he was faking settled into a real pinch,
"What she's done?" he asked, finding Elizabeth's mother's wording odd. What could she have done? She'd been okay the last time he'd talked with her, what could have changed to make her mother, who was generally not even interested in Elizabeth's life, be out, looking concerned, trying to contact him and hanging around the university campus.
All those details on the woman were seeping into his focus just when Mrs. Dunn said,
"That foolish girl dropped out of university." in a tone that sounded strained and angry, but was not raised, as if she was very aware of not drawing any attention to herself in public, despite there not being very many people around at that time of the evening. "And that , after she made the ridiculous decision to move out of the house last week." she was breathing heavily through her nose now, arms folding across her chest briefly before she let them drop again. Clearly agitated.
Alphonse had raised his eyebrows at the news, but he was honestly only feeling the surprise on a shallow level, but he was surprised, however little it registered. Elizabeth moving out? Dropping out of university? What was that all about? Sure, he knew she'd always had some difficulty with the field of medicine she was pursuing, and she didn't get to spend much time with her parents, but she'd never mentioned wanting to move out or quit her studies.
Had something pushed her? Did it...did it possibly have something to do with him?
Was he conceited to think that? Was it callous that he wanted to roll his eyes at the thought?
Probably. It probably made him even more of an asshole than he apparently already was.
His gaze had lowered to stare at the shiny tips of the older woman's shoes as his thoughts wandered, so it was only when he raised his eyes again, to look at her, that he realised she was staring at him with some unreadable emotion in her eyes. Unreadable, but sharp. Accusing? He wasn't too surprised by that, he doubted his 'concerned appearance' about what she'd told him was passing any kind of muster at all.
But what had she expected? They didn't know each other very well, barely at all, and so the things he wanted to say, like 'Elizabeth hated her major anyway' and 'she could probably benefit from some independence, she's pretty sheltered' would be inappropriate. It occurred to Alphonse then that he wasn't able to make himself play the role he'd spent most of life playing.
The role of empathetic and sympathetic and understanding and endlessly nice .
He just didn't feel-
"I'm worried about her," Mrs. Dunn seemed to have decided the extended silence was best broken and Alphonse agreed silently, although he was not yet able to excuse himself and walk away, because Mrs. Dunn had reached into her purse and was currently looking for something, "but she won't listen to me, and I know you two are not together anymore," Alphonse felt vaguely surprised she'd known at all that they'd been 'dating', "but she might listen to you." the woman had taken out a small writing pad and a pen and she was writing something down.
He only realised he'd been standing with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets when she ripped off the notepaper to hold it out to him and he had to take a hand out of his pocket to accept it from her. He noticed how she looked at his hand as the note passed from hers to his. She seemed to notice how pale and somewhat spindly his hand looked, the skin around his nails a little too dry as well.
Alphonse didn't care what she thought though, he just turned the paper around using his fingertips, crumpling it a little, until he wasn't reading upside down.
"What this?" he asked, because while it was clearly a phone number, he wondered whose?
She didn't answer, not until her lack of response made him look at her again, her expression sterner now, as if her concern had passed, or she'd decided it was wasted to express it to him,
"It's the number she left for contact." she huffed again, crossly adding, "She didn't even have the decency to give me an address."
He found himself nodding, looking back down at the paper.
"Please call her, Alphonse, and try to talk some sense into her." Mrs. Dunn was saying, "She's a fool to be throwing her future away like this, she needs to come home." she said firmly as he just stared at the numbers scrawled in lose cursively swirly handwriting on the paper, "I've managed to explain to the Dean that she's just confused, that she's going through some kind of phase and this little stunt is just immature and dramatic foolishness." Alphonse gaze remained on the paper, but he wasn't seeing the numbers anymore, he was listening as he felt the numb fog relent enough to experience a small rush of indignance and anger, "I don't know if-…" she hesitated, then seemed to decide to just tell him, "I don't know if this is because of your break up, or if it's because she'd been going out every night and partying and doing god knows what else , not even coming home some nights, and then she just abruptly moved out." Alphonse frowned again, clenched his jaw, "She just," another frustrated huff, "she's just confused and she doesn't bloody know what she wants, so she's running away like a coward!" she raised her voice a bit then and huffed again, folded her arms and softly sniffing.
She was having trouble not getting emotional, and Alphonse was experiencing feelings too, as he'd only been doing intermittently since...well. He replayed Mrs. Dunn's words in his mind to refocus his thoughts and then he clenched his jaw again, briefly closing his eyes as he took a concentrated moment to swallow down what he wanted to say in response to that.
It wasn't his place to say anything to her, but also, he owed Elizabeth more than the betrayal of discussing her feelings with her selfish mother. He owed Elizabeth a lot actually...he knew that, but he'd been just as selfish as her mother for a long time, just in a different way, and to a different person.
A different relative.
The wave of nausea that passed over him at that thought was not clear in origin. It wasn't disgust about sleeping with his own brother, not disgust in the way 'normal' people would be disgusted, but it wasn't not disgust.
"Are you okay, Alphonse?" Mrs. Dunn suddenly asked, not sounding concerned so much as confused. His small emotional rush lingered in the hollow pit of his stomach as he looked up from the paper, which was now lightly trembling with his shaking hand, to her confused expression. It took another blink and two inhales for him to remember that he was in fact not okay before he nodded, didn't smile and said,
"I'll call her." as he shifted to stuff his shaking hand, along with the paper, back into his coat pocket, already taking a step back to leave, "I'll call her and talk to her..." he continued to back step, even as Mrs. Dunn looked even more confused and less than placated by his response. "Have a good evening, Mrs. Dunn." he added, despite how flat and insincere it sounded, and how stupid it sounded to say under the circumstances, and then he turned and walked away.
Walked faster than he'd been walking before. Walked with nausea in his stomach and a frown on his face and the paper squashed inside the tense, cold, slightly sweating palm of his fist, but also with every intention of actually calling Elizabeth. Because he felt he needed to call her, because Mrs. Dunn's words about her had actually pissed him off, and had also made him realize that whatever had pushed Elizabeth, and he was quite sure it had something to do with him, Elizabeth wasn't confused about it, she was trying to deal with it, trying to get through it.
Just like Alphonse wasn't confused, hadn't been in a long time. Just as he was now trying to deal with the shitshow he'd made of his life, after everything he'd been doing, all of his ill made choices had caught up to him.
Yeah, his behaviour, his foolish and ridiculous choices, everything he'd done and said and fucked up, it hadn't been done out of confusion or because he hadn't know what he wanted. It had been exactly the opposite , and that was the problem. Elizabeth was dealing with the same thing now, of course, not the same fucked up, twisted and illegal thing, but a version of it.
Because Elizabeth was a twisted version of Winry for him...and he was a messed up, backwards version of Edward for her, while also having been his real fucked up self to her.
And now Elizabeth was running away from the mess he'd made of her feelings, just as he had decided he would be running away from the mess his own life had turned into because of who he'd fallen in love with, but it wasn't because he was a coward, and it wasn't because he didn't know what he wanted. It was because he did know exactly what he wanted but he'd finally excepted that it was wrong to want it, that he should never have even had what he'd been given, and now he needed to run away...he needed to leave . Leave to survive.
And he had a gut feeling Elizabeth was doing the same. She'd chosen to be with him despite all of the red flags he'd so obviously been displaying. She'd made concessions and compromises and she'd fallen in love with him and slept with him and then even after he hurt her, and with how she'd struggled, she'd forgiven him and tried to stay close to him as much as she could and it hadn't mattered because he'd still left her alone in the end and now she was trying to get away.
She was using shitty coping methods and running away from her life because she wanted to survive whatever she was feeling and even though the circumstances were so different, Alphonse felt like some sort of understanding for what she was going through was blooming in his chest. And he felt like maybe, maybe he could do what Edward could no longer do for him...would likely never care to even try to do. He wanted to talk to her, to see her and to tell her she was amazing and she could still be happy.
Dammit. He just wanted to try to salvage what was left of Elizabeth's feelings. He wasn't even sure what he could say or do, but he wanted to try. He wanted her to be able to healthily move on with her life in a way he didn't think he would ever be able to. He'd screwed himself up, and he'd fucked Edward up pretty bad too. But if she was like the Winry to his Edward, then maybe because she hadn't been touched by the real sickness of the situation, she could still have a life.
He just wanted to talk to her.
He blinked several times as he descended several wide flat steps which led to the one exit of the large campus, and once he was striding along the wide, mostly empty sidewalk he swallowed a little thickly, cataloguing the state of his breathing and the tension throughout his body, before looking around and adjusting his evening plans mentally.
Two minutes later, he spotted a cab parked off along the curb and he walked right up to it.
You cannot win.
Alphonse followed through with his original plan first, taking a cab to a supermarket near the apartment, where he did some shopping for Cookieboots and for himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd be staying in Amestris before he'd be ready to leave, so he just bought stuff to sustain them, over a course of more or less a week.
He spent about an hour at the supermarket, and then it was a twenty minute walk back to the apartment building, carrying his shopping bags. Once he arrived at the building, he took his shopping upstairs to the apartment, putting the shopping bags down outside the door and only hesitating for a second before checking the door.
It was locked. Still locked.
Once inside, after he took off his jacket and then carried the grocery bags to the kitchen, in the silence it became clear Edward had still not been there, and Alphonse didn't feel all that surprised by that. Actually, Edward's absence caused the numbness to set in again, so he didn't feel much of anything as he went about unpacking the groceries, and then feeding Cookieboots some fresh food before proceeding to clean the litter box. Once he completed those chores, he forced himself to go into the kitchen to eat something, and despite some toast being all he took the time to make, it was better than nothing.
He chased the two measly slices of toast with a glass of milk and after checking on Cookieboots again, finding him curled up on the single couch, Alphonse pulled on his jacket and headed out again, going downstairs and walking past the reception. He ignored the reception area as he crossed the space, making his way to where the phone booths were lined up. Having sorted out Cookieboots, he felt like he could now focus some of his fractured attention on contacting Elizabeth. He walked down the line of phones, passing by some empty ones and an occupied one, and passing the one where so long ago he'd overheard Edward talking to Roy Mustang about alchemy and...and he made himself not think about that, instead walking right to the very last booth, where he stopped.
He stepped up to the phone as he slipped a hand into his pocket before taking it out again, the crumpled piece of paper with Elizabeth's number on it held loosely in his hand. He stood that way for a moment, noting how steady his pale hand was, aware of how muted his feelings were.
It was odd to note, but his emotions regarding thoughts of Edward seemed to be veering from extreme to extreme. Either the feeling would hit him like a freight train and leave him hurting, or they'd be abruptly repressed to the point where he felt despondent, empty...like he was dead inside.
Like he felt right then.
'Some kind of...coping mechanism...' he distantly thought as he focused on the number on the paper, staring at the digits and reading over them for a minute before he shoved both hands back into his pockets, leaving the paper behind with one hand and bringing his wallet out with the other.
Alphonse took out of some coins then, and didn't hesitate before picking up the receiver and dropping several coins in.
He had no idea what to expect, or what the call...or a conversation, would lead to, but he found he wasn't nervous or even dreading hearing Elizabeth's voice. In fact, as he listened to the call connect and ringing begin, he felt a small twinge of anticipation at the tho-
"Hello?" Alphonse blinked slowly, not recognizing the voice of the young woman who'd answered, his anticipation dulling, the cottony feeling of numbness he hadn't realised had briefly lifted, settling over him again, "Hellooo?" the girl said again, and he opened his mouth, managed to say,
"Hello."
There was a beat of silence and then,
"Yeah, hello, who's calling?"
The woman speaking was somehow managing to sound disinterested and annoyed at the same time, but Alphonse didn't even know how his voice was coming across when he answered,
"I'm calling to speak to Elizabeth Dunn, is this a number where I can reach her?"
A sigh followed and the girl said,
"Yeah, it is, but she just got back about an hour ago, she was out all day and now she's...asleep." and Alphonse didn't miss how the word asleep sounded like it didn't fit, so he asked,
"Asleep?" managing to convey in his tone how odd that seemed since it wasn't even 8 PM yet and he knew Elizabeth was not an early sleeper generally.
The girl sighed again,
"She's passed out, okay?" she said, not sounding like she was concerned or surprise-, "She goes out a lot and she usually comes back drunk, and some guy dropped her off about an hour ago and she just fell onto her bed and passed out and she-, hey, who is this anyway?" she cut off her rambling explanation, which sounded a lot like complaining.
Was this girl...just a roommate or something? Surely a friend wouldn't sound so disinterested in a female friend being dropped off by some random guy and then passing out drunk? Hell, would a roommate be so disinterested? Although, she said Elizabeth did it a lot, and Mrs. Dunn said Elizabeth had moved out over a week ago. So...just how often was often. Alphonse frowned, thinking about what he knew of Elizabeth's past poor relationship and partner choices and he felt his stomach clenching lightly at the thought of her bad experiences and how he'd hurt her as well, all of it bleeding into some kind of self destructi-
"Hello?"
"Yes, I'm here," he snapped back to attention, shifting to stand up straight from where he'd listed to leaning against the side partition.
"Okay, but who is this?" s he sounded even more annoyed now and Alphonse suspected she was possibly close to hanging up on him, so he said,
"Sorry, I was just surprised by what you told me," and after saying it, he realised it was true, he also noticed his voice wasn't so flat anymore as he went on to say, "I'm worried about her, her mother asked me to call and check on her, my name is Alphonse, I'm her-
"Alphonse?" the girl said, sounding surprised and like she recognized his name.
"Yes, I-"
"So, you're THE ALPHONSE." she added, sounding thoughtful about something. And Alphonse just felt confused, because the way she'd said his name gave him the impression it was capitalized or something.
He felt mildly annoyed then, finding this unknown girl to be quite rude somehow, and also, she was wasting his time,
"Well, yes, I suppose with regards to Elizabeth, I would be the 'the' Alphonse." he made sure to sound as annoyed and sarcastic as he felt about it, and was also pleased that he sounded far from nice. He was tired of being nice to people. And his name wasn't exactly common either, so if Elizabeth had mentioned an 'Alphonse' it was obviously him.
The girl made an odd scoffing noise,
"Why are you calling her though? Didn't you dump her for, like, no reason or something?"
Alphonse's eye twitched at that comment, and he clenched his hand on the phone's receiver to the point where the hard plastic casing creaked slightly. And he was just about to tell her very plainly to mind her own fucking business when he heard a shuffling sound and Elizabeth saying,
'Did I hear you say Alphonse?' in a slightly slurred and croaky tone.
Alphonse swallowed his harsh words and listened as there was the sound of agreement from the girl and then some more shuffling sounds, along with the sounds of the receiver shifting and then it was Elizabeth's voice on the line asking,
"Alphonse?"
He was still a bit aggravated by the previous girl's forwardness, and also by wondering what Elizabeth had told her to make her say what she had, but 'thanks' to how broken his emotions were recently, he was able to ignore it for how distant it was.
So, he sounded calm and quiet when he answered,
"Yeah, it's me Elizabeth. Are you okay?" and she was quiet then for a moment, Alphonse unable to hear anything aside from her soft but audible breathing until she took in a breath and sighed out,
"Why...how are you calling me." another breath, a sniff, some shuffling and Alphonse could clearly picture her running a hand through her messy long hair, "How did you know this number?" it was probably quite tangled, from the wind, rain and then sleeping. She mumbled something about thinking he was still in Xing , but he was more focused on the feeling of fondness blooming dimly in his chest as he recalled untangling knots from her hair on many occasions...
"I..." he took in a breath as well, finding the sensation of feeling fond to be a nice contrast to the heaping weight of all of his negative emotions, "I ran into your mother on campus earlier this evening." he shifted, raising his other hand to hold the side of the phone box mounted on the wall, "She told me, or," he shook his head, "kind of told me what's been going on with you, she asked me to call you. I was," he actually hesitated as he felt wrong and guilty for a hot flashing moment, to say, "I was worried about you."
The wrong feeling and his guilt were not misplaced, because Elizabeth, probably not entirely sober, didn't have her usual decorum to bury her feelings about the mess he'd made of her emotions as she'd always used to, instead huffing stiffly and honestly saying,
"Really? What happened, it didn't work out with your ex in Xing?" voice a little cold but also close to crying...
And well, those words somehow cut through the fog of his numbness and he gripped the side of the phone box, swallowing tensely as an ache unfurled in his stomach and chest, his eyes burning as flashes of everything that had happened that last night he'd seen Edward ran through his mind, the influx temporarily disabling his filter when he spoke, saying,
"There was never any chance of that happening, Elizabeth." and he was surprised by the croak of emotion in his voice, even more so when he breathed out, "I was just running away."
She was quiet again, only her breathing audible, but the emotional tone of his voice and the honesty of his tone must have affected her, because she sounded more emotional and less tense when she asked,
"Running away from what?"
A small flash of panic shocked through him, his honest words catching up to him, the answer of 'the fact that my incestuous relationship was illegal in this country' making his stomach turn over, and over again. He swallowed thickly, loudly enough that she might have heard it, just as he heard her sniff and Alphonse knew...he knew he shouldn't lie to her anymore, shouldn't even talk about 'them', he knew he was supposed to just contact her to tell her she was strong enough to move on .
But he was alone, with nothing to lose and no one to turn to and whatever was wrong with him made it hard for him to hold onto the awareness of hurting others, of not doing something for the sake of assuaging his own personal needs.
Alphonse was too weak, still, maybe would never be stronger than whatever was fucking him up and Elizabeth sounded broken, sounded sad, sounded like he felt and so he didn't stop himself from saying,
"I really want to talk to you Elizabeth, can I come and see you?" his voice sounding distant to him as his stomach continued to turn over.
He knew he sounded desperate, and he knew she'd take it as desperation to talk to her and because she felt the way she did about him, he knew she'd want to hear what he needed to say. He knew she'd be feeling both dread and hope. He knew those feelings, he knew that confusion, he knew the desperation she was feeling quite intimately. And his mind was already running a mile a minute, formulating a way he could use her pain to bring her closer to him, how he could use her desperation to reel her back in.
But not entirely selfishly. No. Because she needed him. And...maybe, maybe the fucked up situation he'd landed them in could work out if-
"O-okay." she breathed out, voice quiet, tense, slurred and he felt relief and misery in equal measure warring in his chest and stomach, making him close his eyes and take in a deep but quiet breath, "Tomorrow...is, is tomorrow okay?"
"Sure, of course," because it was fairly late already and Elizabeth still had to sleep off her lingering drunkenness, "I can come and see you tomorrow morning." he nodded once and opened his eyes, stared at the rotary dial on the phone, swallowed again, listening to her breathe, then sniff.
"Okay...okay, come in the morning."
"Okay." he responded, voice breathy too, fingertips and knuckles of either hand pressed white with the tension of his grip.
They only stayed on the phone a minute longer, long enough for Elizabeth to tell him the address she was staying at, which he wrote down on the half-used notepad set beside the phone, using the pen lying atop it.
By the time he put the phone down, Alphonse had already managed to get the worst of the new twisted and twisting guilt under control. He stood by the phone for a moment longer, staring at the address he'd written down and thinking of how this would be the second time he'd be using Elizabeth.
'But this time it won't be one sided,' he thought sadly, just a little bitter but mostly resigned, 'she wants to run away too, and she can do that with me. She can use me to get away.'
He proceeded to carefully fold the paper then, pressing the folds down firmly between his pale fingertips as he carefully controlled his breathing, just for a minute, until he felt like the numbness was setting back in again, the feeling of wanting to cry abating, and then he turned and left the phone booth, heading back across the lobby and upstairs to the empty apartment.
The following mid-morning, after a numb and dead yet unrestful sleep, Alphonse woke to the sound of rain. Proper rain. The weather had taken a turn for wet and miserable, and as he ate some more toast for breakfast, with another glass of milk, Alphonse found the weather was fitting for the day, in fact, not just for the day, but for setting the atmosphere of what his future might be like.
Or maybe it was just matching the tone of his selfish intentions toward Elizabeth.
Whatever it was, he powered through the hushed unsettled feelings stirring beneath the layer of foggy numbness on autopilot as he prepared to go out. He'd showered the night before, so after sorting out Cookieboots and petting him for a while, albeit not nearly as much as the sweet cat deserved with his own mood so dull, he proceeded to wash his face and brush his teeth. And after dressing in some clothes suitable for the weather, he ran a comb through his hair.
By around 10.45 he was leaving, walking out of the apartment and locking the door before walking down the hallway, down the stairs, across the lobby and he didn't even bother to pause upon realizing he'd forgotten to bring an umbrella. Alphonse could have stopped, could have called for a cab, but instead he just walked right out into the rain.
He was quite wet after just about three minutes of walking along the sidewalk, where he managed to spot a cab, but he didn't care. If he started to feel cold, it was fine. He hadn't exactly been feeling 'warm' to begin with. The cab driver gave him and his wet, disinterested state a bit of a lingering look as he told the man the address he was going to, but ultimately he didn't say anything, instead just nodding once, facing forward and pulling away from the curb.
Alphonse sat stiffly for the first several minutes of the drive, but slowly he eased back into the seat as they entered busier traffic. His skin was starting to crawl inside his wet clothes, which he could feel more prominently now that he'd been sitting inside the dry warm car for a while. He let himself focus on the discomfort of it, on the clammy clinging patches of material of the shirt he wore under his damp jumper and wet jacket, and of the wet cotton of his pants sticking to his skin and creasing against the backs of his knees where his legs were bent.
He focused on it so much that even though he was looking out of the window, he didn't really see much. He also was able to keep his thoughts from settling on any one thing. He also didn't even know how long he was in the cab for, only snapping back to the present when the driver announced that they'd arrived and told him the amount owed.
Alphonse nodded as he shifted in his seat to reach for his wallet. He counted out the notes and paid the man before getting out into the moderate but consistently falling rain, and only then did he take in the part of the city he was in. It was not nearly as upmarket as where Elizabeth had lived with her parents...and in fact, it was quite far below the worth of the area Edward and his-...Edward's apartment was located.
It looked like a lower cost housing area. Somewhat cramped rows of apartments, buildings all close together and no higher than four or five stories. The places didn't appear to be in bad condition though, not from the outside at least, even if they did look a bit, well, cheap. It wasn't something that Alphonse bothered to give much thought to though, it wasn't like it made a difference to why he was there, so he didn't look around much more than fleetingly before he started walking up to the front of the building on the address he'd been given.
It had been fairly busy outside, people walking hurriedly by on the sidewalk with umbrellas, but once he entered the building proper he found the small, stuffy, somewhat dimly lit entrance hall quiet and totally empty. It wasn't a building with a reception checking visitors, so Alphonse walked further in, looking up at the circular stairway as he started to ascend, recalling the address stating Elizabeth was staying on the third floor.
He was aware that he was dripping onto the cheap tiles as he climbed, aware of water running down from his hair, tickling down the back of his neck, and along the line of his spine. He could also feel that his socks were wet in his shoes, and that he was starting to feel properly cold. It didn't help that the second floor stairwell window was open slightly, letting in the cold wind as he passed by.
The rain sounded like it was beginning to fall harder outside, the rumbling of thunder he could hear in the distance also a pretty clear indicator of how the weather was going to go for the rest of the day.
Really, very fitting.
On the third floor, he walked along the hallway until he stopped at the correct door and without any preamble, he knocked. Perhaps a bit loudly. It echoed in the quiet hall. Unconsciously, he started to glance around, looking at the tiles, noting some cracks, dirt in the grouting, looking at the walls, some tears in the wallpaper, there was also a flickering ligh-
The door opened and he looked immediately forward, to find Elizabeth herself standing there...pretty as ever, even as she had some darkness under her bright green eyes, and with her skin being a little sallow as opposed to the even paleness she usually wore so well. Every freckle on her face seemed a little more outstanding and of course, her long dark hair was a mess, most of the length gathered into a very untidy bun, but many pieces were loose and hanging around her face. She looked lovely...and exhausted. Her beige jersey and loose cotton pants looked too big on her, like she'd lost wei-
"Oh my, Alphonse, you're soaking wet." she breathed out, voice a little pitchy, and he snapped his eyes up from her pale toes to meet her gaze right when she reached out to grab the sleeve of his jacket and tug him inside. It wasn't a forceful tug, but he went with it easily, letting himself be pulled into the very small, but lived in and cozy-esque, apartment space.
Elizabeth didn't even let him take his wet shoes off or even look around any, she just led him right into...her bedroom, flipping up the light switch to fight off the morning's dull overcast gloom before she closed the door.
"Why don't you have an umbrella?" she huffed as she left him to go over to a cupboard, where she pulled the door open and grabbed a towel. Alphonse decided to take the question as rhetorical, mostly because he really didn't want to try and explain that he hadn't cared about getting wet. He already had a difficult conversation to navigate his way through with her, he didn't want to complicate it even further by making her do something as useless as worry about his deteriorating mental state...
He should have been alarmed at his apathy about that, but instead he ignored it, taking the towel she offered with a nod and a mumbled 'thanks'.
She nodded back, fidgeting with her hair as he dabbed the water off his face and then ran the towel over his wet hair. Once he was done turning his hair into a towel dried disaster, he pressed the towel to the wet collar of his shirt and ran his other hand through his hair.
His eyes absently met Elizabeth's as he did so, and she quickly looked away. It was impossible to miss the rosy hint of a blush that crept up beneath her freckles and into the shells of her ears, especially not when she'd just been looking so pale a second before. Alphonse lowered his gaze and brought his hands together to dry the dampness from them, selfishly thinking that it was good she was still attracted to him. It would make it easier to help her...and to help himself.
"Sorry if it's a bit late in the morning," he broke the silence, "I didn't want to come too early, not after your, um, roommate? She made it sound like you could use the sleep." he voiced 'roommate' as a question and he tried to sound light and amused about the fact that she'd been drunk, but then he looked up again to find she was avoiding his gaze and frowning. Her pretty blush had gotten darker though, and he knew her well enough to know it was because she was feeling embarrassed.
Possibly ashamed even.
Going out, getting drunk, strange guys dropping her off at home. Just what had she been getting up to?
"She's, uh..." Elizabeth started and then shook her head, "It's fine, I'm fine-was fine and I am fine now. She just, she's a bit tactless." Elizabeth was still avoiding his gaze, making an annoyed face as she waved a hand. Alphonse noticed that her dark nail polish was chipped.
How out of character for her.
He nodded, agreeing by saying,
"Yeah, she came across as a bit forward."
Elizabeth mumbled an unnecessary apology about it as she reached for the towel he was still holding, and he let her take it, shaking his head with a small smile to dismiss the apology. She walked away then, going over to hang the rain damp towel over the back of the chair positioned in front of a small, cluttered vanity.
He noticed then that the small bedroom was quite cluttered over all, but still clean, and it smelled like her perfume. It felt like her space, albeit being small, and it seemed she'd settled in well. He envied her that. He wasn't sure he'd ever settle in well anywhere ever again...
"So, are you here to give me a lecture on my mother's behalf?" she asked quietly, voice a bit stiff and definitely unhappy, and she was still standing several feet away by her small vanity, looking at him via the mirror, totally ignoring that he was still dripping on the floor, her green eyes looking darker; wary, uncertain. Alphonse blinked, then blinked again and shook his head, hands hanging unmoving at his sides as he said,
"No...not I'm not. I'm here to find out if you're okay." and he watched some tension drain out of her, her eyes fluttering with a few rapid blinks, "Are you...okay?" he asked directly that time, expecting the answer to be no.
"Yes." she sighed out, sniffed. "Yes, I'm fine." she repeated. She was lying though, but that was okay, Alphonse has been there, he'd told that lie. He'd be telling it plenty more in the future, he didn't doubt it. Like right then, when she asked, "And you, are you fine?" with a weak smile.
Alphonse offered a wane smile and said,
"Yes, I'm fine."
Her smile faded,
"You don't look fine." and he let his own smile drop when he responded,
"Neither do you."
She huffed a laugh then, it sounded a bit watery, and she wrapped her arms around her middle before taking a few steps and sitting on her bed, where she brought her legs up and folded them, mumbling,
"I guess we're fine with not being fine."
Alphonse decided that was as good an opening an any, so he took it, asking,
"What happened, Elizabeth?" and she immediately looked at him, hands clenching into the material of her oversized jersey, "When I left, you seemed...I mean, I thought you were okay. You seemed okay. We were okay." he rambled a bit, finding that the numbness of his feelings had receded a bit, which made his voice sound less flat, less detached.
That was...probably a good thing. Maybe.
"I was okay. I..." she dropped her gaze, tilted her head and fiddled with her hair, "I guess, I, I don't know." she shook her head, dropping her hands into her lap and bringing her fingers together where she began picking at her already chipped nail polish.
Alphonse shivered a bit as the cold settled into him, now less numb, he felt the skin crawling cold itch more obviously and it had him shrugging out of his wet jacket. She watched him as he walked over to the chair, draping the jacket over where she'd put the towel, before he moved to sit as well, except he sat on the floor beside her bed because his clothes were wet.
She shifted too, putting her elbows on her thighs and bringing her forearms together so she could rest her chin in the palms of her hands as she looked down at him with her sad green eyes. Alphonse leaned his shoulder against the bed and knowing why he was there, what he hoped to achieve, he decided that in order to get her to open up, he'd have to start talking first, so he did.
"I think we've both been doing things for the wrong reasons," and in his case that was a massive understatement and she would never really understand the weight of it, but that was fine, just as long as they were on the same page of content, even if their 'books' were different versions, "I went to Xing thinking doing something drastic would make all the shit that's been going on...that it would make it make sense. That somehow everything would fall into place." he admitted as he stared at her closest knee, keeping his explanation vague, but still honest in a way.
"But it didn't." she mumbled into her curled fingers. He just shook his head lightly. "You said..." she sniffed, "you said it wasn't about Mei?" and she sounded confused, because that was what he'd told her. That was the lie he'd told her. But now he'd be as vaguely honest as he could, shaking his head again and admitting,
"That's just what I was telling myself. That it was about Mei, or about Edward, or about disliking living in Amestris or about...about you." the last part wasn't true though. He honestly hadn't given Elizabeth nearly as much consideration as she'd deserved. Still deserved. But he wanted to change that.
He hadn't been able to fix things with Mei, and maybe that was for the best, because things with her were too messy, too broken. That bridge had burned and was entirely collapsed now. But with Elizabeth, he felt like the bridge was mendable, that he could rescontruct what he'd deconstructed. But just because he was good at it in alchemy, didn't mean he was good at it emotionally...
"What was it really about then?" she asked after a long minute of quiet, rainfall on the window and occasional thunder and lightning outside drowning out their soft breathing.
Alphonse felt a small weight settle in his stomach and he swallowed audibly before saying,
"Me." and knowing it was the absolute truth, "I just wanted to go somewhere else. Start over again."
He didn't add that he'd wanted to do it with Edward, because the most important point was that whatever he'd done, it'd all been about what he wanted. Right from the very first night Edward had come back to Risembool and he confessed his feelings to unburden himself, craving Ed's understanding, his acceptance...right up until he'd told Ling...wanting the very same things, all for himself .
He tensed slightly when Elizabeth took in a shuddering breath, bracing himself for her questions, trying to sort through the lingering fog in his mind, knowing he'd need to formulate a tellable lie. Passable. Acceptable...so she could accept it, accept him. All over again.
He felt a swell of anxiety in his chest and clenched his hands into fists; what he needed from Elizabeth was at war with what was left of his conscience, but before he could settle on what he was going to do, Elizabeth was talking again, saying,
"That's what I want..." she sniffed, voice become strained and more watery, "...I thought I was okay, but it was always getting to me." Alphonse swallowed again and looked up at her, "I don't want," a breath, "I don't want to be a doctor." she shook her head, sniffed again, tears filling her green eyes as she lowered her hands again, picking at her nails, "I don't want to live a life like my mother and father, Alphonse, I..." she placed her face in her hands, "I don't want to be hurt by partners any-anymore." she sobbed.
She sobbed and sobbed again and Alphonse felt it. And unlike hurting because of Edward, he didn't go numb, instead his own eyes watered and slowly, he reached his hand up to settle on the bed, just beside her leg, but not touching her. In case she didn't want to be touched. In case he discovered touching her made him uncomfortable too.
His skin was still crawling, hand shaking lightly. He clenched his fist into the duvet on the bed, spoke over Elizabeth's stifled, muffled sobs,
"I hurt you, too. I-"
She dropped her hands again so abruptly it cut him off and when she looked at him it was with clarity and a self-deprecating smile,
"I knew you would, Alphonse. I knew . And I let you, because I..." she trailed off, staring right into his eyes and he knew what she wasn't saying.
She'd been in love with him. She was...she was still in love with him. Was she still? If not, he knew he had to let her go, he had to do the decent thing, he had to stop hurting people. He had to ditch his plan, he had to-,
"...it's like I told your brother," Alphonse stopped breathing, because...what? She told Ed-, "I don't think I'd ever been in love before you. You were my first actual love." when did she tell Edward that? "I thin-"
"Whe..." he breathed out, fist loosening only to clench up again even tighter into the duvet, "...Edwa- when did you, when did you talk to Edward?" his stomach felt so heavy, head spinning a little with confusion. Elizabeth frowned at him and then she glanced away and seemed to recall something, before she sniffed and nodded and said quietly,
"Oh, yeah, he said he'd only just arrived in Central," seemingly mostly to herself before she looked at him again and smiled slightly, sounding grateful when she said, "Your brother is the one who brought me home yesterday."
What... what?
What had she mumbled? That Edward had only arrived in Central yesterday? So where the hell had he been in all the time since he'd left Xing ? How had he run into Elizabeth? He'd been the 'some guy' who'd brought Elizabeth home safely? Why? How? Elizabeth's surprised laugh made him look up at her. He hadn't even realized he'd looked away. He felt floaty, his mind...was fogging.
"Speaking of your brother, oh my god , Alphonse, you never told me his boss was Roy Mustang ." she sounded impressed even as her voice was still shaky and she sniffed, and Alphonse just felt distantly, swimmingly nauseous, "I only realized after I recognized his picture from all the newspapers this week, I remember him from seeing him with your brother in the bar that time, when they'd been flirting, remember I told you?" Alphonse could hear his own breathing, it sounded loud to him but it probably wasn't since Elizabeth didn't seem to notice, "That's actually where I ran into your brother yesterday evening, he was in the same bar, listening to the inauguration over the radio along with everyone else."
The...the in-
"The, the inauguration?" he asked, noticing how flat his voice sounded, sounding as if he were listening to himself in an empty space.
"Yeah, it was yesterday," she said it so nonchalantly, which made sense, she'd never cared much for politics, "I can't believe the present-day Fuhrer was flirting with your brother." she made a sound that would have been a girlish giggle, but with her stuffy nose and shaky voice, it sounded odd.
Alphonse let her words sink in. Slowly. Very slowly. As if through quick sand.
Edward came back to Central just yesterday, the day of the inauguration, which Alphonse had totally forgotten about. But he'd listened to it take place...in a bar? He hadn't attended personally? Why-
"Your brother was really nice to me..." she said, sounding sad but still grateful. Alphonse blinked sedately back to attention, raising his eyes to look at her, "I mean, let's face it," she was looking at him, apparently not finding anything concerning in his expression. "he barely knows me, but even finding me half drunk and embarrassing myself in a bar," she sounded quite embarrassed right then, while Alphonse just felt numb again, even his breathing had evened out, "he was nice about getting me out of there, bringing me home. He's a good guy." she sounded like she sincerely thought so.
And she was right, Edward was a good guy. The fucking best in every way.
He was aware of the slight acidic taste that rushed up into the back of his throat and of how sarcastic his own thoughts sounded. Yes, he was fully aware and back to being numb and with his feelings muted again it was much easier to stop caring about the little details...like whether or not he was doing the right thing when he said,
"I dropped out of university yesterday," Elizabeth made a quiet, stunned little gasp and he looked at her, "that's how I ran into your mother." she blinked at him, wetness making her dark lashes stick together,
"Alphonse, wh-"
"I want to run away too, I want to start fresh, away from Amestris..." she was starting to frown, "...away from Edward." he added flatly and he watched surprise overtake her expression, and then even more so when he said, "And, Elizabeth, I want you to come with me."
I curse my love for you.
I curse my love.
Next Chapter: Edward's back in Central...