Yayy! Another fic of mine. I decided to try something new. And here's the result.
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Not now, not tomorrow. Never. And I'm quite happy about that. Otherwise the series could never be as amazing as they are!
Ed was alone in his military dorm. He had locked the door and the curtains covered the only window across the door and the lights were turned out. No, not actually, he just hadn't putted the lights on. It was better in the dark. Everything was so dark. Especially his mind.
Ed didn't usually have breakdowns. They were just… not for him. But sometimes he couldn't help it. He had just got through so many painful things. Not only physically, but also… mentally. He had lost almost everything. Al was actually pretty much the only thing he had left.
Ed didn't want to show his brother how weak he could be. He had to stand strong for him. But sometimes it was just… hard. He didn't even get the chance to cry when Al would be asleep and even that was his own fault. He had screwed Al's life up all by himself. Would Al ever be able to feel, eat or sleep again? Would he ever be able to have a nice girl to love as he always whished?
Hot tears fell down his cheeks. Luckily Al wasn't there. He was visiting Hawkeye and looking out for her dog Black Hayate for a while. He had time. Not an eternity, but enough to make him feel a little better.
He buried his face in his hands, other warm and soft, other cold and hard like metal usually was. A shiver of cold ran through his back, but he didn't stood up and grab a blanket to feel warmer. He deserved the cold, he admired its cruel torturing even when it wasn't breezing. It was just so fascinating.
He wished he could go home to his mothers arms. But he didn't have a mother anymore because of that bastard that had left them. It was all his fault that things had ended up the way they were. If Ed would ever see that bastard again, he would get a very painful death. That was just what he deserved. He had left and abandoned his two sons to this cold world. There was no such thing as goodness: it was all just imagination. Just a pretty image to look for a while and dream about every now and then. Nor there was heaven. Hell… well, maybe. For the worst people of all. Maybe for him as well. He just had to die and see.
But he couldn't die now. He had to stay strong, he had to fix things. He had to turn everything the way it was. Or at least the way he would get his guilt mostly away. And that meant getting Als body back. He didn't really care that much about his arm and leg, he was just talking about them to make Al happier. Automail was pretty useful at times, though the attachment was a nightmare. He wouldn't have made it this far without them. And they reminded him about his mistakes in the past and gave him determination for their trips.
There was no tears anymore. Just dull emptiness. He just sat there, not moving even an inch. He couldn't. Every emotion, every memory hurt so damn much. It was unbearable. The pain. Though nobody had hurt him, his whole body was in pain like someone was torturing him. Which was in a way true. He was hurting himself by remembering, by thinking, by blaming. It was hard to breathe. He let out a small sob and burst in the tears again. How pathetic. Or was it really? Was he just thinking so? Wouldn't it supposed to be a good thing to cry to feel better? Equivalent exchange. He suffered. Wouldn't it be right to let some of the poison running in his veins come out?
He entwined his arms around his feel. He felt like a little kid. So dumb and vulnerable. Wasn't he supposed to be 15? Why was he still acting like a kid? He didn't know and it made him even more depressed. He heard the clock ticking. Tick tack. A little rhythm. He closed his eyes again. They were sore and puffy. Oh god, he just had to wash them.
He got up and wandered to the bathroom. He let water flow down in his hands and gently washed his burning eyes. It was pretty hard thing to do with automail if you didn't want to hurt yourself. And he didn't. He would give Al no reason to worry about. Al was always looking after his brother. He had inherited the softness of their mother. Sometimes it was a bit annoying, especially when he felt like he didn't deserve it. But Al made him feel better. Just him being there cheered Ed up.
Ed grabbed a mug and poured some fresh water in it for him to drink. His throat was dry. He walked out of the bathroom to find his red jacket while sipping water and still feeling miserable. He had just spotted the jacket when someone opened the door.
"Edward? Are you here?"
Ed recognized the voice he really didn't want to hear at the moment. He didn't turn to the voice but continued his way to his jacket and laid the mug down in a little table next to his bed. He grabbed his coat.
"Edward, are you OK?" colonel Mustang asked again with a worried voice. "And why there's no light in the room."
"I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood for visitors right now. Did you have something to say?" he asked, still not facing the colonel.
"Nothing important. I just thought I would drop by and see how you're doing. You sound a bit sore, are you really OK? And where's Al?" Roy stepped in the room looking worriedly at the teen in front of him. Something just didn't feel right. There was some tension that he could sense in the air.
"Al's looking after Black Hayate for a few hours" Ed answered, his head lowered weakly. He was looking at a picture of his and Al's childhood. The time when they both had their whole bodies. Their smiles were true by that time. In the latest pictures… at least his smile was forced. Al might've wanted to smile, but it's pretty hard to do with an armour. He felt his hand shake. No, please, not now. Not while the colonel was still in the room.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Mustang opening the curtain. A flash of bright light made his eyes water. He whined.
"Come on, you can't just lie around in the dark."
"And why not?"
This time Roy was convinced that something was wrong. Ed's voice was trembling, bitter and hard. The teen still hadn't turned to face him.
Ed felt someone's arms around him gently. "Let go" he groaned.
"Now tell me what's wrong." Roy wasn't experienced in making kids feel better. He hadn't had any. Thought Ed and Al were pretty much like his own children for him, he had never got in a situation like this. They had always been so strong.
"Everything. The whole fucking world is wrong. Happy now? Let go of me" he said, trembling to get away.
Roy sighed. "Sometimes things just feel bad. But sitting in the dark is not helping" he said softly.
"Maybe not. But it makes me feel better" Ed groaned again.
"In what way?"
"…I don't know. It just does" Ed said quietly.
Roy let go of Ed but turned him to face him. His eyes were red and puffy and he looked really miserable.
"Doesn't it just make you feel worse? Do you feel better after you've felt really bad?" he asked gently.
"I don't know, OK? Maybe! It's none of your business, just go."
"Everyone need someone to lean on. Does Al know you're feeling miserable?"
"No, and if you dare to tell him, that head of yours is not going to stay on your shoulders for a long time, understand?!"
"No need to yell. I'm not going to tell him if you don't want to. But I think you should think about it. He understands you pretty well. He can figure something out to make you feel better."
"Trust me. Give it a chance. Maybe he'll surprise you."
They were just standing there for a moment in silence. After that Ed shockingly leaned towards Roy and hugged him. "Thanks."
"For what?" Roy asked, slightly confused.
"For making me feel better."
"Well… you're welcome, I guess. If you just feel like talking, you can always come to Al and me, OK?"
Roy hugged Ed back, hearing soft sobbing. Some wounds just never healed completely.
Thanks for reading! Please be nice and review. I want to hear your opinion.
Until next time!