Again, this story is the result of the drabblebug. It is just a short oneshot that I pulled out of my arse XD Enjoy, and please review :D
Hoenheim poured the silvery concoction he created into a small glass and handed it to his eighteen-year-old son. His son stood by him the whole time he worked, watching his progress with curiosity.
He took the glass from his father, staring into its mercury depths. He looked back up at Hoenheim.
"So, if I drink this…then I'll become immortal, just like you and mother?" He asked.
"If all goes well," Hoenheim replied.
His son nodded and drank the concoction down obediently. He smiled at Hoenheim as he handed the glass back, traces of the metallic elixir on his full lips.
"How are you feeling?" Hoenheim asked nervously.
"…I feel just fine, father."
Hoju's bright smile widened.
He was absolutely perfect. His long golden hair was like silken sunshine, soft and smooth and shining, covering the head that housed his brilliant mind. His eyes were the same gold as his hair, dancing with light and life. His skin was flawless, soft like an infant's. It would be such a shame if he were to grow old and die.
"Besides, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stay with you and mother forever."
Hoenheim beamed with paternal pride. If he had created the elixir right, it was only a matter of time before he had his perfect son forever.
Hoju stumbled as he moved to place a book back on the shelf.
"Are you alright, dear?" Dante asked. "You look a little flushed."
"I'm fine, mother," Hoju insisted, picking up the book he had dropped. He placed it on the shelf, pausing to rest against it, closing his eyes in pain.
Suddenly, he collapsed onto the ground, trembling uncontrollably.
"Hoju!" Dante cried, running to him.
His breathing was erratic, his heart racing. Dante began to panic.
"Hold on," Dante begged, trying her best to help her son to his feet. "I'll help you, alright? You're going to be fine, Hoju." Her voice cracked a bit at the end.
No. This was no time to panic. Hoenheim wouldn't be back for God only knew how long. But she could handle herself just fine.
It didn't take her long to realize that the situation was hopeless. It seemed that no matter what she tried, it seemed like he only got worse. Days were spent like this- Hoju writhing in unbearable pain, and Dante desperately looking for some sort of treatment. Any way to save her son.
Finally, one bright, clear autumn morning, Dante went into his room and knew it was his last day.
Hoju had gone deathly pale. A sheen of cold sweat covered his feverish forehead, plastering his gold hair to his face. He could only breath in shallow, wheezing gasps, not nearly enough to keep him alive.
Dante sat at his bedside, taking his hand and squeezing it. Hoju squeezed back weakly. Even now, when she knew it was hopeless, Dante still clung on to one last, faint shred of hope.
"Please, Hoju," she begged. "Please just hold on for a little while longer. When your father comes home, everything will be fine."
Hoju's dull eyes narrowed.
"Father is never around when we need him," he said, finally stating the truth he never dared to before. "What makes you think he'll show up now?"
It was too late. His hand went limp in hers, his eyes closing for the last time.
Hoenheim returned to his tearful wife.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"Hoju," she sobbed. "Our son, he's…"
"What? What happened?"
"Hoenheim, he's dead!"
The world seemed to freeze.
"No…that can't be. He was alive when I left! He couldn't have died, I won't believe it!"
He ran into the house and into Hoju's bedroom. Sure enough, there he was; all that remained was his withered body.
Hoenheim searched desperately for a pulse, for a breath, for any sign of life, but found none.
He gathered the broken body to his chest and cried.
It's not his son. This creature Hoenheim created is not his son.
He doesn't even feel a twinge of regret when he leaves it behind.
Wearing the disguise of an Amestrian soldier, it is easy for Envy to enter the Ishvalan town. It sneers at all the pitiful fools going about their lives, having no idea what is about to happen.
A little Ishvalan girl looks up at him, so much taller and more powerful than she is.
Envy smiles at her- she is too young and innocent to see the wicked intent behind it. The girl smiles back.
Her smile fades when Envy pulls out the gun and points it at her.
Envy's father had abandoned it. Created it and left it to rot. All the people in this town had loving families. Even the goddamned orphans had homes and people who cared for them. Envy never knew any of that. All he has ever known is hatred, abandonment, and pain.
That is why it doesn't feel a twinge of regret when it pulls the trigger.