Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Sound of Silence ❯ Regret ( Chapter 12 )

 

 

The Sound of Silence

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Regret

 

 

Ed stared dully out the car window. It was a warm summer day, one that was perfect for playing in the park or having a picnic, but his mind wasn't on such pleasantries. Instead he was thinking about the research project he'd been assigned to do, and the time limit he'd been given.

 

“That's a lot of books,” Hawkeye said conversationally, her voice breaking him from his thoughts.

 

Ed glanced over to where she was driving. “Some of them are for Al,” he confessed, and she nodded.

 

It had been four months since Al had gotten out of the hospital, and his brother still needed regular doctor appointments. Al had a weak disposition and would contract any sickness that was going around. He also got tired easily, but had bursts of energy that left Ed feeling frustrated.

 

Al needed to play. He needed to go out and work off some of his energy, but he wasn't supposed to go outside because he had such a bad reaction to the summer heat. Unfortunately, playing outside at night didn't happen often because Ed refused to let Al out by himself and, since Ed was often busy in the evenings doing research, he didn't take the time to go out with Al so that he could play.

 

So, when Al was at full speed, that often meant him running through the apartment making all kinds of noise and giving Ed a headache from hell. His brother would ask him to play with him, but Ed had such a hard time doing that. He just couldn't find any enjoyment in playing. Perhaps it had just been too long since he'd been allowed to do that.

 

“Well, that's nice of you to check those books out for him,” the lieutenant said, disrupting his thoughts yet again.

 

“Yeah, well, it keeps him occupied, and it keeps the state off my back for not sending him to school.” Ed snorted. “Like he needs to go—he's smarter than all the other kids his age, probably smarter than the teachers too. It would just bore the hell out of him.”

 

Hawkeye nodded and pulled up next to his apartment. “Thanks for driving me,” he said as he gathered up the books and folders before letting himself out of the car. Hawkeye came around the car and took what books he couldn't carry and followed him into the apartment building and to the door where he was carefully juggling the books in his hands while trying to fish his keys from his pocket.

 

“Why not just knock on the door and have Al open it for you?” Hawkeye suggested.

 

Ed shook his head firmly as he finally extracted the keys from his pants. “No. He's not supposed to open the door for anyone,” Ed explained.

 

“Not even you?” the woman asked with a slight tease in her voice.

 

He turned his head and gave her a flat stare. “Not even for me,” he answered. Ed sometimes took Al with him when he went to the library, or when he had to go to headquarters—he didn't like leaving Al alone—but taking him wasn't always an option, so Ed did the best he could to keep Al safe. And sometimes that meant giving him strict instructions not to open the door for anyone, even himself.

 

“What if you lose your key?” Hawkeye asked.

 

Ed deftly unlocked the door, then muttered, “Then I'll break it down with alchemy.” He stumbled inside, then shouted, “Al! I'm home!”

 

A small commotion from his brother's room met his ears, then an excited, “Brother!” sounded as Al rushed down the hall toward him.

 

“You're not supposed to be running,” Ed scolded irritably.

 

“Ooops, sorry!” Al said quickly, not sounding sorry in the least, then asked eagerly, “What books did you bring me?”

 

Ed scowled, then set the books down on the table and pointed at three heavy texts. “You think you can have these read in a week?” he asked in a slightly lighter voice. It was a stupid question. Of course Al could have them read by that time, the kid was fucking brilliant.

 

“Sure!” Al said with a big grin as he studied the titles. When he saw the subject matter, Al made a small squealing noise, turned, and threw his arms around Ed. “These are perfect! Thanks, brother!”

 

“Don't do that!” Ed snapped instantly and pushed Al away with a hard shove. “You know I don't like you touching me!”

 

The boy's smile was instantly gone. His eyes widened and he quickly backed away before looking down at the floor. “I'm... I'm sorry, brother... I forgot because I was so happy. Please don't be mad...” Al pleaded with a small whine to his voice.

 

Ed pressed his fingers against his forehead as he felt a headache coming on. “How can I not be mad, Al?” Ed snapped. “You're always doing things that I tell you not to do! Jeez, do you like making my life miserable or something?” he asked impatiently.

 

“I'm sorry, brother,” the boy whined, then clasped his hands together and slouched back against the wall.

 

Ed frowned. Why was Al always acting so childish? Why did he always do things that Ed told him not to do? He couldn't remember Al being like this when they were kids. “Stop apologizing. I told you before you don't have anything to apologize for,” Ed growled and rubbed his fingers against his forehead, trying to stave off the headache.

 

“I know. I'm sorry...” Al pleaded and cringed when Ed glared at him. “I mean, I won't do it again,” Al amended quickly, then gave Ed a small smile as if that would make everything fine again.

 

“Just take your fucking books and stop bothering me,” Ed snarled angrily. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Al's whining, and that stupid smile made him feel as if his brother was mocking him in some way.

 

Without a word, Al rushed to the table and gathered up the three books before hastily retreating to his bedroom. After the door slammed shut, the apartment was left in a heavy silence. Ed let out a long breath and rubbed at his eyes. When was Al going to start acting more mature?

 

“Edward...” Hawkeye's voice was hesitant and low.

 

“What?” he asked wearily, and turned his head to look at her. He'd forgotten she was there.

 

She studied him silently for a moment, then asked in concern, “Do you always talk to your brother like that?”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked. Sure, he'd been a little unhappy with Al, but nothing to make note of. If Al wasn't so childish, and if he stopped screwing up, then he wouldn't have to scold him so much.

 

“Your brother is scared of you,” she said softly with a worried look on her face.

 

“What?” he exclaimed in surprise, then laughed it off. “No, he's not. What are you talking about?”

 

“Didn't you see it in the way he reacted to you? I mean, I really can't blame him. All he did was give you a hug and you started yelling at him.”

 

Ed shook his head and took the books she was holding from her. “I didn't yell at him.”

 

“You did,” she answered gravely. “And for something silly, too. Little kids give hugs. That's a natural thing, Edward.”

 

Is it? he wondered silently as he put the books on the table. “I just don't like it. I don't want him to touch me.” He trailed off, not wanting to explain his reasoning. If he didn't touch Al, and if Al didn't touch him, then he couldn't hurt his brother. He just tried to stay away from him. It was better that way. If he got close then he might do something bad to him, and he couldn't chance that. He cared for Al too much to do that to him.

 

“Well, you may not see it, but I see it. I think it would really benefit you to think about this, Edward. Children need love. They need to be hugged and played with.” She paused in thought before continuing. “You're busy, but this is just work. Don't be too busy for what really matters.”

 

Ed gave her a flat stare and raised an eyebrow before saying, “Funny coming from you. So you're telling me not to work now?”

 

“I don't need to tell you to work,” she replied flatly. “You do more than enough work. Actually, you probably work too much.” The lieutenant stared at him for a moment, then sighed before giving him a small smile. “Just think about it, okay?

 

Ed tilted his head and studied her. Was she laughing at him or something? And what did she mean by saying he worked too much? He had to work a lot so that he could make enough money to cover his expenses and debts. The overtime really helped out a lot; and, of course, the more time he spent working, the less time he'd have to screw up with Al.

 

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled. It wasn't worth it to argue with her, and, really, he didn't want her to think bad of him. She'd done so many nice things for him over the years that he wanted her to stay happy with him.

 

“Good,” she said, then walked to the door. “Don't do any work tomorrow. It's a Saturday. Spend it doing something fun with your brother.”

 

He gave her a bland look and said, “I don't think you have the authority to make me take time off, Lieutenant.”

 

Hawkeye rolled her eyes slightly, and said with a small note of light sarcasm, “Yes, sir, Major, sir,” before giving him a small salute and letting herself out.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed sighed heavily, and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his burning eyes, and thinking that he really should get some sleep. The assignment he'd been working on was more than complete, yet he felt compelled to continue working on it. Ed was determined to be promoted the next time he was evaluated. It wasn't the rank that he really cared about; it was the pay raise.

 

Ed dropped his hands, frowned, and stared up at the ceiling through the darkness, thinking about the words Hawkeye had spoken to him yesterday.

 

He had so many excuses for working as hard as he did, but really it just came back to one thing—Alphonse. When he worked, then he had an excuse to not spend time with his brother. He did love Al, very much, but Ed was also afraid. He was afraid of hurting his brother, yet...

 

`Your brother is scared of you.'

 

Hawkeye's words burned painfully in his mind. Was Al really afraid of him? Was he too hard on his brother? Did he really yell at Al that much? They were hard questions to face, but Ed had given them a lot of thought, and he'd come to the conclusion that the answer to them all was `yes'.

 

Ed turned his gaze to his desk, messy with papers, and let his breath out long and slow. The realization hurt him so deeply that it was as if it were a physical pain. Ed may not have been touching Al or hitting him, but in trying so hard not to do those things, he'd ended up neglecting his brother and pushing him away.

 

Getting up, Ed walked to his bed, plopped down on his stomach, and closed his eyes. He could see Al in his mind, could see his expression when Hawkeye had been there, and she had been right. Al had been afraid.

 

Ed felt a sharp pain in his chest and gripped the bedding hard. He'd tried so damn hard not to fuck up, yet he had anyway. How could he have been so blind to it? I'm so horrible, he thought dully. No matter how hard I try, I just end up being a fuck up, just like Mustang always said I was.

 

But, what could he do? How could he make it right? Did this mean that Al hated him now? Was there any hope that his relationship with his brother could be salvaged? He didn't want Al to be afraid of him.

 

Ed pressed his face into the bed for a moment before turning over onto his back. As he tried to decide what to do, one small tear escaped his eye and trickled slowly back to Ed's ear then to his hair. He'd thought about apologizing, but those were just words. Would they really mean all that much?

 

Sniffling, Ed got up and walked out of his room and toward Al's room. The door was shut, and, although Alphonse was supposed to be asleep, a light shone from beneath the door. He rested his head against the door for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, then quietly opened it and stuck his head inside.

 

Alphonse was sitting at his desk with a book open and off to the side. He would glance over at the book for reference before writing something on a piece of paper. Ed glanced around the room and looked at the papers that were taped to the walls bearing arrays his brother had drawn.

 

“A little late to be doing that, isn't it?” Ed said, turning his gaze back to his brother. He'd spoken quietly, yet his tone might as well have been a shout because Alphonse stood up quickly, knocking his chair over, and turned around to face Ed.

 

“I'm sorry, brother! I just... I had this idea, and... well...” Al stuttered anxiously and looking anywhere but at Ed.

 

Ed felt shame flood through him. Now that Alphonse's actions had been pointed out to him, he was seeing his brother in a whole different light. Suddenly, he understood him so much better. The boy's face had a panicked look on it, and Ed knew that he was trying to come up with an excuse that would stave off the anger he believed was coming.

 

Ed moved into the room and sat down on Al's bed. “Come here,” he said softly.

 

Al's stammering stopped and fear radiated from his eyes, but he came. Clasping his hands in front of his body, Al threaded and unthreaded his fingers and looked down at the floor.

 

Swallowing hard, Ed said, “Al?” His brother's shoulders hunched in, but he said nothing. “Look at me... please?” Slowly, Al's head rose to stare at Ed with liquid eyes. “Al...” Ed croaked.

 

“I'm sorry,” Al said in a shaking voice.

 

Ed glanced down for a moment, then looked up and said quietly, “No, I'm the one who's sorry, Al.” The boy's eyes widened in a way that made it hurt to breath. “I... I yell at you a lot, don't I?” Ed asked shamefully. Al cast his eyes about, as if unsure what the best response would be, then finally settled on a small nod.

 

“I'm so sorry, Al,” Ed repeated. “I...” He what? Nothing he said could change the past. Words were nice, but they were hollow if he didn't do anything to back them up. “I'm going to try not to yell at you so much, and... I'll try to spend more time with you, okay?”

 

The response he got from Al made him feel lower than dirt. Instead of responding with disbelief or accusations—which, in a way, would have been easier to deal with—his brother smiled broadly and said, “Okay!!” In his enthusiasm, Al wrapped his arms around Ed and gave him a big hug, but quickly let go and stepped back. “I'm sorry!” Al cried in dismay. “I didn't mean to mess up again!”

 

Ed felt tears come to his eyes and slowly reached out and grabbed a hold of Al. Pulling him close, Ed held his brother tightly. He was so disgusted with himself, with what he'd become. His brother was so sweet and adoring, and Ed knew that he didn't deserve the unconditional love his brother seemed to have for him.

 

“I'll try. I'll try really hard,” Ed breathed through his tears. He felt as though he could hold onto Al forever, but he didn't. Instead, he let go and watched his brother step away from him slightly. Al frowned deeply before reaching up and touching one of the tears on Ed's cheeks.

 

“Brother,” Al began, but Ed cut him off.

 

“Don't worry about me, Al. I'll be fine.” He didn't feel fine. He felt numb and worthless, and so very alone, but he wasn't going to tell that to Al. His brother deserved some peace of mind.

 

“Now,” Ed said in a more businesslike manner. “I think it's time for you to sleep.”

 

“Do you want to see my array first, brother?” Al asked eagerly.

 

“How about you show it to me tomorrow?” Ed suggested, and stood up. Al stuck his bottom lip out in a small pout, but didn't argue. Instead, he crawled into bed and gave Ed a smile. Ed returned the smile with a small one of his own before tucking the boy in.

 

“Goodnight, brother!” Al said happily, then yawned widely.

 

Ed gave his brother a fond look, then said softly, “Goodnight, Al,” before turning off the light and shutting the door.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed opened his eyes and sighed heavily. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trying to sleep, but it felt like hours. He was tired, yet with all the thoughts bouncing around in his mind, he couldn't seem to fall asleep.

 

Despite the fact that he'd apologized to Al, he couldn't seem to keep Hawkeye's words out of his mind. It hurt knowing that he'd been so blind to his brother's pain. Ed had never wanted to hurt Al; in fact, that's the last thing he would ever want to do. Yet he had anyway.

 

He felt like such a failure. How could he have not noticed? Why had it taken someone else to point out what should have been so plain? Why did Al still smile at him when he'd made his life so miserable? Why didn't Al hate him like he hated Mustang?

 

Ed turned on his back, kicked the sheet off, and scowled. And why was it so damn hot?! He felt a bead of sweat trickle down from his forehead to his pillow. Growling, Ed got out of bed, and, as he started for the bedroom door, tripped on the comforter that he'd kicked off the bed hours ago.

 

Swearing, Ed untangled his feet from the blanket and headed out to check on the air conditioning unit. It was an old piece of junk and after Ed banged on it a couple of times, he heard the unit respond and soon cool air was flowing out of the vents.

 

He grunted and started back, then stopped and opened the door to Al's room to check him. Even after all the banging and swearing, he was still asleep. Ed shook his head and quietly shut the door, but instead of heading back to his room immediately, Ed rested his forehead lightly on the door and closed his eyes.

 

Maybe he wasn't cut out for this whole `parenting' thing. Right now Ed was determined to change, but what about tomorrow, or next week, or next month? What if he didn't change? Ed turned and started back toward his room, his mind heavy with his thoughts, and when he walked into his bedroom, he stopped and stared dully at the bed.

 

He'd tossed and turned so long that he really didn't want to be in bed. Ed glanced at his desk and realized that he really didn't want to work either. No, what he really needed right now was to just get out, go for a walk, and think. Perhaps that would help clear his mind.

 

Quickly slipping on his pants, Ed tucked in his tank top before hurriedly putting his hair up in a high pony tail. He grabbed his keys, checked on Al one more time, then headed out. Locking the door, he started down the sidewalk. Al would be fine for a little while without him; he was asleep anyway, and Ed just needed to move.

 

It didn't take long for his mind to return to his earlier thoughts about Al; in fact, that was mostly what he'd thought about for the last couple of days if he wasn't focused on work. Ed tried to think back, tried to figure out when he'd started yelling at his brother and when he'd started trying to distance himself, but he couldn't remember.

 

Ed kicked at a rock and watched blankly as it raced down the dimly lit sidewalk. He'd really let Al down. His heart sank as he thought about how horrible he'd been to his brother over the past months. One of the worst parts about it for Ed was that he hadn't even realized he'd been doing it.

 

Over and over, Ed had told himself that he was ignoring Al to protect him, and he was. He'd really, truly, believed that he was protecting his brother, but the yelling... the mean words... Those hadn't been for Al's benefit at all. Sometimes, Ed just felt so angry, and Al had been the most convenient source to vent it at.

 

Al didn't fight back. He didn't yell back. He just took it.

 

Ed turned a corner and stared shamefully down at the sidewalk as he walked. It was only now that he was taking the time to think about it that it made any sense. He'd really been an ass. He'd been a real bastard to his own brother.

 

What kind of a worthless excuse for a human being treats some poor little kid like that? Ed thought to himself. He felt so much self-disgust and self-hate as he realized that by yelling at Al and exercising the `power' he had over the boy, it had made him feel slightly vindicated. The thought that Al had been misbehaving on purpose and that Ed was only doing what was best had seemed to justify his actions at the time.

 

He didn't feel so justified now.

 

Ed stopped suddenly, and blinked when he realized where he was. He hadn't meant to come here. He'd just meant to get out and think about his problems dealing with his brother and perhaps even how to fix them.

 

Ed's eyes scanned the windows of the nice apartment building as if of their own will. When he realized the light was on at Mustang's apartment, he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. He debated on what to do. He didn't really want to see Mustang right now, but he felt sort of drawn to see him anyway. Perhaps that was normal since he'd often gone to see Mustang at night. Ed smirked mirthlessly. Maybe he should try yelling at Mustang instead. That's who he was really mad at anyway.

 

His mind prodded him to turn around and just go home, but Ed's feet didn't listen. Instead, he continued forward and let himself into the foyer. The air conditioning hit him almost immediately and Ed let out a sigh of relief. He looked around as he walked toward the elevator and thought about how nice the place was compared to the one the colonel had lived in when he'd been stationed in the East. In fact, it was much nicer than the one he and Al were living in. But then, that's why Mustang had been living in that dump back east, right? So that he could get a nice place when he came back to Central.

 

Ed pushed the button to call the elevator and waited. What the hell am I doing? he wondered, staring nervously at the elevator doors. He hadn't been to Mustang's place since Al was in the hospital four months before. There had been no need. The man didn't have anything to offer or to hang over his head anymore. Even those times when he needed to be at Central Headquarters, they saw each other rarely; Ed generally avoided Mustang like the plague.

 

The elevator opened and Ed stepped inside. He stared at the numbered buttons before hesitantly choosing one. He'd only been here a few times before. Though normally it would be easy to remember such a simple thing as a floor number, when Ed had come here before, so much had been going on. Al had just woken and Ed had been trying to find them a place to live along with a lot of other things.

 

Ed reached up and wiped his forehead as he waited in the elevator. When the elevator reached the desired floor, Ed stepped out and started walking down the hall. He stopped in front of Mustang's door and stared dully at it, again wondering what he was doing there.

 

He felt so miserable right now. This was probably the worst place he could go. Intending on going back to the elevator, Ed knocked softly on the door and waited. A moment later, the sound of the door unlocking met his ears, and it opened slowly to reveal the colonel looking at him in mild shock.

 

“Hey,” Ed said quietly, then stuffed his hands in his pockets in a self-conscious gesture.

 

“Well... this is certainly a surprise...” the colonel murmured and tapped his fingers silently on the door. Ed thought Mustang seemed a little uncomfortable at having him show up like this. Feeling even more unsure, Ed looked down at his shoes. He felt awkward at showing up so unexpectedly on the man's doorstep, and he had the strong urge to turn around and run away.

 

A movement caught his eye and Ed lifted his head slightly to see the door opening wider and Mustang stepping back out of the way. His heart pounded in his chest and he licked his lips nervously. The invitation to come in had been offered.

 

Ed tightened his fists in his pockets and lifted his head to look at Mustang. The man was staring at him with a bland curiosity that did nothing to ease his anxiety. Taking a deep breath, Ed moved inside and glanced at Mustang when he shut the door.

 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, then Mustang said, “I'm out of soda. I have coffee, or beer.”

 

Ed frowned. Despite the fact that it was cool in Mustang's apartment, it was a rather warm night and, having just been out in it, he really wasn't in the mood for something hot. The alternative, though, was something he'd never had before; nothing he'd ever even wanted before. He supposed he could ask for water, but...

 

“Beer is fine, I guess,” he answered slowly.

 

Mustang nodded and made his way to the kitchen. “Just make yourself at home,” the man said in an offhand manner. Ed shrugged his shoulders, trying to get the tension to go away, then walked into the living room, and plopped himself down on the couch; a new thing, not that old piece of shit the colonel had owned before. In fact, all of Mustang's furniture was new. Ed supposed that had been part of his plan.

 

A moment later the colonel appeared with two bottles of beer and handed one to Ed. Instead of sitting on the couch like Ed had supposed he would, Mustang glanced uneasily at it before walking over and taking a seat in one of the stuffed chairs across from the couch. Ed watched Mustang sit, then breathed a small sigh of relief—confused relief, but relief all the same.

 

The colonel took a drink from his bottle, then motioned at Ed to do the same. Slowly, Ed looked down at the bottle in his hands. He'd never been offered alcohol before, and he'd never really wanted any either. Ed brought the bottle up, sniffed at it, and frowned. It smelled like Mustang, though he supposed it would be more correct to say that Mustang always smelled like this. He rubbed his thumb nervously along the smooth glass, wiping away some of the condensation, then glanced up to see the colonel watching him. With a sigh, he brought the bottle up to his lips and tentatively took a sip. He'd asked for the beer and he didn't want to deal with anything Mustang might have to say about him not drinking it. The liquid was cold, but the taste was... well, it wasn't all that great, but it wasn't all that bad either.

 

“So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence tonight?” Mustang asked softly, then took another drink.

 

Ed shrugged and took another hesitant sip of his own. “I was in the neighborhood,” he lied uneasily.

 

“I see,” Mustang murmured, though Ed had a feeling that the man didn't really believe him. Ed took a long drink of the beer, trying to do something to ward off the nervous feeling he had. “I don't see you much anymore,” Mustang said after taking a long pull on his own bottle.

 

“Ah... yeah... well...” Ed stammered. “I've been sort of busy. You know, with work and Al and all.” He looked down at his bottle and took another sip.

 

“Your research is very good. I think you'll find yourself a rank higher come your evaluation,” Ed heard Mustang say, and he couldn't help feeling a bit pleased. Mustang rarely complimented him on anything, and he hated to admit it, but it made him feel all warm and tingly inside.

 

Ed blinked and looked at the half finished bottle. Or perhaps it was the beer that was making him feel warm and tingly. He tried to remember everything he could about alcohol, but mostly it was the compounds and formulas, not the effects it had on a person.

 

“How's your brother?”

 

Ed looked up. “Huh?” he asked stupidly.

 

Mustang looked slightly put out at having to repeat himself, but said, “Your brother. How is he?”

 

Ed took another drink as he thought. He'd managed not to think about Al since he'd gotten here, but now... “He's... fine...” Ed said quietly, then took another long drink. When there was no response from the colonel, Ed glanced up and saw Mustang looking at him thoughtfully. “What?” Ed snapped defensively. He felt as thought the man could see right through him and knew all of the ugliness that was within him.

 

Instead of saying anything, Mustang got up and walked to the kitchen. Ed swallowed hard, then nervously took another drink. Pulling the bottle away from his mouth, Ed realized there was only one more swallow left. When had he drunk the whole thing? Shrugging, Ed downed the last of it, then tapped his fingers anxiously against the glass.

 

Where was this leading? Why was he here anyway? Maybe he should just leave. Ed knew this couldn't go anywhere good. Part of him felt revulsion at the fact that he was voluntarily here in Mustang's apartment. Another part of him felt like a lost and lonely child who was searching for something, but didn't know what.

 

Ed brought the bottle to his lips before remembering it was empty and sighed. His body was beginning to feel sort of heavy and he felt small tingles along his skin and inside. It kind of felt nice, relaxing in a way, yet it was getting hard to sort his thoughts out clearly. Everything was starting to seem jumbled and it was difficult to pick out the thoughts that he wanted to focus on.

 

A moment later, Mustang walked out and held another bottle out to him. Ed stared uncomprehendingly at it for a moment, then looked at Mustang. “I just had one,” he said slowly, then frowned. Was it just him, or had the way he said that sounded a little... off?

 

“It looked like you could use another one,” Mustang murmured softly, and eyed him with a gaze that seemed a little predatory. Hesitantly, Ed took it and watched as the colonel relieved him of his old bottle and headed back to the kitchen to throw it away. He sighed and took a deep drink, then grimaced and looked down at the bottle. It didn't taste the same as what he'd just drunk.

 

“What is this?” he asked.

 

“I added some hard liquor. It will help you relax more,” he heard Mustang say from the kitchen.

 

Ed frowned, took another sip, then shrugged. He supposed the alcohol was helping. He didn't feel nearly as tense as he had when he'd gotten here, though whatever Mustang had added made the beer taste a little... harsh. Yes, harsh was the word.

 

Mustang walked back into the room and, instead of returning to his chair, sat down beside Ed and said in a soft tone, “What's bothering you?”

 

“What do you mean?” Ed asked nervously. Mustang took a sip of his own beer and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Ed looked away and took a long drink from the bottle as he tried to sort things out in his mind. He didn't want to tell Mustang what was going on between him and Al. Mustang didn't deserve to know. He didn't want Mustang in his life, and he didn't want to even speak to the man about his brother.

 

Firmly deciding not to tell Mustang anything, Ed said, “I think Al hates me.” He stopped and swallowed hard, feeling a stinging in his eyes. Why had he said that? Hadn't he decided he wasn't going to talk about Al?

 

When he felt a small touch on his back, Ed cringed a little. Not this... He shrugged his shoulder a little, trying to rid himself of the unwanted affection, but it didn't work. Instead, Mustang began gently rubbing his back.

 

“You can tell me, Ed,” Mustang said softly.

 

“No, I can't,” Ed said in a small voice before taking another swallow of his drink. “I can't tell anyone.” He stared down at the bottle in his hands. It was a little blurry and he reached up to rub at his eyes. Stupid tears, Ed thought, then blinked in surprise when there was no moisture on his hand. When he looked at the bottle again, it was still blurry, and Ed frowned deeply. This wasn't right...

 

Mustang scooted over a little until their legs were touching, and wrapped his arm completely around Ed's shoulders before pulling him close. “Did you touch your brother, Ed,” the man whispered in his ear. Ed flinched and tried to pull away, but Mustang held him firm. “You did, didn't you?”

 

His vision became even blurrier and this time Ed knew it was from tears. How did Mustang know about that? Had Al told him? He didn't think so. He didn't think Al had even been near Mustang. That was something he'd been very adamant about. Mustang and Al were not to be together—not ever.

 

“Oh, Ed,” Mustang said softly before kissing him on his temple. “You can't hide it from me. I know you better than you think. You and me, we're the same.”

 

“No!” Ed cried and again tried to pull away, but with the quick movement the room spun in his vision, making him feel a little sick to his stomach.

 

“Ed,” Mustang said in a voice that Ed figured was supposed to be comforting, but only served to make him feel worse. The tone was one that made him feel like a little boy, like before, like... “Just relax. I'm not going to tell anyone.”

 

A small sob broke from him and he said, “I need to go...” He couldn't stay here. Nothing was right. He felt all numb and fuzzy, and he couldn't seem to think straight. He tried to get up, but was held in place and he felt the hand holding the beer moved toward his face.

 

“Have another drink, Ed. It will make you feel better,” Mustang said soothingly. Ed stared blankly down at the more than half empty bottle. Would it really help? Was it helping? “Go on,” the colonel whispered, guiding the bottle up to Ed's lips. Slowly, Ed took a swallow, then another. “Drink it all,” Mustang urged. Ed squeezed his eyes shut as he gulped down the rest and felt a tear trickle slowly down his cheek.

 

Finally pulling the empty bottle away from his mouth, Ed gasped for breath and groaned before putting his head in-between his knees. He felt a little sick and let the bottle drop from his hand onto the floor. The world around him spun and he closed his eyes, trying to make it stop, but it did no good.

 

“I... I think... I need to take a piss...” Ed half muttered, half groaned. He felt more than saw Mustang stand up beside him, then he was pulled up onto his feet. He felt unsteady, but the colonel held onto him and guided him down the hall. When they reached a door, Ed shrugged Mustang off only to nearly fall as he stumbled through the doorway. He felt arms wrap around him, keeping him from falling before he felt himself being pushed toward the toilet. Ed fumbled at his belt, but his hands were moved away and he felt Mustang quickly undoing the buckle and pulling down his pants.

 

“Go away,” Ed said in a voice that sounded too slurred in his ears. “I can do this by myself.” But even as he said it, Ed wasn't able to wait for Mustang to leave. He'd never had to pee so bad in his life! Normally, he could drink lots of water or anything else and be just fine for hours...

 

Mustang held him up as he relieved himself and when he was done, Ed tried to reach down to pull up his pants, but Mustang held him still. “Tell me, Ed,” the colonel said. “How did it happen?”

 

“Huh?” Ed asked in confusion. He felt sick and all he wanted to do was lie down, curl up in a ball, and go to sleep. If he stood much longer, Ed thought he'd have to throw up. Again he tried to pull up his pants, but had no success with getting Mustang to let him bend over. He felt himself being dragged out of the bathroom and he tried to get his footing, but kept tripping over his pants. When they were in the hall, he mumbled, “I need to lie down or I'm gonna be sick...”

 

Suddenly the hands holding him up were gone and Ed fell heavily to the floor. Moaning, at the pain from the ungraceful landing, Ed rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball. He vaguely wondered if he should try crawling back to the bathroom so that he could throw up in the toilet.

 

A moment later, Ed was grabbed and turned onto his back. The hall rolled with him, but didn't stop turning when he did. Ed watched blearily as Mustang crawled beside him, then began rubbing his stomach.

 

“When you touched your brother, what did you do?” Mustang asked interestedly. Ed grimaced, then turned his head feeling shame rise up within him. His stomach rolled and he felt even sicker than he had before.

 

“I didn't mean to,” Ed moaned thickly. He needed to sleep. Why wasn't Mustang letting him go to sleep? He felt hands touching him, felt himself being fondled and kissed, and he lifted his real hand to wave it away. “Don't...” he pleaded thickly. “I don't want it...”

 

“Yes, you do,” Mustang breathed, then ran his tongue along Ed's ear.

 

“No... stop...” Ed whined, then finally dropped his arm, unable to keep it up any longer. His body felt so strangely heavy and warm. His eyes closed, but fluttered open when he felt Mustang enter him.

 

“Do you do this to your brother, Ed?” Mustang asked in a tone Ed couldn't place.

 

“No...” Ed whispered, then felt his body jerk with Mustang's force. “It wasn't like that... I'm not like you... I regret...” he slurred, then closed his eyes again. He couldn't talk anymore. He was so tired and numb. If only he could sleep just a little bit, but he couldn't, not with the thrusting and the way his body was rocking and sliding against the carpet.

 

Finally the movement stopped. He felt Mustang pull out of him and heard a heavy sigh. With the stillness, his mind began to descend into the depths of sleep, but before he could pass out completely, he heard a quietly somber, “I regret too, Ed. I just don't know how to stop...”

 

--

 

Child abuse, or any kind of abuse, is a serious issue. If you, or someone you know, is being abused, please find someone you can trust and tell them