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Al opened his glowing eyes and squinted in the semi-darkness. The room was too quiet. The first weak rays of sunlight slid through the smudged window to reveal rumpled and empty bedsheets. A furtive movement caught his eye. Ed was in the process of pulling on his boots and coat. He still looked dishevelled, his hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes crusted with sleep. Ed crept to the door, and Al's heart sank a little. He watched as Ed hesitated in front of the closed door, his hand on the knob, his shoulders sagging a little with uncertainty. Ed fidgeted and turned to look back into the room, only to jump a foot in the air when he saw Al's glowing eyes watching him.
'Sleep well, Ed?' Al asked.
Ed flushed hard, stuttering. He flattened his back against the door and groped for the doorknob.
'Hah, yeah, I, I've got an early meeting with the Colonel,' he gabbled. His scrabbling hand found the handle, and he stumbled backwards through the door.
‘Actually, I’m already late, I’ll catch up with you later!’
The door slammed hard before Al could make a sound. He sat and watched the fresh cloud of dust motes float in the watery sunlight.
'I'll be here,' he said, softly.
Ed barely made it to the main staircase of their apartment building before he sagged against a wall. He let himself sink to the floor and cradled his head in his hands.
He had awoken early that morning when his head collided with Al's armoured chest. The initial confusion had given way to pure panic. He lay frozen on the edge of the bed, a cold sweat breaking out across his back as memories of the night before came rushing back. He remembered writhing under Al's hand, pinned to the bed, moaning as he was fucked by Al's fingers. His lips pressed against Al's metal helmet as he cried out;'I love you.'
In the light of day, the implications of those words had hit him like a freight train. Sitting on the stained carpet of the stairwell, Ed pressed his face into his hands, letting out a strangled wail of misery.
How was he ever going to face Al again after this? They were brothers. Ed cringed and dug his palms into his aching eyes. How could he unsay what had already been said? Al would never look at him the same way. Hell, Al might never speak to him again.
There had to be something wrong with him, something psychological. Maybe some twisted version of the Oedipus complex, or some misplaced affection from the trauma of growing up orphaned. Or some deranged folie à deux. Ed’s head fell back against the wall, and he laughed weakly. That made sense, he was sick. Al had probably only gone along with it because he was starved of human contact and affection. Maybe if he apologised and begged for forgiveness things could go back to normal. He had already lost Al's body to the void, he couldn't lose his trust too.
But not now, he couldn't face Al yet. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. 6:05am. The library cafe would have just opened. Perfect. The library had an extensive set of psychological encyclopaedias. He could figure this out. No, he had to figure this out. He dragged himself to his feet and headed to the library, desperate for answers.
Eight hours later, Ed was almost entirely hidden behind a stack of discarded books. He had filled an entire pad with scrawled notes on everything from paraphilias to familial sexual abuse and was starting to despair. He was definitely sick in the head. His head hit the open book on his desk, and he groaned softly to himself. His eyes were fogging over with exhaustion when he heard Al's soft voice amidst the hum of voices surrounding him. Ed felt a bucket of ice flood his chest.
'Have you seen my brother? The Fullmetal Alchemist?'
'Oh, the little kid in the red coat?' replied the librarian.
'Well, he's not a kid, but yes.'
Ed strained to peer around the edge of his tower of books, just in time to see the librarian point in his direction. Al’s glowing eyes turned towards him and Ed shrank down, trying to hide. His heart was pounding in his throat and his guts clenched. It was too late to sneak out, Al's looming shadow fell over his desk.
'Al, hi! I didn't see you there.' Ed plastered a stiff grin on his face that looked closer to a grimace. His eyes darted to the door. Al seemed unimpressed. Ed sat frozen as Al’s eyes slid over the chapter title in front him, ‘Paraphilias in Children and Teenagers: An introduction.’ Ed slammed the book closed, bile rising in his throat. Al perched his large bulk delicately on the spindly chair next to Ed. Ed tensed, Al could see his eyes flicking, his body coiling like a spring.
‘Don’t run,’ Al said, quietly. He arranged himself carefully on the chair and turned his impassive gaze onto his brother. 'Are you ready to talk yet?' he asked, softly.
Ed deflated. He glanced around furtively.
‘Not here,’ he whispered. Al nodded and followed Ed outside into the bright sunlight on the front steps. Ed squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes; the pad still held in his fingers. A page tore free and floated in the breeze. The next few moments happened in a terrible slow motion. Al’s fingers deftly snatched the page from the updraft before Ed could reach it. Al glanced at it, about to return the paper, before the writing caught his eye. Ed could see the phrases ‘sexual grooming’ and ‘corruption of a minor’ underlined in his own scrawled handwriting. He grabbed for the page, clawing at Al’s arm.
‘Al, no, give it back!’
Al shoved him away, brandishing the crumpled page.
‘Grooming? Ed, what the hell is this?’
Ed tried again to snatch the paper from Alphonse’s fingers, but Al held it carefully aloft, his free hand gripping Ed’s upper arm.
‘Ed, what is this?’
Ed sagged in Al’s grasp, breathing heavily. His eyes darted to the street, and he tried to wrench himself free. Al’s grip tightened.
‘Brother!’
'I'm sorry, Al, I made a terrible mistake,' Ed whispered. 'I’m sick. I shouldn't have done it... any of it.'
Al’s hand fell to his side and Ed snatched the paper from his limp fingers.
'A mistake...' Al said, slowly.
Ed nodded, eyes downcast. Al grasped at his shoulders, pulling Ed to face him. Ed pulled away.
'It wasn’t… We can talk about it,' Al tried.
'No!' Ed burst out, meeting Al's eyes for the first time that day. 'Al, please, say you forgive me. I’m begging you. We can pretend this never happened. I couldn't bear to lose you. I'm just... I'm so sorry.'
Ed's words caught in his throat, and he turned away, shoulders shaking. He slumped exhaustedly against a nearby pillar, gazing miserably at nothing. His eyes were red, rubbed raw from past tears, his fingernails were bitten and scabbed. Al watched sadly as Ed began chewing on a bleeding fingernail again. He looked away when Ed’s shoulders began to shake minutely again and turned to gaze down the white ornate stairway. The crowds went about their business, the world continuing around him. A man and woman met at the foot of the stairs. She rushed into his arms and he scooped her up, her hair flashing golden in the afternoon sun as she threw her head back and laughed. He pressed a kiss to her laughing mouth, and they strolled away hand in hand. Al watched wistfully as they turned a corner and disappeared from view.
He heard a timid ‘Al?’ at his side. He looked down at his older brother.
‘Are… are we ok?’ Ed asked. There was fear in his face. Real fear.
Al nodded. What else could he do? He turned away and began to walk home, feeling Ed fall into step just behind him. The sunbeams sliced through the clouds like an oil painting, and the trees stirred in the breeze. Al wondered sadly what it would feel like on his skin. In the corner of his eye, he could see a flash of red from Ed’s coat. He slowed his step to allow Ed to catch up with him and struck up a light conversation about where they should go for lunch. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there was an awful, burning ache. He knew this feeling well. He knew if he didn't look at it for long enough, it would slowly fade. Perhaps this was for the best.