Leave A Scar

Those first few nights were the hardest. I spent them alone, confined to a room by myself for the first time since I had left... I couldn't even refer to that place as a home. 

Ed had been hesitant to let me sleep by myself, without him or Al there. Worried I might break like I did on the rooftop, probably. I smiled at his question from across the hotel hallway, seeing how his worried stare searched my face from where he stood at his doorway. I couldn't help but notice how one gloved hand remained by the door's frame. Almost like he was ready to push off and stride into my room if need be. I tried to ignore the feeling this gave my stomach.

"I'll be okay," I said. "You don't have to worry about me all the time."

Ed became a little surprised at this statement, and then he looked away, a small blush coming to him. One hand rose behind his hair.

"I'm not... Worried all the time..."

I forced myself to make a joke. I couldn't leave us both feeling so... Concerned for me. 

"There's a few minutes each day where you're not worried?" I asked, leaning against the door to my room.

He looked to me again, and a small grin hooked his mouth. He copied my action, one hand finding the pocket of his coat.

"Yeah," he replied. "I take a few minutes each day right after lunch to not be worried about you."

I giggled behind my hand, hearing him laugh lightly as well in that strong way of his. I wished I could laugh like that, too. Completely free.

"One of these days I'm going to get you to actually laugh..."

I opened my eyes, seeing his back against the doorframe, head tilted up and eyes staring at the ceiling above us absently. His words repeated in my head, and a deep blush rose to my cheeks. I almost wanted to challenge him on that, but I couldn't just bet on my own walls. I couldn't let any of them break again, especially not that one.

I searched the floor for a reply, and soon I found one. I forced myself to ask a question; the first one I thought of. 

"You don't like the way I laugh?"

Interest and shock perked into Ed's face. He quickly raised a hand, trying to dismiss his comment. "Er, n-no!" Realization dawned on him, and quickly he tried to laugh it off, putting one hand to his forehead, the other still held out to me in protest. "Wait, that's not what I meant. Um, I do! I like your laugh, I mean. It's just..." His eyes avoided mine, slight blush still on his face.

"It's just what?" I asked, leaning forward a bit.

"It's just, y'know"—he gave me a sheepish grin—"It's just not a real one."

"Remember what I said," he told me.

I pretended to roll my eyes. I guess my current wall was sarcasm. "Yeah," I sighed, opening and closing my hand in a talking motion. "You're going to make me laugh normally. Big words, Fullmetal."

Ed grinned, pushing himself off the doorframe as his hands found the pockets of his coat. "Don't start acting like Mustang on me. One of him is annoying enough."

I grinned, curled hand rising just quick enough to completely stifle a laugh. Ed tried to hold down a grin of his own, grounding his heel against the carpet.

"Ah, so close!" he exclaimed.

"Let's keep count," I said; another thing to distract myself with. "So far it's two to zero."

"Starting with the odds against me," Ed looked down, hand on his chin and finger tapping along the side of his face. His hand suddenly stopped moving, those eyes becoming just as mischievous as the grin he wore. "I like it!"

I smiled, trying to hold down the feeling I got when my stomach flipped at the look in his eyes. He didn't seem to notice the heat brightening my face, either; his solemn stare was on the plaque near my head. One that told him which room I was staying in.

When the silence kept going, my throat began closing, an anxiety tightening my airways. I guess yet another wall was building... One that kept me from speaking during awkward moments. How many was I at now?

"You sure you'll be okay?" Ed asked. He didn't say my name, and I was relieved enough to smile.

I looked to him again, nodding.

"Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Alright," He held my stare for another moment, giving me that soft smile, and stretched out the space between his shoulder blades; raising onto his toes as he drew his shoulders back. "Get some sleep, then."

He spoke the words so kindly; like he truly cared whether or not I slept well. I held down another blush, hardening my emotions until they were like concrete in my ċhėst. 

"Of course," I replied, giving the best smile possible. "You too. Tell Al I said goodnight."

Ed nodded. A moment later, I saw Al's hand waving, peeking out from the space between the open door and the frame. Stretching from his place on the couch.

"I wasn't listening in," he said quickly, "I just heard my name!" He called out a goodnight to me, and I stuffed down a laugh, my grin widening.

"Good night, Al," I nearly sang it, taken by how much of a kid he still was. My hand scrunched in and out; a wave he couldn't see. 

Ed turned back to me. He smiled again, saying one last goodnight and how we'd see each other in the morning. I could only bring myself to nod at this, watching as he stepped back and closed the door behind him. Those eyes curving in yet another smile, another display of friendship I didn't deserve.

During these nights alone, I tried to face myself. I tried to get enough courage to do the things I hadn't been able to do for years. Like look into the mirror or try and say the sound of my own name. It never worked, though. My legs would always give out halfway to the bathroom; my tongue would always shut down before I could even speak the first syllable. More than anything, I spent most of those nights sobbing into my sheets, face against the mattress. Torturing myself with the memory of being in Ed's embrace, feeling that warmth and the loyalty I didn't deserve.

When I found that my eyes could give no more tears, when I found my ċhėst was empty and shaking, in those moments is where sleep found me. Dreamless periods where I didn't have to think. Didn't have to distract myself from anything. Then morning would come, and my eyes would open as slowly as they had closed. I'd pick myself up off the mattress, feeling parts of it crinkle from how my waves of tears had dried. I'd lift myself back up, and I'd lift the walls up again as well. 

This cycle continued for about three days, until one night there was only one room available.

Ed had hesitated when the innkeeper told him this. I listened to how he replied, how quiet his voice was. A concern, I think. 

"Could you check again?"

I knew why he was asking. He didn't want to be in the same room as me. I felt myself nearly break, but I quickly forced the wall from cracking. Putting a bandage over the fractures. They could break another time. Just not tonight. Not in front of them again. 

The innkeeper finished looking over the list, the small stack of paper falling back against the clipboard.

"No," she replied, slowly shaking her head, "I'm sorry, sir. There's only one room available tonight. We're full to the brim, I'm afraid." 

"And all the other hotels in this town are, too..." Ed finished, looking down to the floor.

"It's okay." I tried to smile, and forced myself to make the expression as bright as I could.

"You sure?" he asked, and the only thing I wasn't sure about was why he was acting like this.

I nodded. "It's fine! Why wouldn't it be?"

He frowned a little at this, still trying to figure me out, I suppose. But then he gave a one-shouldered shrug, turning back to the receptionist.

The trek to our room was the last adventure of the day. I smiled a little, confined to the silence around us instead of the empty space between my ears. Emptiness. It was something quickly becoming a home.

Ed's murmured voice reached my ears, but the words slipped away from me. The stairs ended, and he yawned wide, head tilting back, arms stretching wide. I pressed against my knee, hiking up the last stair, and waited for something. Some turn of the head, some quiet, silent indication that he had been speaking to me, before.

Nothing came, and I could breathe until we got into the room.

The air between my lungs and throat caught. Kitchen, couch, one room.

Would I be stuck in a living area with Alphonse? Silently forced to break down on the tiniest, miniscule ways? Silent clips of sobs and microscopic fractures against imaginary walls?

I didn't know, but my mind came back to me as Ed flopped onto the couch face-first.

"Take the room," he said. His voice was muffled, and if I were in any other state, I would have laughed.

I feigned innocence, stepping a little to the side, keeping my hands behind my back.

"Are you sure?" I asked

He nodded a few times, squeaking the leather and sending smiles to Al's and my faces. "Sure, sure," the elder Eric continued. "Couches and walls are a luxury."

Trust me. The extra words he wasn't saying rang out in my head, sending a brighter smile to my face. I could keep this up, for a few more minutes.

My posture dipped down, and the next words to exit my head were ones I chirped out.

"Well, have a good rest then. Read well, Al!"

Alphonse, already settled against the wall with a book in one hand and the suitcase closed beside him, nodded, sending a smile my way. I returned it, keeping my eyes curved so I wouldn't have to see how those lights reverted back to circles, how they dipped low to read a book too small for such big hands. Words that probably wouldn't lead us—them anywhere when it came to restoring their bodies.

Good. I was correcting myself. I was slowly breaking pieces down, with them here.

Ed was already snoring lightly when my feet pattered across the living area. Softly, quietly; I didn't want to wake him, even if he was a heavy sleeper...

As I poured hot tea into a mug, I started thinking. Wondering how I would survive the night, with them here. With a room to my own, I could be louder than usual, but in such a confined space... I couldn't make a peep, without Alphonse hearing.

After a quick bow to the younger Elric and another bid goodnight, I ducked inside my room and shut the door. I stared down at where I figured my tea was, unable to see very much in the darkness. I felt it creep out to me, those shadows. I let them envelop me, curl around my shoulders, my waist. Caressing, embracing. Building up those walls, letting the heaviness sag until it reattached to my lungs each more. Weighing down each breath, each pull of oxygen that still kept me alive. Kept a wicked heart beating.

No... Not wicked. Not yet, anyway.

Time stretched on, and eventually the steam from my mug faded, the liquid between my palms cooling. I stood in the darkness for another minute or two, not doing much in particular except thinking.

I... I felt so conflicted that I found myself pacing in the darkness of the sole bedroom. I tried to think, torn between sobbing myself to sleep and trying to be as quiet as possible as I did so, or to go out and spend the night completely awake. But I knew I couldn't do that. I had to get some sleep; I couldn't go on empty tomorrow, not knowing what kind of gruesome human-like creature was waiting for us. 

I stopped walking when I heard the sound of running water. The light that had been on and shining through the bottom of my door was off; it had been for a few hours now...

The tap quietly shut off, and I found myself thinking again. Al didn't need to use water in the slightest, so that only meant Ed was still awake...

I turned, looking to my left and making out the hands of the clock with the small amount of light given. I squinted a little more, not believing where the hands were pointing. Two-thirty in the morning? What was Ed still doing up at this hour?

Getting some water, obviously. I snapped at myself, feeling the familiar darkness hang onto my soul. Dragging my heart back down. 

I looked to the door again, as if I could see underneath the wood and through the darkness. I hadn't heard any footsteps, nothing to indicate Ed had retreated back to the couch. A worry settled into me, reaching from somewhere deep down, and this was what made me step forward, hand finding the doorknob.

I opened the door as quietly as I could, spotting Ed's silhouette across the room. Leaning against the kitchen sink, the moonlight from the window nearby reflecting off the metal of his shoulder. I stared for a moment, once again transfixed by the prosthetic, before I noticed how low his head was bowed. How hard one hand, his human one, was gripping the edge of the sink. 

I looked around, expecting to see Alphonse sitting somewhere. But the soft soul in the armored suit was nowhere to be seen. I stepped out of my room, the door creaking a little more, the floorboard sounding at the pressure of my light steps.

Ed looked up, and I couldn't see his stare given how the shadows fell across his eyes. I ignored the feeling this gave my gut. 

"Where's Al?" I asked.

"Off saving a cat or two," Ed replied, head shifting enough for me to know he had broken his stare. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. When I didn't say anything back, his head perked up again, the strand of hair he had hooked out raising a little in a soft interest. I heard the grin on his voice, saw the way his mouth pushed up a little bit as he continued. 

"I'm just kidding," he told me. "He's in the lobby, reading. Didn't want to bug me with the light." One shoulder shrugged. "Told him I was fine with it, but y'know..."

I nodded, understanding. I noticed his shirt, then, when his shoulder shrugged. Usually, it was thick enough to hide the start of his automail but reveal a small amount of the scar on his shoulder and ċhėst. Right now, the strap had slid a bit more out, resting a little on his shoulder's edge and revealing the scar—along with his automail—more so than usual. I had never seen either exposed like this. 

He caught me staring, quickly following my gaze. Surprise perked into his expression, and he grinned before quickly fixing the shirt. Covering the scar again.

"Sorry," he laughed. "It's probably pretty weird to look at, huh?"

I shook my head, and I was speaking the truth when I replied.

"I don't mind," I told him. "I think..." A smile came to me, and I couldn't remember the last time I had given one this free and genuine. "I think it's fascinating."

I didn't hear a response, and immediately my smile fell. I looked to Edward, seeing his eyes wide and glass half-positioned to take another sip.

"Y-you do?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, giving him a look of confusion. "Why wouldn't it be...?"

Ed became a bit more interested in his water, downing about half of it as I realized I had completely messed up again. He was drinking fast to get away from me... 

He drew back from his cup, giving a laugh I could only hear as nervous.

"N-nothing!" he replied. "There's nothing wrong with it!" He cleared his throat, one hand rising to the back of his neck. "I... Not many people view it that way, I don't think... At least, not the scar..."

There was a distance to those last words, like his mind was going into some memory. Some place I couldn't follow. I knew automail was popular, of course, and I couldn't really imagine someone discriminating him for something like that. Just the thought made my stomach twist.

I watched as he swirled his glass, looking down at the water as it spun. He held the cup with his metal hand, and the small movements he put into his arm just made the moonlight catch onto the metal. Sending small strips of light across it, flickers that danced my way. 

"Does it ever hurt?" I asked him, trying to imitate that softness he had always given me.

Ed looked down at his arm, still holding onto the glass with his metal hand. 

"Sometimes," he replied softly. He turned back to his water, taking another sip. "There's times when my scars act up, but usually it's only when the nerves get connected to the automail."

"That sounds painful..." 

He looked at the expression on my face, something I hoped showed how concerned I was for him. Heat tinged his cheeks before he looked down to his glass.

"Doesn't hurt too much," he said. "Nothing to really get worried about." He included my name, and I swallowed down my reply. I looked away, not wanting to intrude anymore. 

Before I could do more than think of moving back into my bedroom, Ed spoke again, quickly looking up to meet my eyes.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked, and the concern that rode along his words nearly made the space behind my ċhėst shake. 

I quickly shook my head, responding in the same hushed tone. Even if we were the only two here. "No! I... I was already awake. You didn't bother me at all."

"Oh." He looked back to his water, swirling the small amount left. His golden eyes flicked up, the softness holding my attention. "You having trouble sleeping? Anything I could help with?"

I felt my foot move on its own, sliding back as if wanting to take a step. Ed noticed this, his stare dropping down, watching me get ready to move. I tried to recover, stepping back as quickly as I could. Trying to act normal. But it was a little hard, considering the pattern I had set myself into. I would've been breaking myself to pieces right about now, if I had a room to myself.

"No," I replied, responding to his question. I busied myself with fixing my clothes, trying to smooth them out. "I'm alright. Just stay up late thinking sometimes."

Ed nodded, seeming to accept the answer.

"Yeah," he said in small laugh. His eyes dropped back down to his water again. "Sometimes your brain just won't shut up about the stupidest of things."

I fought back the thought that was telling me he was actually talking about my brain. I mentally shook off the idea, and I searched him for a moment. That ache was back; a small, dull pain in my ċhėst that I felt whenever he or Al said something that worried me...

"Anything I can help with?" I asked softly. 

He raised the glass to his lips, meeting my eyes from above the rim of the cup. He smiled a little in that stare, enough to curve the bottom of his eyes.

He took a sip and lowered the glass back down, and even with the soft amount of moonlight, I caught the small blush running across his cheeks. 

"No," he replied, and for some reason my name wasn't so painful when he said it. "It's okay."

I waited. I was hoping he would say more; give me something I could do to help. But when he said nothing, I realized I had overstayed the welcome I had created for myself. My foot slid back, pivoting enough to turn me halfway around. 

"Well..." I began, "Sleep tight, Ed, if you can."

I forced myself to move, padding away on quiet feet and hearing Ed's voice follow me. He said one word, and it was enough to crack some part of an outer wall.

"Yeah..."

There was something in the way he spoke it that was all too familiar. A heaviness, an absolute sorrow that forced me to stop walking away. I turned, looking over my shoulder. 

I didn't know why I stayed. I knew I couldn't help him. But I said one word back to him, voice just as quiet.

"Promise?"

He looked back to me, and even with the dim light I could see the light blush running along his face. I could see the soft smile as well.

"Yeah," he said, that smile only growing. "I'll promise to try and get some sleep if you do."

Try. Try to get some sleep. I could do that. I guess I technically was—or at least I had been during the past few nights.

I tried to fight back the heat rising to my face, noticing he was still smiling as I nodded and promised him that I would. I made my way towards the bedroom again.

"Good night..." he called after me, soft words comforting.

I looked a bit over my shoulder, seeing his golden stare rise from the cup and smile lightly at me again. I fought down the blush as much as I could. 

"Good night," I returned.

Good morning, technically. I thought, but I immediately shut the thought away, guilt flashing into me. The sun was still down; it was night time. And to think I wanted to make a joke... I wasn't smart enough to. 

As the door shut behind me, I nearly felt myself break again. I pulled air into my lungs, steadying myself.

I was at a two way street right now. 

Continue the cycle, or actually try to get some sleep like a normal person.

I looked over at my bed, covers still untouched. I didn't want to cheat Ed out of that agreement. But it wouldn't be the first time I had done something... So horrible. Maybe that would drive him away. I suppose that outcome was inevitable. It would happen eventually. 

I was sure of it. But I didn't let myself think on it anymore.

The covers were cold, chilling my skin a little. Goosebumps rose to meet the sheets, and I turned onto my side, bunching the edge of the sheets into a fist and pulling them up to my chin. Part of me wondered where that red blanket was. The one Ed had put on me the night I rejected his offer for ice cream. 

Just as that thought came to me... A soft knock came to the door.

Ed's voice, stuttering for a moment before saying my name. 

"Y-yeah?" I asked, confused and shocked.

"Uh, sorry," I could hear the light smile in his voice. "Can I come in for a sec'?"

"Yeah, sure..."

"Thanks..." The door opened, and I saw something big draped over his arm. He... He couldn't have... 

He lifted the blanket a little bit, gesturing to it as his other hand rose, automail fist clearing his throat.

"Just... Just, uh, thought you might be cold," he said. "The heater's busted, so..."

I sat up, watching him walk towards me with quiet footsteps. "Ed..." I noticed his wide grin as he neared my bed, how that smile only increased as he held out the folded blanket for me. Like a little kid. I glanced to it, then met his smiling eyes again before shaking my head. "You don't have to. Wasn't this the blanket you were using to sleep?"

Ed's expression fell. He glanced to the blanket as well, a little flustered as he shook his head. "N-no. I made another one. Got a ton of them, trust me!" 

He held the blanket out a little more, another offer to take it.

"Oh, wait," The gift was pulled just out of my reach before I could grab it. "What am I doing?"

I watched as he flicked the blanket downwards, unfolding it and expanding it wide. Showing me that Flamel insignia decorated in the red faux fur, the symbol rotated on its side given the edges he was holding.

He also seemed to like showing me that design, because I saw that wide grin again. Somewhere in my mind, the sound of small little trumpets played. 

I grinned, tilting my head to one side. "You like that symbol, don't you?"

His expression grew a bit softer as he nodded. He swept the opposite end of the blanket away from him, and I watched it fan out above me. 

"I do," he replied, the blanket settling on me perfectly. "It's tied to our Teacher, actually."

I looked back to him, incredibly interested now. "How so?"

Ed grinned, a little bashful as he put his hands in his pockets. "There's a few different meanings for it. Her interpretation relates to alchemy: the snake twisting its way around the concept of God, foiling it in a way. How even if we try, alchemists still can't obtain the wings heaven can grant, if it exists." He shrugged, head turning down and eyes closing. "But between you and me, there's another reason I wear it."

"Another meaning?" I asked. 

He nodded, a soft smile curving his lips. "This symbol was actually created by the first Philosopher Stone's theorist."

I looked away from the blanket, away from the symbol he had placed upright for me to see.

"Really?" 

He nodded, leaning his weight to one side and removing a hand from his pocket. "Yeah," He looked down to the blanket, and I followed his stare again.

He leaned over, metal hand lightly tracing the symbol's lines as he spoke about them.

"This entire staff"—His finger made a huge circle, all around the symbol, but I knew he was talking about the large cross—"This is the path it takes. Starts out straight"—His finger traced upwards, lightly running along my side and sending chills that nearly felt foreign—"And then the snake starts to wind up the cross, distorting the path, the goal being the philosopher's stone."

I remained silent, watching his hand move, gently tapping the crown beneath the center of my ċhėst. "Right here, the goal of so many alchemists. A stone of infinite possibility."

I blushed slightly, given his proximity, and listened to him continue on. Finger tracing the wings, curving along the small little hill-like lines.

"Wings are an allusion to God and represent the quest for the impossible; they make it seem like there's hope because of the idea behind angels, but really they're just lifting that crown, that goal further away."

He straightened, hand drawing away from me as he continued. 

"Nicolas Flamel was his name, the first theorist. I guess you can say he's the guy who set Al and I on this road." He grinned at me, and I felt that pain rise in my ċhėst again. "I remember one of the books I had read had this symbol." He reached over again, tapping the center of it, and I fought back the feeling of buŧŧerflies in my stomach. "Always thought it looked pretty cool. But I guess I never realized how deep the meaning could be, with us..."

I looked back down to the symbol, realizing he was right. But there was also something else on my mind.

He was missing one explanation; the only one I truly knew for certain. I didn't open my mouth to say anything, didn't give him any indication I knew anything. I just dropped my stare back to the blanket, staring at the point closest to me. The middle spike of the crown. 

"You're thinking of the third meaning, aren't you?"

I looked up, seeing him give me that same smile again. He kicked his weight to one side, hands still in his pockets as his eyes slowly closed. Smile still remaining as I stayed silent, listening to him continue on. 

"Medicine and enlightenment are king," he stated, and I knew the words. I knew the citation even before he said it. "Alchemic Symbols by Marcus Drif, page 87, paragraph three." He grinned a little more, and for a moment, I almost imagined his teeth to be a bit sharper. "Line 27." One eye opened, smiling at me, even if the bottom wasn't curving. I could feel the warmth in that color, even if I didn't give myself that incredible gift for long. I forced myself not to look away, building that wall again. I had to work on repairing, re-establishing at night still. I could multi-task. I had just enough brain power to two things at once. Break a little, build more. 20-80 exchange. These thoughts all came to me with such speed I nearly felt sick. I looked up as Ed continued on.

"You knew that reference, didn't you?" he asked, and the softness of his voice hit somewhere deep inside me; inside those walls I kept building. Almost bringing me back to that rooftop, feeling his thumb run across my hand. Seeing that smile on his face, giving energy towards something he shouldn't have been focused on. 

He continued on, without pause. Never missing a beat, still staring at me with one eye open, still giving that same warmth. "You wanna tell me the publishing date?"

I couldn't help but smile, taking the opportunity to look away, back down to my ŀȧp as my lips curved into a good enough arch. Minimal. I could do minimal.

"1898. Atomic Publishing, if you want that, too."

I looked up, peeking just enough for his grin to fall in my line of vision. He laughed just a little, the sound quiet, even if we were the only two people here. 

Maybe he realized this, maybe he realized the time, realized it was night and not morning. Maybe he just wanted to get away from me, realized he had done the chore he needed to do. But whatever the reason torturing him, he slid a foot back, upper-body bowing a bit forward, eyes staring straight at mine before sweeping down to the blanket. He spoke as he did this, words still quiet. I tried to focus on what he said, not how he said it. I didn't want to break; I felt like I would; I was cracking in the smallest of ways. Small microfractures against the newest walls.

Any response I could have said was suddenly forgotten as he slid one foot back, hand rising to the back of his hair. 

"So, um, anyway just wanted to give that to you!" He grinned, blushing again.

I avoided his stare, trying to avoid the heat rising as well. I thanked him again, and he just nodded. 

"Yeah," he said. "No problem."

I watched him pad out of the room, stopping to close the door behind himself and send me another quiet goodnight. Another light smile. A soft one. 

"Good night," I returned, and motioned to him with the blanket. "And thank you, again."

Ed just glanced to the thick covet, heat tinging his cheeks before he nodded once. That smile just increased a little more before he ducked his head, hand coming to his hair again. Momentarily hiding part of his face from me. 

"Y-yeah. Like I said, no problem."

He laughed, nervous again. "It's really just a blanket; I make 'em all the time!"

My smile fell, one curve dropping and then the other joining it in a straight line. He was right; it was just a simple blanket. I shouldn't have been so... Annoying with him doing something so simple. It's not like I really deserved to have that kindness anyway.

A familiar weight settled into my ċhėst, and for a moment I had forgotten that it was even there. It had never left; only increased a little more, making me realize its presence. Like another limb in my body; another lung in between and above the first two. Always there. Always reminding me who and what I was. 

I looked up as Ed began closing my bedroom door, the action creaking the door slightly. He looked up from the knob he held, meeting my gaze and shooting me a bright grin. One that really only made me feel even worse.

"I'll see you in the morning then, okay?" he said. "Get some sleep."

"Okay," I smiled, some distant, unknown part of me picking my lips up and curving them to the right places. A normal smile. "You too."

He nodded, and I knew from the small change in his gaze that he remembered our promise. His expression shifted in the smallest of ways, becoming just a bit more focused, a bit more determined. 

"Yeah," he replied quietly as the door was almost shut. "Night."

I just grinned, knowing if I said anything back, we would be going in an endless cycle of "good night"s and "get some sleep"s. I let the door close, and when I heard his steps pad away from me, I allowed myself to breathe again. Closing my eyes, settling back against the mattress and feeling on that weight sink against the space behind my ċhėst, the darkness spreading into my lungs. An old friend; a melancholy lullaby. 

I shifted, rolling onto one side. I moved my hand, curling the edge of the blanket around my fist and holding it near my mouth. Focusing completely on the warmth and the loyalty I just didn't deserve.

A/N:  Ah, this chapter was so fun to write! Just for reference's sake, Ed's analysis of his insignia is something I made up. The name "Nicolas Flamel", however, is not mine. That man is actually believed to have discovered the philosopher's stone in real life, so I attached that meaning to the world of FMA. But you can thank the INCREDIBLE movie "As Above, So Below" for introducing/inspiring me with that. Really cool horror movie centered around alchemy haha.

Music is a huge inspiration for me–I have a main playlist of over 300 songs dedicated to this fic. I'll be recommending songs as we go, but for now I'll give warm shout out to "Skeletons" by Heartist.