mayfield_logs | (no subject)

Who: Edward and Alphonse Elric
When: Friday April 20th
Where: 1649 Albright Lane
What: Some talks need to be had
Warnings: Possible strong language, talk of death and general Mayfield horror

After that bombshell had been dropped on him by Major General Armstrong, Al had been avoiding Ed. It wasn't as though he even noticed he was doing it at first, just a subconscious change in his routine to make sure he walked to school and home at a different time than his brother. He didn't blame Ed for what he had done, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he didn't know how to face him.

How could he keep it a secret that he knew? But how could he bring it up and hurt Ed? There was no good way around this and every time he thought on it, it almost made him cry. He was angry at the town... no, furious would be a more accurate descriptor. It had taken one of the Elric's most prized morals and trampled all over it, laughed in the face of their resolve and hurt a dear friend in the process.

It had been late into the night when he realised it couldn't go on like this. Maybe it would be hard to talk to Ed about it, but until he did then he would be dwelling instead of moving forwards as they always vowed to do. So he had got up early, just about six am, and jogged through the pre-dawn to 1649 Albright Lane, hoping to catch Ed before their-- before the drone wearing their mother's face woke up.

Knock knock, Brother.

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He wraps his arms around his little brother, burying his face against his shoulder. Ed didn't cry after it happened. It was all so surreal. He remembered it so clearly, every single detail, and the pain he had felt was very, very real, but he still felt... detached from it all. It still hurt, it never really stopped hurting if he was going to be honest with himself, but even after it happened he never cried. Not once. He distanced himself from it because he was afraid to face it.

But right now? Right now he had no choice. Al was sitting here, his face wet with tears as he held him tightly in his arms and... and it hurt. Hearing the sound of Al's voice -- small and shaking, each syllable straining -- made it hit home all at once.

His throat feels like it's going to close and he finds it nearly impossible to breathe properly. Each breath is staggered and painful, hitching in his chest. Ed's fingers curl desperately into the fabric of Al's shirt as he chocked back a sob. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry."

Hearing Ed cry was one of the hardest things that Al ever had to hear, and every time it got harder. He hated knowing that something had cut so deep as to leave a wound that had festered for years... even though that was hardly an uncommon occurrence where Ed was concerned. That was just the type of boy he was - caring to a fault. He let people think he was a little asshole, but really there was nobody Al knew that cared as deeply and wholly as his brother did.

It was just one of the reasons he loved and idolised him as much as he did.

But even as much as he hated to hear it, even as painful as it was, he knew it was for the best. Ed needed to cry, he needed to let out his pain or else it would grow inside him until it exploded in a messy and destructive way. At least this way Al could be there for him, to hold him as tight as he could and shoulder the burden along with him.

"...it's not your fault, Brother. You would never--"

"It doesn't matter. I still... I still let her die! Lust slit her throat and I stood there and watched it. Then -- "

His chest tightened as he took in a sharp breath, gasping for air after a fresh round of sobs. He squeezes his eyes shut, his voice starting to shake as his arms tightened around his brother.

"Then I -- " He stops short, his entire body trembling at the mere thought of what he was about to say. When he finally speaks his voice is brutally raw, almost broken. Contempt and heavy guilt cling to every word. "I killed someone, Al."

He had thought nothing would hit him harder, but Ed's final whispered words seared through him like a burning blade. He felt his breath rush out of his lungs, the reply instinctive and so quiet as to be near inaudible.

"Brother, no..."

He knows it wasn't Ed's fault, but that didn't stop the blood being on his hands or the memories of the act. His fingers tighten in his big brother's clothes so tight, so ridiculously tight, burying his nose in Ed's hair.

Ed seemed to almost sink into himself and at that moment he felt (and most likely looked) smaller than he'd ever been. Stumbling over broken apologies was the most he could do. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. The only thing keeping him in one piece right now was Al.

No matter the reason, the blood was on his hands, he was responsible for taking someone's life. And like a coward he tried to run from it.

Edited 2012-05-17 01:48 (UTC)

It hurt to hear Ed crying like this, so hurt and upset and scared, but maybe it was for the best. If he could get it all out now, then it wouldn't be poisoning him inside any more. And it's obvious that's what it has been doing all this time. Al can't imagine the pain of holding that inside for so long, the guilt of actually having done it in the first place.

His arms tighten around his brother, fingers curled in Ed's clothing and refusing to let go no matter what. He's right here, brother, let it out.