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Edward was never the type to cry. He’d scream, shout, space out, everything. But crying. Sometimes he’d starve, he’d go out on a run, he’d spar with Alphonse, anything. But never would he cry.
But a lot changed when he went to Munich. Everything he had known before, alchemy, Alphonse, Winry, his friends in the military, Resembool, everything had changed. All he had now was that other version of Maes Hughes who always creeped him out because that was Maes Hughes, his friend who was supposed to be dead. Then again, he was, and this was a different Hughes.
But, anyways, all he had now was Hughes and Alfons Heidreich. And now, the Edward who almost never cried was gone, replaced by a crybaby with golden blonde hair and yellow eyes. The mere thought of Amestris, everything he’d left behind, brought tears to his eyes. Sometimes he’d drown the thoughts out with alcohol or cigarettes, but that was never enough. At times it even seemed to make him feel worse than he already did.
So, he’d cry. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d get drunk while Alfons was away, and by the time he was back he’d be a crying mess. Sobbing, hiccuping, with tears running down his cheeks onto the table or the ground, depending on where he was sitting. Alfons always lent him a hand, got him up from the ground if he had been sitting there, and gave him a hug. Alfons was gentle with him during those times.
It reminded him of his Alphonse, his little brother. And that brought even more tears and sobs. He’d always feel so, so ashamed of having cried like that, thankfully it was never a topic of conversation for them. Alfons had a sort of sixth sense for when Edward didn’t want to talk. Just like Alphonse.
Sometimes when Alfons was away and Edward ran out of tears, he went on a walk through the city. It was miserable, and nothing like the lively and bright cities he was used to walking through back in Amestris. He’d walk and walk until the sun set, and then just kept going until his foot hurt or the joint his prosthetic leg was attached to started to ache. Then he’d go home, and hopefully find Alfons. Either asleep or awake, it was always hard to tell how he would find him.
He thought a lot on his walks. He thought about how his loved ones were doing. He thought mainly about Al and Winry, about how tall they might’ve grown while he was away, or how they’d improved in their area of expertise. Surely Winry was still making automail, and maybe she was even famous by now. But Edward wouldn’t know for a long time. If he ever got the chance to find out, that was.
And surely Alphonse was already so much taller, and older, and more mature. Maybe he was still doing alchemy, or maybe he had taken something else up. He thought about the day they could meet again, and Alphonse would be so tall he’d have to look down to see him. Maybe he’d tease Edward, and Edward would get mad as he always would when someone insulted his height, and then they’d laugh together.
Maybe someday in the near future, that would happen. And then they would spend the entire night and day after talking about what had happened while they were separated. The first thing Edward would want to tell him about was Alfons. Would tell him how the two looked so alike and acted alike, and how Alfons took him in and took care of him. As much as he wanted to go back, he’d miss Alfons too.
If only there was a way to have both… now he was just being selfish. He always wanted the most unachievable things. First it was to get him and Alphonse back together, and now this.
He missed Amestris, he really did.