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Now the world is gone, I'm just one
Oh, God, help me
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh, please, God, help me
Darkness, imprisoning me
All that I see, absolute horror
I cannot live, I cannot die
Trapped in myself, body my holding cell
Landmine, has taken my sight
Taken my speech, taken my hearing
Taken my arms, taken my legs
Taken my soul, left me with life in Hell
- One, Metallica
After getting yelled at for twenty minutes, Al is devoid of any emotion.
He stares at his hands, stained with already dry blood. He hasn’t bothered to wash them. Well, not since his brother sent Al to his room immediately after the heated lecture. The younger Elric didn’t bother arguing with Ed, because he knew he was wrong. He deserved it.
Al realizes that’s probably the first time he didn’t lash out in a fight. On the contrary, the teenager is the one on the screaming end while his older brother, patient and soft-spoken, tries to reason with him. Eventually, Al storms off to his room, closing his door with force. Later, Ed or Noah will come with food, usually dinner, and they’re not at all angry. They don’t force him to leave his bedroom, either. All they do is try to talk, to reassure Al he isn’t in trouble. The boy never truly apologizes, only gives them a sad look and they get it. But then the whole cycle repeats itself, and nothing changes.
Except now, it’s changed for the worse.
In the dead silence, Al chastises his poor actions.
The real Alphonse Elric was polite. He apologized and calmly tried to make amends - usually with something nice like a favor or a gift.
The real Alphonse Elric would never beat a man to death.
And he would certainly hate the delinquent that has stolen his identity.
He was already in his bad mood, refusing to go to college with Ed, or help Ms. Gracia and Noah at the flower shop. Al mostly walked around the neighborhood, head lowered, gaze unfriendly.
When everyone was home, Al was tasked to get the groceries. Actually, he offered himself to do it, but not for a good cause; he didn’t want to be around any of them. He didn’t have the patience for people today.
Al bought the ingredients for dinner, stew (knowing Ed probably chose it to cheer Al up). He was at least polite to the vendor, who noticed how young he was, and advised him to be careful as night was on its way. Al didn’t smile, he just indifferently thanked her and left.
Tonight was going to be the same: he’d isolate himself in his room like an edgy brat, only eating dinner late at night, just so Ed and Noah stopped worrying about him so much.
Truthfully, Al didn’t want to go home. He was so tired. Tired of everyone. Everything. But it was all his fault, not theirs. Al didn’t deny it. He never did.
His brain, making everything worse as usual, would poke him with a stick to remind him, the real Alphonse Elric was likable and friendly towards everyone. He would talk to people, genuinely connect with them. He liked being around people.
That was what he should be.
But he wasn’t.
And it only enraged him.
Suddenly, he heard a scream, not much far.
Al dropped the groceries, not thinking twice before getting to a lady running away from an older man. She seemed to be romani like Noah, with dark hair and brown skin. The man, on the other hand, was white, hair stylized much like the nazis that yelled for genocide of people like her, and of many others.
The teen stood between them, protecting the young woman.
“Leave her alone!” He demanded.
The man scoffed. “Piss off, kid. Go home to your mommy.”
Al didn’t reply.
Instead, he advanced.
The second he heard the metallic introduction of a gun, Al quickly disarmed him, no shots heard. The boy took harsh punches to the face and gut, but something in him gave the power to win the fight, and shortly, Al was standing over him, forced to lie on the rough asphalt.
The nazi was begging for mercy.
No.
No.
Al punched him the hardest he could, absolutely feral.
That man wanted to hurt people. He wanted to KILL people. Al knew that the lady mustn’t have been his only victim. And thinking about it drove Al to punch him harder and harder, without remorse, without hesitation.
People like him hurt, killed many, many lives. They had blood in their hands, as red as the flag that would take over the country.
He didn’t deserve mercy.
Al roared the entire time, only hearing the breaking bones and the pathetic pleads from his disgusting mouth. His goal was to silence him for once and for all.
But something… trapped him.
Two arms are trying to pull him back.
Al tries to fight them off, but…
“Alphonse! It’s me!”
Despite recognizing the voice, he resists.
“Let me go!” Al hollered.
“Alphonse, stop,” Officer Hughes orders, but not as a threat. “He’s almost dead.”
“He deserves it!”
The man raises his voice, “Kid, stop this RIGHT NOW!”
Hughes is able to move Al away from the nazi. As he does so, the latter slowly returns to the real world. He finds the young woman sweating, terrified. She must’ve called Hughes while Al was…
The explosion that took over him begins to quiet down.
There is so much blood on the street…
And his hands…
His young, soft hands are forever scarred with red.
Al is too shocked to fight back, so he’s finally broken free from the begging grip.
“Jesus, kid…” Hughes sighs, tired.
The boy’s hands shake furiously.
“Wh… What did I…” Al can’t even form a sentence.
“I agree that those guys deserve a good punch in the face… but this was too far, Alphonse.” Hughes lowers his voice, “... Especially from you.”
The last comment breaks Al inside.
“Look, I’ll… I’ll cover this, so don’t worry,” the officer reassures him, soon putting a hand on Al’s shoulder. “But it’s very important that you keep a low profile, okay? For your own safety and others’. You got it?”
Alphonse doesn’t take his eyes off the red.
At last, an ambulance arrives to pick the body. The man is not a lost cause, and they take him away. Even then, there’s still blood left on the street.
Hughes breaks him out of his trance. “Come on, kid, you need to go home.”
Somehow, Al remembers who he was trying to save.
“O-Oh, miss, are you okay?” He asks.
The lady still looks panicked, but she doesn’t seem to be terrified of Al. Not anymore, that is…
“Yes, I-I’m fine,” she relieves him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he says instead.
There’s a heavy silence between them, a weight on Al’s conscience.
“... Still,” the woman lowers her voice, “thank you.”
Al doesn’t feel any better. He doesn’t deserve it.
“I could- I could walk you home,” he proposes anyway, to make up for it, but she’s quick to decline.
“I’ll be fine, thank you.” She manages to smile. “You go home and take care of yourself, okay?”
“B-But–”
“Alright, I’ll take him home now, thank you very much!” Hughes drags Al before he can protest.
The lady waves them goodbye and walks away. She’s too nice. Al was supposed to save her, and he only frightened her, maybe more than the nazi coming after her.
Eventually, Al walks slowly, defeated. Hughes remains quiet the entire time. The former finds it weird. The Maes Hughes he knew would never shut up about his daughter and his wife, and while he did have his quiet moments, the silence coming from his alternate self isn’t the same.
His Hughes was an uplifting man. This Hughes is a bit secretive, but he still wants to look after Alphonse. The officer isn’t even angry at him. Al can’t understand why, but he doesn’t say it.
They’re not too far from home now.
Al, however, realizes something halfway through.
“Oh no, the groceries!”
“Leave it, kid,” Hughes stops him. “It’s late.”
Al listens and sighs, looking at his stained hands. His face must be purple too, since he touched it and it ached.
“Ed is going to freak out ,” he whines. “He’s always worrying about me, and now I do this to him? Ugh… I keep screwing everything up.”
Hughes looks at him with concern.
“You still saved that lady,” he points out. “And you didn’t die.”
It’s true, but Al can’t just hold onto the positives and let go of all the negatives he caused.
He sighs deeply, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“It’s just…” Al pauses, sensing the man’s eyes on him. “I’ve done so many awful things. So many things went wrong and I- I allowed them to happen. People got hurt because of me.”
Hughes shoots him a tragic look.
“And I still keep doing this, I keep…” Al sniffs, immediately suppressing it. “I wish I could go back in time and correct everything I messed up. But I can’t. I screwed up and I can’t fix anything.”
His eyes are burning for maybe the first time in a while, but Al refuses to cry. He’s already caused too much trouble for Hughes tonight.
As they’re close to his street, the officer stops, expecting Al to do the same. His expression…
“Listen, kid,” Hughes begins, “sometimes you hurt people, or let them get hurt, and you can’t apologize or make up for it. Sometimes… you do it for a greater cause, because you believe it’s right, but then you see the real harm within it, and your hands are already stained.”
He says it with so much… familiarity .
Hughes doesn’t say the truth behind it. His eyes and his tone say enough.
“Indeed, you can’t fix the past. And it hurts like hell.” He pauses, only for a hopeful yet sad smile to grow. “But it’s never too late to make things different now , in the present. You already help people, like you helped that woman.” Hughes stops Al from saying anything. “Al, you’re only thirteen, you’re too young to be punishing yourself like this.”
The boy keeps his mouth shut.
Hughes puts a gentle hand on his arm.
“Trust me, Alphonse,” he insists. “It’s not too late for you. And it’ll never be.”
“Al?”
The door is opened slowly. Ed appears to have calmed down, still worried because of course he is.
With that, Al lowers his head in shame.
“I’m sorry, brother,” he mumbles.
“Al, it’s…” Ed almost says “fine”, but it isn’t.
He sits on the bed with Al.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you like that,” Ed says softly.
“No, you were right. I lost the groceries and I scared the heck out of you, and I keep making you all worry about me every hour of the day, even when I don’t deserve it.” Al doesn’t sound angry or sad, just tired.
“Hey, don’t say that–”
“But it’s true, all I do is freak everyone out. All I do is get in the way–”
“Alphonse,” Ed interrupts firmly. Then he softens again, “You’re not a burden.”
He would’ve argued if he weren’t so exhausted.
Al’s hands are on his lap, still bearing the red.
Ed notices as he takes one of them.
“Hey,” he whispers, “what matters is that you’re home, and you’re safe.” He’s smiling, squeezing Al’s hand, despite the blood. “You saved someone’s life, Al. You did the right thing.”
Al doesn’t get it. Why is he being praised? He should be grounded. He should…
Once again, he never says any of it.
Al releases his hand from Ed’s grip, closing it in a fist.
He can instantly feel his brother’s smile fading.
Neither of them dare open up.
Ed inhales, exhales.
“Al,” he whispers again, “If you want to talk, if- if you need help… just let us know, okay?”
That makes Al look at him, golden eyes begging him.
“Please, Al,” Edward’s voice is slightly wet. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
The other’s eyes burn again. Al aggressively pushes it back to where it comes from.
Despite everything, he nods.
“Okay.”
Ed doesn’t seem very convinced but he doesn’t pry.
He wants to touch Al like he does every time this scene happens, just to rub his back or gently caress his face like it’s the most precious thing Ed has. This time, though, the older Elric respects Al’s boundaries, and so he stands up and goes back to the door.
“Get changed, dinner will be ready soon,” he tells him.
Al nods again. He doesn’t get out of the bed.
From the corner of his eye, Ed is staring at him.
“Al.”
The thirteen-year-old looks just so Ed calms down, at least a little.
“I love you,” he says quietly but so certainly.
Al knows it.
He manages to get a smile out of himself.
“Love you too.”
Finally, Ed smiles again, not worrying too much.
And with this, Edward leaves the room, and Al’s empty smile disappears completely. He stares at his clothes, mostly his oversized coat that Ed gave him. It’s pretty warm and it has large pockets, too.
Al touches one of them.
It’s still there.
Hopefully, no one would find it.
Al leaves the coat by his chair and heads to the bathroom.
The days pass like they normally do.
Al lives as usual. He hasn’t been snapping at anyone, though. He’s quiet, but he does stick in with Ms. Gracia and Noah, even helping them when they need. Hughes seems relieved. Even if Al isn’t a ray of sunshine, they all notice that he’s… improved.
Just as planned.
He doesn’t want to raise suspicions.
Al still checks on his pocket, and sometimes he hides it in different spots so no one can find it.
He also takes it in his hands. Briefly. Then he puts it away.
He slowly gets ready.
It’s a cold, lonely morning.
The home is so empty, it reminds Al of their house at Resembool after Mom died.
He carefully holds metal in his hands.
The feeling of metal… Al didn’t remember it. He used to be the metal, so he couldn’t feel anything. He was always the shield to his brother and his friends.
And this metal holds so much power.
The power to take lives.
…
It turns out Al has a lot in common with a gun.
It’s not huge, but not too small, either.
Al has never used a gun. He knew people from the military that did. And they took a lot of lives.
He’s already analyzed it and how it works. It doesn’t have many bullets, though. Only two.
He wonders if this gun has killed lives before getting in his hands. It belonged to a man that wanted to eliminate countless lives just for being different from him.
Al isn’t like him. He isn’t like the military, either.
After all, he knows what it means to die.
He knows how it feels.
Interesting then, a gun that has died.
But it always comes back.
It keeps taking lives.
Holding lives back.
For some reason, the gun is given chance after chance.
After everything it has destroyed.
He doesn’t understand.
It should be unforgiven.
Hated.
But it isn’t.
The gun will only cause more despair.
It cannot be redeemed.
It has to be stopped.
Al’s hands are shaking slightly.
He gulps.
The metal is right under his chin.
It feels empowering, the gun to kill the gun.
Soon, there won’t be any.
Al’s fingers reach the trigger.
It’s not too late for you.
No.
This is the only way.
You’re too young to be punishing yourself like this.
It’s burning again.
Al swallows it, but some of it spills out of him.
It’s never too late to make things different now , in the present .
He can’t breathe.
It’s not too late for you.
He…
He can’t…
…
“... what are you doing .”
Al squeaks, having not noticed his brother was watching.
“Wait, Ed, I–”
Ed disarms him the same way Al did to the man, and since the latter is so startled, he lets it happen. Ed soon keeps distance from him.
“Is this from…” When he figures it out, his golden eyes are blind with anger. “You had this the whole time?!”
“I-It’s not what you think–”
“What am I supposed to think?! That you own weapons for fun?!”
“I didn’t hurt anyone, I swear-!”
“YOU WERE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF, AL!”
“But I didn’t!”
“WHAT IF YOU DID?!”
The flames are leaking from Al’s eyes.
Suddenly, he explodes.
“Then you’d be better off without me!”
Ed’s eyes water.
“Al, wh-?!”
“All of you! You would all live happily!” Al raises his voice. “You wouldn’t have to deal with the delinquent brat that only hurts people ever again!”
“None of that is true!”
“It IS! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be worried out of your mind all the time! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been stuck here! If it weren’t for me, you WOULDN’T HAVE DIED!”
“Al…”
“I killed you,” the boy lowers his voice, but he says everything with intensity. “I killed Wrath, I killed Mom… I killed so, so many people, because I’m a selfish, stupid kid. I’m a murderer.”
“Stop…”
“I mean, you never got your limbs back because of me. You always lose something because of me.”
“STOP!” Ed’s tears have been released as well. “D-Don’t you DARE think like that! You’re NOT a burden, Alphonse!”
He’s about to crash like a car.
And Al persists.
“... You don’t have alchemy anymore,” he brings up like a grim reminder. “So you wouldn’t be able to bring me back. You wouldn’t have to lose anything else for me.” His voice is empty. “I would never return. And that’s what should’ve happened in the first place.”
“Please, stop …”
Ed doesn’t have any anger left in him.
He’s crying horrors. Maybe the first time in years.
The sight… is what Al wants to end.
“Please, Al,” Ed can barely talk as he sobs painfully. “Please, I- I love you, I love you so much, please …”
Alphonse remains immobile.
…
Now !
He snatches the gun from Ed’s shaking hand, and this time he holds it tight, determinedly. No one is stopping him.
The older Elric has frozen where he stands, terrified, heartbroken.
“Al,” he regains his breaths, “ give me the gun .”
The thirteen-year-old is panting, tightening his grip on the weapon even more. But he can’t break it.
“Al. Al.”
“... This is for the best.”
Al no longer looks at his brother. He looks at nothing.
“No. No .”
The metal is close...
“ALPHONSE ELRIC, drop the gun RIGHT NOW, or I’ll-!”
“You won’t.”
“Just LISTEN to me, please!”
Al looks up, as the cold metal holds its power under his chin.
“You’re not a hopeless cause! You’re not done for!”
He grits his teeth.
“It’s not too late for you!”
He… relaxes.
Ed steps closer.
Al’s mind screams.
It tightens.
“ NO !!”
BANG!
…
…
Nobody moves an inch.
Ed is covering his mouth, eyes impossibly wide.
Alphonse looks at the direction of the sound.
It went to the ceiling.
There’s still one last chance.
But…
Al starts breathing weird.
His trembling hand drops the gun and his legs stop cooperating. Everything is far away from him. Al doesn’t sense anything. He doesn’t hear anything. Only the missed shot. The failure.
The gun is still alive.
But he couldn’t…
…
He feels… teardrops.
So many of them.
They roll down his cheek, until they’re gone. Only to be wet again by more.
There’s a tight pressure around him.
Embracing him so fiercely, so he won’t leave.
But at the same time…
It’s in pain.
…
Grief.
So much grief.
Except…
Al isn’t dead, is he?
After all, he can feel.
He wasn’t supposed to.
But he is.
And that probably explains the relief in all of this.
Words…
Whispers…
Al hasn’t noticed they were spoken.
He can’t really understand them at first.
Maybe they don’t make sense, mostly.
Al can hear something, though…
“... I’ve got you. I-I’ve got you, a-and I’m not letting go.”
His mouth might move.
“B… Brother…?”
Then, he’s back.
As it turns out, Ed has been holding Al all this time, crying like the world has ended. Al’s gaze ends up facing the ceiling again. The hole… the dark hole…
“H-Hey, hey,” a hand is moving his face back to his brother’s red-rimmed eyes. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He talks like he’s trying to calm himself down, too.
Al processes the whole thing.
When it ends, he… growls.
“Why couldn’t I do it!?” He screams.
Ed is quiet, broken.
“I DIED before, I know how it feels like!” Al insists. “I didn’t hesitate! I WANTED to die!”
The rage is mixing all his other feelings up, until it grows into a messy storm that is about to rain.
“So WHY–” he gasps for air. It’s trembling. “W-Why am I scared ?”
And Al breaks into pieces, too.
Ed holds him close, protectively, saying nothing at all. He’s still crying, but he’s quiet about it now. Al, on the other hand, sobs so loudly that the whole world might hear.
Alphonse hasn’t broken down like this in so long. If he’s not mistaken, the last time was when he watched his brother leave their home, for good. Al followed him here, to be together again. For a while, Al was happy. But his memories… they suddenly crushed his head, traumatizing him with the deaths he caused and couldn’t prevent. That, and Wrath’s death that opened a portal, resulting in thousands of deaths.
It’s a massive, suffocating weight that has been crushing him for years.
He’s clinging to his brother like a child, hiding his face in the other’s chest. Ed soothes him without any words, only his own sniffs and sobs. Al can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, Ed’s desolation clear to his ears. His need to protect his little brother from himself, is only more and more haunting.
Al sobs harder, feeling his brother’s pain.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes.
“No, Al, don’t–”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry -!”
“Shh, shhhhhh…” Ed lowers his voice, “Al, it’s not your fault.”
“O-Of course it IS! I-I would’ve killed myself right in front of you!”
“You were desperate, Al. You wanted the pain to end.” Ed’s voice is so unbelievably soft. “You felt lonely and guilty for so long that you couldn’t take it anymore.”
At the absolute lack of anger in his tone, Al cries harder again.
“I know how it is,” Ed continues, “when your head is grim and heavy, it distorts everything around you. It convinces you that you don’t deserve help or forgiveness or love…” he pauses. “And that’s not your fault. It could never be your fault.”
The way he’s put it into words…
Al gasps.
“B-Brother, have you…?”
Edward smiles tragically.
“You’re not too far gone,” he resumes. “And you’re never a weight or a burden or an annoyance to people who care about you. You deserve help like everyone else does. You deserve to heal. You deserve to be happy.”
Al is no longer apologizing. His big brother gently wipes his tears, metal fingers touching his skin. It’s not the same metal as the gun. Sure, it’s had its fights, maybe deaths (as Al remembers Greed)... but it’s not out to kill. It won’t take lives.
The younger Elric ponders, then…
“... you deserve to be happy, too.”
Ed looks… surprised. Even if subtly.
Maybe no one has said these words to him, either.
Before he can reply, distant knocks can be heard. It must come from the front door.
Al freezes in horror, realizing that people must have heard the gunshot. Ms. Gracia is probably on the other side to know what happened.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ed notices and tries to calm him down. “I’ll get it, you don’t have to come with me.”
Once he finally lets go, Al is terrified he might not be here again. He grabs Ed’s arm like he used to do with Mom.
“I-I don’t…” Al gulps. “I don’t wanna be alone.”
His brother gives him an understanding look.
“I know. Me neither,” he whispers. “I promise I’ll be right back.” Ed hesitates, then he’s the one reaching Al’s shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”
“O-Okay.”
Ed squeezes his shoulder, then he’s out of sight. Al checks the floor, realizing that the gun is nowhere near him. Ed must’ve retrieved it while Al was unstable. If anything, the latter is relieved.
Regardless, he can’t help but eavesdrop, because he doesn’t know what Ed will tell them, or how they’ll react.
The door opens.
“Edward, is everything alright?” Ms. Gracia questions, her motherly voice very tense.
“She told me there was a blaring noise, likely a gunshot,” Hughes informs. “I’m assuming nobody broke into the house, so what’s up?”
Ed takes a while to answer.
Al waits.
“Well, um…” Ed sighs. “It’s… Al, he…”
Gasps are heard.
“Oh my goodness, is he okay?!” From the sound of it, Ms. Gracia could very well run inside the house to check on Alphonse herself.
“Yes! Yes, he’s safe, I promise,” Ed calms the couple down. “He didn’t get hurt.”
They audibly sigh in relief.
“Um,” Ed suddenly speaks, “you should have this. I’m pretty sure it belongs to that guy Al beat up.”
“Seriously?” Hughes exclaims. “Jesus, I should’ve noticed, he was acting so off that night…”
“It’s not your fault. None of us knew.”
“Right.” The man exhales. “I think the kid needs to see a doctor, with the state he must be in…”
"No, I- I don’t want to risk it. I’m not sure if…” the younger adult hesitates. “If they would… hurt him. You know?”
They probably nod.
“I’ll get to my contacts when I can,” Ed ensures. “He will get help.”
Hughes hums in support. “That’s right.”
“Does Al need anything right now?” Ms. Gracia wonders.
“Well, I… might get him some water, but right now he just wants to be with me.”
“Alright. We’ll be at the shop if you need us,” she tells him. “Give him a hug for me, will you?”
“Sure.” Ed likely smiles. “Thanks, guys.”
“See ya, Ed,” Hughes smirks.
“Later.”
The door creaks until it closes, the voices now gone.
Al can hear Ed getting water for him, and when the latter is close, the former sits on his bed, hoping his snooping isn’t too obvious.
“Here,” Ed offers him. Once Al takes a sip, he asks, “You okay?”
Al considers.
“I… will be.” He looks away nervously. “I think.”
His brother smiles. “Yeah.”
They’re quiet now, no longer at each other’s throats. Al knows he and Ed don’t talk without avoidance or aggression. He knows there are unspoken feelings and secrets they can’t reveal. He wishes it didn’t take a near suicide for them to be vulnerable with each other.
Al finishes the water, holding the cup carefully.
“You want more?” Ed wonders.
The other shakes his head.
“Are you hungry?”
Head shake.
Ed hums. “I can take that for you at least.”
“It’s okay,” Al whispers.
The eighteen-year-old takes it and returns to silence.
Al exhales deeply.
“I’m really tired…” he mumbles.
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Ed clears his throat, “You wanna lie down?”
“Uhum.”
He stands up while Al, after placing the cup on his bedside table, lies down, not needing to change since he’s already in pajamas. Ed takes off his shoes and joins his little brother, the two of them warmed by the blanket. The apartment can be really cold, so they have more than one excuse to share a bed.
Al smiles at Ed, then facing the ceiling. The hole is still there, reminding him of the emptiness. Of the guilt. The grief.
It doesn’t help that Ed is staring at him with sad eyes. He looks like a mess. There are so many thoughts in his red-rimmed golden eyes, that Al can’t face them.
It hurts.
So, he turns to the side, facing the wall. The empty nights catch up to him, thus Al is drifting off to sleep rather fast.
Yet before he falls into slumber, he feels the same arms that caught him when he fell, hugging him from behind. They’re not as frightened, but they still want to protect him. They want him to know he matters.
Ed tightens his grip for a moment, as he inhales and exhales very deeply. Then, he buries his face in Al’s dark blond hair, doing nothing else.
Knowing his older brother, Al won’t spend five seconds on his own. Even if Ed himself might not be present (which will be rare), Al will always have company. Maybe he’ll get frustrated since he resorts to self-isolation, but at least this time, he wants to open up to others. He wants to get better.
In his brother’s embrace, Al sleeps peacefully.
And Ed eventually joins him.