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Heiderich did not come home for dinner that night.
Edward sat in the dim dining room, barely able to make out what he was writing. It was only until it was completely pitch black outside the window that he realized Heiderich’s absence. Usually Heiderich would turn on the light for him before the sun set. It was bad to read in the dark, he’d say.
Edward tapped his finger on the rough table, contemplating. He wasn’t all that concerned about Heiderich. Late nights working weren’t all that uncommon for him, and he was the responsible type, anyway. He'd been living independently for much longer than Edward had, as well. He could take care of himself. Edward took a deep breath.
The cheap chair screeched as he pushed away from the table. The motion sent waves of dull pain through his thigh and up to his back. Standing was worse, agitating the port further and making his leg even more attention-hungry. As quickly as he could, he found the lamp and switched it on. Were he not alone, Heiderich would say he’d let out a sigh of relief as he sunk back into the chair.
Now re-illuminated, Edward was able to fully take in the table’s disarray. He had finished dinner long ago and had shoved the plate aside in favor of his book. It was a worn thing, pages hardly attached to the spine and cover so frayed and faded that the title was illegible. Pages that had fallen out were splayed across the table, along with his own personal journal and a few random pens he’d amassed. Truthfully, most of the text inside the volume wasn’t in a much better state than outside. It didn’t matter–this book was one he’d read with his little brother, one they’d pored over enough that he knew the contents by heart. He traced over the transmutation circles within that kept him grounded to his reality, to his brother.
His home was real. He was real.
He gingerly flipped to the next page. Rather ashamedly, he wished he had any manner of alcohol. They rarely kept any in the apartment, though. When there was alcohol in the apartment, it was always depleted quickly. Not that there was reason to have alcohol in the apartment, since Heiderich preferred to go out and drink. With other people. With friends.
Though Edward was much the opposite (hell, when he first met Heiderich, he didn’t like alcohol at all), Heiderich used to invite him along fairly often. That ended after a while, as Edward had apparently gotten into a few too many bar fights than even Heiderich could bear. Having a mouthy and sometimes violent drinking buddy didn’t exactly create a great environment for socializing.
It’s not like he wanted to leave the apartment, anyway. No, he was perfectly content with living in the past, endlessly searching for the missing secret to alchemy. He couldn’t lose himself in a bottle, not while he had hopes of returning to Amestris.
Edward stared at the book some more. Transcribed a page in his journal. Scrawled encoded notes in the margins. Took off his coat. Rubbed his inflamed, painful automail ports that frankly hurt so much now he probably should have just taken off the prosthetics. Hoenheim had been very adamant about him taking them off at night, but what if something were to happen and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, what if someone broke in, what if he had to run away?
He put his coat back on. Fished around in one of its oversized pockets and took out his other journal. Scribbled out more passages from the book, translating over and over again–German, Russian, French, English–praying that the correct syntax, the correct grammar, would miraculously bring back alchemy to him. As usual, when he finally found his eyelids getting unbearably heavy, he found no such revelation.
Edward checked the clock. 4:01 a.m. Watched it change to 4:02 a.m. No sign of his roommate.
He let out a great sigh and slumped forward, resting his head on the table. This seemed like a suitable place to sleep tonight. Nevermind the papers and dinnerplate, he’d clean up later. Or Heiderich would. With a tinge of guilt as he closed his eyes, Edward thought that Heiderich would most definitely clean up. He’d quietly take his dish, rinse it off, and organize his books and papers so that they were stacked neatly. He imagined the soft smile he’d give him as he assured him that it’s not that big of a deal, he doesn’t mind .
He could feel himself begin to drift off, though he knew sleep would probably never truly come. Unpleasant memories danced torturously close to the forefront of his mind every time he slipped too far from the edge of consciousness. Still, rest was rest, and if he wanted to pay Heiderich back for everything, he’d better be somewhat awake and ready to help out with the rockets tomorro–
Edward jolted upright at the sound of the front door knob jiggling.
As to whether it was a burglar trying their luck or his roommate, he wasn’t sure. He thought it sounded like there was a key in the doorknob that was just a little bit stuck, but it was hard to hear over the pounding heartbeat in his ears.
Well, he thought, if there’s a key, it’s definitely Heiderich .
Or the landlord coming to evict them. Whoever they were, which he was increasingly beginning to suspect was actually just another tenant who’d mistakenly thought this door was their own, they weren’t doing a very good job with unlocking the door at all. Bemusedly, he rested his head on his hand and watched the other side of the person’s struggle with the doorknob. His eyelids felt heavy, brain too muddled with sleep deprivation to feel any real panic past the initial shock.
While Edward was lost in thought, Heiderich finally managed to shove the door open, and Edward found that the characteristic calmness Heiderich typically brought with him was very noticeably gone .
Heiderich didn’t stay still for a single moment. He closed the door, or intended to. The door only bounced lamely off the door frame, making Edward wince a little. His roommate spared neither the door nor Edward a glance, though, instead having some other goal. Alarmingly, Edward noticed that he could hear Heiderich’s labored breathing from where he sat at the dining table. It seemed he had run some distance to their front door. Edward wondered if he should invite the other to sit down. Heiderich had had a pretty hard cough lately; it wouldn’t be good if he agitated his lungs further.
Using the wall as support, Heiderich stumbled to the small base cabinet near the right of the front door. With quiet bewilderment, Edward watched as Heiderich frantically, violently, even, pulled out all of the drawers.
Heiderich was drunk, that was for sure. If it wasn’t his blotchy red face or clumsy movements, it was definitely his searching for something in a cabinet that Edward knew had been empty for about two years. Sure, they used the space on top of the cabinet: on it sat the telephone and some random stationary they couldn’t be bothered to put away, but the actual drawers were too small to hold anything useful. If you tried hard enough, you could cram a singular book into each drawer, which was an absolute waste of time. It stayed empty.
Or…that’s what Edward thought.
Heiderich stilled very unnaturally after ripping open the last drawer. Edward shifted in his seat to get a better look, finally opened his mouth to call out, to ask Heiderich what he was doing, when Heiderich pulled out what was in the drawer. A small click resounded through the room.
Heiderich let his arm drop to his side, still breathing heavily.
The pistol glinted slightly in the dim lamplight, and made small metallic sounds as Heiderich’s hand shook.
The pistol.
The pistol?
Edward stared. He stared until Heiderich began to raise that gun further from the ground and closer to his head and Edward launched himself out of that chair, it went against all logic to run at someone who didn’t know you were there and was holding a gun but he really didn’t think he could take seeing anyone else die, much less kill themself, much less watch his little brother kill himself .
Instinct took over: grab the barrel of the gun, redirect it, left arm over the neck, kick the back of the legs, and squeeze. Someone so drunk stood no chance against years of experience with the military.
The gun clattered to the floor and Edward promptly dove for it, though not before Heiderich managed to jab one of his elbows right under his sternum; His breath stuttered, ejected itself out of his lungs, but it didn’t matter, couldn’t matter, he’d take that gun away if it was the last thing he did. He swiftly collected the pistol and backed up to the table as quickly as possible, attempting to regain his balance from the impact.
After wiping the spittle from his lips, he turned on the safety and threw the gun on the table behind him. He returned his focus to Heiderich and instinctively opened his mouth to scream, to cry, anything , but the words died in his throat.
The sight of Heiderich on the ground, slumped against the cabinet and clutching his throat caused Edward to reflexively look away. Seeing Heiderich, who was always so level-headed and graceful, reduced to this… it was too difficult to look at. He had to steel himself before returning his gaze to his roommate.
Out of instinct, Edward scanned for bruises or blood on his face. To his surprise, there was nothing. He found himself paying more attention to how disheveled Heiderich looked, instead.
His shirt wasn’t buttoned properly, with every button one slot off from its assigned place. Once again, Edward noticed that though it was wrinkled and untucked, it was otherwise clean. Belatedly, he noticed Heiderich had appeared to have lost his suit jacket. His lips were maybe a little more red or swollen than they usually were, but it was difficult to tell in such low light. Edward tried to make eye-contact with him, but Heiderich’s eyes were stubbornly set on the floor. He’d finally extracted his hand from his throat and resolved to let it lie on the floor, though his chest was still heaving noticeably.
Heiderich’s strangled breathing echoed in the otherwise silent room.
Edward could feel the adrenaline ebbing away, once again making room for the burning pain in his ports. He braced himself on the table. He couldn’t sit down. He didn’t know what Heiderich would do if he did.
“Heiderich.”
He was so unresponsive Edward would have thought him dead if not for the grating wheezing. When he next dreamt, he was sure to hear that awful sound.
“Heiderich. ”
The table’s wood began to creak under the force that he was gripping it with. All of his weight was on his right leg. He wanted to rip off the prosthetics and go lie in bed. He clamped down on his irritation the best he could.
“Heiderich, please. You can…you can talk to me, you know? ”
Slowly, the other’s eyes met his. They were downturned and soft like Alphonse’s, but there was nothing else of his little brother there. Heiderich’s eyes were a mellow blue and partially obscured by a thick curtain of light, delicate eyelashes. Alphonse’s eyes…it was difficult to recall, but Edward thought they were grey or brown. Gray or brown, or maybe yellow, depending on how the light hit them, with brown eyelashes like their mother’s.
No, those eyes couldn’t be Alphonse’s–Those eyes, familiar yet not, possessed a deeper devastation than Alphonse’s could have ever had.
“I’m sorry,” He slurred, “I didn’t know you were there.”
Heiderich’s gaze reverted to the floor. He swayed slightly.
Edward racked his brain for what to say next, but no matter how many times he opened and closed his mouth, nothing came out. All he could do was standby as Heiderich’s breathing began to stutter and broke into mangled, heart-shattering sobs.
“I’m so awful. I’m disgusting,” Heiderich hiccuped, “I’ve always been disgusting.”
He hardly gave Edward a chance to speak before continuing, though again, Edward found himself incapable of finding words.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think about you. I really didn’t know you were here, I promise, I wouldn’t have tried to die if you were,” he took a few shallow breaths, “I’ll talk to Ms. Gracia, explain your situation, I promise. I promise you won’t be alone. I promise, I promise. You won’t be alone.” Heiderich uselessly wiped his face with his sleeve.
Heiderich continued to talk, but between the slurred speech and sobbing, it was damn near impossible to tell what he was saying. Edward listened to his warbled bemoanings for only a few moments more before he couldn’t bear it anymore. Carefully, he detached himself from the table and approached Heiderich. He slipped off his coat and put it around the other’s shoulders. For better or for worse, Heiderich closed his mouth with an audible click .
The coat was rather heavy; Edward hoped it’d be grounding.
In the calmest tone he could muster: “I’m going to go get you some water, okay? It’ll help,” He enunciated the words, speaking slowly. Edward placed his hands on his shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Stay here.”
Heiderich met his eyes, but otherwise gave no response. Giving him one last final look, Edward went to get the water. He made it only a few steps before he heard another pair of footsteps behind him. He cursed internally before turning to face him.
“Edward,” Heiderich started, but cut off. That seemed to be the most he could manage, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to articulate what to say next. His crying had seemed to slow down, at least, reduced to small sniffles and quiet tears.
Incapacitated as he was, he was still a problem. Edward wasn’t confident in his ability to wrestle another gun out of his hands. Heiderich had about a head over him, as well as at least twenty pounds. The prospect of successfully taking him by surprise again proved dubious at best. He tried not to eye the dining table behind him.
“Edward, your arm ‘n leg…you shouldn’t wear them so long.”
Damn Heiderich, damn him, damn him to hell. “It’s fine.”
Heiderich had the gall to look at him with an exasperated expression, even after what just happened. Did he really think he had any more authority here? Edward took a deep breath and straightened himself. “Listen, Heiderich, I need you to tell me if you’ve hidden any more guns around here. Do not lie to me. I’m serious.”
Heiderich shook his head. “No. No, I only have the one...”
“Okay. Go sit down and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute,” he waited for a response. Upon Heiderich’s blank stare, he added, “Got it?”
The other nodded sluggishly.
Before leaving for the kitchen, Edward collected the pistol lying on the table. He limped to the kitchen, staring at Heiderich as he grabbed a glass and ran the faucet. Heiderich had shuffled to the table, but otherwise remained standing. He was turned away from Edward, head angled towards the floor.
Before returning, he deposited the gun on the windowsill furthest from his friend. He’d take care of it once Heiderich was passed out.
“Heiderich,” Edward put a hand on the other’s shoulder and offered the glass, “Here.”
He gingerly took the glass, blinking blearily at it rather than actually drinking.
“Drink it. You’ve cried your eyes out and your blood is probably half alcohol. You need to drink.”
Reluctantly, he sipped the water. Some of it missed and ran down the glass, but he eventually drained the whole thing.
Edward tried to consider his next words carefully. He hated how difficult it was to find the right thing to say. He never was good at comforting, not really. Things just always…blew over. But this wasn’t something he could let blow over.
Heiderich’s hands started shaking more. The sight made his heart squeeze.
“I…I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know,” Heiderich stopped, attempting to steady his breathing, then continued, “I did something disgusting. I’m disgusting and I did something disgusting, and I’ve always been disgusting.” Heiderich’s face crumpled again. He let out a choked sob.
“Come on, sit down.”
He finally did, and Edward sank into his own adjacent chair. He thought that eye contact was probably important, but he was so exhausted he could only stare blankly at the wall in front of them. Heiderich continued to cry beside him.
“What exactly happened that caused…all of this ?” He gestured with his left hand, though absentmindedly realized that Heiderich probably didn’t even see it. No matter. His right hand hung at his side, dead weight now. He could already see the bruises the harness would leave on his chest. Everything burned.
Heiderich let out a shuddering breath. Then, quietly, “Have you ever been to Berlin?”
“Sure.” Been to was an understatement, one that Heiderich knew of, but Edward kept quiet.
“It’s fucking disgusting in Berlin. Berlin is filled with filthy, disgusting prostitutes and transvestites…dangerous and…and immoral men that can’t control themselves like the rest of society does. They’re not,” he hiccuped, ”they’re not like me. I’ll never be one of them.”
He seemed to be muttering to himself now: “I’ve always been disgusting like that, I’ve always, always known, but at least I never acted on it.” He got louder. “But you know what happened? You know what happened?”
“I had one too many to drink and it all crumbled .”
Heiderich sniffled. Then he laughed miserably.
“You know he goes to classes at our University? I’d never even seen him around ‘til I went to the bar with the others. We talked…we talked about our research. Talked about my rockets. Talked about the research they were doing in Berlin.”
“...Talked until the bar closed ‘n all my friends had left,” he sighed, “he asked if I’d like to jus’ walk back to his apartment, said it wasn’t that far away. Said he had more booze.”
Heiderich laid his forehead on the table. “I can’t take it back now, ‘n now I’m worse than disgusting. I can’t live anymore. I’m sorry I did this, I really am,” his voice cracked, but his tears had run dry, “I ruined my life and your life and it’s my fault, I’m awful. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
A thick, heavy blanket of silence rested between them.
After a few long, long minutes of staring at the wall in front of him, Edward scooted his chair closer to his friend. He lifted his hand and gently ruffled Heiderich’s hair. Though sleep deprivation and pain had eroded most of his inhibition, he was still embarrassed enough to keep his eyes glued to the wall.
Heiderich shifted under Edward’s hand, turning so that they were now facing each other. Edward spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye.
Though he hardly appeared better , Heiderich did seem perhaps marginally more sober. His eyes were half-lidded but more focused, taking in Edward’s face for the first time since he came in. There were dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. His face was still red, and there was a new mark on his forehead from resting on the table. His cheek was squished against the wooden surface, which would probably leave another mark.
Most of all, he looked very, very tired.
Edward finally faced Heiderich fully. He crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them, choosing to stare at a point above Heiderich’s shoulder before he next spoke.
“Well, was he good-looking?”
Heiderich’s eyebrows rose. He stared at Edward like he was crazy, like he was asking some sort of trick question. For all he knew, he could be. Edward gave him a little nudge with his elbow and a (hopefully) encouraging smile.
“Must have not been, then?”
Now it was Heiderich’s turn to avoid eye contact.
He chewed the inside of his lip as he thought for a moment. Then, nearly inaudibly: “No, he was.”
Progress. “Did he seem rich?”
“He…” Heiderich furrowed his eyebrows, trying his hardest to remember. “He bought me a few drinks.”
“He didn’t sound too dumb, if he goes to our university.”
“No…no, he wasn’t.” Heiderich’s shoulders relaxed.
“That’s good. Stupid people are impossible to deal with.”
“Hmph…’s not good to judge people on intellect like that. You’re rude.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
Heiderich closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. “I ‘spose so. But he was so handsome, I might’ve given him a pass,” he mumbled.
Edward tried not to let his face flush. “It sounds like you didn’t really have that bad of a night.”
The only response he got was a low hum. Heiderich was breathing rather deeply now. Edward couldn’t help but smile, just a little. He let himself ruffle Heiderich’s hair one last time.
“Heiderich, you can’t sleep here. C’mon.”
A miserable groan rose from his friend. Edward nudged him again with his elbow.
“‘Kay, ‘kay.”
With monumental effort, he lifted his head from the table. He made no further effort to move, however, and instead cocked his head. His gaze was fixated on Edward. Edward braced himself for whatever drunken nonsense he’d say next.
Heiderich tapped Edward’s right arm. Even through the fabric, it made a dull thunk with every impact. “Off. Take it off. I know it’s been bothering you.”
Edward raised an eyebrow, but was met with a defiant stare. He sighed, but to be frank, didn’t have to be told twice. He slipped out of his waistcoat and shirt and began to work at the buckles.
“Look, you’re bru…” Heiderich stumbled over the word, “...you’re bruised. Stupid.”
“Who’re you callin’ stupid, don’t poke it , that hurts! ”
“Wouldn’t hurt if you took it off earlier,” he huffed.
Edward grumbled in response, now moving on to the next belt. With a satisfying click , it came apart, letting him slide the arm’s sheath off his shoulder. He set it gently on the table and reached for his shirt, but before he could grab it, felt a familiar weight set upon his shoulders. His coat.
“Wear this. There’re nightclothes in the bedroom…would be a pain to change again. C’mon.” Heiderich went to stand beside Edward, casting a shadow over him.
The thought of having to stand on his leg again made him want to weep, just a little. He was planning to just sleep where he was. The wooden table had already proved to be perfectly viable. But alas, he was backed into a corner by a stubborn, stubborn, man of slightly-above-average stature, and he was, though he loathed to admit it, not well-rested enough to deal with that right now. He gave a deep sigh.
“Right.” All things considered, he stood up pretty smoothly.
And then his leg buckled underneath him.
A steady arm looped itself underneath Edward’s left arm, catching him before he could fall. Edward quickly readjusted himself, letting more of his weight fall on Heiderich. He breathed in the smell of alcohol.
He retrieved his arm but left his clothes on the table–tomorrow’s problem. (Or today’s?)
“Right,” Edward repeated, acting as if nothing had happened, “Let’s go.”
Miraculously, they made it up the stairs to their bedroom. As soon as Edward sat on his bed, he removed his leg and leaned back on the wall. He closed his eyes. If he weren’t so cold, he thought he could just sleep then and there.
Clothes fell into his lap, and he had to force himself to open his eyes. Languidly, he pulled them on. Heiderich sat down next to him, already in his nightclothes.
“What do you think?” Heiderich’s voice was low, trying to whisper but not quite making it.
“‘Bout what, Heiderich,” Edward mumbled.
“Me…me being with a man.”
“Maybe not with someone you just met, no.”
Heiderich leaned back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Edward. “‘S not what I mean.”
“Well…” Edward started.
He’d be an idiot not to notice that this world had very different taboos than Amestris. There were a few similarities, sure, but the differences were glaring, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. The people here didn’t say the nicest things about his looks, prioritizing an image of masculinity only vaguely familiar to him. Heiderich got his fair share of comments for allowing Edward to live with him, as well.
He decided to be honest. It was doubtful Heiderich would remember that much the next morning, anyway.
“It never mattered to me. Never occurred to me that it should matter. This place is weird about that.”
Heiderich picked at a stray thread on his sleeve. “Compared to your home?”
Edward held his breath at that last word. Heiderich tried to avoid saying that word, home , like the plague , saying that it fueled his delusions, or something. Said he wanted Edward to get better. Not to him directly, of course. Always to other people.
“Yeah.”
“I see.”
Edward reached over Heiderich and turned off the light.
“You’re not disgusting, or perverted, or whatever. I’ll be more pissed at you if you kill yourself than if you sleep with a man, so you better be in this room when I wake up. We’ve got rockets to build.”
Heiderich sniffled.
“Good night, Heiderich.”
“Night, Ed.”