Thirty Three: Living Together
Title: Living Together
Arc: Thirty-Three
Author: infinitesimi
Pairing: Ed/Hei friendship
Spoilers: Uh, CoS, I suppose
Summary: Living together can teach a person many things about another without them even realizing it
Note: This is completely independent of my other stories. Alfons is the same Alfons from the movie, not the Alphonse Heiderich from "Friends and Lovers." So I guess that would make this a movie AU? Taken from hime1999 and kaltia's list of Ed/Alfons 33 themes. Hope that's okay.
Living Together
There are some things you can only learn by living with someone.
I’ve been studying Edward Elric for three days now, and I’m confident that he has yet to have caught on. And I have learned many things.
Edward Elric eats like someone who’s on the verge of starvation. I read a book once, when I was young, about these strange, very short, human-like creatures who seemed to live to lounge about, and their days were scheduled around some number greater than three meals a day. I don’t remember much from the book but I remember quite clearly one of the characters saying, “what about second breakfast?” and the other one says, “I don’t think he knows about second breakfast.” Edward may not know about second breakfast, but if he were to learn I’m sure he would never forget it.
Living with this veritable eating machine leads to being cooked filling if not extravagant meals, and tsked when I do not finish. It leads to long explanations about food and the cost thereof (which is constantly rising due to the inflation in this devastated Germany we live in) and how it’s important to make what he have last as long as we can. For someone who lived in his car for God knows how long, it blows my mind how irresponsible one person can be with our meager living resources.
Edward Elric does not drink coffee. Edward Elric does not drink tea. Edward Elric does not sleep an entire night through from sundown to sun up. Edward Elric is propelled by some mysterious source of energy that flings him out of bed in the morning and into the kitchen, disturbing everything therein in the process of frying an egg, and shoves him down into a corner with his research, leaving him furiously scribbling and squinting and reading and crumpling and re-scribbiling for hours on end, and even into the evening if nothing interrupts him.
Watching the incredible drive of the man makes me feel inferior. I thought I worked hard, I thought I had dedication, I thought I took myself too seriously. I am nothing compared to Edward. It’s taken me only three days to conclude that Edward’s dedication to his research is bordering on madness. When he thinks he is alone he tends to mutter to himself, which could be considered a sign of genius at work, but I’ve seen his research and it looks like no science I’ve ever seen. It looks like nonsense; like the code of a madman.
Edward Elric is homesick. I can see it in the way he stares at nothing, letting the minutes fall away without notice, sometimes even hours wind by before he blinks himself back into existence. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s mentioned his home, wherever it may be, and it’s always something inconsequential, but it’s always with this dreamy look and this soft voice, as if this home of his is something from a fairy tale, something long vanished, something that no matter how he tries he cannot return to.
Cheering him up is something part of me wants to do every second, and part of me would never dare. He can dominate an entire room with his scowl, and if he thinks he is being pitied or felt sorry for in any way he snaps, gets defensive, and pulls away. It’s almost as if he considers it to be a blow to his pride that he might need cheering up from the likes of me. Still, there must be a way to go about it. There are good things left in this Germany, destroyed as it is, and though they may be few they are not invisible. The more I study him the more confident I become that someday I will show him these things, and he might smile for more than a split second.
Edward Elric does not always know who I am.
He stares at me when he thinks I am engrossed in my work, and looks away when I look up, as if he’s embarrassed. I am his friend; he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He thinks, sometimes, that I should know things about him that would be impossible for me to know, or for anyone to know, for that matter, seeing how guarded always is. He sometimes is stunned by things I do or say, and I watch him slowly come back to himself as he realizes that I am not who he thinks I am. It may sound very strange, but I pride myself on my powers of observance, and I am certain that Edward sees someone else when he looks at me.
Edward Elric says my name in his sleep.
I can hear it through the thin wall that separates our rooms. Others might be alarmed, frightened, even, at this type of behavior from a flat mate. I have told myself I have explained it all entirely: somewhere in this world there is another Alfons, and in Edward’s poor mind that verges on madness, he sometimes does not know which of us is real and which is simply a memory. Edward Elric is obsessed; it is his very nature, but he is not obsessed with me, and so I sleep a little easier, content for now to continue to study him quietly, the way I study everything. He is a fascinating specimen.
...cross posted to fm_alchemist, blau_und_gold, and my fic journal, cafe_blu_fics
Arc: Thirty-Three
Author: infinitesimi
Pairing: Ed/Hei friendship
Spoilers: Uh, CoS, I suppose
Summary: Living together can teach a person many things about another without them even realizing it
Note: This is completely independent of my other stories. Alfons is the same Alfons from the movie, not the Alphonse Heiderich from "Friends and Lovers." So I guess that would make this a movie AU? Taken from hime1999 and kaltia's list of Ed/Alfons 33 themes. Hope that's okay.
Living Together
There are some things you can only learn by living with someone.
I’ve been studying Edward Elric for three days now, and I’m confident that he has yet to have caught on. And I have learned many things.
Edward Elric eats like someone who’s on the verge of starvation. I read a book once, when I was young, about these strange, very short, human-like creatures who seemed to live to lounge about, and their days were scheduled around some number greater than three meals a day. I don’t remember much from the book but I remember quite clearly one of the characters saying, “what about second breakfast?” and the other one says, “I don’t think he knows about second breakfast.” Edward may not know about second breakfast, but if he were to learn I’m sure he would never forget it.
Living with this veritable eating machine leads to being cooked filling if not extravagant meals, and tsked when I do not finish. It leads to long explanations about food and the cost thereof (which is constantly rising due to the inflation in this devastated Germany we live in) and how it’s important to make what he have last as long as we can. For someone who lived in his car for God knows how long, it blows my mind how irresponsible one person can be with our meager living resources.
Edward Elric does not drink coffee. Edward Elric does not drink tea. Edward Elric does not sleep an entire night through from sundown to sun up. Edward Elric is propelled by some mysterious source of energy that flings him out of bed in the morning and into the kitchen, disturbing everything therein in the process of frying an egg, and shoves him down into a corner with his research, leaving him furiously scribbling and squinting and reading and crumpling and re-scribbiling for hours on end, and even into the evening if nothing interrupts him.
Watching the incredible drive of the man makes me feel inferior. I thought I worked hard, I thought I had dedication, I thought I took myself too seriously. I am nothing compared to Edward. It’s taken me only three days to conclude that Edward’s dedication to his research is bordering on madness. When he thinks he is alone he tends to mutter to himself, which could be considered a sign of genius at work, but I’ve seen his research and it looks like no science I’ve ever seen. It looks like nonsense; like the code of a madman.
Edward Elric is homesick. I can see it in the way he stares at nothing, letting the minutes fall away without notice, sometimes even hours wind by before he blinks himself back into existence. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s mentioned his home, wherever it may be, and it’s always something inconsequential, but it’s always with this dreamy look and this soft voice, as if this home of his is something from a fairy tale, something long vanished, something that no matter how he tries he cannot return to.
Cheering him up is something part of me wants to do every second, and part of me would never dare. He can dominate an entire room with his scowl, and if he thinks he is being pitied or felt sorry for in any way he snaps, gets defensive, and pulls away. It’s almost as if he considers it to be a blow to his pride that he might need cheering up from the likes of me. Still, there must be a way to go about it. There are good things left in this Germany, destroyed as it is, and though they may be few they are not invisible. The more I study him the more confident I become that someday I will show him these things, and he might smile for more than a split second.
Edward Elric does not always know who I am.
He stares at me when he thinks I am engrossed in my work, and looks away when I look up, as if he’s embarrassed. I am his friend; he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He thinks, sometimes, that I should know things about him that would be impossible for me to know, or for anyone to know, for that matter, seeing how guarded always is. He sometimes is stunned by things I do or say, and I watch him slowly come back to himself as he realizes that I am not who he thinks I am. It may sound very strange, but I pride myself on my powers of observance, and I am certain that Edward sees someone else when he looks at me.
Edward Elric says my name in his sleep.
I can hear it through the thin wall that separates our rooms. Others might be alarmed, frightened, even, at this type of behavior from a flat mate. I have told myself I have explained it all entirely: somewhere in this world there is another Alfons, and in Edward’s poor mind that verges on madness, he sometimes does not know which of us is real and which is simply a memory. Edward Elric is obsessed; it is his very nature, but he is not obsessed with me, and so I sleep a little easier, content for now to continue to study him quietly, the way I study everything. He is a fascinating specimen.
...cross posted to fm_alchemist, blau_und_gold, and my fic journal, cafe_blu_fics