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“I’m tired of it,” Ed starts.
It’s dark outside, and the country air is fresh and quiet. Ling and Ed sit side by side by the crackling fire. It warms them in the chilly night air. The trees are concave, forming a slight cocoon around them, filtering white moonlight through their foliage.
“...Of what?” Ling prompts. He wonders on whether it’s better to move closer to Ed or not. They’re sitting on a collapsed log, and there’s a bit of dirt as a result of pushing it closer to their fire. Ed’s face is illuminated with rough oranges and reds, and there’s a heaviness to his whole figure.
“Of everything,” Ed says. He speaks soft. His face is towards the Earth, hands drooping at his sides. He looks fragile, and it’s a strange sight. He’s a man—no, a boy made out of metal, and yet, he appears so breakable. “Of having to bleed. Of having to, fight. Fight for my life. Mine and Al’s lives,” he amends. “This is what's necessary, though. I wouldn’t change it, I just…” He grumbles, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Sorry.”
“Ed,” Ling says. He’s never seen Ed like this, and he almost recoils in surprise. He’s at a loss for words. Instead, he rests a tentative hand on Ed’s back, heart squeezed with nerves. Somehow, Ed doesn’t move away. If anything, Ed moves closer, but perhaps just in his imagination.
“...I shouldn’t be saying these things, it’ll get me nowhere,” Ed sighs. His voice is unlike anything he’s ever said before, but Ling feels like it’s not the first time for Ed himself. Ed raises his head, and he looks like a war soldier. It feels horrible. Everything about his movements are slow and lethargic. “...Forget I said anything,” he says. He curls in further into himself, but he doesn’t push Ling’s hand off of him.
“Don’t say that.” Ling tries to be as firm as the tender topic allows. “You brought it up for a reason, didn’t you?” He’s not used to this. He’s not used to talking to anyone like this, let alone Ed, but he knows, if only just a little bit. He’s not so far away from how Ed feels, he thinks.
“You could put it that way,” Ed murmurs backhandedly.
“...If you’re not going to say anything more, I won’t push it,” Ling says simply. “Just, talk to Al about this instead of me, probably—”
“No!” Ed blurts out. “No, I can’t. I’d never. To Al, I can’t, only…” The answer to that hangs in the air, and Ling takes it in, with a small sense of pride.
“I don’t mind,” Ling insists. He moves a bit closer, trying to egg Ed on. “I’ll listen,” he promises, “but, if I could ask—why not? Why not Al?” He feels guilty for asking, when Ed looks so tired by just existing, but he aches to know. Ed squirms around in his seat uncomfortably, but he doesn’t object Ling’s words.
“I can’t go to Al about this,” Ed says finally in a matter of fact tone. He brings his hands into his lap, lowering his gaze to his human hand, then his glimmering automail one. He doesn’t blink. “I can’t act tired around him. We may be in this boat together, but above all else, I’m still his older brother. I have to be strong even if I’m not.” The words just fall out of him, as if they were at the edge of his mouth the whole time.“ That’s the sort of role I need to play. Does that make sense to# you?”
Finally, Ed turns to face him, and Ling’s chest squeezes. Ed’s expression is so much older than he really is. Ling, out of anyone, can understand. Despite the age of Ed’s face, he appears so vulnerable as well, and Ling doesn’t want him to be afraid.
“It does,” Ling confirms, and it’s enough.
“I can’t act like I don’t have hope. I can’t.” Ed’s voice breaks, and he takes in a horrible, deep breath. “If I can’t believe, who will? I know others hope too, but my own is so much more crucial. It’s simply that...hope is harder in practice.” Ed’s hands—his hands, they tremble, and Ling wants to grasp them tightly, even if Ed can only feel it in one.
“I can understand, I think.” Ling’s neck trembles from a cold breeze, and he pulls him and Ed closer to the fire, warming their bodies. “You know my story. I came from Xing to save my people. I’m honored to carry this task, but at the same time, I wish I could just be home, and not care at all.” In the corner of his eye, he can see Ed glance at him, and then turn the other way. “I want to be 15, even if I am 15.”
“Yeah,” Ed agrees, and Ling is relieved. “Honestly, I thought you were so much older than me when I first met you,” Ed admits suddenly, and Ling bubbles in laughter.
“No, it’s because you’re short and I’m not,” Ling says immediately, and Ed, even in his melancholy, punches his side.
“You’re 15 and yet you carry a country,” Ed says. “That’s not right. You’re too young.”
“You’re 15, too,” Ling reminds him. Ed says nothing. “You have to carry the weight of your brother’s humanity and your own. What do you say to that, Mr. Elric?”
“Fair.”
Ling looks at Ed, to see if he’s crying, but instead looks Ed right in the face. Ling feels hot all of a sudden, and it’s not due to the fire. He’s not used to seeing Ed so up close, and in such quiet. He can see faded freckles and all of the flyaway hairs. His eyes, also, are just so brilliantly bright. Ed’s mouth is slightly agape, and Ling swallows.
“For a while, I thought you were insane,” Ling laughs, trying to shake it off. That snaps Ed out of it, too. He’s frowning, squinting angrily, but Ling just grins. “You never showed any sort of weakness. You never seemed to falter. I always second guess myself, so you...you seemed too good to be true.”
“Sorry I wasn’t as great as you thought I was.” Ed takes a sarcastic tone, but he’s smiling.
“Don’t say that, stupid. Just take the compliment—stop being so hard on yourself.”
They’re silent for while, wallowing in the simple sounds of forest and fire. Ling moves his arm around Ed’s back again to pull him in, and Ed’s height fits the shape of Ling’s perfectly. The automail isn’t as uncomfortable as he thought. If Ed was against it, he made no move to detach himself. If anything, he relaxes into Ling’s grasp. Ling’s ears pick up everything: the warmth from Ed’s body, the tiny cries of summer cicadas, and the minimum cracking of burning wood.
He can feel Ed breathing.
“Half of you might be metal, but in the end, you’re human, just as I am,” Ling begins quietly. “No one is separated from their limits. Even the homunculi. A human heart is in them, even if it’s not physical.” Ling is greeted with silence, and he looks to see Ed’s closed eyes. “...Ed?”
“I want to sleep for a long time,” Ed murmurs. His eyes flutter, and his mouth is barely moving from exhaustion. Ling notes that they haven’t been doing much today. It’s been mostly minimal traveling, but Ling can hear in Ed’s every breath that it’s more than that.
Again, he understands.
“Then sleep, Ed.”
And so, Ed does. He doesn’t even shift around. Gently and quietly, he falls into slumber. If it truly takes a while, Ling doesn’t notice. He takes the opportunity to look at his face once more. Ed’s hair is messier and even more across his face.
Ling’s heart beats.
Ling waits for Ed’s breath to steady, to turn into a calm, slow metronome. His weight is completely sagged against Ling’s side. Carefully, gently, Ling picks him up, and Ed’s head falls into the crook of Ling’s neck. He can feel Ed’s every inhale and exhale on his neck, and it tickles. His heart beats again.
He brings Ed back to his tent, still carefully resting Ed on the ground. He makes sure to pay special attention to getting Ed’s on the blanket, too. He’s never been great at tucking people in, as the time never really called, but he hopes he did a good job.
Ling thinks about heading back to his tent and sleeping. He most definitely thinks about opening the curtain to his tent and laying down, not caring about a thing. But Ling also thinks about staying with Ed, making it so he doesn’t wake up alone, and he stops.
Ling stays.
Ling zips the tent closed, and lays down next to Ed. Ed takes up most of the blanket space, but they can share. He traces his eyes over the details of Ed’s face in the dark, and then closes them to fall into deep sleep.