Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hohenheim wakes up to silence.

Something that most people typically awaken to, but most people are not monsters like him. A thing masquerading in a human shell with half a million people stuffed into a single body, bound to this Earth to live forever.

He waits for the noise to begin, to hear thousands upon thousands of conversations layered atop of each other in his mind. Typically, the souls try to stay quiet when he sleeps, and when morning comes, their words slowly rise in volume until the outside world becomes nearly impossible to hear.

It remains silent.

Confusion ripples through him. He hasn’t experienced silence in over four hundred years, for there are always the whispers of conversations of half a civilization in his head at all times. He barely remembers how it felt in the years when he was mortal and only had his own thoughts to contend with.

He opens his eyes and pauses. The ceiling is cream-colored. Wasn’t the ceiling green last night?

Confused, he sits up and freezes at the sight of his legs under the covers. There’s no way these are his legs. They’re the wrong size, much too small. He raises his hands in front of his face. They’re small and delicate looking. Using his strange new hands, he slaps his face to feel it. His heart skips a beat when he feels no beard.

Hohenheim frantically scans the room and throws himself out of bed when he sees a mirror over the dresser in the center of the room. His center of gravity is much lower, and he’s a lot shorter. It throws him off balance, his hips hit the side of the dresser hard. Pain flares from the impact and it doesn’t fade.

Before Hohenheim can comprehend that he’s feeling pain and it’s not fading, he looks into the mirror and finds someone else staring at him.

All thoughts vanish from his mind as his knees go weak, forcing him to hang on to the edge of the dresser to not collapse. A wheeze escapes his mouth and he blinks. Nope, same face. He blinks again. The face isn’t changing.

There’s no way he, Van Hohenheim, could have a soulmate. Him, a monster who is over four hundred years old! He’d given up back in Xerxes on ever getting a soulmate, and he especially doesn’t deserve one now! But the mirror doesn’t show his face. Instead, it shows a young woman with short chestnut hair and lovely green eyes.

“Sun and stars.” His soulma- voice, the voice is light. It sounds nice. “This can’t be happening.”

Hohenheim is thrown for a loop when no one answers him. He’s always had someone to talk to at all times. There’s always a quip from the souls for every situation, no matter what. His stomach drops out from under him as it hits him. If the souls are not here, they must be with his body. The owner of this body is currently in his own body, with over half a million souls.

Oh no.

His heart is pounding, he’s having trouble breathing, vision going dark at the edges. The floor is now much closer than before. Oh dear, he’s having a panic attack. He used to have a lot of those in the past.

A series of knocks has Hohenheim nearly jumping out of his skin. “Trisha! You in there?” a woman’s voice calls through the door, “Ooor, maybe your soulmate?”

The door swings open, a young blonde woman saunters in, glee written across her face. Upon seeing him on the floor, her smile falls, blue eyes widening in concern as she hurries over to him and drops to his side.

He doesn’t look that bad, right?

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s going to be alright! My name is Sara, your soulmate’s name is Trisha. We are currently at my house. Trisha lives with me.” Sara is rubbing small circles into Hohenheim’s back as his breathing levels out. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Ho-Hohenheim,” he gasps out. He thinks the first part of his name, Van, got caught in his throat.

Sara is still rubbing circles on his back as she speaks, “Alright, Hohenheim. Take your time. We are in no rush here.”

Hohenheim should be in a rush. He should run out the door right now so he can get Trisha out of his body. Trisha looks like a lovely woman and she definitely does not deserve to be stuck in his horrible inhuman body.

With that in mind, he abruptly stands. Sara gives a noise of surprise but moves with him to hold him steady. He takes shaky steps towards the door.

“H-hey Hohenheim, maybe you should wait a moment?” Sara’s voice is full of concern.

He shakes his head. “I have to get to her. I have to get her out of my body!”

The pair end up in a hallway with two other doors and a staircase on the right. Sara pulls him towards and down the staircase. At the bottom, Sara continues guiding him into a small kitchen with yellow walls and white cabinets. Hohenheim spots the back door and attempts to go to it, but Sara maneuvers him to the kitchen table and forces him into a chair.

He makes a noise of protest and attempts to get up back, but Sara pushes him back into the chair.

“Listen here Hohenheim, you’re worried and that’s fine! But take a moment to calm down and then we can work on getting you together with your soulmate, alright?” Sara is holding his shoulders down. After a moment, he gives a small nod. She gives him a reassuring squeeze and lets go of him. “I’ll get you some water, then we can start brainstorming on how to get you to Trisha.”

Sara moves towards a cabinet as Hohenheim slumps against the table. Trying not to think as he focuses on not hyperventilating. He doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job… He feels a bit of sadness when no one makes a comment about his terrible attempts at not panicking.

There’s movement from the window as the back door opens and two people enter. Urey and Pinako come in, both carrying some dishes covered in cloth. There’s a flood of relief at the sight. He’s in Resembool. He was heading to Resembool so his body is in the nearby city.

“Hi Sara!” Urey swings past Sara and the two exchange a kiss as he places the dishes on the table. He turns to him. “And am I looking at Trisha or her soulmate?”

Sara hands him his water. He doesn’t move to take it, so she sets it on the table. “Her soulmate, Urey. They’re currently freaking out, so please stop them if they go for the door.”

Pinako gives him a look and adds her dishes to the table. “Honey, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Trisha is a very nice girl.”

Hohenheim really has no doubts about that. It’s him he’s worried about. “Pinako, it’s me. Hohenheim.”

Pinako freezes as she gapes at him. He sees Urey freeze too. “You’re kidding.” He shakes his head. “Holy shit, you’re not kidding.”

Pinako doesn’t know much, but she knows that he’s… different considering they’ve known each other for nearly fifty years and has commented on his unchanging appearance a handful of times. She’s never pushed him about the matter, accepting his explanation of, ‘it’s a long story and perhaps he’ll tell it another time.’ And he’s sure Urey knows something to a certain extent since he’s known him since he was a baby.

Sara looks back and forth between the two. “Is there a problem with Hohenheim being Trisha’s soulmate?”

“Maybe? Hohenheim is, well…” Pinako trails off, lips pulling hard to the side in a grimace as she shoots him a questioning look. It’s a little strange to watch the normally headstrong woman pause and look so unsure of herself. But then again, she’s never asked him outright if he does age, and stating so right now would make her seem crazy.

Hohenheim can feel himself breaking out in a light sweat as everyone stares at him. What should he say?… Right, the souls aren’t here to make a suggestion.

His first instinct says he shouldn’t tell. Telling means letting people in, pulling them into a deeper, closer relationship. A useless endeavor for a thing like him, eternally unchanging against the forever withering of humans. They will one day die and he won’t.

No one is blocking the door; it wouldn’t be hard to dart past Pinako with her graying hair, wrinkling skin, and hunched back, weighed down by the ravages of time.

But, he’s known Pinako for decades, a steadfast presence whom he can admit he’s allowed himself to grow fond of. And Urey has always been respectful despite his curious nature, and Sara must be related to Trisha or is a good friend. She’ll find out either way if Trisha tells her what happened to her. And Trisha will find out because the souls will tell her everything.

And Trisha is his soulmate, his mind, his heart, his soul whispers.

“Pinako, I think it’s time I tell you that story,” Hohenheim says slowly, fighting the urge to run the moment the words leave his mouth.

“Are you sure?” Pinako asks, her voice unusually soft.

He nods. Everyone moves to join him at the table. Hohenheim braces himself as he forces the words out of his dry mouth. “I’m immortal and Trisha is currently in my undying body.”

The silence and bewildering looks make him want to crawl under the table, transmute the floorboards to gain access to the earth to dig a nice little hole to hide in. It would be like the forest incident all over again.

This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have said anything. Even if they believe his insane explanation, they’re going to scorn him and chase him out-of-town once they realize he’s a monster living off of stolen lives. Or maybe greed will make them turn, make their eyes flash with dark, unhinged desire, make them scramble to sink their claws into him at the chance of gaining immortality.

A few more moments pass as the silence continues to stretch on thick and heavy. Hohenheim prepares an excuse to go to the bathroom to escape out a window when finally someone speaks.

“I knew it,” Urey whispers. Hohenheim vividly blinks at the awe in Urey’s tone as Sara shoots him a strange look. Pinako looks unfazed as she reaches over to take one of Hohenheim’s hands, holding it tight in her steel-like grip honed by years of skilled labor.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she says. “Why don’t we save what is obviously going to be a traumatizing and traumatic story for tonight when we will have alcohol and Trisha with us to make it better.”

Hohenheim gapes at her but nods slowly as Pinako gives his hand one last reassuring squeeze and lets go. “Now, no panicking Hohenheim. Let’s figure out how far away is Trisha, and is she in any danger in your body?”

Hohenheim can’t help himself as a laugh bubbles out of his chest at the absurdity of that thought. “Danger? No. She can’t die if she’s in my body. I’m worried about her mental state, and she should be in East City right now.”

Guilt eats at him. Trisha is probably freaking out and the souls are most definitely not going to take his absence well. There will be yelling, so much yelling. What’s he doing sitting here? East City isn’t far. He should definitely go to her.

Hohenheim tries to stand but is quickly shoved back into his seat by multiple pairs of hands.

“Hohenheim, I said no panicking!”

“And what do you mean by mental state?” Sara asks, voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone.

Whoops, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Guilt squirms in his stomach. Should he explain the souls? It would make everything easier, but he’s told no one about them. It’s getting hard to breathe again.

Hands grab his head as Pinako leans close to his face. “Hohenheim, breathe. We can’t help you if you don’t explain what’s going on.”

Hohenheim frowns, distantly noting how it feels weird to not feel his beard pulling on his face. Everyone is trying to help, and they haven’t run him out of town yet. Maybe he should let them know. And either way once he switches back with Trisha (his soulmate, the thought makes him want to pass out and he’s not sure it’s from joy or nerves) he won’t be able to deny the hundreds of thousands of people that are stuck with him.

“I uh, you see in my body, um.” Everyone is staring at him. Is there a way to explain this without sounding insane…? Oh, right, he won’t get an answer. How many times is he going to forget that? His head feels very hollow, like he’s speaking to an empty room.

“Hohenheim, we want to help,” Urey says as Pinako waves a hand in front of his face.

“Whatever you’re going to say can’t be that bad. We aren’t going to run you out of town,” Pinako says as she lowers her hand.

Hohenheim winces. “It’s not necessarily bad. Trisha isn’t in any danger. It’s that, well, this will sound insane…” he trails off. Pinako gestures for him to continue. “The reason I’m immortal is that there are people’s souls keeping me alive. And I can talk to them. Trisha will be able to talk to them as they’re attached to my body.”

There’s a wild mix of reactions. Pinako looks rather exasperated, almost like she was expecting something worse. Urey is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to speak, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. Sara just looks confused.

“Well, that certainly explains all your little quirks,” Pinako finally says.

“What?” Hohenheim feels vaguely offended. He’s sure if the souls were here, he would be feeling very offended.

“You have to admit, there are times when someone says something to you and you obviously don’t know what they said, but you nod along anyway,” Urey says.

“Sorry Hohenheim, but holding a conversation with you can sometimes feel like pulling teeth.” Pinako shrugs apologetically.

Forget the souls. He doesn’t need them now to be very offended, even if their words are true. They should try housing hundreds of thousands of people in their heads while still acting relatively normally.

“Will your, um, head voices help Trisha out?” Sara’s question interrupts his retort.

“I should think so. The souls might be confused at first, but they’re good people. But it might be overwhelming for Trisha, so I should go to East City.” Actually, now that he thinks about it, he just knows the souls will start telling her stories about him. They’ll probably pick all the embarrassing ones where he misread situations or killed himself by accident. Hohenheim tries to slowly rise out of the chair, hoping to sneak past them.

“Hohenheim, it would be better for you to just wait here and have Trisha come to us. We can go sit at the train station if it will make you feel better,” Urey says, hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the chair.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” he says weakly.

Pinako rolls her eyes. “And what, have you hop on the next train when you overthink again? Your head companions have obviously been your impulse control for all these years.”

Despite the jab, Hohenheim is touched. He’s never had people go out of their way for him once they find out he’s immortal.

Urey stands and claps his hands. “Right, well, if we are going to sit at the station, you should go change your clothes.”

Clothes? Hohenheim looks down at the purple nightgown he’s apparently been wearing this entire time. Changing clothes means he’ll have to look at his current body. He can’t do that! But back in Xerxes, soulmates are supposed to get naked upon switching. There’s an entire ceremony with family and gold knives or something, but seeing how he didn’t have a soulmate back then or family since he was a slave, (the Dwarf doesn’t count) he doesn’t know what to do.

His fear must be showing on his face because Pinako groans and slaps her forehead. “I’m going to take Hohenheim upstairs and dress him.”

Pinako drags him up the stairs, reentering the bedroom from earlier. He stands awkwardly by the dresser while Pinako takes out a set of clothes. When she turns around with a shirt, he closes his eyes and holds his arms out.

There’s a sigh. “Hohenheim, you’re allowed to look. She’s your soulmate.”

“She shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be stuck with a thing like me.” Fingers flick his forehead. He yelps, eyes opening. Pinako has a fierce frown on her face, eyes narrow in frustration.

“Stop that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“But-”

“Nope. I know you have self-loathing in spades, but are you going to let that affect this?”

Hohenheim opens his mouth to speak, but the words feel tangled in his throat. He presses his lips together and stares hard at the floor.

She sighs again. “If you can’t get over that, at least think about Trisha. Are you going to be so selfish that you will deny your soulmate?” Knuckles rap against his head making him shrink back. “Think! She won’t get another soulmate because you’re her soulmate!”

Shame curls in his chest. Pinako’s right, he is being selfish. It’s much easier to hate oneself, to give into self-loathing. He’s not even considering it from Trisha’s point of view. His soulmate. The thought of the word makes his heart flutter. (And still want to pass out.)

“You’re right. It’s… I’m very old Pinako,” he trails off, not sure how to express his feelings. Pinako pats his arm reassuringly.

“No need to explain. Just do better for her.” She holds up the shirt from before. “Now come on, let’s get you dressed.”

This time, he keeps his eyes open while he changes.

Trisha wakes up to noise.

Something that people don’t typically awaken to, but nonetheless, she hears the jumbled sounds of many conversations layered atop of each other that seem to rattle around inside her head.

At first, she’s ecstatic. She is most definitely in her soulmate’s body! They must have fallen asleep somewhere in public or surrounded by friends or family, but her excitement quickly gives way to confusion when she sits up to see she is alone.

Trisha looks around the small room. It’s minimally furnished, reminding her of a room at an inn, with only a single bed, nightstand, and dresser with a mirror. She’s definitely alone, but she still hears people speaking. She furrows her brow and tries to focus on the noise.

It hits her then that the noise is coming from her. Inside of her head. There are voices in her head. What is happening? A particularly loud set of voices makes her jump.

'Look who’s finally up!'

'You usually never sleep in like this.'

'Hurry up, you’re going to miss the train.'

What? Trisha touches her face, oh she has a beard. Her hands travel to her ears and she presses down, hoping to make the voices go away.

'Everything alright, Hohenheim?'

The inside of her head feels itchy, as if the voices in her mind just turned to look at her.

“What is happening?” Her soulmate’s voice is rather deep, but it shakes as she speaks. “Who are you people?”

'Well, Hohenheim's finally lost it.'

'I’m surprised we got this far without a mental break.'

'I would like to argue that the cheese incident in Xing three hundred years ago constitutes as a mental break.'

'Hohenheim asked us to never speak of that again.'

'What about the time he tried to become a tree?'

'It’s not that he wanted to become a tree; he wanted to be one with the trees by sleeping for ten years in a forest.'

'There’s a difference?'

'Again, he asked us not to talk about that.'

'He asks us to not talk about a lot of things.'

'Being a tree would be nice. We would all be able to sleep. Or not think.'

'Closest thing we could ever get to death.'

'But seriously, Hohenheim, do you really not remember us?'

'Maybe he had a bad dream?'

Trisha ignores the voices and starts getting out of bed. She fumbles with the sheets, her long legs tangle in the fabric which sends her crashing to the floor. The noise in her head gets louder, more voices are calling out to her. Still ignoring them, she pulls herself to her feet.

Her soulmate’s body is rather unwieldy; tall, and broad, compared to her normally small and lithe body. She spies a mirror over the dresser and makes her way over with minimal stumbling. Butterflies flutter in her stomach when she doesn’t see her face in the mirror.

The face that greets her is rather long and square with a blonde (it actually looks more gold than blonde) curtain beard and long, flowing hair that falls past her shoulders. A couple of loose strands of hair tickle her current nose. Her soulmate’s face has a strong nose and chiseled features and the skin seems to have a gold tone to it. But what stands out most are the eyes. They’re gold. A beautiful shade of gold at that. Her soulmate also seems to be older than her, but she has to admit, they are very attractive.

The voices start. She feels a headache building, a steady tempo of rising pain behind her eyes. Why are there people talking to her? Why are they in her head?

'Having fun checking yourself out?'

'Hohenheim?'

'Uh, attractive?'

'Did you just think soulmate?!'

Wait, can they read her mind? Are the voices reading her mind?!

There’s a slight pause, as if the voices are reeling. A lone voice speaks out.

'You’re not Hohenheim.'

The resulting cacophony of noise gives way to a splitting headache that makes the world spin. She braces against the dresser as she leans her head onto the cool glass of the mirror, hoping to make the pain go away.

'What the hell!'

'Who are you?'

'Now? He gets a soulmate now?'

'Seriously, what the fuck?'

'I don’t understand how Hohenheim could possibly have a soul mate now!'

'I mean, he said he never had one in Xerxes!'

'But to have an age gap of centuries?'

‘It’s not uncommon to have an age gap.’

‘Again, centuries?!’

'Is it ethical for a four hundred something-year-old to marry an eighteen-year-old?'

'If we are talking about ethical, realistically the only person close enough in age to Hohenheim is the Dwarf.’

‘Excuse me?'

'What ew.'

‘Stop.’

'Why would you suggest that?'

'Now I’m thinking about those two having sex. Thanks for that!'

'Would it be considered masturbation or incest if you fuck your clone?'

'Dalir, what the hell?'

There's an explosion of noise in her head. Multiple voices are yelling at each other. Panic floods her mind. The world spins faster. Trisha slaps her hands over her ears, but her actions cause her to let go of the dresser, falling to the floor as the world whirls around her. She winces, realizing her actions do nothing to help. The noise is coming from within her head, not outside of it.

She can’t think. The noise is overwhelming as she curls in on herself.

'FOR SUN’S SAKE, EVERYONE SHUT UP!'

Blessedly, everyone goes quiet. There’s still some noise, but it's much more manageable now. Trisha slowly lets go of her ears, her hands trembling as she does so. Her mind feels so heavy. From the floor, she can still see her soulmate’s body in the mirror, noting how her body quakes as she pulls her legs under her to sit up.

A woman’s voice gently speaks. 'Why don’t you start with your name while we figure this out?'

Trisha slowly nods. It takes a moment for her to find her voice. “My name is Trisha,” she speaks to her reflection as to have something to focus on. “What’s going on? Who are you? Is my soulmate insane?”

'I mean, most likely at this point.'

'Not helpful Sinai.'

'Trisha, please don’t freak out-’

'Forget her, I’m freaking out.'

'I’m ignoring that, as I was saying, your… soulmate… is actually an immortal who just so happens to have people in his head. That’s us.'

Immortal? Trisha nods as if she understands. She really doesn't.

'I think she needs more information than that.'

'Maybe explain what happened in Xerxes?'

'Yes, because the complete and total annihilation of our country is a lovely conversational topic.'

'Well, she needs to know it.'

'Does she though?'

'This is Hohenheim’s soulmate!'

'Why does he deserve a soulmate?'

'What about the train?'

'Why are you so worried about the train?'

'I think Pinako won’t mind if Hohenheim is late.'

Pinako? She latches onto the name like a lifeline. The voices are speaking much too quickly, there's too much information. She vaguely remembers seeing Pinako with a tall man with the face she’s currently wearing when she was younger.

'Oh yep that’s Pinako.'

'So you’ve been to Resembool?'

“I live in Resembool.” Trisha can feel the buzz of excitement from the voices in her head. It’s a very strange feeling, their emotions mixing into hers. She can feel her lips turn up in a weird smile before stopping it.

‘That’s convenient.'

'Hohenheim is heading there right now.'

Trisha thinks that’s great and all, but she still has many questions. “But I still don’t understand, are you real?” She hears huffs and squawks in her mind.

'Yes we’re real!'

'Don’t yell at her! This must be very confusing.'

'Shouldn’t we be explaining everything to Trisha?'

'We can do it on the train.'

'If she misses the train, we’ll have to wait till tomorrow for the next one.'

'We can properly explain on the train. If we miss it, then we will have to wait till tomorrow for them to switch back.'

'What if Hohenheim shows up?'

'Oh, that is a possibility.'

'Trisha, will anyone stop Hohenheim from coming?'

This entire situation is so confusing. “I live with my friend Sara, and Pianko and her son Urey were supposed to come over for lunch -”

'Good Pinako will stop him.'

'Yes, it would be best if they don’t accidentally pass each other on different trains.'

'Go get dressed so we can get on the road.'

‘You mean get on the rails?’

‘I swear on the White Queen’s Veil Keivan-’

Trisha tries her best to tune out the voices as she looks down to see what she's wearing. Pajamas are the answer. Well then, the faster she changes, the faster she can find out what’s going on.

'Hohenheim’s suitcase has his clothes.'

'His clothes are in his suitcase.'

'It’s on the dresser.'

'His clothes are most likely under his books.'

Multiple voices speak up, their words layering on top of each other. Trisha winces. Everyone is trying to be helpful, but it’s only giving her a bigger headache. She finds the suitcase quickly. Luckily she didn’t knock it over during her rush to the mirror. There's a bit of twine wrapped around the handle and the name Van Hohenheim embedded on the side. Trisha fiddles with the latch as she speaks out loud, feeling self-conscious as she does so.

“Is Van his first name?”

'Uh I think so.'

'He has always gone by Hohenheim.'

'I think it has to do something with the Dwarf.'

There’s a bit of tension that bleeds into her mind. Trisha felt it earlier when that name was mentioned. She pushes past the tension and opens the suitcase. It’s full of books and papers. So many books. Moving them aside, she finally finds a nice shirt and long slacks buried at the bottom of the suitcase.

Taking them out, she places them on the dresser, pressing out the wrinkles, then pauses. When she undresses, she’ll be able to see her soulmate’s body. Normally, looking at your soulmate’s body is a standard task that most people do upon switching, to see who you’ll be spending the rest of your life with. But if she checks out her soulmate’s body will the voices also see it?

'Honey, we've been with Hohenheim for centuries. We know what his dick looks like.'

'You should look at his butt.'

'Why?'

'It’s a nice butt.'

'Hohenheim never does anything fun with his body.'

'Do you think he’ll finally get laid?'

'For the sun’s sake, I hope so. That man is so sexually repressed.'

'Geez, I wonder why.'

'Probably because we will all end up watching.'

'Yes, which is why he’s done nothing of that sort.'

'You’re not supposed to do dirty things until you meet your soulmate!'

'It’s called sex, you prude.'

'Why whisper that? We’re all in this same screaming boat together, you know.'

‘I’m thinking of the children!’

‘Hey shouldn’t you let us children get a say?’

‘I highly doubt I count as a child anymore.’

‘Age is a construct. Time is meaningless now.’

The voices don’t seem to care much about the body; they seem more interested in arguing with each other. Trisha mentally shrugs and removes her shirt. She takes her time, running her hand across her chest. Her soulmate isn’t ripped, but they are toned. She flexes her arms and feels the muscles ripple under her touch. She can’t help but giggle as she removes her pajama pants and twists to see her butt in the mirror. That one voice was right, it is a nice butt.

'See someone agrees with me!'

'No one was disagreeing with you Isa.'

'Check out his dick!'

Trisha blushes. She could look. Her hands settle near the waistband of her underwear.

'Why are you so interested in Hohenheim’s dick?'

'Listen, I’m a disembodied soul trapped in some guy’s head who refuses to have sex! Or touch himself! I’m sexually repressed!'

'Let’s take what we can get!'

'We’ve seen it before.'

'This is different!'

'How is this different?'

'It just is!'

'Also, are we forgetting she should be completely naked right now?'

'And what, have a soulmate ceremony by herself?’

‘She could stare at the mirror and do it with us.’

‘Uh, that would be very awkward.’

'Does Amestris have soulmate ceremonies?'

'It differs depending on the region.'

‘Who cares about that? Look at it girl!’

Embolden by the voices, she quickly pulls the waistband out to peek underneath. She doesn’t look long, becoming self-conscious almost immediately when she hears the voices making lewd comments. The waistband slaps against her skin with a small smack. In the mirror she sees her face turning very, very red.

Multiple voices laugh, a few voices egg her on to go back to exploring, while others complain about the situation. Resuming her previous task, Trisha slips into the clothes, ignoring the whines from the voices who want her to continue exploring.

Finally dressed, she observes herself in the mirror. Her soulmate is very handsome and foreign-looking. Everything about him screams gold, as if he emerged from the sun. Her hand ghosts over her cheekbone, leaning in close to get a better look at the golden eyes.

“I’ve never seen someone with gold eyes before.”

The voices fall quiet. There’s an influx of grief and melancholy that seeps into her very being, strangling her heart. It takes her a moment to remember how to breathe, the sorrow of the voices almost drowning her.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Trisha whispers, blinking the sudden tears out of her eyes. It’s almost silent, quiet murmurs, as if they can’t decide who should speak.

'Gold eyes are a racial trait. Along with the golden hair and golden skin. Our legends say that our coloring comes straight from the sun.'

The voice sounds male and old, but strong. Pride radiates from their voice, but there’s an undertone of bitterness.

'It’s the traits of Xerxes.'

“Xerxes?” The name sounds vaguely familiar.

'Xerxes was our home. You’ve probably only heard about it in history books.'

'Xerxes, the great and alchemically advanced kingdom, that fell in a single night.'

The pride disappears from their voices, leaving only bitterness and anger.

“Oh.” Trisha’s not sure what to say. “You’re the only survivors?”

'Not really.'

'Our souls were sucked right out of our bodies.'

'Not much in the way of surviving since we are stuck with Hohenheim.'

'It’s not his fault, not really.'

'You shouldn’t blame him. He was an unwitting victim too.'

'No, he’s the lucky bastard that happened to be friends with the thing that caused this.'

'Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.'

The tension is thick in her head, but things are making a little more sense. It’s still very confusing. When she went to sleep last night, the last thing she expected was that she would learning truths about an ancient civilization in the morning.

“So you’re not only voices, but actual people?” Trisha asks.

'Yes, we are disembodied souls trapped in this body.'

'Yeah, we’re kinda like Hohenheim’s soul mates! Get it?'

Everyone groans minus the soul who made the pun, who is instead giggling. It echoes loudly in her head. But she can’t help but grin. The tension from earlier fades away. Some voices continue to grip about the pun, but her mind feels lighter. She closes the suitcase and locates shoes by the bed and a coat hanging on the door.

'Oh, don’t forget Hohenheim’s glasses!'

'They should be on the nightstand.'

Glasses? She hasn’t had any trouble seeing. Trisha turns to see a pair of silver-framed glasses on the nightstand. She cautiously picks them up and peers through the glass. Her eyesight doesn’t change at all.

“Wait, I can see just fine.” There’s a roar of laughter in her head as multiple voices explain.

'Hohenheim doesn’t actually need them.'

'He likes how he looks with them on.'

'I’m sure he thinks they make him look smarter.'

'And well, he wanted to look different from him.'

Trisha goes to the mirror once more to see how she looks. With the glasses on, her soulmate gains a scholarly look, reminding her of a professor. She takes them off and slips them into her coat after a moment. No point in wearing them if she can see fine without them.

“Is there anything else I should do?” Trisha asks.

'Hohenheim normally wears his hair back.'

'His hair tie, ribbon thing snapped last night. He was going to fix it with alchemy in the morning.'

'Why didn’t he fix it last night?'

'Perhaps it was because the argument about milk was giving him a migraine and he wanted to sleep.'

'Any of you who drink milk are heathens!'

'What’s the point of arguing about this? We can't drink milk anyway!'

'We are NOT restarting this argument!'

‘Milk is succulent and holy!’

‘Maybe only the milk from your ma’s tits.'

There are thousands of different reactions, from gasping, shouting, laughing, and taunting. It makes her head feel weird and itchy as an infectious riled energy bleeds into her mind.

‘Is now the time for an argument?’

‘It’s always the time for an argument.’

‘We shouldn’t argue in front of Trisha.’

The infectious energy dies out as the feeling of people looking at her tickles her mind. She stares in the mirror in fascination, swearing she can see red sparks dancing in the shadow of her eyes.

“Do you argue for fun?” she asks, a small grin appearing on her face.

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t admit that!’

Multiple voices giggle and laugh.

'Continuing on, why doesn’t he have more than one?'

'Why carry extra when you can fix it with alchemy?'

'Or you know, make another one.'

'Oh Trisha, do you know alchemy?'

“Um, no.” Alchemy is one of those nebulous terms, a facet of life that has nothing to do with a girl from a simple sheep town. “Is my soulmate an alchemist?”

Voices start singing praises about Hohenheim’s alchemy skills while Trisha grabs the suitcase and heads for the door. Her first few steps are awkward, but eventually, she gets used to her long legs. The hallway is empty but with the noise in her head; she feels like she's at one of Resembool’s bonfire parties except everyone is dancing in the exact same spot. How is she supposed to interact with people when she can barely hear?

Multiple apologies flood her mind and the noise is reduced, but it never gets completely silent. So far, each voice has sounded like a different person. Maybe a couple of repeat voices here or there, but it’s so hard to tell. And there have been plenty of voices she couldn’t understand as the others drowned their words out. “How many of you are in my head?”

'Over half a million,' a voice says casually.

Trisha stops, feeling faint. Half a million? Her mind struggles to comprehend the number. Each voice is a person with their own thoughts and feelings. Does her soulmate know all of them?

'Hohenheim took the time to learn all our names and stories.'

'We wouldn’t have our self-identity if he hadn’t done that.'

'Our situation isn’t the best, but it could be worse.'

'We could go back to screaming all the time, for old times’ sake.'

'Please don’t.'

The voices resume their little conversations but take great care to keep quiet. Trisha quickly makes her way out of the building she awoke in and finds herself on a busy street, filled with people and cars. It’s been a few years since she's been here, but Trisha recognizes she’s in East City.

It’s a tad bit disorientating navigating the city in a different body, but the voices point out any hazards along the way. Soon she enters the train station and heads to the ticket counter after the voices remind her to get money from the suitcase.

Trisha smiles at the man at the ticket booth as she asks for a ticket to Resembool. The man makes small talk, but his voice is drowned out when a few voices get a little loud. The man is staring, waiting. Her smile becomes a bit strained. She has no idea what he said. How does her soulmate deal with this?

'Sorry!'

'Trisha, he needs the money.'

'He asked for 25,000 cenz.'

'What a rip-off.'

She flushes as they exchange money and quickly high tails it away from the man. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you please be quieter?” The station is bustling, so hopefully, people won’t notice she’s talking to herself. A flood of apologies sounds, drowning out the outside world again. Trisha sighs as she takes a seat at a bench tucked into a corner of the station. The next train to Resembool is ten minutes away. She was cutting it close.

She tries to look nonchalant as she waits, but it’s hard to not tense up or fidget. She can feel all the voices ‘staring’ at her, whispering among themselves. The voices said they wanted to tell the story on the train, but she could ask some questions now.

“You said Hohenheim is immortal. How old is he?”

‘Over four hundred.’

Trisha's eyes go wide as she giggles nervously. Four Hundred? Wow. Age gaps are not uncommon, but-

‘Your soulmate is older than this country!’

That certainly puts things in perspective. She glances down at her hands. They’re calloused, but they look like the hands of any middle-aged man.

‘Hohenheim doesn’t physically age.’

‘He also heals any injuries he receives.’

“Heal?”

‘If you were to cut yourself, it would heal within a moment.’

“Huh.” Trisha isn’t sure how to respond to that information, so she turns her attention to the age of her soulmate. Four centuries. Did he have a different soulmate before her?

‘No. It’s only been you.’

“Only me?” she whispers. For the past eighteen years, she’s felt a yearning in her chest behind her heart. The thrum of her soul pressed against her ribcage as if they were bars preventing her from finding her other half. It has never ached, but it has never been comfortable. She can’t imagine living with that feeling of longing for hundreds of years.

Well, looks like it falls to her to make up for all those lonely centuries.

‘You know Trisha, you are handling this extraordinarily well.’

“My mama always told me to roll with the punches. You never know what life will throw at you so best be ready for anything. And this is my soulmate. Their soul called out to mine for a reason,” Trisha says quietly. She raises her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. It’s strong and steady. This body may be wildly different from her own, but her soul fits perfectly. It feels like home.

The souls hum thoughtfully. Trisha gets the feeling they were testing her and she passed, giving her their approval.

The splitting shrill shriek of a train whistle breaks her out of her musings. She can feel the heartbeat beneath her hand thump quickly before slowing back down. Her train is here.

Trisha makes her way onboard after showing her ticket. Luckily, few people take this train route, so it’s simple to find a compartment with barely anyone in it. And she bets the few people in the train compartment with her will get off at Pleonuk. There’s not much reason to visit the tiny sheep town of Resembool unless you live there and this isn’t a cargo train.

Settling in a seat at the back, she pulls out a book to have something to look at while she talks to the voices. “Will you all be explaining everything now?” Trisha says, her voice barely audible. She eyes the other passengers, but they apparently didn’t hear her.

‘Oh right, who’s telling the story?’

'Andol, why don’t you tell the story?'

'What? Why me?' The voice Andol sounds male.

'You knew Hohenheim when he was Number Twenty-Three.'

'Yea, you should have the full story, right?'

'Hohenheim doesn’t enjoy talking about his early days. All we know is the Dwarf did this.'

‘If you’re expecting some big dark secret between the two, prepare to be disappointed. It was pure dumb luck that Twenty-Three was used for our Master’s experiment,’ Andol says.

Trisha’s head spins. “Master? Experiment? Was Hohenheim not his original name?” Trisha says in alarm. Her voice rises above a whisper, causing some passengers to look at her. She smiles sheepishly at them, flushing red as she raises the book in front of her face.

‘Well, I was there at the beginning, so I guess I am the best person to explain everything,’ Andol says.

Andol begins the tale of the destruction of Xerxes, how it all started with a slave called Number Twenty-Three. The slave’s blood was used in an experiment that created the creature called The Dwarf in the Flask, Homunculus, who named the slave Van Hohenheim.

The slave gained his freedom with the help of the Dwarf and quietly lived his life until the King called for the Dwarf to ask him for the secret of immortality. The Dwarf agreed, and the King got started right away on procuring his dreams of eternal life.

But the Dwarf had other plans. On the day of the ritual, the Dwarf tricked Van Hohenheim into standing at the true center of the circle, making him immortal but at the cost of the entire Kingdom of Xerxes. Over a million people died that night. The souls of the Xerxians split between Van Hohenheim and the Dwarf.

Van Hohenheim awoke to find everyone dead except for the Dwarf who had made himself a body, one that looked exactly like him. Ever since then, Van Hohenheim has been traveling the world trying to undo his curse to finally die and to set the souls free.

Trisha sits in stunned silence as her mind reels from Andol’s tale. In all honesty, it sounds insane. An old Kingdom destroyed in a single instant? A tiny person in a flask made from someone’s blood? Her soulmate used to be a slave? The souls of these poor people trapped in this body?

Trisha is glad that the people from the carriage all got off at the stop at Pleonuk because she’s sure she does not look great right now.

‘Er Trisha, are you ok?’

‘Give her some time, it's a lot to take in.’

‘Ha, that’s an understatement!’

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says weakly. “I need a moment.”

‘Take all the time you need.’

‘Oh, I suppose we’ll be seeing Trisha for a long time, right?’

‘Right because she is Hohenheim’s soulmate!’

‘Everyone, when they switch back, we are going to have to yell at Hohenheim to not run away in panic.’

‘Won’t all the yelling make him panic?’

‘No of course not.’

‘Trisha to be sure to keep a close eye on Hohenheim, he startles as easily as a jackrabbit.’

“A jackrabbit?” Trisha asks.

‘They’re a breed of rabbit that live in deserts.’

Trisha hums in thought as she observes her reflection in the window. She’s gotten glimpses of who her soulmate is from the souls. And she can’t wait until they finally meet.

‘We still have a few hours until we get to Resembool. Want to hear stories about Hohenheim?’

“That would be lovely,” Trisha says.

‘Great! What embarrassing story should we tell first?’

‘Shouldn’t we tell her nice stories about Hohenheim?’

‘What’s the fun in that?’

‘I agree with Thais, bring out the fun stories!’

Trisha leans back into her seat as she listens to the Xerxians. Their excitement is infectious. When she first woke up, they all sounded rather jaded, people resigned to an inescapable fate. She’s glad she’s been able to bring forth a bit of joy into their lives today.

Trisha smiles to herself. She’s gained more than one soulmate it seems.

Hohenheim fidgets horrendously as their small group sits on a bench on the docking platform at the train station. Some sort of noise accompanies each movement. A tap of his foot, fabric sliding against fabric, little hums that are much louder than socially acceptable. He can tell that Pinako and the others are getting annoyed, but he can’t help it. The silence in his head is honestly dizzying, as if someone stuffed cotton in his ears despite the fact he can hear the world perfectly fine. He’d sometimes dream of the day when he would have his head to himself again, but after centuries of noise, the silence is almost unbearable.

“Hohenheim, should I have grabbed a bell from one of the pastures we passed for you to ring?” Pinako asks, peering to the side to give him a slanted grin. It’s strange to not have to look so far down to meet her eyes, he still has to look down though.

“I’m sorry, it’s so quiet in my head.” Hohenheim forces his hands to his side and grabs a fist full of fabric from the skirt he’s wearing, (Urey asked if he was comfortable wearing a skirt, he didn’t want to admit it reminded him of the tunics he wore in Xerxes) slowly sliding the soft cotton texture between his fingers. Perhaps focusing on a tactile feeling will help stop his fidgeting.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? You know I can talk deaf man’s ear off.” Pinako grins as she nudges his side with her elbow, launching into a tale about her youth in Rush Valley. He remembers this story considering he was there, but he listens quietly, the chatter helping as he slowly unclenches the fabric between tight fingers.

After a few more stories Pinako gives her throat a rest, so Urey and Sara pick up where Pinako left off. Hohenheim feels almost all the tension leaving his body, surprised at how relaxed he feels. When was the last time he let someone else help him out? The souls try their best to be helpful when they can, but there’s only so much they can do as disembodied voices. And there’s over half a million of them. It’s always difficult when they all want to help or even only a few thousand of them want to help.

But soon Urey and Sara run out of stories, so Hohenheim takes the chance to tell one. Since they know he’s immortal, he can pick a story from centuries ago. He holds back a laugh at the look on their faces when he mentions he used to be a part of the royal court in Xing.

“We should have had you start with the storytelling. You probably have hundreds of them,” Urey says, slouching low on the bench.

“Ah well, it’s easy to have stories when you have all the time in the world.“ Hohenheim scratches the back of his head, feeling some confusion when he feels how short his hair is. He can’t help but shake his head, marveling at how light his hair feels.

“I bet,” Urey says.

It’s quiet for a few moments before Sara suddenly leans in close, making him jump. “I understand now why people say the eyes are the window to the soul,” Sara says as she peers into his eyes. “You make Trisha’s eyes seem so ancient and heavy.”

“Well, I am ancient,” Hohenheim says.

“And how old is ancient?” Pinako asks.

Hohenheim pauses to mentally count the years. “A little over four centuries. Probably closer to four and a half at this point.”

Everyone hides their shocked better looks this time, instead, going with startled fascination. “Do you not know your exact age?” Urey asks.

“I don’t know when I was born,” Hohenheim says meekly. Slaves were never given the luxury of knowing when they were born. He still hasn’t explained Xerxes yet. Pianko stopped him from explaining earlier when they first got to the train station, loudly declaring that they don’t have alcohol yet.

The train pulls into the station, the engine and wheels clacking loudly before being punctured by the shriek of a whistle interrupting their conversation. Sara claps her hands and hops to her feet. “This should be the East City train!”

“Trisha will probably be the only one on board,” Urey adds.

Hohenheim’s hands go cold and clammy as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. He feels himself being pulled along as their group shuffles to the doors of the carriage.

He didn’t ask any questions about Trisha. She’s his soulmate for crying out loud! How did he manage to do that? He’s a terrible soulmate.

He can practically feel Pinako rolling her eyes as she gives him a reassuring clap on the back. “Hohenheim, stop worrying, you’re going to love Trisha. Everything is going to be fine.”

The doors of the train carriage slide open.

“And there she is,” Sara says.

But Hohenheim barely hears her, static filling his head as he sees himself step off the train. Suddenly he’s beneath the blazing desert sun, staring up at his face as Homunculus smiles at him in a deafening broken city full of corpses.

Homunculus blinks and tilts his head in confusion. Long gold hair slides down from around his neck. Homunculus speaks, but all he hears is static. (Hohenheim’s mind fills in the blanks, he’s asking why is he screaming, why is he not happy?) Homunculus blinks again looking startled before his hand darts into his coat, pulling out a pair of silver frames and clumsy shoving them on his face.

Hohenheim’s mind skips and stutters. Homunculus never wore glasses.

“I’m so sorry,” Homunculus, Trisha says, frantically pulling her hair back, carefully laying it in a way where it doesn’t fall around her shoulders. “The souls told me about him, but I didn’t realize-”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s my fault for not preparing for, um, this.” Hohenheim’s voice shakes as he hurries to reassure her. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Trisha asks.

Hohenheim stares at gold eyes on someone else for the first time in centuries, and despite it being his face, he can feel Trisha’s soul behind them. Not Homunculus’

And finally, he’s able to relax.

“Yes.”

Everyone else is looking back and forth between the two of them, eyeing him with concern. Urey whispers something about traumatic backstory which makes Sara elbow him before she slides up to Trisha, leaning in close. “Are there actually voices in your head right now?”

Trisha rolls her eyes. “Yes, and they’re souls. They’re saying hi by the way.”

“The souls!” Hohenheim exclaims, his nervousness from earlier returning full force. How did he forget about the souls? Was he always this scattered brain before the King’s Ritual? “Would you like to switch back now? Or is that too forward? The souls haven’t been giving you trouble, right? They’re good people! Everyone, please don’t tell me you’ve been giving her trouble.” Hohenheim's face feels hot as he wrings his hands frantically.

Trisha looks amused. It’s strange to watch his own face crack into a soft smile. “You were right. He is as skittish as a jackrabbit.”

Hohenheim gapes, Oh no, the souls have been telling her stories, haven’t they!? Trisha laughs, loud and boisterous. He hasn’t heard himself laugh like that in a long time.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. The souls said something funny,” she says. Then she ducks her head looking sheepish. “Sorry, that was a lie. It was about you, but it wasn’t anything bad!”

Hohenheim can’t help but chuckle back. “I’m used to being the butt of many of their jokes.”

“They say you make it easy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Pinako says, nudging his arm. She and everyone else laugh at his offended look.

Trisha glances to the side as if she’s trying to peer into her mind, and her eyes take on an unfocused look, as if the world weighs too much to comprehend. Hohenheim recognizes the gesture, even if he’s never seen it, only felt it, but his mind recalls how it felt when the souls become too much.

“Everyone, you're being too loud,” he says gently. Trisha looks relieved, but her shoulders are still tense and there is a crease in her brow. “I think we should switch back now, if you’re fine with it. Unless there’s a soulmate ceremony?”

“Resembools’ isn’t anything formal. We usually gather everyone for a bonfire,” Trisha says.

“We mostly use new soulmates as an excuse to party and get hammered,” Sara adds helpfully.

“Typically, soulmates have already switched back by the time we party.” Pinako nudges–which is more of a shove–him forward into Trisha, who catches him before she herds Sara and Urey away. “Now, let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy.” Sara and Urey complain but move back to the bench from earlier, leaving them alone.

Hohenheim is very aware of the callus hands on his forearms, very aware of his own hands pressing against Trisha’s chest (which is technically his chest his mind supplies), and very aware that he is now alone with Trisha (and the souls).

He has to crane his neck up to meet Trisha’s eyes. His gut lurches at the sight of his face again, but his heart twists and flutters when he meets gold eyes.

Trisha smiles at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoes back, though he can’t quite match her smile. He tries, but the edges of his mouth twitch and refuse to raise. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

Trisha blinks and her smile shifts, but doesn’t slip. “What for?”

For waking up in a body with half a million people. For being far older than her. For being forced to deal with all his issues. For being stuck with him as her soulmate. For having a monster for a soulmate. For—

Hundreds of apologies flood his head, but when Hohenheim tries to speak, nothing comes out. Pinako told him to do better for Trisha, but better for Trisha would be for him to not be her soulmate.

“No apology needed.” Trisha slides her hands up his forearms to take his hands, holding them up to his chest. She’s still smiling at him, smiling in reassurance. There’s a spark in her eyes that looks foreign on his face, but must fit perfectly on the face he’s currently wearing. “The souls told me you have the self-esteem of a gnat, but you’re my gnat.” Trisha pauses for a moment. “That sounded better in my head.”

Before he knows it, he’s smiling. “If you want, you can say the souls suggested that line.”

Trisha lets out a little laugh. “I should. They’re letting me do so.” Her smile turns bright, and despite it being on his face, he knows it’s her smile he’s seeing. His smiles have never looked so soft, so free.

Something burns so deep, so fierce inside his chest. It’s staggering. How has he not noticed he’s been so cold and empty this entire time? Is he allowed to have this? She’s human. She’ll die. He’s a monster. He won’t die. This is doomed to fail before it even starts.

“Hey,” Trisha cups his face, her expression soft as she gives him a gentle smile. “We’re soulmates. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“Soulmates,” Hohenheim whispers, reaching up to place his hand over Trisha’s. It almost doesn’t seem real, that this could finally be happening. He waited so long Xerxes, held out hope long past the time when your soul rushes to find your other half. He held out hope until he became immortal. Maybe he can start hoping again. “I would like that. To face whatever together.”

Trisha leans down before gasping and pulling back. “Wait, I have to say goodbye to everyone. What’s the best way to say goodbye to everyone?”

Affection rushes into his heart. That warmth in his chest shimmers, a tender soft warmth. “Tell them this-” Hohenheim whispers to her in Xerxian, the lyrical words sound beautiful in Trisha’s voice. Trisha echoes back, clumsily clipping the long syllabus with her Amestrian accent, but it sounds even more beautiful in the earnest emphasis she gives.

“They’re very happy. Did I say goodbye?”

“Yes, well, it’s more of a proper farewell. A promise to meet again under the sun.”

Trisha repeats the farewell again, gazing at nothing before looking back at him. She leans down. Hohenheim stands on his toes to meet her. Their mouths press together.

Time slows to a standstill, the world around them shrinks to just them, then it spins. It’s dizzying, and yet their muscles lock in place, preventing them from falling. They can feel themself reaching up, their toes pressing hard against the ground to kiss them but they can also feel themself leaning down, holding their face to kiss them.

Then everything snaps into place.

Immediately, the souls clamor loudly, all yelling excitedly.

‘Trisha is wonderful. You can’t leave,’ Eliya says.

‘Don’t leave your soulmate!’ Ira shouts.

‘No running!’ It feels as if Rukh is trying to knock on his mind as he speaks.

‘It’s love you must stay!’ Ariel practically swoons in his mind. Quite the romantic she is.

‘Hohenheim, you’re staying and marrying this woman,’ Ezra says.

‘You have no choice. We've already started picking out baby names,’ Aliya says in a serious tone.

“What?” Hohenheim blinks at Trisha rapidly, his mind spinning. “Baby names?”

Trisha gives off a loud, exasperated sigh as she holds his face. “I told them to wait before telling you that.”

“The souls are bad at following instructions,” Hohenheim says, grinning at all the scoffs and whines the souls give off.

Trisha grins right back. “Is it because they’d rather argue all day?”

‘She knows too much,’ Batel whispers.

Gilad snorts, ‘And whose fault is that?’

‘Morad’s,’ Ephraim says.

‘Hey!’ Morad shouts, while everyone else laughs at him.

While the souls chatter exactly, Hohenheim can feel his heart melting as he takes in Trisha. The mirror did not do her justice, nor did his panicked state this morning. That soft smile he saw on his face fit perfectly on hers, matching her lovely green eyes.

‘Oh no sappy thoughts,’ Javansher says.

‘This is his soulmate. Let him swoon!’ Ariel coos.

Trisha pats his face. “I have to say, you’re more handsome in person than in a mirror.”

“You too.” Hohenheim’s mind freezes, his face burning red. Souls roar with laughter, making him sputter. “No, wait, you’re beautiful, not handsome. But that isn’t to say you wouldn’t be handsome if um you were uh-”

‘Hohenheim stop,’ Taymor groans.

‘No, no, let him keep going,’ Varqa giggles.

“I’m going to shut up now,” Hohenheim says and shuts his mouth with an audible click.

Trisha giggles. “You’re wonderful,” she says and pulls him down for another kiss. The souls cheer in his head. He hopes the cheering won’t become commonplace.

‘Well, now it’s going to be commonplace because you said that,’ Eshaq says.

He supposes he brought that upon himself.

“You two certainly seem to be enjoying yourselves,” Sara says impishly from out of nowhere.

Hohenheim pulls away in surprise. Urey and Pinako trail behind Sara, looking just as gleeful, but Trisha scoffs and turns her nose up at her. “As if you were any better when you and Urey switched. I thought you were going to suck his brains out at one point.”

“It was an appropriate amount of kissing Trisha.” Sara defends as she grabs Urey’s arm, a smile and slight blush on his face.

Trisha wags her finger in Sara’s face. “Then you can’t complain if we start making out at all hours of the day.”

Hohenheim chokes but turns it into a cough. The souls start making kissing noises in his head. He rolls his eyes at their antics. They’re all roughly four centuries old at this point, no reason to act like children still.

“You love birds can defend your antics back at the house. You’re going to give Hohenheim here a heart attack,” Pinako scolds, but the shit-eating grin ruins her rebuke.

Hohenheim frowns. “But my heart is middle-aged. And it’s impossible for me to have a heart attack.”

“Knowing you, you’ll find a way.” Pinako gives him a pat on the arm before turning to everyone else. “Let’s get on back to the house. I made a casserole this morning and the longer it sits in the icebox, the worse it will be.”

“Ma, we don’t have to eat it,” Urey mumbles.

Pinako glares. “You better not be insulting my cooking, Urey.”

Mother and son bicker, forcing Sara to herd them towards the exit. Trisha takes his hand and pulls him long, trailing slightly behind the others as they leave the train station.

“You think you could do something to take out Pinako’s casserole?” Trisha whispers.

Hohenheim chuckles and whispers back. “She’ll know I did it. But I have to admit, Pinako’s talents lay in automail not cooking, so perhaps it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Trisha bumps his shoulders and they walk in silence. Hohenheim looks around the peaceful green rolling hills. It wouldn’t be a bad place to make a home, settle down, start a family. Resembool is truly beautiful and as much as he misses Xerxes’ golden dunes, not having sand get into everything will be nice.

“I have to ask,” Trisha starts, “is Van your first name? I’ve already kissed you twice now and I’m not sure if I’ve been calling you by your last name the entire time.”

“Actually, I don’t have a last name. Van Hohenheim is my ‘first’ name.”

“Then why do you go by Hohenheim?”

“People usually call me Hohenheim after I introduce myself.”

‘Not me!’ Andol exclaims.

Hohenheim can’t help but chuckle. “Unless you’re Andol, who likes to call me Twenty-Three sometimes.”

‘That’s still rude, Andol,’ Toni says.

‘Twenty-Three is my rival,’ Andol defends.

‘Your self-proclaimed rival,’ Mehitilt says, making Andol scoff. Hohenheim rolls his eyes at the antics of his friends.

“Can I call you Van?” Trisha asks, looking up at him beneath her long lashes.

“I would love that,” Hohenheim says with a smile, giving her hand a small squeeze. Trisha squeezes his hand back with a smile.

Hohenheim has never believed in faith, but finding his soulmate after over four centuries on this planet has to mean something. The pessimist in him wants to believe that this might herald his confrontation with Homunculus after all this time, but another part of him, the optimist from his youth, wants to believe like he always did from the windowsill that overlooked Xerxes.

This future laid before him won’t be easy. There’s so much that can go wrong, but for the first time in centuries, he has hope.