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“Munich,” Al says one morning over breakfast. Sloth raises a brow, asking for elaboration. “It’s been a reoccurring name in my dreams. Have we been there, brother?”
The name doesn’t ring anything to Sloth’s mind. His grip on the coffee cup tightens. He shakes his head. “Never heard of it.”
Al frowns. Is Edward lying or is he serious? He frustratingly can’t tell. But his dreams are so vivid, they have to mean something. Imagines of him and brother living in a place called Munich trying to build… something. Rockets? Flying jets? Things that don’t exist. They haunt his sleeping hours. And Al can’t find Munich on the map of Amestris, so it can’t be a memory.
“Oh…” Al trails off. He’s certain this place has to exist. If it didn’t, then why would his dreams be so persistent? He shakes the thoughts out of his head when Ed shoots him a concerned look. “Your eyes look different.”
Ed flinches backwards and Al regrets listing the stray thought. It’s true that Ed’s eyes are greyer now than Al remembers them ever being. As if covered by a haze.
“I’m sorry.” Al apologizes, hoping that it will be enough to keep Ed from fleeing on the spot. He knows his brother was self-conscious about his appearance. Al can’t begin to speculate why though.
“No, you deserve to know.” Sloth mutters. He’s not sure by what power he had to begin bringing this up, but it’s gone the moment it came and he’s left floundering. Al doesn’t let the topic slip so easily.
“Know what?”
Sloth shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Something about your eyes, right?” Al presses regardless. Brother never talked about this. Maybe it’s rude for Al to pry, but brother sounded exhausted. His posture immediately tenses at the question, causing him to nearly drop the cup of coffee in his hands.
“I told you it’s nothing.”
“You’re lying,” Al says. “Just tell me why your eyes look so glassy all the time.”
“Because I’m not real.” Ed growls. His glassy eyes narrow into a harsh glare.
This again? The discontent on Al’s face must’ve shown because Edward groans. When he first said something along those lines, it had been in the presence of Mr. Mustang. He’s since said it several times to explain his strange behaviors.
“If you weren’t real, then Winry wouldn’t agree you exist.” Al says simply. His brother may be many things, but he is not some shared fever dream. This stupid conversation has gotten so mundane that it would even appear in his dreams. Well, not quite. In his dreams, Ed would say that the world wasn’t real and then they’d have the same half-hearted argument inversed. Even calling it that would be a stretch because Ed drops it. In both the dream and in reality.
In the dreams, sometimes Ed would tell him about Amestris. And Al would tell his brother that Amestris was the dream. Inverse of now where brother is calling Munich the dream.
“Do you ever get strange dreams?” Al asks.
“No.” Sloth doesn’t sleep, much less dream.
“Oh.” Al falters. Sloth considers asking for elaboration, but it may require elaboration on his part, which he can’t. But he can’t ignore the almost pleading look in Al’s eyes.
“What is it?” Sloth asks.
“They just felt so real.” Al sighs. “I thought maybe they’d mean something.”
“Sometimes dreams are just weird like that. It’s best not to think too hard on it.”