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Recovery wasn’t linear, least of all Alphonse’s.
Al was concluded to have chronic pain after years of malnourishment from his body being stuck in the portal. He had ongoing support of physiotherapy, medication and regular appointments, not to mention the cane he used to support himself walking about.
Some days were better than others. Some days he was able to move around with limited pain medication, no cane, and do some physical work if he felt okay enough to do so. Other days he was practically bed-bound. Living with chronic pain was something he got used to – something that was part of having his body back which he would never change for the world.
Al’s ongoing condition hit harder for Ed. The guilt of his brother living in a body that caused him pain remained after many years, even if Al would always take his time to reassure his brother, comfort him and say how thankful he was to just have his body back, that bad pain days were worth it as long as he could feel hugs, eat his favourite foods and do all the things he missed so dearly. He was happy, and nothing could change that, even if he himself needs reminded of that on his worst days
Al was lying down, almost appearing to be sleeping if it wasn’t for one of his eyes watching Ed come closer. His hair sprawled across his face. Ed worryingly, crouched in front of Al, removing his mop of hair out of his face, “Al? Are you sick?!” His brother worried, feeling nothing unusually warm or cold, “doesn’t seem like you’ve got a fever, let me get the thermometer,” the small plastic device laid in Al’s bedside table – something Ed left there for the numerous times he panic-checked Al’s temperature after a single sneeze or cough.
Ed had a habit of worrying excessively for his brother when he was unwell – something Al had gotten used to and had a routine to abide by whenever Ed was the one sick, but unlike Al, Ed wasn’t used to see his brother sick with years spent in armour. Now he had his brother back, the slightest cold could send him on an anxious spiral, especially with Al’s weaker immune system, not to mention years worth of vaccinations he was only recently able to get.
“not sick, brother…” the quietest voice came from the mountain of covers, “It’s my legs…” Ed realised, placing a hand on his brother’s head. Al leaned into the touch, closing both eyes now, a few tears falling before being tightly shut, “it’s sore brother.”
Ed immediately jumped into ‘Full Big Brother Mode’ as Al called it. “Have you eaten today? Drank water? Where are your meds? I can get your cane.” Ed assisted Al to sitting up on his bed, using his hand to brush away some of the hair – he took mental note to actually groom the blonde mop later. Al’s head resting on the pillow now propped up behind him, his brother asking a dozen questions, seemingly pulling Al’s meds and a glass of water from thin air. “I’ll let them kick in first, then we’ll get you to the kitchen for some breakfast, alright?” He placed a reassuring hand on Al’s shoulder – though Al suspected he was reassuring himself. Afterall, these days weren’t uncommon for Al, just something he had to get through. He smiled at Ed warmly. His older brother kissed his forehead before leaving, remaining the door ajar so Al could easily shout on him.
Ed rummaged around in their kitchen, grabbing things from each cabinet – Winry had the strangest organisation methods. Pancakes were a simple, easy, sensory friendly meal for Al on his worst days. Just plain pancakes he could add anything he wanted to. Soft and warm. Ed whipped up a quick mixture – something even he could make. It was practically a routine at this point, like Ed had taken a class on how to care for his brother’s chronic pain, except, they both had to learn on the job. There was no manual, and certainly there was no experience of anyone else who had survived their soul being bonded and restored once more. Not that it ever stopped Al from living, from loving life.
Ed heard slow footsteps descending down the stairs, he turned to the sound and crossed his arms, “I told you I’d come and get you.” Ed huffed, watching with care as Al carefully made his way down, a hand on his cane, the other on the banister rail (they had installed one on each side of the staircase to accommodate Al better and navigating himself around the house). Ed had to stop himself from helping his brother all the way down.
“I got hungry” Al nearly pouted, landing both feet on the ground, huffing. Ed frowned,
“Do you need help sitting down?”
Al thought, his legs visibly shaking, “no, I want to help-“ Al lost his balance briefly, Edward quickly rushing to steady him, “…okay I’ll sit down.” Al said, near defeat, and definitely pouting this time. Ed eased him into the dinning chair, followed by him muttering harmless curses at his younger brother about being careful and asking for help. Al was tempted to call him a hypocrite for the amount of times the oldest would rather sell his soul than ask for help, but, he did want pancakes afterall.
“Thank you for the pancakes, brother” Al smiled happily, grabbing himself some berries from the bowl Ed had passed him.
Ed, with his mouth full, “don’t mention it.” Al shook his head
“It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, brother!”
“Oh shut up and eat your food.” They continued bickering back and forth until the plates were cleared. Al tried to offer to do the dishes but Ed flicked his nose.
When Ed came through to the living space after washing up, Al was sat on their couch with Den snuggled into him. It was exactly where Ed had left them both and a small sigh of relief left his lips that his younger brother hadn’t tried moving much. It made him want to apologise for all the times Ed tried to escape hospital whenever he was injured. Just as he was about to join them both, Ed noticed the younger still had his pyjamas on.
“Do you want me to bring down fresh clothes for you, Alphonse?” Ed asked, gesturing to his matching plaid kitty-themed shirt and pants. Al looked away before responding:
“Uh, yes I actually need to go into town today…” He could feel Ed staring daggers into him, “I promised the local pharmacy I’d fix their safe!” He said in defence, still avoiding eye contact, “it’s not functioning as it should and what if someone breaks in!”
Ed rolled his eyes, “It can wait until you are better, little brother.” Ed’s voice was unusually soft, worry laced in every word. Despite Al being an adult, despite all they had gone through, he was still his big brother and that was a job he took incredibly seriously, “you know if you overwork yourself it will be even harder to recover.” The (slightly) taller one now bent down in front of him, “please?” Al just gave a soft nod
“can you still get me a change of clothes? Soft ones please.” Ed gave a small laugh, ruffling his brother’s hair,
“you think I don’t know you?”
Al felt as though he could breathe freely in his new clothes. They were soft and not restrictive – like nothing he would wear outdoors but it was comforting. Then his hair started to irritate him. He could feel it tickle his neck slightly and rubbed at it to make the feeling disappear, but only left more of a burning sensation.
Issues with hair or shirt collars touching his skin, specifically more sensitive parts like his neck, began almost immediately after he got his body back. Only a few days in hospital, Lieutenant Hawkeye had offered Al one of her hair clips, which she then assisted to put it in after seeing his frustrations. The relief didn’t last long. Lying on a pillow felt as though the clip dug into his skull and small hairs would fall on his forehead, causing him to slap away the loose strands.
Then Ed tried to braid his hair, like Al had been doing for him all those years. He wasn’t nearly as skilled as Al was. Claiming his new arm just wasn’t very good at holding hair for long when in reality he barely braided his own hair. The braid lasted less than the hair clip. Al felt as though it was weighing his head down and causing headaches. Ed sighed at his brother’s irritation (and some guilt for giving him one more problem to deal with).
Next, Ed brought a gift to his brother, in a small gift bag there was scissors. Al looked at him puzzled but thanking him nonetheless – he was a gentleman afterall! Ed laughed at his brother’s confusion and offered to cut Al’s hair. The latter had never been more thankful at the sudden release of overwhelming hair that cursed his head. Al swore he wasn’t being dramatic.
From then on, Al was incredibly sensitive about his fair felt. It didn’t take much for it to overwhelm him and he was not going with his brother’s suggestion to shave it all off. Today was one of those days where it felt exhausting to wash, to even brush and Ed always offered to help. It practically became routine at this point – whenever Al was too tired from showering to wash his hair, or bad pain days, or if the thought of the shower was too claustrophobic and tight and steamy and just a sensory nightmare – Ed would always offer to wash his hair. Even if he didn’t have energy to do much, Al deserved to feel comfortable in his own body, and his hair was no different.
“Let me know if the water is too warm, okay?” Al was sitting on a dinning chair, head against a rolled up towel, majority of his head and all of his short hair dripping wet into the kitchen sink. Al was now in his most comfortable clothes Ed had retrieved for him, his cane lying securely beside him. Al hummed, closing his eyes and Ed began to wash his brother’s hair, “scentless shampoo?” Ed asked, Al hesitated, “I could use Winry’s lavender one,” Ed offered, and Al smiled. Ed squirted the liquid into his hands and began massaging it into Al’s hair, asking occasionally if it was alright for Al. He either got a hum or a slight pull on his shirt in response.
“I’m guessing no hair dryer,” Ed stated, finishing up by running his hands through Al’s hair, removing remaining suds.
“no, too loud.” He pouted, Ed grabbed the towel and began drying his brother’s hair – wet hair was another issue for Al, so the sooner he got to work the better. Al took over from his brother after a few minutes, Ed needing to clean up the sink and mess he somehow made in the process. Hair almost dry, Al went to help his brother in the kitchen, immediately noticing strands from Ed’s braid falling out messily, “brother, do you want me to redo your hair?” Al asked, shuffling over. Ed huffed at a stand that got in his field of vision.
“Only if you’re up for it,” he said, sternly, assessing Al with furrowed eyebrows. The latter just rolled his eyes slightly, but Ed kept staring.
“It’s fine, brother! We can sit and do it.”
“Alright.”
Ed never really learned how to properly braid his own hair (not that their mother was alive long enough for his hair to grow as long as it did, to teach him). Granny used to do Ed, Al and Winry’s hair, but when they left for the Military, and Ed began growing his hair out, Ed attempted to do it himself, which never turned out well. Al had been playing with Winry’s hair since they were children; putting flowers in it, trying out hairstyles Winry would point at from Granny’s magazines; even attempting to use her curlers which resulted in them somehow both getting their hair caught up in it.
Al started braiding Ed’s hair (having mostly learned what not to do from Winry). He was gentle, unlike Granny who was always rushed to do the hair of three children before school, and he was patient, even when Ed wiggled about or stretched to grab something – he was never known for his ability to sit still, not that Al ever minded. He always took his time with Ed’s hair – knowing how Ed likes to run, therefore making it firm but not tight. Somehow Al always managed to do it just right. Ed read a book as his little brother worked, asking how Al was feeling. The younger concentrated on preventing the hair from moving about too much whilst Ed happily swayed back and forth.
“Sleepy,” he sighed, but not angrily, or with frustration, “I think I’ll go to bed after this.”
“You can stop if you need, Al, I’d much rather you were rested.” Ed’s voice was slightly worried, but he could feel his younger brother shake his head.
“Don’t be silly, brother. I can’t leave you with just half a braid, you’d look so ugly.”
“Hey!”
Alphonse took more medication before beginning his ascent upstairs, Ed a few steps behind him, though they both knew Al would be fine – he was very familiar with navigating stairs with railings and his cane, “Do you need me to get you anything?” Ed asked, and Al wanted to laugh at his brother’s constant concern.
“I don’t think so- actually, are you able to get me a hot water bottle?” He asked, turning his head behind him, before his brother scolded him for not looking where he was going – as though Edward wasn’t more prone to falling.
Al made it into bed, Ed giving him a blanket and plushies, alongside the hot water bottle. “Do you want me to stay?” Ed asked, brushing his younger brother’s hair with his hand, just as he done that morning.
Al shook his head, “no, but thank you, brother. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. Thank you.” Ed kissed his head,
“You’re my little brother, I will always take care of you, Al.” Ed left, flicking off the light switch as he did. Al slept soundly.