Edward was sitting on the red couch the hotel had provided for the two to sit on; a dark brown end table decorated both ends of the couch, each having the same materials: a lamp with a white cover on it, a notepad, and a drawer to hold assorted items in.
There was something special about the right side's table, though, that made Edward want to sit in that side. The right table had a clock on it, a digital one with bright green numbers, and a blinking colon, flashing when another second had passed by and fallen into the past.
Edward had his feet planted firmly on the ground, his toes pointed towards each other, and his heels away from each other, so that his feet somewhat resembled the top of a star, or an "A," without the line going through the middle, the hardwood flooring was going vertical underneath him. Edward had both of his arms on the back of the couch, letting them both flop down, his right hand holding tight the neck of brownish alcohol bottle that was keeping his worries inside. He was hanging his head as low as he could get it, pressing his chin to his chest, his golden eyes closed and breathing through his nose. He was wearing his usual outfit. His black tanktop, leather pants, boots, overshirt, and his red jacket. His hair was still tied back in a braid, too. In fact, he hadn't changed a bit since he got home. Not since Al left...
~2 hours previous~
Edward walked down the hallway and up to his and Alphonse's shared room for the night, beginning to whistle a song he heard on the radio earlier, and reached his left hand into his front pocket, pulling the key out of the cloth trap by its blade. Realizing this by touch, Edward flipped around the key in his hand and inserted the key into the lock, turning the key's bow and unlocking the red wood door leading to their shared room for the night. Edward turned the knob using his right automail hand and pushed open the door. "Al! I'm home!" Edward closed the door behind him and shoved the key back in his pocket.
"Brother," a voice called out from Edward's right, followed by some metal clanking. After a few seconds, Alphonse ran in, obviously worried about his brother. "Brother, where have you been? You were supposed to be home hours ago!" Alphonse's eyes looked over Edward's body to make sure that there were no scratches or injuries.
Edward sighed and looked down, beginning to remove his white gloves. "I'm sorry Al, but Colonel Shithead had me stay in late again. He was lecturing me on manners and how to not tear towns apart and stuff like that."
Alphonse was silent for a second before speaking again, this time he spoke in a serious tone. "What's the real reason?" Alphonse looked down clenched his fists up tight, to the point where, if he had a human body, his knuckles would be white.
Ed looked up from removing his gloves, the left glove not quite off yet. "Whaddya mean Al? That is the real reason-"
"No, it's not." Alphonse looked Edward in the eyes, an evil feel in his own. "You use that excuse every night that you're out late... 'Mustang made me do this,' or 'Colonel dumbo made me do that.' It's getting hard to believe that it's the real excuse."
"Listen Al, it's not a fake excuse! Ask Mustang himself-!"
"I don't care about him. I care about you. You've been coming home like this at least once a week... And you act like it's no big deal!"
Edward walked a walked closer to his little brother, trying to get him to calm down. "Alphonse-"
Alphonse screamed loudly at Edward, making Edward stop in his tracks. "Shut up!"
The world was silent for a second before Alphonse continued talking.
"Stop making up excuses! If you don't want to be with me then say so!"
The world fell silent once again before Edward broke it.
"Go," Edward said, looking down at his feet. Tears started to swell up in his golden eyes as he thought of the way his own little brother was acting towards him. "Go, Al, if you really hate me that much, go right now." Edward stepped to his left, opening up the path to the door as a tear fell from his left eye and onto his left boot. The tear droplet stayed perfectly on the boot, not moving in the slightest bit, despite Edward's shaking.
Alphonse thought about it for a second before taking heavy footsteps towards the door, opening it, stepping out and running down the hallway to the outside world.
Edward wiped another tear from his left eye away, saying, "Damn it Al... I'm telling the truth... I swear..."
~Back to the present~
Edward lifted his head up from its previous position against his chest, throwing his head backwards until it hit the hard back of the red couch. Upon impact, Edward brought his head back up, closing his eyes and using his left hand to rub where his head and the couch collided, bringing his right arm over the back and setting it onto the couch. "Ow, ow, ow, ow... God, that hurts.... Why do drunkards have to be so god damn clumsy...? Fuck... I've hurt my only flesh foot twice and broken shot glasses tree times..." Edward opened his right eye and looked to his right and down at the couch, seeing at the clear glasses next to him, smashed in to what looked like a thousand pieces, ranging from tiny to big in size.
Edward sighed at himself for being so clumsy and looked at the clock. It read 8:33 PM. Edward shook his head and brought the bottle to his mouth, putting his mouth around the opening and taking large gulps of the brownish alcohol as air bubbles rise to the top. Edward then removed the bottle from his mouth in a fast manner, a bit of liquid splashing from it and onto Edward's inner shirt, just over his covered belly button.
Feeling the cold sensation seeping into his skin, Edward looked down at his shirt, pulling on it using his left hand and saying, "Shit..."
Edward took one more drink of alcohol before standing up, taking a second to make sure he was balanced properly, setting the bottle on the floor in front of the couch, and stripping himself of his multiple layers of shirts, leaving himself shirtless and feeling free.
Edward walked over to the sink and turned the circular knob to the right that had "C" on it and watched as the cold water flew out of the faucet and into the sink. Seeing the sink fill up about one-fourth of the way, Edward reached out to the orange, contained dish soap and squirted a quarter of it in unconsciously, playing the with bottle as he did so, lifting the bottle from the sink and putting it extremely close to the water. Edward tilted the bottle in different directions, experimenting with the different ways the orange liquid would exit the bottle.
Edward laughed at this, closing his eyes, holding his stomach, and almost falling to the floor a few times. The fourth time that he almost fell, Edward looked over his right shoulder and regained his balance by putting his left foot back for support. Edward paused for a few seconds and checked to make sure that he wasn't falling anymore. Satisfied by the silence and his body not moving toward the hardwood ground, Edward resumed his previous position and set the bottle down to the left of the sink, watching the suds rise.
Once the soap suds reached the point where they were flowing over the sink, Edward turned off the water and stuck his black, alcohol-stained shirt in it. He picked up the sponge to the right of the sink and moved it to the left, knowing that he'd need it soon.
Edward used his left hand and thrashed the shirt around in the sink, making water splash everywhere and thinking of how his mom did his and Alphonse's laundry every few days. "Those memories... Don't matter... Right now." Edward took out the tank top and held it up, letting water drip out of it for about a minute before complaining "This makes my arm huuurt like hell. I knew I should have sparred with Al one more time before..." Edward fell silent, unable to complete the sentence.
Edward shook his head and laid the shirt down on the counter to the right and looked at where the stain was located, locking on to it. Without removing his eyes from their fixed location, Edward reached out and used his left hand to get the sponge and bring it back to his station. Edward grabbed the soap again with his right hand and applied a little bit to the soft yellow object before setting the soap down and tossing the sponge into his right hand. Edward used his now-free left hand and rubbed in the soap, using his fingers, his palm, and even his wrist once. After ten seconds of that, Edward squeezed the sponge a little bit, watching suds fall from it, down his hand, and down his arm until they had reached his automail elbow, where gravity took over and made the suds fall closer and closer to the ground, landing on the ground, to the right of the alchemist's boot.
Edward smirked at how much soap was in there and brought the sponge down to the shirt, where the stain was located, and started scrubbing it as hard as hell itself, determination written all over his face, almost like he wanted to use the sponge to tear the shirt into two.
After about fifteen seconds, Edward's arm started to get tired, slowing down his performance by about half. Fifteen more seconds later, his performance decreased again by half. Not even thirty seconds later, Edward had fallen to the ground face-up, all but his right automail arm was still on the counter, scrubbing away the stain very weakly.
"No," Edward said to himself, "I... Must finish... Scrubbing... Stain..." Edward tilted his head to the left and closed his eyes for three seconds before opening them wide with shock. This was first time drinking. What if he fell into a coma and had been out for years? What if he would die in that exact spot? Edward had a very sudden flashback to when he and Alphonse were on the island as kids. "Many people would be sad if we died..." Edward sat up and brought his automail arm back to his side, where he had blinked a couple of times and looked around, remembering what he was doing previously and where he was.
Edward shook his head, shaking himself out of wonderland and back into the real world. Edward stood up and lost his balance for a second from standing up too fast and fell back on his butt. Edward took another attempt at standing, this time going slower, and succeeded, grabbing his soaking wet tanktop using his left hand and walked towards the front door, there was a closet near that door, where he would hang the tanktop up at and then go to bed for the night.
Edward was on his way to the closet when he happened to pass by the couch he was on earlier that night, but it wasn't the couch that had caught his attention, it was the bottle of alcohol standing in front of it. Edward stood still in his tracks, determining whether or not it was a good idea to have another few big gulps of the quarter-empty bottle. He might spill it on his shirt again, but it was the only thing keeping him from breaking out into tears and calling someone to help. It also didn't taste too bad either... Edward ignored the bad points of taking the bottle and took a small detour, picking up the brownish-red bottle and taking a few big gulps out of it, watching the air bubbles rise to the top. Once he was finished drinking the alcohol, Edward removed the bottle from his lips and opened them, saying, "ahhhh," in relaxation and satisfaction.
Edward set down the bottle again in its previous position and continued walking towards the door, his steps getting a little... off now. With each step, it felt like Edward would fall down, it felt like that the world was spinning faster and faster, but slowing down at the same time. His vision was blurring in and out, each time his vision blurred up was worse than the last.
Luckily enough, Edward made it to the closet, stumbling against the door; he would have fallen flat on the ground if the door wasn't there, which he was mare than grateful for. Edward opened the closet door and used the door as support as he walked inside or it, his vision blurring up again as he looked and felt for a hanger.
Edward finally found an empty hanger and pulled it out of the closet. It was a wire one, painted over in a bronze-gold color. Edward placed the hanger on his right hand's pinky finger and messed with the tanktop for a few seconds before figuring out where the head hole and the arm holes were. Just as he was about to put the tanktop on the hanger, Edward fell over, away from the closet, and felt his head collide with the ground again before closing his eyes, making the world fade from light to black.