armoredsoul | victory

[Envy had done okay during the circus weekend. He'd managed to wear himself out enough during the shows to be able to just collapse in bed at the end of the day and fall asleep without thinking or dreaming.]

[But now the circus is over. The night is too quiet, and his room especially feels like both the emptiest place in the world and so full of the ghosts of memories that Envy can't stand it. He'd waved off the offers to keep him company, sure he wouldn't need it since he'd been fine over the weekend, but...]

[Well, he was wrong. And now he hasn't slept since Sunday night, because he was too stubborn to ask. So he dials what he's pretty sure is Lust's number, but he's not exactly paying attention.]

Lust, I still can't sleep, I--

[It's safe to say that Al has never heard Envy sound like this. He's not actually crying, but his voice sounds choked enough that he's clearly halfway there. He sounds frustrated with himself and completely exhausted, and then his voice goes very small and bitter.]

I never even deserved him in the first place.

[Al was up late as well, though for much less emotional reasons, curled up with Eddie and a good book he just couldn't put down. He's surprised when the Gear rings (no one ever calls him this late), and even more surprised to see who it is.]

[His voice is so different, Al almost wonders for a moment if someone stole Envy's Gear. He listens to the message in silence, confused before he scrolls back through the network's history and--]

[...oh.]

[Al had never known quite what to feel about Envy and France, even after he got used to the surreal idea of a country being embodied in a human like that. He'd always been watching for something more sinister at play, some hidden taint that maybe the others had missed, but aside from the fact that one of them was Envy they'd been a perfectly normal and loving couple. Disconcerting to say the least, but a small part of him had...been glad, that Envy could find something like that. That there was still a shred of a decent person that could still love in a healthy and unbroken way in him.]

[And now he's lost that, and even Edward would be able to see the hurt and pain in those few words choked out to a close friend. There was no true 'first reaction' for Al; the petty feeling of vindication and reveling in twisted karma was muddled and twisted up in a sympathetic worry and urge to comfort, say something to put balm on the wound. It made Al's stomach twist up uncomfortably, made him wish he hadn't listened to the message, made him wish he'd noticed sooner.]

[It's a few minutes later that Al sends a text back. It's easier to stay civil with that barrier in place.]

I'll send her your way.

...I'm sorry.

[For a moment, Envy still doesn't realize what's happened. Why would Lust respond with--shit.]

[His stomach jolts unpleasantly. Al had just heard that, heard him being so utterly weak that he almost hadn't wanted to even send it to Lust. He didn't want Al to know about this at all, not even secondhand.]

[Somehow, the fact that he's not gloating or saying that Envy deserved the pain or anything else like that just makes it worse.]

[He almost doesn't respond. Normally, he wouldn't and would just hope that Al might think it was a dream and forget about it. It's only because he's so tired and not thinking quite straight that he does send something back, typing it quickly and hitting send before he has time to think about it.]

why do you keep doing this?

[Why doesn't Al act like Envy thinks he SHOULD? Why do things have to be complicated? It was easier when there was just the hate.]

[It takes Al a minute or so before he sees that reply, relaying the message to Lust as he is. And even then he stares at the text glowing on the screen for a good long while, not even sure of the answer himself. There are plenty of things he could say, that it's the right thing or that he doesn't want to sink to Envy's level, but none of those are the real truth.]

[He types and deletes and re-types again several times before the message is finally sent out.]

Because even you deserve help.

[Even just saying that felt like a horrible betrayal to his brother, but it was the truth. They were all victims of a tangled web of hurt and hate, even if Envy had chosen to become an active part of it.]

[By the time Al responds, Lust has already come in and Envy doesn't even see the text for a while.]

[When he does glance back at his 'Gear, it's like a punch to the gut. He doesn't respond himself, because what can he say to that, besides the kneejerk "I don't want your help"? Because he doesn't, doesn't want Alphonse Elric's help or pity or anything at all. He tells himself that he doesn't send it because Lust is in the room and will see him typing and ask questions.]

[He also does his best to ignore the small, insistent voice in the back of his head saying 'no I don't'.]

[Until he can fall asleep, he's just trying not to think about it, to focus on other things. Maybe in the morning he can think of this interaction as nothing meaningful, or as a weird dream.]

[Wishful thinking. Those words are going to stick in his head for a long time.]

[Even if Envy had sent a response, Alphonse wouldn't have seen it until morning. His book is forgotten at this point, as the conflicting guilt and worry twist his stomach around, tighten like a vice around his heart.]

[He should hate Envy, despise every fiber of his being, but he...he can't, anymore. He's seen too much of the hidden parts of the homunculus, the few bits and pieces of him that aren't a broken wreck. And now that he has, he wants to help; it's his nature, he can't help it. But every time he sees his half-brother he also sees Edward bleeding out on the ground, the light fading out of his eyes while Al could do nothing to stop it.]

[He falls asleep curled up tightly against his Luxray's side, tears staining the mane where it cushioned his head.]

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[voice | May 20th]

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