Night After Night

1

His silence pierces the air around me as he works tirelessly on something I know nothing about. His face is determined and stony, focusing completely on some answer to a problem that he will never share with me.

I open my mouth to ask, but then I lose the nerve. I don't think he realizes I'm even there as he sits hunched over in a chair, furiously scribbling and tracing a complicated design that looks like it had come from another planet.

Edward Elric is a mystery to me.

Just watching him makes me weary, so I retire to our room. He always goes to sleep late. I think he just wants to avoid it as much as he can because of the nightmares. That's just my opinion though, because he never tells me.

I climb into the single twin-size bed and wrap myself in the thin blankets. I know better than to take the floor, I'd tried that in the past. I never get away with it.

I pretend to be asleep when his shadow appears in the doorway, the dark smudge on the floor looming towards me from the light of an oil lamp in the hallway, before he turns the knob to shut it off.

His footsteps are soft, and I can tell he is exaggerating an attempt to be quiet for fear of waking me. The only time he shows he cares is when he thinks I'm not paying attention.

I can hear him settle himself on the floor beside me, and finally the silence befalls the room once more.

As I stare in the darkness at the human-shaped lump of blankets on the ground from where I lay on the bed, I remember what he told me. He said, 'You should take the bed, Alfons. You need it more than I do.'

Night after night, it's always the same. He always sleeps on the floor. The thought that I am almost afraid of allowing to surface suddenly creeps into my mind against my will as I watch him.

We could always share the bed, you know. It would be warmer that way. I project my thoughts silently towards his body.

But I will never say that out loud. Regret pools in my stomach as I watch him toss and turn, attempting to get comfortable on the cold hard ground. The twin-size mattress is lumpy and worn, but it is certainly better than the floor.

"Why don't you take the bed tonight? I'll be fine if we switch once in a while." I call to him softly in the darkness instead, and his restlessness stills as he seems to contemplate my words, though I know better.

"No," comes the short answer I knew was coming. The same as it always is.

I deflate and pull the covers up to my chin, turning over to face the wall. I can still hear him shifting around, the soft sounds echoing in the tiny room. It's not fair to him. Every day the bags under his eyes get darker and more pronounced, and I know it's all my fault.

I close my eyes and finally drift into an uncomfortable sleep, still aware of the one who sleeps on the floor next to me.

He looks even worse than the night before as I eye him from over the top of my newspaper. I sip my tea and set down the paper as Edward paces the room. Why won't he just tell me what's wrong? Maybe I could even help him if he just opened up for once.

He seems to feel my eyes on him and stops, a sad line where his mouth is and he looks at me the way he does sometimes when he's reminded of something.

It's how he looks at nearly everyone here. From the little bit he's told me, I guess there's something about everyone here who reminds him of home.

I wonder who I remind him of?

Actually, never mind, I don't think I want to know. Maybe it's better if he never tells me what's going on in that brilliant mind of his.

I tell myself this, but I still can't help the pang in my stomach when he turns away instead of telling me why he looked at me like that. Instead of telling me why there is such sorrow in those beautiful pools of gold every time our eyes meet.

Nothing more is said between us as I follow him to the room. I linger in the doorway as he prepares his nightly resting spot on the floor.

He pauses and looks up at me with a quizzical expression on his face. "What's wrong, Alfons?"

I swallow the bitter laugh that threatens to bubble in my throat. I find it ironic that he asks me what's wrong.

"I'm taking the floor tonight." I tell him, before coming to sit on his pile of blankets beside the twin bed.

"We've had this discussion. You get the bed, it's only fair." He argues with me, trying to yank the blanket from under me. I don't budge, though.

"How is it fair if you sleep on the floor every single night?" I look at him incredulously, but he just ignores me and curls up on the floor anyway.

Well fine, two can play this game.

I tentatively lay down beside him, and his body tenses.

"Stop it, Alfons. You need your rest, so get your ass in that bed." He grumps at me with his back turned.

"No." I reply with a small smirk that I know he can't see.

I can almost feel his eyes rolling as he lets out a long sigh, but doesn't argue any further.

We just lay there like that for a long while, but Edward's body stays tensed. I want so badly to put my arm around him, to whisper in his ear that he can tell me anything. Just to let him know I'm here for him.

But I don't. I don't push my luck, because this is the closest I've gotten to him since we met.

It might be the closest I'll ever get to him, because I might not have the courage to do this again tomorrow night.