Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa and Square-Enix, all rights reserved. I am in no way affiliated with these parties. This story was written purely out of my own enjoyment, and is not meant to profit or offend. Any similarities between it and the work of any other fan author are purely coincidental. "Goodnight" song lyrics are property of Evanescence, all rights reserved.
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"Goodnight"
By The Last Princess of Hyrule
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Goodnight, sleep tight
No more tears
In the morning
I'll be here
And when we say goodnight
Dry your eyes
Because we said goodnight
And not goodbye
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The night was dark---not particularly frightening with the cheerful starlight, but still a bit unsettling without the moon. Crickets and fireflies chirped in discord out on the lawn as the leaves of the big oak rustled in the occasional gust of wind. The only things missing from this nighttime orchestra were father's snores to keep it in time. But several years had passed since he left, and I'd grown accustomed to falling asleep without them. What brought me out of a pleasant sleep, however, yawning and scowling, was an irritating---albeit not entirely uncommon---series of muffled thumps and creaks moving toward my door.
I could hear the old house itself groaning as the door to my room squeaked on its rusty hinges, two small hands clutching the doorknob to push it open. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as I struggled to make out the shape in the dark doorway, even though I already knew who it was. Ever since he first learned to walk, Alphonse always came into my room whenever he was scared at night.
"Brother?" the timid child called into the dark. "Are you awake?"
A yawn cut me off before I could answer right away. "Yeah . . . 'm up."
After a lot of rubbing, my eyes grew accustomed to the dark. I could see my little brother as he scampered away from the door, leaving it wide open, and crawling up into my bed. I scooted over to give him room, cringing as I moved under the cold, unused side of the blankets. The bed was plenty big for both of us, but Alphonse kept scooting closer to me until he was right in the center of the bed, and I was close to falling off the other side. My irritation increased, but I said nothing. He was only five years old---he hardly knew better.
"Brother, I'm scared," he said when he was settled. He was sitting up, but I had lain back down, pulling the icy quilt up to my chin and curling up into a ball underneath it, hoping to conserve some body heat.
"What are you scared of, Al?" I asked in a frustrated voice. I knew I should be nice and humor my little brother, but I couldn't help it---we'd been out and about all day, running and playing and having fun, and I was absolutely exhausted because of it. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Of course, Al took it as an indication that I didn't care (which, at the time, I didn't), and I could hear the deep hurt in his next words. "It's just, well . . . you didn't say "goodnight" tonight . . . and . . ." He twisted his hands in his lap, pulling the blanket up and down, obviously really nervous. He always fidgeted when he got worried. "It's really dark, and . . . and . . . what if bad guys come when we're sleeping and take everything away?"
I yawned again and turned away on my side. "Bad guys won't come here. There's nothing to take."
"Nuh-uh!" Alphonse protested passionately. I didn't have to look to know he was getting more scared by the moment. His breathing came sharper and his right leg began to twitch in his odd nervous manner, shaking the entire bed. "What if they took Mom?"
I groaned and rolled back to face him, opening my eyes. I could see Al's silhouette clearly. "If you're so scared about Mom, how come you didn't go wake her up?"
Al hesitated. ". . .She looked really tired today."
I didn't have a way to respond. There were days that Mom would sleep all night and all morning until afternoon came, when she finally walked out in her nightgown onto the porch where Al and I would be playing. When questioned, she would smile and remark that keeping up with two growing boys really took it out of her, but though Alphonse seemed to buy it, but I never once believed her.
"If Dad was still here," Al added suddenly, "Mom wouldn't get so tired."
This time, I didn't wait for Al to say more. "Nah, Mom doesn't need him, and neither do we," I said with confidence as I sat up and put an arm around his shoulders. "She's got us, right? We're way better than that old man. Thinking about him always makes Mom sad." I prattled on without sense, burning inside with anger for my good-for-nothing alchemist father. "He ran off and left us all alone, so we have to make sure to make Mom happy all the time so she forgets about him."
I could see Al's face clearly in the starlight coming through the window. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to believe all the grand plans I was telling him. I pulled my hand away. His face was streaked with tears I hadn't noticed until then, and something still troubled him, something my words hadn't reasoned away. "But . . . but . . ." he began, his face contorted with new fear. His voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned in so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face. "What if the bad guys really do come?"
I laughed in haughty arrogance that he could be completely serious about such a ridiculous idea. "Hah! No bad guys would dare mess with the great Elric brothers!" I proclaimed, beaming with pride. "And if they do, well, I'll use alchemy and chase them away. They'll be so scared, they'll pee their pants!"
Al giggled as he lay back and snuggled deep under the covers up against me, no longer afraid. I knew he was getting tired again with his mind at ease; his eyes drifting closed, about to fall asleep in my bed. The first time he ever did this, I had hated it. He kicked wildly in his sleep (often kicking me) and pulled all the blankets to his side of the bed. I once tried to send him back to his own room, where he could thrash about without hurting anybody. This worked only until I was about to fall back to sleep, when the door creaked open and he leapt into my bed, whimpering about another nightmare.
"I'm glad you're here to protect me and Mom," said Al lazily, fading fast. "Brother . . ."
With just those simple words, any hanging aggravation drifted out of mind, and a small smile stretched across my face. I laid back and pulled my now-soundly sleeping little brother into my arms, hugging him tightly around the waist. He let out a tiny groan, but didn't stir. With his head tucked under my chin and his sandy hair tickling my nose, I closed my eyes.
With Dad no longer around, and Mom getting so tired so often, it had fallen on me to take care of my little brother. He had become my responsibility---from taking blame for being a bad influence when he misbehaved, to sticking up for him whenever he needed protection (which was thankfully rare). Of course, I didn't do it because it was the right thing to do, but because it gave me a deep sense of pride that he looked up to me, his big brother. So I was determined to protect him no matter what.
"Brother . . .?" Alphonse suddenly mumbled from under my chin. I'd been sure he'd been asleep.
"Yeah?"
"Promise you won't ever leave me like Dad . . ."
"No way." I squeezed him in assurance, my eyes still closed. "There's no way I'll ever leave you and Mom."
"That's good . . . G'night . . ." Alphonse yawned, wriggled around in my arms, then stilled. His breathing leveled out, and I could feel his thumping heart slow to a tranquil rhythm. In the silence that followed, the nighttime orchestra took up its strings again, but this time when they played, they kept time with the beat of Al's heart.
Not against my will, I let the steady harmony lull me back to sleep, but not before I could answer my sleeping brother with a forgotten, "Goodnight."
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We said goodnight
And not goodbye
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