“The Reason”

Alphonse didn’t know the man across from him very well, had only heard bits and pieces of stories from his brother. But now that he was back in his body, he only had one question needing an answer.

“Why?”

“There are many answers to that, Alphonse,” Hohenheim minded, to which Al stared with a mixture of hurt and anger at his father. His voice was firm yet pleading.

“Why did you save Ed and not me?”

Hohenheim sipped his tea and placed the cup back on his saucer. “Your brother made our conversation much easier. He simply called me a bastard and left.”

“I’m not my brother.”

Hohenheim smirked. “No, you’re not.” He finished his drink before dropping the necessary bills on the table.

He stood, then hesitated, his hand outstretched. Firming his resolve, he reached the few inches to ruffle his younger son’s short hair, despite the look of disapproval on Alphonse’s face.

He turned toward the door—“You are a skilled alchemist, Alphonse. You and your brother have made me proud.”—and left.

“Wait!” Alphonse ran after him and caught him just outside the restaurant. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His father graced with the tiniest of smirks, then walked away. “As I told your brother, everyone runs away from their mistakes. I am not ready to face mine.”