Alphonse sat on his bed, the light to his room off though the sun had set long ago. He could hear her moving about the house. He could remember how she had looked helping their sister to make dinner... it had always tasted so wonderful when they cooked together, as they tempered each other.
Food meant little to him now. As did sleep. As did anything beyond the door to his room... this place that had become his whole world. The walls, which had once been covered in posters and pictured, leered barrenly from the darkness. His things were packed away in the closet, out of sight. They were things that belonged to someone who wanted a connection to something... anything. He didnt'. Not anymore.
His older sister and he had been nearly as close as he and his twin. What a family they had made... then, before he could react, she was gone. Their parents, their sister. All gone. He couldn't do it anymore. Everyone would disappear eventually... better to be alone now, than face being alone later.
He smelled the food she cooked. His older sister had used to keep her from spicing it so strongly, but that doesn't mean he hadn't liked her food by itsself. It didn't matter now. Any sustenance that passed through his lips tasted of ash upon his tongue... he wanted no part in it. He lay back on the sheets of his bed, closing his eyes, and waiting for the darkness to take him...
It would not, and soon enough he was across the room, opening the door, and taking his food inside. He ate very little of it, but it was enough for him to feel disgusted with himself. If he wanted so much to vanish, he should do something.
He had no passion left in him, however. Not even enough for the act of suicide, and so he would have to continue surviving.