Chapter Text
Ed closed the fridge, empty cup in hand. An irritated sigh escaped him. “Which one of you assholes drank all the orange juice and left the empty carton?” He turned to glare at his roommate, who sat lounging on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone. Ling — Ed was still bad at telling, at least before they spoke, but he was pretty sure it was Ling — glanced up at him, giving a sheepish grin.
Yeah, that was Ling, alright. Ed would recognize that annoyingly endearing smile anywhere.
“I don’t remember it, so it must’ve been Greed.” Ling returned his attention to his phone, propping his feet up on the couple of sturdy boxes that were currently serving as their coffee table. He crossed one leg over the other.
Ed rolled his eyes. “Right. And if I ask Greed later, what’s he going to say?”
Ling tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Well, if I know that guy at all, he’ll probably lie and say I did it.”
“Greed doesn’t lie!”
For a split second, Ling seemed to wince, before laughing. He waved a hand. “You two are going to be the death of me.”
“What, did he say something?”
“Yeah. He said he doesn’t lie. And he said a word I’m pretty sure he can’t reclaim.” Ed laughed, and Ling continued, “He said another thing, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Ling looked up at Ed, cupping his own chin in his hand. “He said you’re short.” His self-satisfied smirk disappeared as Ed moved to the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows and smacking Ling in the head with it.
“Tell him to take it back!”
Ling was laughing, his hands raised in a half-defense. “Ow, hey, hitting me won’t hurt him!”
“I bet it was you who said it anyway, asshole,” Ed grumbled, giving Ling one more half-hearted swat with the pillow before flopping down on the couch beside him, a couple inches apart. He’d used to sit close enough they touched, but, well— lately, Ling’s touch made him feel weird in a way he couldn’t really identify. His irritation was mostly play, though, and what little real anger he felt was already fading; it was hard to stay mad at his roommate, especially when Ling didn’t seem to actually care about anything he teased Ed for. He seemed to more enjoy getting a rise out of Ed.
Ed reached over to grab the remote, turning the TV on. He almost moved to prop his legs up on the “coffee table”, but thought better of it — his prosthetic leg might be too heavy for the boxes. “Just buy a new carton of juice next time you’re out, alright?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, yeah, I will.”
“Jeez, you already forgot? You’re hopeless.”
“Hey, that’s ableist.” Ling elbowed him teasingly. “You can’t make fun of the guy with DID for forgetting things.”
“Why not? You’ll forget it anyway.” Ling’s expression faltered for a moment, and Ed instantly felt bad. “Hey, I didn’t mean— you know I wouldn’t—”
“Oh, relax, I know.” Ling waved a hand, already returning to his usual amiable look. “Besides, it’s not my fault I forgot. It can be hard to focus when Greed’s chattering away in my ear all the time.”
“I mean, at least you get to make up for it by chattering in his ear when he’s the one fronting,” Ed pointed out.
Ling only shrugged. “Not really. I’m not as aware when I’m out of front as he is. I’m usually just… there, and then all of a sudden I’m somewhere new. I found myself in the student center playing pool once. I didn’t know he even knew how to play pool.”
“Oh. Huh.” Ed struggled to find a response to that. “That, uh… sounds rough.”
Ling shrugged again. “It’s not so bad. He helps me a lot. And when he remembers, he leaves notes to keep me up to date.” They fell silent for a moment, before he glanced over at Ed. “Oh, by the way, do you mind if I have a date come over tonight?”
Ed’s stomach plunged, a cold feeling settling over him. Of course. Just when he’d started to forget, when things were settling into their normal routine— Ling was giving him an odd look now, so he cleared his throat, trying to buy himself time for the response. “Uh— sure, but, I mean— um, I just—” He couldn’t get the words out. Finally, he sighed and said, “Could you go over to his place tonight? I just— I have a lot of homework I need to get done.” He stared at his clasped hands, avoiding Ling’s gaze.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, sure.” Ed felt the couch dip as Ling stood up. His gaze drifted back over, watching as the young man stretched — Ling’s shirt rose up, exposing his midriff, and Ed hurriedly looked away again, trying to hide the heat creeping past his cheeks and into the tips of his ears. “I’ll see you later.”
With that, Ling left.
Ed’s stomach was still churning, so he moved to the kitchen sink. For a long time, he grasped either side of the counter, his head hovered over the disposal. Little flecks of food still sat stuck to the sides and bottom of the sink — one of them really needed to suck it up and scrub the sink down later. Ed couldn’t remember whose turn it was this week. Remembering anything was difficult, when all he could focus on was the hurt swimming inside him. The image of Ling with another guy… he wasn’t sure why it set him off so badly, but it certainly did.
Eventually, Ed fumbled for his phone. It wasn’t long before Al picked up — Al was always quick about that.
“Brother?”
Ed’s shoulders sank in relief. “Hey, Al.”
“Hey. Um, is something wrong?”
“Do you have a minute?”
“Uh, sure, one sec.” Al’s voice became muffled for a moment, answered by someone indistinct. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Thanks. Uh, who is it you were talking to?” Ed couldn’t remember Al saying he was hanging out with anyone today — but of course, that immediately told him who it was. “You’re with him again?”
“…Dad invited me over for dinner. I said yes.” Al's voice was soft.
Anger washed over Ed, momentarily suppressing the grief. “Why are you giving Hohenheim a chance? He’s been nothing but—”
“You wouldn’t know how he’s been, brother.”
Al sounded exasperated, in a way Ed rarely heard from him. Immediately, the anger Ed felt was turned toward himself for upsetting Al, but it didn’t stop him from raising his voice. “Yeah, ‘cause he left!”
“And then he came back!” Al snapped. There was another muffled voice on the line, sounding vaguely concerned — that made Ed’s free hand clench into a fist — followed by Al saying, “No, Dad, it’s fine.” He spoke again to Ed, his voice still heated, but hushed. “You don’t want to have a relationship with him, and that’s fine, Ed. But I do. He’s trying, and I appreciate it.”
“If you want to have dinner and play house with the guy who abandoned us, that’s fine.” Ed’s voice was harsh to his own ears. "Look, never mind. I'll talk to you later. Just forget it."
The phone screen blurred as he pulled it away from his face, and he realized with a start that he was crying. He moved to wipe the tears away, before realizing he probably shouldn’t do that with his prosthetic arm. Dimly, he heard Al start to say, “What is with you tonight? I—” Before he hung up.
Ed stared miserably into the sink, already kicking himself for that conversation. He didn’t know why he did that — every time he got anxious, he got angry. White-hot heat was still flooding through him, so he reached over, shutting his phone off. Ignoring the incoming texts from Al lighting up his screen. He’d apologize to him later, when he wasn’t in a mood where every word Al said would make him want to bite his head off more.
For now… well, maybe a cold shower would calm Ed down.