He was jittering violently. His eyes shifted rapidly among the objects in the room. He was constantly folding and unfolding his hands. His legs bounced and he was panting.
People stopped to stare at the young man, but never once asked if he was okay. They merely glanced, spoke a word of concern or distaste, and moved on. He glared at the few who made rude remarks, and those who didn't.
The room was cold and full of people. A man sat next to him and put a comforting hand on his knee. The man knew what was wrong, but he didn't dare speak a word. It would ruin the younger's career. No one could know of this. Ever. He wasn't one to meddle. And the boy silently thanked him for it. What he does on his own time is of no one's business. Though it could affect his health, it was the only way he could cope.
After his brother passed away, he went into a spiraling depression. It only got worse until he found it. The one thing that could keep him from hurting himself. Before this new way to handle the death, he used self-mutilation. The scars on his arms were slowly healing, but the dark circles and the attention deficit replaced them. Though, he hadn't completely kicked the habit. He scratched at a scab.
"Fullmetal, you really should lay off. It's not good for you. Have you been going to the therapy sessions with Dr. Neoni?" Mustang eyed the boy hesitantly.
"N-No. I… Can't. Can't talk. No. Too… Painful. Bad. Bad memories. I won't talk. I won't." Ed shifted his ever changing gaze to meet the Colonel's.
Mustang sighed. "Is it because you don't know her? Would you feel more comfortable talking with someone you know?"
"Maybe. Later. Not now. Too… Painful." Tears started welling in the blonde's eyes. "I… Need to use the restroom." He up and left the man.
Mustang sat and waited for Ed to return. A short time after, he felt a presence to his left. "Better?" He said spotting the white underneath his nose. Ed nodded. Mustang grimaced, but dropped the subject and decided to change it. "How's Winry?"
Ed looked up at Roy. A mixture of pain and remorse crossed his face. "I… Haven't seen her. Two years. Two years have passed. I don't know. I really don't know." He shook his head.
Roy nodded in understanding. "And," He almost skipped over the touchy subject, but decided it was important, "your arms? No additions to the collections?" Ed looked away, refusing to meet the others' eyes. "Ed, were the deep?"
Ed pulled his shirt sleeve down. "No… Only one. It didn't bleed as much. As much as last time." He shuddered at the memory of the hospital. Seeing the bag of red at his bed side. He hated needles. Despised them.
Yet there he was, a needle in his arm. Though heavily sedated, he still had the strength to pull it out. But he was too scared. He didn't want to die. He promised his brother he'd do everything in his power to stay alive.
Roy sighed. "Fullme— Ed, is this how you want to spend your life? Running from your past rather than facing them? You can't keep these bottled up. If you want, you can come to my house and we can talk." He suggested.
Ed paused. A very long, awkward silence followed. Roy thought he had fallen asleep, so he turned to watch the speaker at the head of the room. What sound followed was almost inaudible. "I… I'd like that. Thank you, Roy. Thank you." He looked up.
Roy turned and smiled. "You're welcome. You know, you're always welcome at my home. Whenever you want, whatever you need, I'm always there."
Ed sighed a relieved sigh. He closed his eyes and leaned into Roy's shoulder. The boy was finally still as he fell into a peaceful sleep.
A/N: I thought of this when I saw "Crackfic". I'm think of the next chapter where they talk, or is it fine the way it is? And it seems I need to clarify where they're at, but the setting's not really important at this point. It's mainly just dialogue and actions I'm focusing on. ANYWAY, I know it sucks, but I had to get this down.