Almost all eyes snapped upwards and towards the door as the sound of wood meeting cement faded: standing there was one pissed off Roy Mustang. Dark eyes glared at the one spot he instinctively knew where the cause of his current attitude sat: the prodigy Edward Elric. Said person didn't even bother looking up from the sound the door, rather a book was perched high in front of golden eyes. Roy marched over towards the bookworm and snatched the book with haste.

"What the hell?!" Ed yelled. His eyes turning upwards to look into the pissed off eyes of his frenemy. "Dammit Mustang! Give the it back!"

"Not until you tell me why you did it."

"Did what, Captain Bastard?"

Gritting his teeth, the older just smacked Ed upside the head with the book. "Don't play games with me, you brat! I know you know what you did!"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Ed stood to his full – though it wasn't very much – height, "But you do not have the right to just hit people with their own fucking book!"

"Then tell me why you took our spot on the signup sheet for the rink? You know that there are guys on the team that can't make it after a certain time due to class and other obligations, yet you booked the 6 A.M timeslot until 8 A.M." Roy tried to smack Ed again, the younger dodged and grabbed his book. "I want an explanation now, and I'm telling you that it better be a good one or so help me."

The other students watching slowly leaned away from the pair because they knew that the two could go at it for hours, and that it could get ugly. The rink was always a hot debate between them, every student at Amestris University knew that. Roy Mustang was captain of the hockey team, while Ed was an aspiring figure skater to make his debut into the senior level. Both had ambitions to represent their country in the upcoming Olympics, which was a year and half away. No one wouldn't expect anything less of the pair either. Roy was considered the find of the century due to his incredible skills on the ice; Ed was considered the prodigy both on and off the ice due to an immaculate intellect coupled with rare talent on the ice. The younger earned the nickname "Fullmetal" because of his style and will to overcome anything; the older was dubbed "The Flame" due to his precision and aim paired with unbelievable perception and maneuverability on the ice.

"I fucking didn't take the spot because I haven't even signed up for the week because I know that guys on the hockey team have other obligations and I thought that was why we came with the agreement that I'd take the later morning time," growled Ed. He tore the book from the elder's grasp and hit him with it. "Besides, if you actually used your damn head, you'd realize that the time slot is two hours long and ends at 8 A.M!"

"So?"

A golden brow arched up high at the elder's response and Ed attempted to smack Mustang again, but was efficiently blocked. "One, I don't skate for two hours straight. Two, I always stay for the full time I sign up and, if you have yet to properly observe, I have fucking class at 8 A.M!" The look on Mustang's face told Ed that it finally clicked in elder's head: dark eyes widened comically, while the full lips formed and 'oh' in realization. "Dumbass." Ed sat down and re-opened his book to where he left off.

"Then who the hell signed up in the team's spot?" questioned Mustang out-loud.

"The fuck if I know," grunted Ed as he flipped a page.

Exhaling, Mustang retreated to his seat in the back and threw his backpack onto the ground, but ensured it was leaning upright against his chair. He groaned because late night practices are horrible when your body is trained to get up early. This would throw his whole week off until next week's signup came out. "I guess I'll just have to be first," muttered Flame to himself. He pulled out his notebook from his discarded backpack and a pen, opening the notebook to the next clean page.

All eyes averted to the teacher as he came in and set his books down at the desk. "Good morning," greeted the teacher. Said teacher was man in his late fifties that still had a full head of hair. "I hope that you all did your assigned reading because you'll be having a pop quiz before you leave for the weekend."

Everyone groaned.

The dinning hall was thankfully empty as Roy waltzed in and picked out a table that would hold all his friends. Nodding in approval, the dark-hair male went to get his usual lunch of brown rice and chicken, while texting his friend group on the way. He hummed as he waited, but grabbed his lunch quickly and retreated to his selected table. Long blonde hair greeted dark eyes as Roy approached the table. "Riza."

"Roy," her soft tone filtered the Flame's ears. Cognac eyes turned towards Mustang, while quick arms whipped off the sports jacket that had previously adorned that familiar slim frame. "How has your day been?"

"Shit. Yours?"

"It's going well. Why is your day 'shit?'"

Seating himself, Roy mixed his rice and chicken together while speaking casually to his former girlfriend. "Someone signed up for our timeslot and then a pop quiz, followed by a test. Not to mention we have late night practice all week."

"That sounds harsh, Chief," greeted Havoc. His muscular arm encircled Riza's waist as he kissed her temple. "Hello beautiful."

To say that Roy Mustang was not jealous right then and there would be a total and utter lie. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the couple being lovey-dovey and jealousy encircled his heart. Yes, the Flame was jealous that his ex could move on, but he couldn't because he hadn't found the right girl yet. He was glad that he and Riza could be friends, but at times like this it just hurt.

"Let's go get something to eat," Riza smiled, her fingers laced with Jean's, "It's protein day."

As they left, Roy felt a bit better, but his mind couldn't stop thinking about his ex: Riza Hawkeye. That woman could take the wings off a fly without breaking a sweat. Hell, she had proven herself by qualifying and winning the previous summer Olympics in archery, not to mention she was extremely skilled with a gun and was known for winning the yearly competitions if she felt like entering them. However, Roy shook his head, dark locks flittering here and there, because of why they had broken up: Riza had been too willing to give up her dream of Olympic gold for him, but, yet, she couldn't support him following his own dream for Olympic gold. Their breakup had been mutual, but it had stung considerably. Then, Jean Havoc, a member of the Shooting Club, had easily swooned and won her heart. Yet, here was Roy, still single and heart still aching from the memories.

"You're looking sad there," pointed out Breda as he arrived, "No need for that because it's Friday!"

"Ah, yes, Friday: the last work day of the week, where most young individuals, like ourselves, go out partying and consume copious amounts of alc-"

"Do you have to be so analytical Vato?"

"Breda, it's just Falman being Falman," reminded Fuery. The smallest member of their group quickly set his belonging on his seat, while he just laughed at the small bicker.

"Maybe that's what I should do: go out for once."

At that point in time, Riza and Jean came back, and Jean whistled as he approached. "Did my ears just betray me? Roy "The Flame" Mustang going out to a party? What an un-old man quality!"

"I know right?" smirked Breda.

"I could use a good time right about now," replied Mustang.

The party was obnoxious and a reminder to Roy why he didn't really ever go out: annoying kids being little assholes. He kept to the outskirts of the large group and silently sipped at the contents in his cup, rum and coke. The buzz that resonated in his head served as good reason to keep drinking to forget his troubles. Cool and semi-calculating eyes watched the pulsing crowd and dark locks just shook in distaste.

"So, I'm guessing you're here to forget your problems?"

Surprised, Roy looked towards the source of the voice. His eyes widened in surprise at the beautiful woman before him. Long dark hair that was styled back, but even slightly drunk eyes could see the faint traces of a braid gracing the right side of the woman's head. "What makes you say that?" Obsidian gazed longer at the features: large eyes that brought about an innocent look, while the round face and the semi-angular chin were a perfect combination to grab in order to kiss. However, before Roy could even look down his eyes became enamored with the color of this person's eyes.

Liquid silver eyes stared back into his own dark eyes. "Because I've watched you drink down almost five of those cups within twenty or so minutes," the slightly tanned woman yelled not even a foot away. To be honest, Roy couldn't tell because of the volume of the music, but his eyes became trained on the plump lips that seemed naturally rosy in color. "A man only drinks like that when he's trying to forget his troubles or because he's trying to get the nerve to kiss a girl."

"Is that so?" The brim of the solo cup pushed against his lips as he tipped the cup back to consume the lasts of the contents. "Then why are you here?" purred Mustang, as he set the cup down. She shrugged casually, allowing Roy to fully view and take in her figure for the first time. If Roy said he didn't think she was attractive, then he would be lying because this woman had a nice solid frame that had the perfect amount of femininity. She was wearing a simple camisole, something Riza had hounded into his brain, with skinny jeans and combat boots. Casually, Roy glanced at her breasts and hummed at what he saw: they were medium sized at best, but not overly large.

"To experience the party scene for the first time, but I'm thinking I'd probably have had a better time in my dorm watching Netflix or something."

"I think you may be right." Mustang looked at the party and winced at the flashing lights and music, which only served in aiding the dull thrums of an oncoming headache. "Is that an offer?"

"I don't take drunk men that I just met home, especially if I don't even know their name."

Raising a brow, Roy leaned in and whispered into her ear his name. "Roy. Roy Mustang." He tentatively touched her shoulder and couldn't believe how soft the skin was there. "And you?" asked Mustang as he pulled away to look down into those mesmerizing eyes.

"Just call me Fox." She felt a slight gasp escape her lungs as she fully looked into those dark eyes. "You're drunk."

"I am not!" declared Mustang. The alcohol had yet to fully hit him, but he could feel the effects slowly building up. "Not totally yet at least," giggled the taller.

Fox grabbed those, muscular pale hands and led the slightly woozy figure with her. "I'll babysit you, but you're cut off for the night, Mr. Mustang, before you get worse." She heard him giggle as he trailed behind her. Thankfully, the hammering noise of the music was growing fainter by the second with each step the pair took towards the direction of the dorms. On the way, she felt something warm grasp around her waist. "Hey!" blushed the shorter, "Behave."

"But you're gorgeous! A man would have to be blind not to see that!" Shaking her head, the short huffed as the realization that her charge was officially and fully drunk now; Roy's dark eyes witnessed the whole range of motion before laughing wholeheartedly. "I lied! Now you're adorable!"

"At least you're happy," sighed the shorter, "Which dorm is your?"

"E'st!" slurred the taller. Roy took this time to press his body against the smaller, causing his whole body to just simply relax. "You?"

Fox fought against the weight that now resided on her frame, while she followed the path to East Hall. The weight was nice, though it would have been better if said weight didn't belong to a highly inebriated person. The pair walked and only stopped for Fox to turn around and pat down the hockey player, who blushed and hummed in agreement. "Don't think this is you getting lucky, I just need your card to swipe us in." Once thin fingers grasped the delicate piece of plastic, Fox stood up and grabbed Mustang's hand before swiping them in.

"Th's wa!" Roy pulled the female behind him as he hastily went up the side stairs towards his floor, stumbling on the steps. The drunkard took them to the third floor and led them specifically towards room 202. "Ma' pin is 1-8-8-5."

"Got it," Fox whispered as she smiled while swiping the card and punching in the code. The familiar electronically music buzzed as the door knob became free to open. "Now, get it!" She pushed in the taller and closed the door behind her softly.

Stumbling and allowing nature to take course, Roy fell onto his front and giggled. "Hav'n't falled li'k 'dis on lan-land be-fow!" It had been a long time since Roy had felt this relaxed and light, as well as laughed this much in a long time. "Tanks! Fow b'ing'ng me hom'!" Dark, glazed over eyes were able to see Fox shaking her head in amusement before small hands pulled him up with surprising strength and hefted his uncoordinated body to bed. Smiling, Roy tucked his arm around that slender waist and lazily traced his fingers against the exposed skin. "Soft."

"Moisturize every single day gets your skin like that, but for now, you need to sleep this off."

To Mustang, his tongue felt heavy to the point that he swore in his drunken haze that he bit it. The world spun as he sat down, and the weight of his body was taken off his feet. "Woooooow~ The ro'm be sp'nn'n!"

"You're one odd guy." Fox bent over to pull off the dark-haired man's Nike sneakers, giving Flame the perfect opportunity to see those discolored locks sway with the slight motion. "Thank god you're cute," murmured the short under her breath, "Lay down and keep your foot on the floor, and I mean on the floor."

Hoping to get on the female's good side, Roy obeyed: he slammed back against the plush covers of his bed. Lazily, he turned his head towards the figure above him. Said figure smiled slightly before leaving, which caused Roy to frown. Dark eyes focused on where the figure went, while ears strained to listen. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. However, Fox returned into Roy's field of vision with two bottles of water in one hand and a white something in the other. A dark brow lifted questioningly as he watched nimble fingers screw off the cap of one of the bottles after said fingers set down a bottle of water and a bottle of pills.

She gripped his shoulders and pulled him up slowly to a sitting position. "Drink this slowly or else you'll make a mess, alright Mr. Mustang."

Dark eyes saw a glint of silver decorating those thin fingers before his mouth felt the rush of cool liquid. Never before had Roy tasted anything so wonderful before. The liquid quenched his mouth and throat that had felt like they had turned into something scorched by the deserts. He wanted to chug the water down, but those silver eyes looking deep into his being kept the Flame from doing so. Slowly, ever so slowly, did Roy consume the cool liquid. He kept going until the bottle started to crumbled into itself, in which the other human being the room pulled the plastic from his mouth.

"Thanks," whispered Mustang. His mind and vision finally starting to settle. "B-best ev'a be-cause a beau-ty go' it~"

"Again, you're funny when drunk. However, I wonder what you're like somber at this rate. Go to sleep. There will be ibuprofen and bottle of water on your dresser when you wake up. Nice to meet you Mr. Mustang." The female smiled and gave the raven a wink. "Until we meet again." She got up quietly, while pulling the foot blanket over Mustang's prone body, and left.

"Mmmm…" Roy watched the whole scene play out in his drunken head. His eyes captivated by the alluring silver – something he knew he would never forget. "See ya' 'gan!"

Silently, Fox closed the door to her new drunken admirer's room and trudged to her room. It was odd knowing that the raven lived in the same building as her, granted on the other side. A small smile played on her lips as she thought about those dark eyes never really leaving her face: there was something there, between them. Crossing the bridge between the two wings – 2 West and 2 East – Fox walked up the stairs that rested a few doors down the entrance of the bridge on the west side. She made her way up to the fourth floor and treaded towards her room – all the way down the hall at 421. A quirky grin spread against plump lips as Fox swiped her card and punched in 1-8-8-6, her pin and exactly one digit off of Mustang's.

The female glanced at her door briefly before entering. Silver eyes looking at the single door decoration that had her name spelled on it with black sharpie: Mackenzie. Once inside, the younger flicked on the lights to the right of the door when entering and crossed over to her bed. Toeing off her shoes before climbing into her bed, Mackenzie pulled her sketchbook/journal onto her lap. Flipping to the exact the page, a portrait of a middle-aged man stared back; dark eyes and a smirking smile played devilishly against full lips. Yes, this figure had been plaguing Mackenzie's dreams since she turned fifteen and now she met the man himself.

"Talk about odd," whispered the younger. However, her attention shifted towards the clock and a groan ripped from rose colored lips. Electronic blue numbers glared back the time: 3:33 A.M. "Dammit! It's that early in the morning! Coach is going to kill me if I skip practice this close to nationals!"

The ombre shivered at the thought of millions of messages and video call attempts displaying on her phone. Yes, being a prodigy at figure skating really does loving to take hits at one's live, especially when opting to join a university during an Olympic year. Sighing, Mackenzie got up and pressed the onbutton on the Keurig that rested on the counter and retrieved a k-cup of a stronger blend for today. The machine jumped to life, instantly steaming up water in preparation for the hot beverage. With k-cup in place and the size for coffee selected, Mackenzie just waited for her cannister to be filled.

"I should do that," spoked the ombre aloud. Tanned hands retrieved the wireless earbuds and plopped them into pierced eyes. Clicking the device to life, Fox picked up her phone and selected the playlist labeled "Official Programs." Allowing the music to shuffle around as she waited, the first song echoed within seconds – "Colonel's Lament." Mackenzie got the French vanilla coffee creamer from her fridge as she listened to the song, specifically hearing out the various tones. Occasional, a lithe arm would reach out and replicate choreographed movements with a full body twirl here and there until, finally, she was able to pour the creamer into awaiting cannister.

Humming in approval at the color, Mackenzie placed the creamer back into the door of her mini fridge. She returned to her bed with the full cannister of coffee, drinking a few sips. Her mind was thinking of the costume she should wear for the program. "Something airy because I think this will be for the long program," she muttered. A silver eye looking over to the burgundy soakers covered equally silver blades that were attached to pristine ivory skates. "Maybe black boot covers, or," Mackenzie trailed as her eyes shifted towards her only black set of skates that were typically only for exhibition skates, "Maybe you, depending on what Coach says."

Pencil in hand, Mackenzie started drawing out the outline for the costume that felt right to her and seemed familiar. However, just as she got the general shape of the dress drawn out her phone started vibrating, gaining her full attention, with her coach's face depicted on the smooth surface. "Great way to start a Saturday morning," groaned the figure skater as she slid her finger over the surface, "Hey Sarah!"

So, I left some things open and unexplained because they will be explained later on in the story! I hope you like so far! Fav and comment!