Don't judge it for the OC, the OC is meant to be symbolic and chiz like that. Anyway... whatever. :)

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His heart fluttered, as if one wrong word and he would die. It felt like a battle, but somehow, it seemed much worse. Edward knew battle, he had no idea what this was.

...

Edward was being followed. "Shit," he whispered to himself, adjusting the bag of groceries in his hand. He called them groceries, technically, it was junk food. After all, he only had to shop for himself.

He could hardly see the tail, but Edward knew he had been following him since the market. "Homunculi," Edward mumbled. He cast a glance behind with the guise of looking at a sign.

Taller. Black hair. Glasses. Nondescript clothes.

Edward fixed his eyes ahead. "Envy," he guessed. He glanced along at the sparse crowds, he was too close to the market for a confrontation, civilians would get hurt. He was glad though, he didn't have his red jacket. He might be able to slip through the crowd.

Edward passed a shop window. His eyes widened. The tail was getting closer. "Clumsy move." Edward decided whoever it was could not be a Homunculi. So who is he, another military dog? A messenger from Mustage? Just some idiot?

"Excuse me," and there was a hand on Edward's shoulder.

Definetly an idiot. Edward turned. The tale was a... taller boy, maybe a few years older then Edward, with black hair that fell into his eyes behind oval glasses. He was wearing a scarf around his neck, so that his mouth barely showed between the black and white checked pattern and his nose. He was carrying a bag, with books inside, and wore a uniform Edward remembered seeing other young people around here wearing. He was incredibly skinny, perhaps that was why he was bundled up so much when the weather was only chilly.

"Who are you," Edward asked, annoyed.

"Dietrich Wolfgang Thorsten," the teenager with the large brown eyes answered immediately. "You overpaid one of the shopkeepers. I volunteered to bring you your change." He held out his hand.

Edward shifted the groceries to his automail limb and reached out with his flesh hand. Dietrich, Wolfgang Thorsten, dropped the change into Edward's hand. Edward didn't look at it, just to prove how little he cared. "Anything else," he asked, wondering why anyone would possibly go through such trouble to give a stranger change.

Dietrich shrugged. He looked for a moment at Edward, and then announced, "You're hair is oddly long. Some people might get the wrong idea."

Edward frowned. "What wrong idea? And my hair is fine."

"'K," Dietrich said. And he turned to walk in the oppsite direction.

Edward clenched his fists and turned sharply back the way he was going. "There's nothing wrong with my hair," he muttered under his breath.

Edward dropped the groceries on the floor of the room he and Alphonse shared in the military compound. Alphonse was in the corner, reading, but his armoured head looked up the minute Edward returned. "Anything interesting happen?" Alphonse asked with the eagerness of someone who is extremely bored.

"No," Edward snapped, "nothing." That reminded him, and he opened his flesh hand. Edward lifted his eyebrow incredulously. Pennies. It didn't make since for someone to go completely out of their way to give a stranger back a few pennies and then insult his hair.

Alphonse sighed.

They were on leave for orders, which meant they were trapped in Central. That meant they had a literal guard on their room, and had to bring an entourage whenever they went outside together. Edward didn't have one when he was by himself, but that was because Mustang knew he wouldn't leave Central searching for the Stone or the Homunculi without Alphonse.

They'd asked Seska for some books to read, and she had misinterpreted that as actual books, about adventures and romances and other words, instead of books about alchemy, but she was away doing something for a library in another city and wouldn't be back for an entire week. Edward had tried, earlier, to apply for gun training, thinking one might be handy to have around, but it turned out the government had a policy against arming fifteen year olds, even if the fifteen year old happened to be in the military. Except for pondering their last failed search for the Stone, there was nothing else for Edward and Alphonse to do.

Needless to say, the entire waiting thing had gotten old five minutes after they'd been told about it, and they were now three days into it.

Worse, Mustang wouldn't tell Edward what they were waiting for. Just 'orders', as if 'orders' made it clear. Edward had guessed, from reading a single newspaper, that it had something to do with an international dispute with Austria and a few of those bigwig countries to the north like Britain, but even that was vague. Unless they were going to war, there was no reason the Fuhrer would put all, but a single post, of the alchmists and half of the army on standby; and Edward couldn't see how the dispute would possibly lead to war anyways. It was just a fight about how governments should be run, wasn't it?

Edward lay on his back, half on the bed and half off. "I'm bored," he told Alphonse.

Alphonse turned the page in his book, and sighed. "Me too. This is a boring book."

Edward lay back for a moment. "I'm going to take a shower," he decided.

"Okay," Alphonse said with utter disinterest.

Edward took the shower, keeping the water close to scalding to try and wipe away some of the constant tension in his shoulders. As he stepped out, and was braiding his long hair, he froze.

"There's nothing weird about my hair," Edward growled. He wiped his towel on the mirror and let his hair fall down naturally. "Maybe I need a haircut, but there's nothing weird about that," he said to himself.

Why not get a haircut, he was bored enough.

No. He was going to take a nap first.

Edward left early in the morning, either to get a haircut or try to find a book on alchemy he and Alphonse hadn't read in the library, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The teenager from yesterday was sitting at a bus stop, halfway from the military compound to the library. Same scarf, slightly different shade of tie, with the exact same hair and everything else that Edward recalled from the day before. The teenager had a book opened in his lap, and a notepad beside him.

What's the kid's name? Edward thought just as he remembered. "Hey, you," Edward said, trying to seem disinterested as he made his way toward Dietrich Wolfgang Thesten, or something.

Dietrich looked up and looked back down at his work.

Edward bristled. "Hey!" He said louder.

Dietrich, with a roll of his eyes, looked up at Edward. "Yes?"

"What is wrong with my hair," Edward demanded.

"Look," Dietrich slowly closed his book, some math equations were on it, and his notebook. "What's-your-name, I was just-"

"Edward," Edward told him.

"Look, Edward," Dietrich corrected, "I didn't mean anything by it. But it is long."

"Your hair's long too," Edward told him.

Dietrich shrugged. "I like it that way. But you, obviously, don't know what that means, considering you let it grow so obvious and you don't have," Dietrich cut off. He reached under his color and tugged out a strange, plain leather necklace.

"What's that mean?" Edward frowned.

Placing his book and notepad into his book bag, Dietrich answered, "If you don't know, then there's no reason for me to tell you. The bus is here."

The community transportation eased its way around the corner, making a loud screeching noise as it did so which must have been how Dietrich knew it was there.

"How am I supposed to know if no one tells me," Edward snapped.

Dietrich shook his head. "Why would I tell you. You've been nothing but rude from the onset."

"I'm not rude!" Edward glared. He paused, thinking that over. "Well, maybe sometimes." The bus halted and the door opened. Dietrich stood up, walking past Edward to get inside. "I'm not finished talking to you," Edward said, debating whether to pull out his alchemist watch and force Dietrich and the bus to stop.

"I have to go to school. I have a test in the morning, and teachers who like to smack you with measuring tools," Dietrich said as he dropped his fare into the nucket beside the driver. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a second bill. "Well," Dietrich looked at Edward, "come on."

Technically, as military, Edward didn't have to pay fare. So, when he passed the bucket, a simple slight of hand brought the bill back into his hands.

Dietrich angled his way down the bus, passing the few business people and the one other uniform dressed teen, who looked like he was younger then Alphonse. Dietrich sat down, one row before the seats for the 'other' citizens. He pulled in beside the window and made room for Edward.

Edward looked back, but none of the Ishvalan were sitting on the bus.

"Well, Edward," Dietrich said, "you're certainly persistent."

"Sure," Edward dropped the bill onto Dietrich's lap. "I can pay for myself."

Dietrich shrugged and put the bill back into his pocket. "Alright, fine, I can respect that."

"But not my hair?"

Dietrich laughed. "I don't not like your..." He rubbed his temples like he was getting a headache, but was still smiling. "Look, it's just something you should ask your parents, alright."

"I don't have parents," Edward answered.

Dietrich's eyes widened in sympathy. "I'm sorry," and he took his long, skinny fingers and wrapped them comfortingly around Edward's hand. Edward thought nothing of it. "I lost my father to the war." He said softly, "But this... It's one of those things best not to talk about in public, where any of the Fuhrer's dogs might hear."

Edward suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to sabatogue his explanation. "I won't tell anyone," he said.

"Look, the hair and the leather bracelet," Dietrich swallowed and looked away. "It's just one of those secret code things."

"Which means?"

"It means you're the kind of guy who likes other men."

Edward blinked, and pulled his hand out of Dietrich's. "What," he said, shocked. "Like..."

"Like the way you're supposed to like girls, but you can't," Dietrich answered, rubbing his hands together.

"That's a thing?" Edward couldn't believe.

Dietrich shrugged. "Yeah." He looked in the mirror and needlessly fixed his scarf and his glasses. "So I saw you and I kind of liked your looks, and since you had long hair I decided to check."

"So I didn't really overpay," Edward realized.

Dietrich chuckled. "Come on, as if anyone would tell you if you've overpaid. This is Germany."

"So?"

"So we just got our economy back from that disaster of a war, we're all greedy little mongers," Dietrich said playfully. He smiled, a flicker of disappointment in his face, as he looked at Edward. "How old are you Edward?"

"Old," Edward answered automatically.

"Which means," Dietrich stressed.

"Old enough for anything that comes my way," Edward rephrased.

Dietrich rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Growing up on the streets mentality," he guessed.

"Taking care of my little brother 'on the streets' mentality," Edward answered.

Dietrich paused. "Oh," he said quietly.

Edward tugged suddenly at his glove, becoming aware that it was slipping at his wrist, coming close to revealing his automail arm. "Fifteen," he said, "almost sixteen."

"Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen," Dietrich told him. "You should take your little brother and get out of this place. Out of this whole country. Go somewhere safe, like America."

Edward frowned. "What? Why?"

Dietrich leaned closer, whispering, and Edward leaned closer too until their noses were hardly an inch apart, "You have to have seen the signs. Military being recalled, the disputes, the Fuhrer's speeches on country loyalty; it's happened in history hundreds of times before."

Edward blinked. "I don't understand," he said.

"We're going to war again," Dietrich said even quieter, "Germany and its allies against anyone who stands in our way, and when that happens," he glanced at the seats behind them, meant for the Ishvalans, "everything will just be one slaughter after another. So get away before you or your brother's names are written in the draft."

There it was. The explanation for everything, told so simply.

"What do you think the Fuhrer's planning to do with the alchemists?" Edward asked.

The bus came to a stop, and Dietrich stood up, stretching, before he sat back down. "Damned if I know," he said, "ask an alchemist."

Edward snorted, feeling his watch in his pocket as he was sitting. There was a cold breeze that rushed through the air, and he pulled his small black jacked a bit closer. Maybe he should wear his red coat next time.

"The winter of waiting," Dietrich said.

And Edward nodded in agreement, feeling there was no better way to describe it.

"This is a long ride," Dietrich leaned back. "Let's talk about something less depressing then war."

Edward thought for a moment. "So wait, if two men-"

"Softly," Dietrich warned as someone came down the aisle. The woman, holding a package in her arm, sat down in the farthest back corner of the bus. She kept her eyes down, but Edward, glancing at her, could tell they were red.

"I thought they were all evacuated to the camps," Edward said.

Dietrich shook his head, his mouth close enough to Edward's ear for Edward to feel Dietrich's warm breath, he muttered, "Then who would be in the brothels?"

Edward jumped slightly. "Oh," he realized. I should be used to hearing horrible things about the government and the military by now, he thought.

"So," Dietrich said quietly, "what do you want to know about 'when two men'."

"I don't know," Edward replied.

Dietrich shrugged. "I mean, we kiss and can have sex and everything."

Edward blinked. "You've done that. With a man?"

"Yes." Dietrich looked at the window. "But it's done and he's dead now."

"I'm sorry," Edward said. He shivered again when another breeze ran through the fast moving bus.

Dietrich suddenly pulled off his scarf. He leaned over, wrapping it around Edward's neck. "Here, I don't need it."

"I," Edward was about to refuse.

"Look, it's a long ride. You're cold. I have a coat. I have millions of scarves at home. You can have that one," Dietrich said. "Besides, you're small, so you get colder."

"I AM NOT SHORT!" Edward shouted. "YOU-"

Dietrich held up his hands. "Whoa!" He said, brown eyes wide, "I didn't mean to cause offense."

Edward glared. "You better not have," he snapped, "I'm not short."

Dietrich took a breath. "Well," he placed his hand over Edwards head. "You're shorter then me."

"You're freakishly tall," Edward insisted.

Dietrich laughed. "Fine," he conceded, "I'll take that." His expression turned a bit more serious and he reverted back to a whisper, "Listen. All these questions, are you interested?"

"In what?"

"In me," Dietrich answered.

Edward swallowed. "I..." He couldn't form an answer.

Dietrich smiled. He reached into his schoolbag and took out his notepad. With careful manevering in the unstable bus, he tore out a sheet of paper and wrote down an address. "Here," he handed it to Edward. Edward took it with his flesh hand.

"Is this your address?" He asked.

Dietrich shook his head. "No way," he replied. "It's a club. They don't play music loud, and they don't follow... government regulations, if you know what I mean."

"As in, they let in men who like... other men?"

Dietrich nodded. "Good food too. If you want to talk more, I can get there tomorrow after school, about five."

Edward stared down at the address. This is stupid, he thought, are you really going to do this? Is this just because you're bored? "I'll be there," Edward decided.

"Alright," Dietrich said. "I have a question for you now."

"Okay," Edward said cautiously.

"Do you know how to dance?"

"No," Edward said immediately.

Dietrich smiled. "Good. Neither do I." He adjusted his glasses. "There's another stop up ahead. I wouldn't recommend going with me all the way to my school or you won't get back until the school is over."

"Oh," Edward stood up.

The bus stopped then.

"I'll see you. Tomorrow," Dietrich said.

Edward hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. I suppose."

...

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