Edward.
(How?)
Edward.
(Please tell me.)
Edward.
(Why?)
Edward.
(Why, Edward?)
The boy was a complete mystery to him. He could win any fight he was in, yet kept losing. Against Roy Mustang, he had been able to end the duel at any point, but instead disabled him and set up a cannon that was big and flashy and something that any alchemist could defend himself against. And the disabling... that was a thing of wonder. A large blade, extremely sharp and part of his arm, moved at exactly the right time, angling perfectly to cut just the cloth and not even graze the skin. He knew that automail was bulky and very hard to use correctly, but Edward had used it masterfully. He hadn't gone through more than a year of automail rehabilitation, but acted like he had gone though the entire thing. He was extremely skilled. But even with a regular knife, that cut would be hard to make without even grazing his skin.
(Why are you like this?)
He knew why Edward had never won a fight against Alphonse, why he'd let Colonel Roy Mustang win, why he never seemed to win a fight, why he was so extravagant and flashy. It was extremely easy, really. It was a wonder that nobody else had figured it out. Alphonse knew of course; he had been raised with Edward, and would know his brother better than anyone else.
(Why are you holding back? Why are you letting them beat you?)
But Roy Mustang didn't know. Riza Hawkeye didn't know. Nobody on their team knew. None of their enemies knew.
(Why are you so good at this? Why is everyone else so damn oblivious? Are you really that good, or is the rest of the world really that bad?)
He was the only one who knew. And it was frightening, because it was so blindingly obvious, and nobody knew. In fact, it was so obvious that when he'd noticed it, he hadn't said anything, assuming that everybody else knew.
(Looking back, I was such a fool. If I'd said something, then maybe I could have helped.)
Then Roy Mustang had made jokes about how horrible the kid was at fighting, and his world tumbled down. He was the only one who knew. Nobody else had ever found out. Nobody had ever guessed.
(Why? Why, Ed? Why?)
Nobody.
(How?)
Until now.
(How did nobody notice?)
The man turned away from the window and the bright golden boy who stood on the street below, laughing and grinning. He couldn't stand to look at him any more, not knowing what he knew about the golden boy.
(Why?)
It was so obvious.
(How did nobody notice?)
His eyes were dark with pain.
(How?)
His smile wasn't true.
(Why?)
He was hurt inside.
(Why, Ed? Why?)
And yet he still had fun.
(Why are you like this?)
He was still real.
(Tell me.)
But he was far too trusting.
(Please.)
And he was out of control.