While the principal's office was only a few halls and a staircase away, the walk felt an eternity long to Edward. His heart was thrumming uncomfortably fast in his chest. What would he say to Izumi? Worse, what if the school called her? Ed had never wanted his adoptive mother to have to answer the phone to that again. Swallowing hard, Edward tried to force the very notion down with the saliva. Facing her after disappointing her yet again…he couldn't even consider it.

Biting his lip, Ed studied Mr. Mustang, striding forward ahead of him with a calm confidence. Had he himself ever walked like that? But no, now wasn't the time to get lost in horrible self-reflection. It's also not the time to be paying attention to how your teacher walks, you dumb fuck.

No, what was important was what Mr. Mustang had seen. If he'd caught the entire incident, Edward had a chance. His teacher would be able to explain to Principal Bradley that Elijah started it, and that Ed was (mostly) just defending himself. If the teacher had only come once Edward had begun to fire back…well, that would look very bad indeed. Elijah, obviously, was going to pin the whole thing on him anyway. And the principal already seemed to have a bias against Ed. Really, Mr. Mustang was the only person who could provide him with leniency.

Considering he was the teacher who'd been the hardest on Edward thus far, that could be a long shot.

Well, it was time to find out. They rounded a corner to be faced with the school offices, where Mrs. Hawkeye greeted them with curious eyes. "What can I do for you all?"

Mr. Mustang gestured beyond her, towards the closed door of the principal's office. "Is Principal Bradley busy? These two had a slight altercation downstairs."

The secretary showed the barest hint of surprise but stood up immediately, smoothing out her pencil skirt. Those things always seemed horrendously constrictive to Edward. "No, he's just working on some papers. Let me…" Trailing off, Mrs. Hawkeye stepped away from her desk and led the group back, knocking on the wooden door with two sharp raps like nails being driven into a coffin. "Principal Bradley? Mr. Mustang is here with some students about a scuffle."

It was amazing how even a closed door couldn't dampen the commanding voice of the principal. "Send them in."

Mrs. Hawkeye nodded for them to continue onward, then moved away and back towards her desk. Edward had wondered last year, when he'd made a similar visit, if she was the kind of person to eavesdrop on what was going on in Principal Bradley's office. The same thought crossed his mind now.

The office was entirely unchanged from the previous time Ed had been inside. Bookshelves stood tall on either side of the far wall, interspersed with various degrees and commendations the principal had earned. To the left was a connected bathroom and a clock, and to the right was a window showing a lovely view of the street outside. The rest of the room was taken up by a massive desk, which Edward personally felt was unnecessary. In front of it sat two rickety chairs, a stark contrast to the magnificent leather armchair that Principal Bradley himself occupied. One of the principal's eyebrows rose as Ed walked in, closing the door behind him (he knew the drill), but otherwise his stoic face was unaffected. "Have a seat, boys."

Elijah, who Edward was pleased to see had blood leaking out of his nose, took the left chair, leaving Ed the right. He lowered himself down gingerly, wincing slightly as the movement exacerbated the still-lingering ache in his lower stomach. That had been one hell of a kick.

Mr. Mustang remained standing—he didn't have much of a choice—and situated himself between the chairs, resting a hand on the back of Edward's. The action made Ed's insides squirm. Was that for support, or was Mr. Mustang bestowing blame upon him? Or was he just overthinking it all?

Principal Bradley waited until they'd all settled before speaking. "So, you two got in a fight, eh? Edward, perhaps you remember—in these in these situations, I value honesty. And, it's Elijah, correct? Elijah, you would do well to take notice of that. Who wants to tell me what happened first?"

Did it really matter? Ed cast his eyes to the side, unable to look in the principal's mismatched stare any longer. While he didn't make a habit of judging others for their appearance, Edward couldn't help but be unsettled by that eyepatch.

After a few loudly silent seconds, Elijah spoke up. Ed closed his eyes against the drivel that came out of the shithead's mouth. "It was like this, Principal Bradley, sir. I was trying to get to Spanish, just walking in the hall and—and Ed was coming the opposite direction. And he…well, he grabbed me, if you catch my drift. It startled me, and I didn't ask for that. I'll admit it, I kicked him, it was instinct. Next thing I know, Ed's just punching me over and over. Mr. Mustang had to stop him."

The teacher in question remained silent, making Edward's heart drop to the floor. If Mr. Mustang wasn't arguing with that version of events, he likely hadn't seen anything at all, and had just come to break up a fight. The bloodied nose that, moments ago had brought Ed a sick sense of satisfaction, would only serve as further condemnation for him. Perhaps that was what Elijah was counting on; his suck-up lie to the principal, plus his visible injury would be so convincing that Edward would just agree in order to try for a lesser punishment.

Well, not today. Ed was probably going to be expelled anyway, with his history of fisticuffs, so why not try to convince Principal Bradley that that was not how it had gone down? Breathing deeply, Edward opened his eyes to find said principal looking pointedly at him as if to say, "Your turn."

"Sir, that's not what happened. I was just walking, and I heard my little brother call to me from across the hall. When I turned, I accidentally brushed Elijah's thigh." Ed found his throat suddenly dry. "You know—well—no one wants to be touched by a faggot, okay?" The word felt harsh in his mouth and invited a rebuke from the principal.

"Language, Edward."

"Sorry." He needed to go crawl in a hole and die, he'd never called himself that before and now he just felt loathsome. No, actually, Ed needed to finish what he was saying. "So, Elijah yelled at me, insulted me, and kicked me where it hurts. I fell down, and he wouldn't stop, so yeah, I got up and hit him. Then Mr. Mustang broke everything up."

Steepling his fingers, Principal Bradley considered the two of them. Unable to stop himself, Edward wrapped his arms around his midsection, like that would somehow protect him from whatever was about to happen. "Well, now. It seems we have two drastically varying accounts, then. Mr. Mustang, what can you tell me?"

Here it comes. It took the teacher a moment to begin speaking behind Edward, and when he did his voice was unruffled and factual. "I won't pretend I was able to see what started the confrontation; you know how crowded the hallways get. However, the first thing I heard was Elijah yelling. I was quite far away at this point, so I couldn't hear anything specific. I saw Elijah kick first, and then again. From what I could tell, Edward only got one punch in before I got there to split them up. If you were to ask me, I would consider it self-defense."

Ed could hardly believe his ears. Mr. Mustang was backing him up! His heart soared with hope, but he made an effort not to look so surprised. Principal Bradley was nodding, now, considering what he'd been told. Then, with one glance at Edward that made it clear he had just gotten very lucky, the principal turned to Elijah. "Seems as though you've not only instigated a fight in my school, but that you've also lied about it, boy." Without breaking eye contact with the now pale Elijah, Principal Bradley continued, "Nevertheless, Edward, you will have detention for retaliating. Friday, after school. Now, Mr. Mustang, would you be so kind as to escort Edward back to class? Elijah and I have more to discuss."

Despite the fact that he was meant to be escorted, Ed flew out of that chair, yanking the office door open and almost launching himself through it. He'd not stay a second longer, lest the principal change his mind. Detention! Edward almost laughed; he could handle detention. From her desk, Mrs. Hawkeye gave him a confused look before turning back to her work. Behind Ed, he heard the door to Principal Bradley's office click shut as Mr. Mustang followed him out.

Buoyed by his light punishment, Edward turned to the teacher with more confidence than he'd had in ages. "I have Mrs. Elliot right now, just down the stairs again—"

Raising his hand to shush him, Mr. Mustang interjected, "Actually, Edward, I'm afraid you'll be missing third bell today. I'll send my apologies to Mrs. Elliot, but I luckily do not have a class this period, and we have some things to discuss."

Fucking hell, it was just one rollercoaster after another today, huh? Ed's shoulders slumped unconsciously, his bookbag slipping to his elbow. What in the world could Mr. Mustang want now? His voice came out more petulant than he'd meant, but it was just so stupid. "Why?"

Mr. Mustang's eyebrows flew up; apparently, he'd not anticipated any argument. "I don't make a habit of explaining myself to my students, Edward. You'll understand once we talk. Now, in case you've forgotten your sense of direction as well as your manners, my classroom is just down the right hall." Without another word, the teacher began to lead the way, leaving Ed dumbfounded a few steps behind. What an asshole!

Upon reaching the chemistry classroom, Mr. Mustang unlocked the door with deft movements. Interesting, that the teacher kept his room barred when not in use. Not that he paid a ton of attention, but from what Edward could tell most rooms weren't locked while the school was open.

Stepping into the room, Ed waited as Mr. Mustang settled himself easily into his chair before asking, "Would you care to take a seat?"

Well, he'd not found his precious manners in the last minute, so Edward replied stiffly, arms crossed, "No, I'll stand, thanks."

Shrugging and appearing entirely unbothered, his teacher merely murmured, "Suit yourself. But close the door, and lock it, please."

A strange tingle ran up the back of Ed's spine, which he did his best to ignore. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling, but that was not the sort of thing he acknowledged. Once the door was once again secure, Edward turned back around to face his seated teacher, who began with a simple statement.

"I lied." When that didn't elicit a reaction, Mr. Mustang elaborated. "I lied to Principal Bradley about what I allegedly saw. The truth is, I heard shouting and came to investigate. There were so many students watching the fight that I struggled to break through. I saw nothing leading up to the struggle whatsoever."

It felt almost as though Edward had entered some alternate reality. Mr. Mustang…lied for him? Suddenly feeling unstable on his feet, Ed leaned up against the nearest desk for support. "So…you just repeated what I told him." A chuckle escaped him, a sound not of mirth but of complete confusion. "Why?"

Humming, Mr. Mustang appeared to consider that for a moment, as though he weren't entirely sure of the answer. The teacher placed a forefinger to his temple, dark eyes unreadable. "Well," he finally responded, "I heard both sides of the story and decided your version sounded more likely to be the truth. I taught Elijah regular level chemistry a couple of years back, and he was a rough hearted boy even then. So, his 'poor me' routine sounded less than genuine to my ears. As we discussed last week, you, on the other hand, seem to be an exceptional student whose problem is doubting yourself. Your testimony told me why and appeared to be sincere. Due to Elijah's facial injury, however, I knew that Principal Bradley—who does not interact with the student body to the same degree us teachers do—would sympathize with him. As such, I made the decision to back you up."

Edward began shaking his head about halfway through Mr. Mustang's explanation. Unbelievable. Shock mixed with the odd hilarity of the situation made him laugh. "So—let me get this straight. You lied to your boss because I'm more credible than Elijah was? I mean, I was being honest, but that's a hell of a risk to take for some kid that will be out of your hair in a year!"

Unexpectedly, Mr. Mustang's gaze sharpened at that. "Yes, Edward, I lied to my boss, because I thought it would be in your best interest not to be expelled for something you didn't start. And no one in my class is just 'some kid.'"

Really, Ed should be feeling grateful. More than that, he should be ecstatic that someone finally believed him! But something about Mr. Mustang just rubbed him the wrong way, or maybe the wrong right way, and he found himself bristling. "But why tell me? Are you fishing for a 'thank you?'"

A vein throbbed in the teacher's forehead as his irritation got the better of him. "Would that be so much to ask for? But no, I'm not. You shouldn't be lashing out at those who try to help you, Edward. What I'm trying to get at is that you don't have to feel crazy or alone, and that you shouldn't let insecurity about your sexuality affect your scholarly pursuits."

"Are you fucking joking?"

Mr. Mustang stood abruptly, annoyance crackling around him like electricity. "Language!"

Edward bit his lip, the fire inside him dying as quickly as it had risen. It felt like he'd broken through the careful façade he'd built over the summer when he hit Elijah, and now Ed couldn't seem to keep himself in any sort of control. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Dare he say what he was thinking? "It's just—I can't believe you think it's insecurity that's got me all fu—messed up. I mean…" An embarrassed flush rose to Edward's cheeks as he recalled the events of last year. "After what happened, I didn't expect that to be what you called it."

Sinking back into his chair, Mr. Mustang ran a hand through his black hair, eyeing Ed curiously. "After what happened?"

"Wait…" Edward spoke slowly, his mind racing. He'd just assumed, seeing as it had spread through the students like a damn wildfire, and because of Principal Bradley's involvement, that the staff of CCHS would be aware of what had happened. "Do you seriously not know?"

His teacher, who'd initially seemed so cool, calm, and collected to Ed, was like an open book of irritation now. "I know you got in a fight last year, too. That's it."

Wow. Oddly enough, it felt…glorious, looking at Mr. Mustang and knowing he had no idea. Obviously, because of what Edward had said of his scuffle with Elijah, the man knew he was gay but…that was it. He didn't know the rest, didn't know how dirty and stupid, weak and worthless Ed was. And that was exhilarating. Standing up straight, now, and releasing his arms to his sides, Edward grinned. It was perhaps the most peaceful smile he'd smiled since the events of last year. "Then that's all there is to know."

Mr. Mustang, rather than bristling as Ed had expected, just looked at him. Peering over clasped fingers, the teacher studied him for altogether too long, before he finally came to his conclusion. "There's more, but you won't tell me. Not yet, but I think you will in time." Fat chance. His teacher continued despite Ed's interrupting thought, "That will just have to be good enough for me. In the meanwhile, I hope you realize, Edward, that I'm here to help. I couldn't care less what gender you're interested in, and I only want to know what happened so as to see if there's anything I can do."

There's not, there's nothing anyone can do. But no one liked to hear those words. As much as everyone had to realize that truth, nobody wanted to face it. "Okay," Ed replied simply. "Thanks, I guess."

A smile quirked at the corner of Mr. Mustang's mouth, a quick flash of white teeth that made Edward's heart skip a beat. No, nope, fuck that. "You are quite welcome. Now, as I said, I'll talk to Mrs. Elliot and explain the situation. Who do you have next bell?"

"Um…Mr. Tucker. Why?"

Nodding, Mr. Mustang stood from his chair to brush past Ed and reach for the door. He unlocked it and pushed it open, gesturing for Edward to head out. "Well, I'll speak to him as well—you really ought to see the nurse."

That wasn't an untrue statement. The majority of his lower body was still quite achy, and frankly Ed did not have the capacity to concentrate on biology right then. Murmuring in agreement, Edward turned sideways to slip past Mr. Mustang's frame, which took up half the doorway. He did not focus on the feel of being that close, he did not inhale to see what the man's cologne was like, and he did not suddenly find his palms slightly sweaty. Most of all, Ed definitely didn't let his head be full of those thoughts all the way to the nurse's office.

Definitely.