Izumi Curtis was a woman of many talents, of that Edward was well aware. His adoptive mother would claim up and down she was nothing more than a "simple housewife," but the truth went so much deeper. From being a mom, to helping Sig with their butchery business, to her prowess in self-defense…Ed had believed, for a long time, that Izumi could accomplish anything. She simply had the willpower and raw skill to do whatever.

What perhaps impressed Edward the most, however, actually was related to her role as a housewife. The family lived in Central, a bustling city by any account, and yet Izumi had managed to turn their little backyard into such a nice garden that resting outside and closing his eyes made Ed feel like he'd been transported to the country.

Sitting at the circular glass patio table and breathing in deeply, Edward could no longer taste the faint heaviness of the air. The cars passing by on the street all went silent, and for a moment the wind whistled alone. Ed was, for half a second, fully convinced that if he opened his eyes, he would see fields for miles, with little more than a handful of tiny farming houses to break up the sea of grass. Instead, he was faced with the stack of papers resting upon the table in front of him. Innocent enough, Edward nevertheless felt rather taunted by the papers, as though the corners turning up with the breeze were giving him the middle finger.

Just fucking get to it already.

Ed inhaled slowly, letting the air out in a defeated exhale before picking up his pen. He'd already been sitting there for a half an hour and waiting wouldn't do anything except delay the inevitable. With resignation, Edward pulled the stack close, reading again the bold font of the first page: Central University Student Application.

It was baffling to Ed that he'd only just started his senior year of high school and he already needed to begin the work of filling this out, but those were the facts. The earlier you got your application in, the better chance you had of being accepted. Truth be told, until the end of last year Edward had been ready and raring to get to this point. Now, it felt like he was just continuing on the path of least resistance.

Well, technically, no. The easiest thing to do would be to just give up and fade away.

That would destroy Alphonse, though. So, the path of second-least resistance it was. Leaning forward over the tabletop, Ed got to work on filling out the easy bit that was his basic information. Legal name, birthday, address, phone number, etc.

Next was a section on extracurricular activities, something every high school teacher had drummed into Edward's head as exceedingly important. "Extracurriculars could set you aside from other applicants," and all that jazz. Luckily, he'd taken their words of advice to heart and until this year had been a member of the school's Science Olympiad group as well as the engineering club (at Winry's insistence). That should be enough to buff up his application…it would have to be. Ed could barely be bothered to attend his classes; there was no way in hell he would be signing up to spend even more time around a student body who ignored him at best, and actively hated him at worst.

Then there was the financial portion, which Izumi had already completed for him. Edward couldn't help but smile at that. Of course, that page was hers to deal with as his legal guardian, but the fact that she was so prepared made him feel…loved. Ed didn't even have to ask for his adoptive mother's help, he simply had it as a fact of life. In that regard (and possibly only that regard), he'd been pretty fortunate.

With those pages complete, that left only a few portions of the application left. All of the test scores and transcript information would be forwarded to the university by CCHS, so Edward didn't have anything to do with that. What he did have to be concerned about was obtaining letters of recommendation. The application asked for "between one and three" letters. Too bad there was no option for none at all. Sure, Ed had enjoyed some decent relationships with his teachers in the past. The problem was, somehow he didn't think it would look good on his app to have commendations from people he hadn't interacted with for at least a year. Mr. Archer (who had taught Edward geology in his sophomore year) would have nothing but praises to sing of Ed, but aside from a smile or greeting in the hallway, he'd not talked to his former teacher since then. It wasn't like Mr. Archer would be able to say anything good about who Edward was now.

Leaning back and groaning, Ed rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Okay. He'd just go down his current list of teachers and pick the best one. How hard could that be?

Mr. Hughes was an immediate no-go. To be fair, he was such an upbeat man that Edward could count on him to say something positive, but he just wasn't sure he had the emotional stamina to handle a one-on-one conversation with Mr. Hughes long enough to even ask for a letter. Ms. Armstrong, however…well, she was a toss-up. On the one hand, the woman was strict and blunt and had probably never even heard of sugar coating, let alone done so herself. On the other hand, this was Ed's second year taking Latin from her, which meant Ms. Armstrong would have plenty of time with him from which to draw inspiration.

Edward pushed his chair a little farther back, until it was balancing on two legs. Very gently, he rocked back and forth, considering whether the risk was worth it. Hmm…he'd come back to her as a maybe. Mrs. Elliot was his next option, and Ed passed over her quickly. Who wanted a bigoted and biased teacher writing about them? Then there was Mr. Tucker. Frankly, Edward didn't believe the man was tuned into the real world enough to compose a personal letter. Mr. Falman could be a good, albeit generic, option. Unless Ed and his teacher both magically came out of their shells in the next month or so, it wasn't like they would have enough of a relationship to give a recommendation any weight. That only left (since Edward was excluding his gym teacher from the list) Mr. Mustang.

After the fight and their little chit chat, Ed hadn't spoken to the man…well, at all, actually. In class Mr. Mustang didn't call on him, and Edward certainly wasn't initiating contact. His whole policy was trying to keep his head down! But that didn't stop him from noticing the looks. The teacher might not force Ed to talk, but Mr. Mustang seemed to always let his eyes linger on him a heartbeat too long. Like he was hoping Edward would suddenly stand and open up to him. Meanwhile, Ed did his (feeble) best to not see his teacher, to not think about the man's appearance or apparent acceptance. There was no way in hell he would be approaching Mr. Mustang for a letter.

"Brother? Izumi says lunch is almost ready!"

Alphonse's voice, calling from the back door about ten feet away, startled Edward out of his thoughts—and off his balance. The chair he had been leaning into teetered just that little bit too far, and it and Ed fell backward. It all happened so fast only the smallest sound of surprise had time to escape his lips before Edward found himself on the ground.

"Ow.." Thank goodness the table was placed in the grass, rather than on a stone patio or anything. The ground was hard enough on the back of Ed's head as it was. He blinked in the bright sunlight that was suddenly directly in his eyes, regaining his bearings. Edward hadn't even started to try to get up before Al was hovering above him, a constant stream of apologies flowing from his downturned mouth.

"Oh no, Brother, I'm so sorry! You've got to be more careful, are you bleeding? Do you need me to get Izumi?"

"No, no, I'm fine!" In a hurry to prove his point so his adoptive mother couldn't see him manhandling her furniture, Ed pushed himself up with a grunt. Once standing, he brushed the grass off the back of his jeans before leaning over to pick up the chair as well. "See? All good, you just scared me."

While Alphonse still looked worried, he at least didn't argue with Edward, instead commenting, "I wasn't expecting you to be so zoned out. I thought you were working on your college application…you weren't daydreaming instead of focusing, were you, Brother?" Though Al tried to make that sound like a bad thing, Ed heard the hint of hope in his sibling's voice. Like maybe he was feeling okay enough to daydream.

Sadly, that was not the case. Rubbing the back of his head—not bloody, just sore—Edward explained, "Nah, I got stuck on the letters of recommendation. Trying to figure out who to ask for one."

Despite the fact that lunch was about to be done, and the fact that that was objectively more important than whatever future Ed might have, Alphonse had to ask. "And? Who'd you decide on?"

Well, the fall hadn't let Edward forget he essentially had no options at all. His "maybe" would have to become a definite. "I'm going to go with Ms. Armstrong. I've had her for two years now, so she knows me well enough. Not that I'm not terrified of what she might say, but it seems like the logical option."

Several seconds ticked by, with Al waiting expectantly. Concern slowly fell over his face as he realized Ed was done speaking. "Wait…that's it? Just Ms. Armstrong? Brother, you can't only use one teacher as a rec!"

"Why not?" Edward was well aware of the defensive tone in his voice, but he couldn't help it. Even though he was asking, Ed knew why. Doing the bare minimum on his application would look more like he was simply completing that section, rather than putting in any effort. And only having one person vouch for his character and scholastic ability made it seem like they were the only person who could do so. Alphonse didn't even answer, just giving Edward a pointed, rebuking look. "Okay, okay," he backtracked quickly. "I'll ask Mr. Falman too, then."

Al crossed his arms, incredulity written all over him. "Brother. Seriously? I know we haven't been back at school that long, but I barely even remembered you had Mr. Falman! You never say a word about him! I mean yes, having a letter from a calculus teacher could be impressive, but come on…it wouldn't be personal at all!"

"Listen, I'm open for suggestions if you have any!" Ed threw his hands up in exasperated defeat. "What, should I ask Miss Sheska? She knows me, I'm in her library often enough. I'm—I'm not trying to be dramatic, but I'm just floating along this year. On a good day. Maybe if I had been a senior last year, I would have been having compelling discussions with Mr. Hughes and I would've asked him. But now…I'd be better off asking you to write one for me. I haven't said more than a handful of words to pretty much any of my teachers."

Despite the midday warmth of early September, Edward felt cold having said that. Alphonse however, bless his soul, rose to the challenge Ed presented almost immediately. "I know, Brother. I understand, I just meant there had to be a better option. What about Mr. Mustang? He broke up that fight with Elijah, so he's seen some of the adversity you face. He might have some useful insight for a rec."

Edward gulped, willing his cheeks not to heat up. It wasn't often that he lied to—or rather, kept things from—Al, but in this case…well, he hadn't told his brother the extent of his conversation with Mr. Mustang. Alphonse certainly didn't know the teacher had lied for Ed's sake. For one thing, Al would be scandalized by the idea of an instructor being anything less than honest. But for another…as weird as the interaction had made Edward feel, it was somehow so good to have someone of authority not look down upon him. Of course, Mr. Mustang didn't know the whole story; Ed had no doubt the teacher would feel rather differently if he did. But as it was, Edward had someone who sympathized for him outside his family, and that feeling was just too special to let it out. To anyone.

"Umm…" trying to keep his emotions in order, Ed scrounged for an excuse. "I dunno, Al. I feel like Mr. Mustang might have a bad taste in his mouth about me after seeing me punch someone in the face. Just because he agreed that I didn't start it doesn't mean I'm in his good books."

Alphonse sighed in resigned agreement. "I suppose you're right, Brother. But you have to find someone else to ask…maybe you should wait a little bit and see if any of your teachers grow on you. It's not like you have to mail in your application tomorrow, after all."

That was fair, and Edward was more than happy to abandon the topic in favor of heading inside for lunch. To just forget about letters for a while, eat some potatoes, and worry about it later. If only all of his problems were so easy to dodge.