K is for Knots
There were many things Ed hated.
He hated with a passion any remark that was made at his height.
He hated milk so much he never ate dairy products.
Most of all, he hated getting knots in his hair, and knots in his left shoulder.
But the aforementioned was more of a hate/love relationship.
He hated knots in his hair because that meant he had to use a brush or a comb, and his scalp was sensitive. And with the automail, the tangles would get even worse.
Of course, knots in his hair meant that he loved nothing more than having Roy's fingers unknotting the blonde waves.
For his shoulder, Ed would ask Roy (actually, it was more closer to begging…) for a deep tissue massage.
Where Roy picked it up, he didn't know. But Roy's hands, like the fire that snapped from them, were warm and melted away any tension or stress.
Sure, Ed hated knots of any kind, but he loved the only person who could undo them.