A/N: I'm not really sure if I like this or not. I'd appreciate feedback as I'm thinking of rewriting it. But I have a lot to do. Hopefully this and the following chapter will work for now.

Disclaimer for Ch 2 and 3—I don't own FMA. If I did, Ed and Al would be in Amestris and Ed and Roy would live a long and happy life together.

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Ed sighed as he entered the warm and—more importantly—dry dorm building. As he moved towards the stairs his bare automail foot made a clicking sound that, had he been in a normal frame of mind, would have drove him mad. But as it was, his mind was too busy running circles around itself to notice.

'Maybe I'm over reacting. He's had to pull some late nighters before. Maybe there was a new case he had to start on…'

It felt like a lie even as he thought it, but he had read somewhere once that we all need our little saving illusions, and he felt a little of the weight on his heart lift in a moment of hope.

The moment was shattered as he heard a very familiar laugh from one of the rooms on his floor.

Ed stopped. What would Roy be doing on this floor if not to see him?

He followed the sound until he reached a door further down the corridor, and stopped next to a door. He looked at the name plaque next to it—

"Havoc, Jean."

Ed didn't even think as he pushed his way through the door. He stopped just inside, looking around. Liquor and alcohol bottles littered the floor where Havoc could be seen rolling around in fits of laughter, drunk and having obviously fallen out of his chair. Breda wasn't in much better shape, though at least he had kept himself in his seat. And splayed out on the couch was—

"Roy," said Ed, emotionless.

The colonel was in the middle of downing a drink and didn't hear him, but Havoc turned and squinted, "Ed? Watchoo doin' here?"

At that the colonel choked on his drink and turned towards the door. He opened his mouth, probably to spin off some unnecessary tort. But the look on Ed's face stopped him in his tracks.

He had tried. He really had… but like his mother, he had never been good at hiding his emotions. His hands balled into fists and his muscles tensed. He felt his eyes become scratchy, but he refused to let the flood release... the nails of his left hand began to dig into his palm, but it was nothing compared to his emotional build up…

Maybe it was extreme, but between these events and his own inner doubts, Ed felt abandoned… Roy had chosen alcohol over him, again… and he had done the one thing he had promised to never do… he had lied…

"Are you sure it isn't…"

"No Ed, it isn't a problem. I just like to have a drink every once and a while…"

"A drink Roy? You came home hanging off some bimbo you had been drinking with and passed out! I had to hold you over the fucking toilet to make sure you didn't drown! Not only that, but you completely left me hanging at that stupid theatre production that you wanted to go see! And this is the fifth time I've had to babysit you after one of your binges! Are you trying to kill yourself?! One of these days I may not be here to keep you from accidentally succeeding! It needs to stop! But if this is what it's going to be like—I can't—I won't--"

"If it bothers you that much I'll quit, alright?"

"Alright… you promise you won't back out…"

"I told you Ed, you can trust me. I promised I wouldn't lie, not to you…"

"Ed?" asked the colonel blearily from the sofa. "What's wrong."

'At least he's not incoherent yet…' Ed thought.

"Did you forget something?" asked Ed coldly.

"I don't think—" Suddenly Roy halted and squinted his eyes. Then they widened and he looked at Ed and began to open his mouth to say something. But Ed didn't want to hear it. When Roy turned back towards the door, he was gone.