Brief Commentary:
Yay, another revised chapter. This one especially bothered me. -bashes it with soup can- Die, cheesiness, die! Ha ha...but perhaps listening to SexyBack wasn't the best way to get my creative juices flowing for the revision...er...if you find anything...odd...in this chapter...sue Justin Timberlake. Shun him. Not me. HIM. The music video for SexyBack is confusing as hell, so sue him for that, too.


Reasons Not For Your Ears
Chapter One

"Goddammit, I'm late!" a blonde-haired adolescent, at the ripe age of sixteen, gritted her teeth in frustration as she swung her right leg over her navy-blue bicycle and immediately pushed off onto the road. A book bag was slung carelessly over her shoulder, teetering its way down her arm until it began to sway on her wrist in rhythm to the jerks the bicycle made as it rode over the bumps on the street. This would be Winry Rockbell's first day attending a new high school in a new city, after moving into a cramped, old apartment. So far it was going down the toilet.

The school day originally started at 8:00 AM. Currently it was 8:23 AM. Winry had forgotten the reason she was running late in the first place, but she was definitely going to have to expect a scolding from whatever teacher she happened upon. Glaring a rather slow-moving pedestrian in front of her, the adolescent could hardly keep herself from shouting a rude,
"MOVE YOUR MOTHER-FUGGING ASS, BITCH! I'M DAMN LATE FOR SCHOOL!"

Her grandmother would've said worse, she was sure.

Eventually the unsuspecting, innocent person turned a corner, and she was free to pedal at a much faster speed (she must've nearly hit a bus, two cars and nine people) as she attempted to find the street sign that would lead to the school. For a while she began to panic at the notion that she had gotten lost, until the sign, bearing the street name "Apple-Ringed Dog PKWY," came into view. At first, Winry stared at it, utterly stumped. Who the hell was in charge of naming the streets in the surrounding district? She squinted at the sign a little more. Who ever they were, they needed to hurry up and get fired. At least her own address was normal. "Black Lamp Road." Well...sure. Yeah, that was normal. Certainly, compared to "Apple-Ringed Dog PKWY."

After several minutes of unnecessary staring, Winry shook her head to clear it of such pointless thoughts and began to peddle again down the designated road, her stomach dropping in dread as the school pulled into view. It was big, intimidating, and...clean. As far as she could tell from thirty meters away. But there was no graffiti on the walls, no old gum or litter dotting the side walks, and trash cans were aligned with each other every twelve feet. It was so tidy-looking it was ridiculous. Utterly perplexed, Winry hopped off her bike as she pulled up to the high school's entrance, finding the bike rack with relative ease and chaining her bicycle to it as quickly as she could. Swinging her book bag over her shoulder again, the Rockbell hastily made sure that her uniform was in order and that she still had the piece of paper bearing her schedule, classes, and locker number, before she strode through the doors.

It was clean inside, too. That was her first thought as she stared, bewildered, down the long hall ways that stretched out in front of her and to her left and right. Well...her classes were here somewhere. Fishing the paper from her book bag, Winry quickly scanned the contents for her homeroom number. No use in searching for her locker; that would take too long. The room number was...B238. Squinting down the corridors, the blonde-haired adolescent soon realized that none of the near by classrooms began with "B." In fact, they didn't seem to be in any particular order at all. One was "A146," while the one next to it read "G942." The one after that was "C312." What the hell? Did the person who came up with street names come up with this screwed up classroom system as well? With a grumble, Winry chose a random direction and began to walk, hoping that maybe God or even Satan might guide her through this hellhole.

It was the second hallway she chose that contained the location of her homeroom. Luckily, no administrators or teachers had caught her sneaking around the school, so she was safe for now. As she approached the door, with the little plaque to the side of it reading "B328," Winry nervously swallowed and outstretched a shaking hand towards the doorknob. Warily she turned it and swung the door open, and immediately felt all eyes in the room land on her.

"...hi," she managed.

There was the clearing of a throat before a deep voice scolded her,
"You are fourty-three minutes late, and on your first day. I expect punctuality from my pupils."
Her gaze flicked over to a man who couldn't have been any older than his late twenties, sitting behind large desk in front of the chalkboard.
"This is Winry Rockbell, our new student. Please treat her kindly," he continued in a bored tone. Glancing at her briefly, he finished with, "I am Roy Mustang. I would prefer it if you addressed me as Mustang-sensei."

Awkwardly, she nodded, and slowly turned away from him to stare at the sea of desks and curious eyes before her. Feeling her cheeks flush slightly, Winry quickly spotted an empty seat; but much to her chagrin, it was in the very center of the room. Dammit. She knew that the longer she stood up here upset over the positioning of her desk, the more she would look like a moron on her first day. Unwilling to be portrayed as a moron, Winry immediately zoomed over to her desk, collapsing in the sturdy plastic chair with relief. Looking up ahead of her, the small movement of a body caught her attention. In another seat near Mustang-sensei's desk sat a young woman, a water pistol held at the ready in her left hand, her right index finger lingering around the trigger. At first, she thought that the woman might have been a disobedient student, but she quickly realized that this was not the case from the way Mustang-sensei behaved towards her. When he leaned over to speak to her, his tone was flirty, serious, and wary; his body language was inviting but stiff. Who ever this woman was, Winry admired her. Especially when she squirted Mustang-sensei in the forehead with her water pistol.


It was after class that Winry began to panic; her next class would be with in eight or so minutes, but she had no idea where her locker was or what she would need. She hadn't even seen any lockers when she had been roaming the school earlier. So how the hell was she supposed to...?! A tap or her shoulder startled Winry out of her thoughts. Whirling around in surprise, she couldn't help but stare as she was greeted by one of the most gorgeous boys she had ever seen in her life.

Dirty-golden hair glinted gently in the fluorescent lighting, reflecting tenderly on his slightly-tanned skin as kind golden eyes stared down at her in slight curiosity. His body was toned and muscled, although not in an obvious way, and the crisp white shirt adorning his torso made her stomach give a flip as she saw how well it contrasted with his skin color. The boy smiled at her and said politely,
"You're Rockbell-san, right? The new student?"
Suddenly bashful,Winry glanced down at her feet and gave a small nod.
"I'm Alphonse Elric. We have the same homeroom class, so I'll be seeing you often," he offered cheerfully. Changing the subject, he asked her,
"Do you need help finding your locker?"

Winry glanced up at him.
"Y-yeah, thanks, Elric-san." she said lamely, fidgeting her fingers.
"What's the locker number?"
"Er, hold on."
Shakily, Winry pulled the (now rumpled) sheet of paper out from her book bag and searched it furiously for the locker's number.
"M13492," she answered finally.
He beamed.
"Really? That's interesting; mine is right next to yours, then! Come on, let me show you the way."
Either God loved her more dearly than he did any other adolescent girl, or she had done something wonderful in her life and karma was paying her back. Not only did was her locker right next to one of the most good-looking males she had ever seen, but he was in her homeroom as well! Winry shamefully felt her face heat up, and tried to wave such thoughts away.
How embarrassing, she thought to herself.

Eventually the two had arrived in front of a long row of lockers, Alphonse automatically heading towards a certain direction with Winry following obediently behind him, face beet-red. After fifteen seconds or so of walking, he stopped in front of a locker and pointed to the number listed on the plaque.
"Here it is, Rockbell-san."
"T-thanks again, Elric-san."
"Please, call me Al," Alphonse smiled down at her. Nervously, she sucked in a breath.
"Er, then you can just call me Winry, I guess."
"Great! You have you combination and everything?"
"Y-yeah."
"All right," the dirty-gold-haired boy expertly entered his combination before swinging his locker open. Proceeding to pull out a text book, a binder, a few papers and a pencil, Alphonse quickly closed it before turning to look at her again. With another smile, he said,
"I'll see you next class!"
Winry awkwardly waved after him as he began to walk off, and felt a sudden sweat all over her body. Alphonse had made her that self-conscious? Grumbling at herself, she slowly entered her own locker combination and opened the door to reveal nothing but a slightly dusty emptiness. Besides the dust, it was completely clean. Letting out a breathy sigh, Winry began to unpack her book bag and glanced at her written schedule. Her next class would be on World History, it seemed. Fetching out an empty binder and a pencil, she chewed her lip for a little longer before deciding that it would be enough, and closed the locker door.


Even for her first day, homework for that evening had been utterly brutal. A quick "Home, Baa-chan!" was all she had time for besides a quick apple to eat before she had to start on it. Hardly finishing it not eight minutes until midnight, Winry scowled at her alarm clock as it showed her said time. Not really caring that her hair would be messy in the morning and that her uniform would be wrinkled, she flopped down onto her relatively small bed and tried to close her eyes and sleep.

Twenty minutes later, she remained unsuccessful, despite how tired she had felt earlier. Grumpily, Winry climbed out from under the covers and moved over to her window, which she quietly opened to peer outside. Glancing up at the night sky, she noticed sub-consciously how beautifully the dark navy color of the atmosphere clashed against the tiny, brilliant balls of flaming gas. Before, she had lived out further into the country side with her family, where there were many more stars out at night. Here in the city, she could hardly count over nine from all of the light pollution

A sudden movement caught Winry's eye and pulled her forcefully from her thoughts. Turning her head curiously, she froze as she caught sight of a tall boy standing on a roof top, hardly three buildings away from her own.

With brilliant yet ratty golden hair, the boy, who couldn't have been a year older than her, was slightly slumped over in his posture as he fiddled with some sort of bandage over his right upper arm. Wearing a pair of dirty, holey jeans, an equally torn, once-white wife-beater, and beaten white sneakers, he silently observed the city's late-night traffic. In the dim glint of the lights below, Winry thought she could make out brilliant golden eyes set into his face, perhaps even more brilliant than those of Alphonse's. A small scowl was barely visible on his lips as he observed the moving cars below him.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Winry staring at the boy, and the boy staring at the city below, before he walked over to the other side of the building and began to climb down a latter she couldn't see. Soon he disappeared from view, and she was unable to track him on the ground below. Her interest piqued, she remained by the window for a minute longer, before rubbing her eyes, shutting the sliding glass, and returning to the warmth of her bed to sleep. She would wonder later in the morning.


I liked this A LOT better. It's longer, and more well-written. Winry having a 'fan girl' personality, as I called it, isn't so bad if it's written in a good fashion. If it's terrible, however, it makes the chapter incredibly CHEESY. EW. And yes, for those of you new to this story, Edward IS tall. :)