Edward was cautious on his way back to the dorms, not wanting to encounter Alphonse again. Ed felt bad for snapping at his little brother, but he definitely didn't want to rehash what had happened once more.

Ideally, he wouldn't return to the dorms, instead fining another hideout until he was ready to deal with life, but Ed was desperately hoping some food and then some sleep would let him stop thinking about that bastard.

Unfortunately, upon arriving at his door, Ed found he would be unable to do just that. He had pressed his ear to the door, to see if he could hear Al shifting in the room, when he saw the note taped to the wood.

Edward tore it down, reading the first line, then spotting the second, smaller one underneath:

I know you won't talk to me, and I understand why. So I'm telling you this in some notes.

(Check your table)

Ed was certain that if he wasn't so emotionally drained, he would be furious. That jackass had the nerve to come to his dorm, to torment him like this when Edward was doing his best to avoid him? As it was, Ed didn't have the strength to keep up his normal bravado, and was simply hurt. The dull ache that had rested in him since he found out about the bet sharpened, and it felt like a knife was being pushed into his chest. Unbidden, tears sprang to Edward's eyes as he opened the door.

He really didn't have a conscious intention of doing as the note said. The best thing to do would be to throw the one from the door away, and ignore anything else he might find.

But Ed couldn't do it. Note still clutched tightly in his hand, he made his way to the table as though in a trance, the paper waiting on it easily visible.

Shaking slightly, wondering why he was subjecting himself to more pain, Edward picked it up. The second note read:

I'm sorry, and I really do mean that, even though you won't believe me. You have every right not to, but I still have to say it: I'm sorry.

(Go to the bathroom door)

Again with the useless apologies! Ed felt broken, used…this stupid "I'm sorry" business wasn't good enough!

Honestly, Edward didn't know what would be good enough, what would make him forgive R—the bastard. Ed felt like a dog, not belonging to the military, but to an abusive owner. He wanted to forgive the jackass, to trust him again, but he couldn't, not after that.

Edward stepped towards the bathroom door hesitantly. It was definitely better to read these stupid notes now, get them over with, than to find them later. Ed couldn't prolong these asinine reminders.

The third note read:

I've never felt so guilty, so disgusted with myself. I never meant to hurt you, and I can't believe I didn't think about how you would feel. I guess I really am a bastard. Again, I'm sorry.

(Check your fridge)

At least he would admit it. Edward noted absently that the tears he had been trying to hold back, trying to tell himself he didn't need to shed, were now flowing freely down his cheeks. This was ridiculous. Ed was overcome by the sudden, violent urge to turn to someone for comfort, to—no. None of that.

Edward had to bend down to retrieve the fourth note, being careful not to squash the others in his hand as he did so. Ed didn't know why he was bothering to preserve them.

This one made his stomach clench painfully:

Until I lost it, I didn't realize how much I enjoyed your presence, your trust.

(Go to your pillow)

To think that that jackass, Roy, was pretty much admitting he missed Edward…that hurt just as bad as anything else. The man couldn't know—not unless Alphonse had told him—Ed's feelings. There was no way he knew why Edward was hurt so bad. So how was he able to pinpoint the exact things that were breaking Ed's heart?

Edward made his way to his bed, running his hands over the pillow. Whether or not he meant it that way, Roy was making this rather awkwardly intimate, and Ed couldn't help but remember in clarity that night—that betrayal. He hiccupped, succumbing to the tears but refusing to sob. He didn't want to cry over the man any more.

The fifth note read:

I know I probably can't fix this, but I want to. So please…

(Under your blanket)

Sensing the end was near, both for the notes and his control over his emotions, Edward hastily grabbed his covers, revealing a last note, this one only a single line; only four words:

Just let me try.

Ed collapsed to a kneel for the second time that day, leaning heavily on his mattress. He buried his face in the familiar blankets, muting his escaping sobs. He didn't want this—but he did. Fucking hell, Edward wanted to let Roy try, wanted to go back to the way it was before. Only that was a lie, and Ed didn't have the strength to lie to himself anymore.

Edward wanted more than he had had before. That was why he had been so open to Roy's advances—because he had been hoping for them to occur. He had respected and liked the man, had wanted to be with Roy.

And some part of Ed, despite all the pain and betrayal he had gone through with that stupid ass bet, still craved that.

Edward slid to the floor, lifting the notes in front of him. He read them again, and again. Each time through hope ripped through him, followed by the careful pang of disbelief. No matter what Ed wanted (even if it was stupid to want a relationship with that bastard of a man), he couldn't trust him. Even Edward knew better.

Eventually, he made his way to the table, pulling himself upright. Edward laid the notes out, then scooped them together in a pile. He clapped his hands, and placed them on the paper.

When the light faded, Ed was staring at a paper heart, appropriately fragile. He picked it up, tearing along the center line until the two halves were connected by just a tiny scrap of the notes.

Edward placed it back on the table, and scrambled for a pen. On one half of the broken heart, he wrote, "I wish I could hate you," whispering the words as he scrawled them. On the other half, he admitted what he didn't want to. "But I just can't."

Being angry was so much easier than being honest, but it wasn't helping Ed, and he couldn't keep it up any more.

Edward picked up his hasty creation, and headed for the door. A quick glance outside, at the gathering darkness, assured him that by the time he reached Headquarters, everyone would be gone.

Ed would leave the heart on Roy's desk, and the man could do with it what he wished.