The Ache of Futility

Edward inspected his reflection in the mirror, eyes analyzing every detail. With a defeated sigh, yanked the hair-tie out of his ponytail and brushed it out thoroughly before trying once again to get it just perfect.

Fuck, are you pathetic. He shook his head in disgust and placed an Automail hand over his image in the glass before turning away to shrug on his black coat. You stupid little fag.

"Leaving, brother?" Al asked, looking up from his book and, bless him, not commenting on his brother's excessive primping.

"Yeah. I'll probably be back soon," he replied, trying for the life of him to sound as though he couldn't care less.

"You might have a good time, Ed," Al cajoled quietly from his steel. "Don't doom it before you even give it a try."

Ed gave a snort.

"It's just Breda and Havoc n'them and some girls. Doesn't sound to me like a rip-roarin' party."

"The colonel will be there, too," Al pointed out, and Ed felt a stab of panic, but quickly suppressed it. Al wasn't saying that for any reason, he was just correcting him, like he always did. He didn't know. He couldn't know.

"At least try to have fun."

"Yeah okay. See you," he said, tugging on the doorhandle. The door gave its typical indignant squeal, borne from a few too many kicks on Ed's part, and came open.

"See you later brother, have fun." Ed waved a hand and stepped out, pulling the door shut but not locking it. Al would.

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked, trying not to be nervous. It was going to take him a while to get there, seeing as he was walking, and he'd been a bit on edge all day as it was. He didn't need to be nervous until he actually got there.

He walked at a pretty good clip most of the way there, but as he approached the pub he slowed to a crawl, kicking stones with his heavy boots a block or two away. He flicked open his pocket-watch again, but only two minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked, and he was still more than twenty early. When he drew even with a dark window he squinted at himself in it, smoothing one glove over his hair, but refused to be so vain as to actually approach the shop. He 

scowled at himself and turned away, kicking the next stone he found with his left leg, making it sail halfway down the street before clattering to a stop.

You're so stupid. Just turn around and go home. What the hell are you trying to prove?

Edward pushed his hands further into his pockets and hunched his shoulders a bit more, turning around at the end of the block to pace back up its length. Still early.

Well, he considered as he stood under the sole streetlight, if he did go in early he'd have a chance to go to the bathroom before everyone else arrived. Sure, he'd gone before he left the dorms, but nothing wrong with making sure. Yeah. He didn't want to have to go pee in the middle of the party.

So he turned once more and walked purposefully toward the pub. When he got within a block of it he could hear the raunchy music, muffled but still plenty loud, and had second and third thoughts before clenching his fists and marching up to the door. Jerking it open, he stepped inside the smoky entrance hallway and looked around. The place was certainly popular tonight, though it looked like it wouldn't be uncomfortably crowded. He proceeded to walk a little way in, now comforted that his arrival wasn't likely to cause stares, and was scanning for the bathroom sign when he heard someone call his name.

"Ed!"

"Over here, boss!"

He turned and saw Fuery, Havoc, and a girl standing to his left, waiting at the edge of the pub proper. He flashed a smile as he came level with them, and Havoc, feeling particularly friendly, gave his arm a punch.

"Glad you could make it. You don't usually mingle with us enlisted."

The girl giggled and put a hand over her mouth.

"It's not like that," he said, trying not to sound defensive. "I've just got a lot to do."

Ed and the giggler regarded each other for a moment, and Fuery jumped in to introduce them.

"Ed, this is Erica Swanton. Erica, this is Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed could have kissed Fuery in that moment, but settled for shooting him a grateful glance before shaking the girl's hand and returning her now rather impressed formalities. She was pretty enough, he guessed. She had short brown hair and slightly darker brown eyes. She was wearing a plain-cut floral day dress, which instantly made him think of Winry when she was a kid. It wasn't the sort of dress he usually saw on women in Central, or at least those older than ten.

They chatted a bit while they waited, and two other women, Sarah and Michelle, arrived and were introduced. It was immediately evident that Kain liked the second one a lot, and if he wasn't mistaken the feeling was mutual. He discovered through the course of the conversation that they'd been out a few times already.

Well, I'll be damned. Good for you, Fuery.

Sarah, on the other hand, hadn't been around soldiers at all, it would seem, and asked Havoc when she thought Ed wasn't listening if Major or Colonel was higher.

Edward nearly jumped out of his skin every time the door opened, but it was a good half an hour before he had reason to, and by then he had suppressed the urge. He was caught off-guard when there was a delighted chorus of greeting, and quickly turned toward the entrance in time to see the colonel and the woman on his arm approach.

His mouth went dry.

Mustang was gorgeous. Unabashedly, smolderingly gorgeous, and the smirky smile he was giving the group was enough to make Ed's knees weak. He was wearing black slacks and dark-red button-down shirt, which was open a few notches, giving a glimpse of his collarbones.

Ed turned away as the others greeted him happily, ashamed of the twitch of longing he had felt, from his head to his toes, but especially his chest and in the front of his pants.

You pervert.

Mustang turned to Erica after he had greeted them all back, and gave her a sultry smile as he complimented her on how lovely she looked tonight, and Ed felt like laughing out loud. Erica- who looked as though she had thrown on her niece's dress and left the house without coming within ten feet of a mirror- was looking lovely, and Edward- who had spent far more time than he cared to admit trying to look his very best- was not even glanced at in that context.

In Roy Mustang's eyes, if you were male, you might as well be invisible.

He wished he were invisible in the next moment, as Roy turned surprised and yet smug eyes on him.

"Fullmetal, I'm surprised to see you. If I had known you were coming I would have picked a family restaurant…at least there no one would ask to see your ID."

The men snickered and the girls giggled, and Ed's cheeks burned with humiliation. He wanted to blow up in his face about it, like always, better to show anger than weakness; but they were here as adults, and he didn't know the adult thing to say.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," he mumbled finally, feigning interest in the back of the pub. He could still feel Mustang's eyes still on him, but fortunately Havoc started talking, and the others quickly joined him.

So they stood there, talking casually, though Ed didn't really have much to say, for almost ten minutes before Sarah told Havoc that these weren't her dancing shoes, and he took the hint. There was a brief discussion of tables before they decided to sit at the bar. The girls sat as the men hanged up the coats, and Fuery took the pair of hooks right beside him.

"That's a nice shirt, Ed," he said with a smile, and he felt grateful to him for the second time that night.

"Yeah, I can't believe I lived to see the day you didn't wear that black and red getup," drawled Havoc with a grin around his cigarette.

"Alphonse must have dressed him," the colonel quipped, and there was another round of snickers, though Fuery did look apologetic as he did.

"Yeah, yeah," Ed said again, sending a bland smile in the colonel's direction, though he didn't care to meet his smirking eyes.

Before they could sit down Falman and his wife entered, and there were more rounds of introduction, during which Ed was also introduced to the girl Mustang had escorted in.

They took their stools, finally, and the bartender got their first drinks. He handed Ed a list of juices, and there was much laughing and elbowing and confusion of the bartender.

Edward laughed along bitterly and shook his head.

What the hell made you think this would go well?

Edward drained his glass and with a crook of his finger pulled the bartender over, who had been paying Ed special attention to make up for his earlier unintentional insult.

"One more," Ed prompted, nudging his glass, and the bartender sized him up, obviously thinking he'd had enough, but then gave in and poured. Edward spun the glass on the counter with the gloved fingertips of his right hand, his left propping up his chin, watching the light filter through the amber and crystal. Some laughter sounded further down the bar, and Ed immediately recognized the colonel's rich baritone amidst the middle-pitched voices and Breda's guffaws. Hymens and his girlfriend had arrived an hour or so after the rest of them, much to Havoc's delight, and were seated somewhere down there. Ed couldn't see any of them without leaning halfway over the bar, seeing as Falman's ramrod-straight back was to him, and Susan- the girl who had come in with Mustang- had long since excused herself from his right side to sit further down. He had tried to strike up a conversation when they had first sat down, since she was 

looking antsy, but she had only given short, distracted answers until she could think up an excuse to change her seat.

So Edward had sat there, trying on alcohol for size and watching his glass, pretending he wasn't sitting there just to listen for Mustang's voice. He never laughed in the office, aside from the occasional chuckle at his expense, and it was a wonderful sound….

You're such a fool.

Ed let his eyes wander to the rest of the room, tables full of companions enjoying their Friday evening. It was beginning to settle, now, seeing as it was getting late. Things were less boisterous and they had turned the pulsing music down. The rowdiest group was the one next to him, actually. He was glad, because it was easier to hear that way.

What did you think would happen? Did you think he would suddenly treat you as a friend? Suddenly see you differently?

He accidentally caught the eye of one of the men at the table on the far side of the bar and quickly looked back at his glass. He hadn't meant to be staring. After all, he didn't really feel like staring, except at….

You stupid poofter. You should have stayed home.

He found he couldn't drink without straightening up, so he did, momentarily, and took a gulp. He shouldn't have gulped, really, because it burned, stung the back of his throat, but he didn't dare cough where the bartender could hear him, so he just let his eyes water and forced it down.

If you had stayed home you could have done your research, like you should be doing. There's no excuse for wasting time like this, not while Al sits in a hunk of metal.

He heard the colonel's voice rise in order to deliver the punch-line of a joke, and then the swell of laughter in its wake. He went back to spinning his glass.

It's because of him. You and your stupid delusions. He would never see you as a friend. You're just another resource to be used as he climbs his way up.

Edward put his arm down, laid it across the bar instead. His cheek was getting sore, and he rubbed it with Automail fingers for a moment before returning them to the base of the glass.

I can't believe you can even look him in the eye, after what you've thought about. After what you've imagined. You should be ashamed.

"I am ashamed," he muttered to the bar-top, watching the light through the amber. The ice was melty and clinked on the sides when he moved it in circles, spinning, spinning.

You shouldn't want those things. You shouldn't think those things. And most of all, you remember what mom said. You shouldn't touch yourself, that's bad, that's wrong and you know it—

He lifted the glass and started drinking frantically, taking gulp after gulp until it was empty, and he could wipe his mouth on the back of his glove. Ed set the beaker down and pushed it forward a little, to be refilled.

And you think about him when you do it, and that's even worse. Mom would be so ashamed if she knew, if she knew her son was a pervert!

Ed hugged his own arms on the bar and hunched forward a bit, listening to the discussion on his far left becoming lively. They were arguing good-naturedly, Mustang and Sarah. His arguments with the colonel were never like that, never sounded friendly or enjoyable. They were always filled with smug belittlement and mockery and stern disapproval.

You shouldn't want him to do any differently. He's not a pervert, he's not a sick faggot like you.

He gave a little groan of distress in his throat and put his head down on his arms, the metal one digging sharply into his forehead, just another reminder of why he was bad. He squeezed his eyes shut hard and tried not to think.

It's true, you are, a sick little fag and you know it, you know it's sick and it's wrong and how he would hate you if he knew! He would hate you, he should hate you, you pervert, you're bad and wrong and sick—!

"Sir?" came the voice of the bartender, and Ed lifted his head sharply.

"How much do I owe you?" He croaked, and the man looked very relieved that he was calling it a night. Ed sat up and paid the bill and tipped him a lot. He tried to tell Falman that he was leaving a few times, but he was too absorbed in whatever it was the others were discussing, so Ed just stood up and headed for the coat-rack. He found his nice black coat, a foot or so shorter than everyone else's, after a minute or two. He dragged it on, pulling his ponytail out of the back, but didn't button it, because he felt very warm. Too warm, and his sloshy stomach hadn't agreed at all with standing up.

He walked back through the pub toward the entranceway, making an effort not to look wobbly just on the off, extremely slim chance anyone was watching. He put his hand on the door, telling himself he was an idiot and just LEAVE, but his desire to see the colonel in that deep red won out, and he glanced back. To his startlement he found someone was watching—a dark-haired, black-eyed, beautiful someone, and his heart leapt to his throat.

"Leaving?" he mouthed, leaning a bit away from the raucous bar and twisting back on his stool to see him better.

Edward nodded and gave a little wave.

Roy smiled and waved back before turning around to resume his role as life of the party.

Ed pushed the door open and stepped out onto the street, everything suddenly too quiet after hours in the loud pub. He took a deep breath of the clean night air and let it out, looking left and right for a moment before recognizing the way back toward his little dorm room. He started down the sidewalk, boots loud on the cement as they measured out his pace.

A smile just for me.

Edward took a stuttering breath in and held it for a moment before it was released in choked sobs of despair, even as the grin of joy split his face.

I'm hopeless.

NOTE: I do not in any way condone the use of derogatory intolerant language. I am quite strongly straight supportive, and the views expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect my own.