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It was the third Sunday of June.
So what.
It was just a day. It was no different than the eighteen other third Sundays of June that he had (quite begrudgingly) had to live through. This was not including, of course, the four or five Father's Days where he'd actually been accompanied by a father; his only memories from such a time consisted of Hohenheim frowning in a corner with an occasional careful sweep of Edward's hair, as if he were some kind of rabid dog awaiting the glorious feast of his father's fingers. Like there was something fundamentally wrong with Edward and saving the world was the perfect excuse for Hohenheim to run as far away as possible, fingers and all, just to put some distance between himself and his son. With that lovely thought always pushing to the forefront of his mind, it was no wonder he always wrote over the 'o' and the 'i' on the team's calendar to indicate quite clearly his feelings concerning the third Sunday in June and the hellday that came with it. The first time he'd done it there'd been a mixture of laughs along with pitying sighs and a look he couldn't quite decipher from Hawkeye–understanding?, but at some point it had evolved into Mustang throwing the new calendar on his desk at the start of the year, the third Sunday in June now forever at his mercy. The rest of the team had jumped on the bandwagon too; he was pretty sure the last he looked at it, Breda had added devil horns to the myriad of scribbles that covered the unfortunate little square. Ed briefly smirked at the memory, only to have it replaced with a frown, his mind drifting elsewhere.
Calls from Alphonse were frequent and always the highlight of his day, that went without saying. Since finishing their travels, while Edward had slowly gravitated back to the military, Alphonse had taken up residence in Xing to further study alkahestry in the hopes of becoming a physician. They'd all been so proud (but hardly surprised) that Alphonse had been accepted into one of Xing's most prestigious schools and while most assumed his studies came with four years abroad before his return, Edward had a feeling his stay might be a little more permanent if May Chang had anything to say about it. Which, going by the way Alphonse talked about her, she definitely would. As much as he rolled his eyes and gagged when his little brother gushed about her, he'd be lying if it didn't mean the world to him to hear the palpable joy in the younger Elric's voice. He'd give anything to keep it there and he had. But their most recent conversation had been far less pleasant than any in recent memory, and of course, it all came back to the third Sunday in June.
"Cenz for your thoughts, Fullmetal?" The question snapped Edward out of his dreary reminiscing as he saddled its source with a withering glare. He wasn't sure if the recipient was quite deserving of it (this time) but he wasn't about to apologize so he directed his gaze back to his untouched plate instead. How long had he been staring at it for?
"Like you'd give me money anyway," Edward responded, maybe a bit too harshly as he shoveled a forkful of what tasted like dread and loathing into his mouth, "Cheapskate bastard."
It wasn't really a fair critique given that they were currently doing what Havoc had dubbed "Edward's weekly mooching", in which he and Mustang would go out for food somewhere; he was pretty sure it had started off with Mustang trying to ditch work and using Edward as an excuse but somehow it had just become a thing that you do. Like going to the laundromat or checking the mailbox, or calling Al and Winry– going out for food once a week with the General had just become a thing. And you don't question a thing, especially when it comes with free food and kicking shins as a distraction to reach across the table for more free food. Somehow, Edward had found that he enjoyed "the thing", even looked forward to when Mustang's whim to flee the office would strike so they could trip each other down the street and fight about where to eat, only to end up at the same place every time. Yet unfortunately for both parties, that whim had struck on one of the worst days possible; he was pretty sure he'd said a total of eight words, seven of them having been rather unpleasant.
Somehow, Mustang seemed unfazed by his dour mood.
"You still owe me money the last I checked," he replied around his fork which he'd been chewing on for…who even knows, it's not like Edward was paying attention, "I'll just take it off your bill then, now you only owe my 519 cenz, feel free to thank me for my generosity."
"Whatever."
Mustang put his fork on his empty plate and sighed as he pushed it away. They'd been sitting in near silence for the past half hour, not including the car ride over. Clearly, something was eating away at Edward, and not as if the kid was giving him many clues, but if his religiously placed decorations on the calendar each year were any indication, he felt he had a pretty good guess.
"Listen, if it's about your father-" He began, only to be cut off by another seething glare from Edward, his teeth bared and eyes filled with rage and…something else.
"Why can't you just stop pretending like you give a shit," The other soldier snapped. To most others, the sudden outburst seemed atypical of a teenager fueled by a bottomless pit of rage and grief, but six years of a front row seat to Edward's constant ups and downs told Mustang otherwise. He swallowed and remained silent, trying not to take Edward lashing out personally as he attempted to keep the surprised hurt he felt off his face. Something must've shown through though, as Edward suddenly looked taken aback, as if he'd been possessed for a moment and didn't understand why he'd said such a thing. He cast his eyes back to the stupid plate of food he'd been boring holes into since it arrived and all the fire went out of him as quickly as it came, leaving him to forlornly slump without it.
Mustang let the tension drain out of him, glad that the possibility of a public shouting match seemed to be dwindling. With a sigh he reached into his pocket for cash and after depositing it on the table, he stood and walked to the other side of the table, towering over Edward and resisting the strong urge to make a joke about his height. The kid looked up at him like a puppy expecting a beating. What did I even do? If Hawkeye were here, he was sure she'd know.
"Come on, Fullmetal," he tried to keep his tone neutral, stuffing his emotions into the little box they spent most of their time in, "let's go."
…
Edward kept his head down, his bangs falling into his eyes as Mustang leaned against the car next to him; they were outside the restaurant now and Edward felt like he could breathe better, but now he had to talk. Which really really sucked.
"I didn't mean it," he said it so quietly he wondered if it were possible the other heard it. Mustang was watching him intently though, so he took that as a sign to continue, "I just get so angry sometimes you know…he makes me so angry. And I have to take it out on someone, cause obviously it can't be him," he huffed a humorless laugh, "cause he's never here. Somehow that someone always ends up being you though…but I don't mean it."
Edward raised his gaze slightly, timidly, asking for forgiveness. They still fought plenty but none of it meant anything, the banter and insults was just how they worked. Edward had matured over the years and he liked to think the hold his father's actions had on his rage had lessened, that he didn't care anymore. He thought he could control the unchecked hatred that simmered under the surface of every relationship he had. Apparently he was wrong.
"I know, Edward," Mustang gave him a small smirk, "I think I figured that one out six years ago."
A look of relief settled over the teenager's face, although he'd deny it til his dying day, Mustang's approval meant something to him. It meant a lot actually.
"You're still a bastard though," Edward said with a small grin. Roy rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the car.
"I know, Edward."
They stood there in comfortable silence for a minute or two before Edward sighed, admitting defeat.
"Al called me earlier," Roy raised an eyebrow at his subordinate, pretending to be only mildly invested. Too much interest and Ed would shut down and somehow that would be his fault too. "He said that our da–Hohenhiem is coming to Central today. You know cause it's…" Roy thought the kid would choke but against all odds he managed to get the words out, "Father's Day. Even though he's spent it with Al before or anywhere other than with me, now he decides he wants to hang out?"
Edward scoffed and kicked a rock across the sidewalk, "I mean, he didn't even give me a choice, he's just gonna show up here and I'm supposed to drop everything and find time for him when for the past eighteen years he couldn't find time for me?"
He looked at Roy incredulously and the general had to agree. He'd never actually met the Elric's father but he couldn't say they painted a great picture of him.
"And then Al just…" Edward trails off, seemingly unsure what to say next.
"Doesn't share your opinion on this I gather." Mustang finished for him. Edward didn't respond but it wasn't necessary. He knew the brothers, while still as close as ever, had vastly different relationships with their recently unestranged father and as a result, vastly different opinions on him too.
"He doesn't remember him from before, he doesn't know what it felt like to watch him walk away," Edward tightened his hands into fists at his sides. "I should be happy for him, that he gets to have that. I am." He suddenly stared harshly at his superior and Mustang wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to convince. Then just as quickly he looked away. The silence stretched between them again, the tension in the air almost thick enough to grab and shake violently for answers, the way Edward wanted to do with his father. Roy tentatively took a step closer, hesitating before reaching out to grab Edward's wrist in an attempt to discourage the lack of blood flow reaching his fingers.
"Fullm–Edward," He caught himself just as Edward looked back up again, his fists unclenching slowly as the anger in his eyes turned to despair, "You deserved a father too."
The statement left no room for doubt and Edward felt a tightness in his chest that he was sure he'd always had, suddenly dissolve. The anger he had towards Hohenhiem was so strong because a part of him had always been sure his father would find a way to fix things, that all the pain he caused would suddenly be undone. But as the years passed and nothing changed, the feelings of betrayal became unbearable, because why hasn't he fixed it yet? But Mustang's response solidified what he'd always known and never been able to make peace with: this wasn't something to be fixed. He'd had a chance for a father and that chance was gone, and the sooner he could accept that the easier it was going to be.
Unless…unless somehow tonight was the night? It was Hohenhiem's last chance to fix things, last chance to start over. What was he going to do with it?
Roy let go of his wrist and uncermoniously nudged him off balance, pushing him out of the way to open the driver's door. Edward fumbled and turned around completely caught off guard, although, he supposed that was probably the intention.
"Well you're not going to walk there, it looks like its about to rain afterall."
Ed looked at him bewilderdly, "Walk…where?"
"To the train station?" Roy gave him the smug look he saved for when he'd caught Ed being stupid and was about to point it out, "Honestly Fullmetal I wonder about that IQ test you took sometimes. You sure you didn't have Alphonse take it for you?"
Edward frowned and shook his head. "You don't have to drive me there, I can go by myself."
Of course he didn't want to go by himself but relying on someone was a dangerous thing to do and he especially disliked relying on Mustang even if he couldn't put his finger on why.
"Your car's back at headquarters in case it escaped your short memory."
"I can take a cab," he said too quickly than added, "I mean…you have to get back to work anyway, Hawkeye's going to be mad at you."
"Ed." Roy didn't often use his nickname so it came as a surprise, especially when he noticed the laid back expression he'd had moments before was replaced with something entirely sincere.
Edward opened his mouth to argue but found he didn't really have the energy to. Going to the station on his own sounded dreadful, lots of time with his own thoughts and all…
"Do I have to order you?"
Edward sighed in defeat and climbed in.
…
The drive had been a silent one, not uncomfortable just, nothing to say. Edward leaned his head against the car's window thinking about the last time he'd seen his father. Since the Promised Day, Hohenhiem had kind of been all over the place. First he'd gone back to Resembool and after lamenting over the charred sticks of his house (or whatever it was he wandered around doing there) he'd waited until his sons had finished their journey, opting to follow Alphonse to Xing. The two had supposedly gotten all cozy or whatever over the past couple of years, and to be fair, he had reached out to Ed once or…multiple times. But he'd always had an excuse. Maybe that was why he hadn't gotten a say this time. It didn't really matter, he'd have to face the old bastard at some point anyway, might as well be on the third Sunday of June. What better day to ruin than this one?
The rain began to fall.
Ed lifted his head as the sound of a train whistle began to grow closer, each second it blew filling him more surely with dread than he had been the moment before. Hohenhiem was here. He exhaled sharply and reached for the doorhandle, but found himself unable to open it.
"What do I even say?" He stared numbly at the handle wishing it would open, praying it would never open again. He could feel Mustang watching him, probably trying to think of something to say. There was nothing to say.
"It's never been your responsibility to fix this."
Oh.
Ed could feel his eyes water, every emotion he'd felt that day threatening to spill out because of this stupid bastard who wasn't even his father.
It'd taken so long for him to trust the man sitting next to him, but after Ross he'd found that he could and he hadn't regretted it since. It was funny now that he thought about it, he'd spent more years with Mustang than he had with the stranger on the train. Suddenly it wasn't Hohenhiem he didn't know what to say to. He looked at Mustang and was greeted with a soft smile.
"Good luck Edward," he'd never heard the general talk so quietly. "I hope tonight you can find a reason to not deface my calendar."
Edward choked on something between a laugh and a sob; even after all these years the general's unpredictable shift between seriousness and humor still managed to catch him off guard at times. Despite the comment he was still teetering dangerously on the edge of breaking down in front of Mustang so all he could do was nod and return his attention back towards the door. Hohenhiem was waiting in the station by now…
Before he even knew what he was doing he'd turned back around and threw an arm around his commander's neck pulling him rather aggressively into his shoulder. He clutched the back of Roy's jacket and sniffled, his chin resting on a row of stars. Suddenly aware of what he was doing–hugging someone, it had to be a special occasion for him to hug his own brother–he pulled away, giving Roy, who'd obviously been caught off guard, no time to react in the slightest.
"I um…" Suddenly opening the handle was the easiest thing in the world, "S-sorry."
He hesitated for a moment but before Roy could say anything, he was gone.
…
The others had left hours ago. Roy sighed as he flipped through another stack of papers, the rain relentless in its pounding on the roof. He was likely going to be here all night and it wasn't like he was even getting paid for it. Sometimes a salary had its downsides…
The door to his office suddenly swung open and he immediately clapped ready to incenarate whatever poor soul thought– "Edward?" He lowered his hand, alchemical electricity still buzzing through the air as he cautiously walked over to the soaking wet teenager. "What on earth are you doing here–you're soaking wet!" He gestured frustratedly at the drenched carpet and Edward's dripping hair. Without waiting for a response he grabbed his coat off the rack and tucked it around Edward who remained rooted in his spot at the doorway, swaying ever so slightly. He wondered briefly when Edward had become the same height as him.
"Fullmetal why are you…" Annoyance turned to concern when he had to reach out to steady the intruder, "Edward…are you…are you drunk?"
Ed looked him in the eyes, anger apparent in his gaze as he opened his mouth to once again unleash his misguided fury only to lose his balance and fall against Roy. Caught off guard by the extra weight they both stumbled for a moment until Mustang was able to take control, leading Edward over to a couch, the boy unceremoniously plopping down into the middle of it. Roy carefully sat next to him, making no effort to hide his worry anymore.
"Edward what–" He began but stopped when Ed's drunken gaze landed on him, a heartbreaking clarity present in his eyes.
"I hate father's day so so much," and the tears he'd glimpsed earlier in the car finally spilled over. Roy felt at a loss, he knew there was nothing that could fix the now-sealed fate of Ed's relationship with his father. Clearly whatever had happened, the last strings of hope he'd held onto were gone and he had to relieve the pain of being an orphan all over again. Roy knew all too well what that felt like. He swallowed against the wave of hurt that threatened to wash over him anew, memories from a lifetime ago that he refused to revisit, especially now. Edward needed him.
"Ed…" his voice wavered as he struggled to set his emotions aside, something he was so familiar with but found staggeringly difficult to do in this moment, "I'm sorry."
Edward hugged himself and Roy twisted his fingers into the fabric of his pants glancing at the ground as if it could assit him as he found himself entirely at a loss for what to say.
What does he need to hear?
"Edward…I know I'm not the person you want to hear this from right now but," Roy swallowed, watching the kid he'd known since he was twelve, who'd seen the worst of the world but refused to let it break him. He'd never forgive himself if it was the boy's father that became the one thing Edward couldn't make it back from. "Ed I'm…I'm so proud of you. I don't think I've ever said that but you're an amazing kid and if Hohenhiem can't see that he doesn't deserve to be a father, especially not yours."
The rain pattered lightly on the roof, yet even with the softening of its sound he almost misses Edward's quiet reply, whispered between bangs and a smile, "Means more coming from you anyway."
"Havoc you're taking forever," Breda whines as his friend continues to dawdle around the office. He flips open his watch again and groans in an exaggerated manner, "Can't you survive without your little box of death for one night?"
"Oh shut up Heymans," Jean rolls his eyes as he shuffles through another pile of clutter looking for his cigarette box, "If I don't find them then we have to stop and buy some and that'll take more time cause the cashier will flirt with me and I'll have to get her number and everything."
"Yeah the eighty-six year old man who's working tonight is going to flirt with you," he smirks at his friend's annoyed glare, "At least you'll finally get a date I guess."
"You're so–found them!" Jean holds the container triumphantly.
"Great now can we go?"
Jean takes out a cigarette, preparing to light it as he walks to the door but stops himself.
"Wait!"
Breda groans, "Now what?"
The blond steps up to the calendar that hangs on the wall, the month May its current showcase.
"It's June first tonight, gotta change it," he says as he flips to the next page. Soon a crease forms between his brows.
"Huh."
Breda moves to stand beside him, "What is it?"
Havoc, unlit cigarette still in his mouth, points to the third Sunday of June. "Did the boss not give Edward the calendar this year or something?"
"No he definitely did," Breda frowns, thinking, "I was there when he put it on his desk."
They both stare at it for a moment.
"Guess the kid just forgot?"