"... And here’s Nelly and her mother,” Winry was saying from her seat on the floor, tracing the tip of her finger over the waxy surface of the old photograph. “Remember when their cow won first place at the summer fair?”

Sprawled on the sofa, Edward stretched his neck to look over Winry’s shoulder at the battered old album. Fading pieces of their past were tucked carefully away within its pages, glued in place carefully. Trust a mechanic to set her photos at neat right angles, neatly labeled with names and dates.

“Oh, look, it’s Michael from down the valley!” she exclaimed, turning a page with a heavy rustle and pointing to the face of a cheerfully smiling boy, probably ten or eleven years old with messy brown hair. Edward frowned.

“Don’t remember him,” he said, puzzled. “How’d we know him?”

Winry’s smile was bright with mischief at the memory. “Oh, Granny used to buy apples from his family’s orchards. I don’t know if you ever met him.” She laughed. “I had such a crush on him for a while. I used to beg Granny to make pie so that we would run out of apples faster.”

When Ed didn’t laugh, she tilted her head back to give him a frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Edward muttered, glaring at the sofa cushions. “You liked that kid?” he added when she wouldn’t stop frowning at him.

Winry snorted, shifting slightly for a better look at him as she leaned against the couch. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ed. It was a childhood crush. Don’t tell me you never had any.”

“Not really,” Edward said, and she threw her arms in the air. “Honestly, Ed! You’re hopeless,” she said, and went back to her trip to the past, murmuring names aloud as she flipped through the pages.

He waited until she was absorbed again before adding, too softly for her to hear and turn to see his slight blush, “Just you.”