Ed’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Mustang was waiting for him; his own hand clamped around Ed’s wrist as soon as it got close. Ed stared up at him, found him smiling in a way he wasn’t used to, in a way that . . . he wasn’t sure what it meant. He worked his mouth, finally found his voice.
“This . . . isn’t really a dream, is it.”( Dreams )