strands may break alone, but twisted make a braid

Edward's never had time to think much about himself- and any time he did have was dedicated to the mountains of guilt, stress, and determination he had to fix his and his brother's body. Hell, most of the time Alphonse was the one who often reminded him he even had a body to take care of in the first place. But none of that meant he didn't care about how he looked like, how others perceived him, the things he knew he did or didn't liked about himself. He just, didn't think to hard about as to why he did. He had other shit to worry about. It wasn't important right now.

Barely on his feet again after being impaled, already hiding from the military, and traveling with enemies turned allies 'til The Promised Day, you'd think now wasn't the time to think about that stuff either.

“If you really want to come with, you’ve gotta do something about that damn hair of yours first.”

He could get over temporarily giving up his teacher's mark and red coat, he could even put up with the shitty sunglasses to hide his eyes, even if it reminded him too much of Scar.

But he drew the line at his hair.

And surprisingly, or not due to Greed's influence, or maybe just the difference in cultures; Ling understood.