Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa
Title: The Last Drinkng Game
Notes: (1) This is a ficcional work, elements of the original work can be altered for better compatibility with this story.
(2) English is not my first language, sorry my grammar.
(3) Light Spoiler: Chapter 65
I hope you enjoy!
Olivier Mira Armstrong was not only good at commanding her troops in the constant cold of the North. She was also very good at drinking. And though she never gave herself rest, she would sometimes allow herself to drink with men in games where she would defeat them one by one until she was the only one standing in the bar.
And that has been one of those moments. After six bottles of whiskey, most of hers men were already lying in their seats and asleep, but Milles, seated in front of her, was still steady.
He was without his glasses and a small blush colored the face, but he had a good rhythm, his eyes glued to her. And Olivier knew that stare, she had seen it a dozen of times. It was an intense stare as if he could undress and devours her and at the same time was so sweet as who want to say the gentlest and kind words but lacks the courage to do it.
It was a common on Milles' face when they were young and even being his subordinate, he had never made a point of hiding it. It was a stare that she pretended not to see but softened something inside her. Then, over time, the stares became less common until the day he walked into her office and asked for a weekend off. And suddenly, Milles announced that he would be marry.
That explained why the stares had gone, and that feeling inside her, which always rejoiced with each one of tem turned bitter, but she was a woman much stronger than a simple feeling and that would not really bother her.
The stares returned only at times like this, where he was too drunk to have control of his emotions.
"And if we make a bet, Major General," Milles suggested when Buccaneer collapse on the table after another round, leaving only the two still in contention.
"What kind of bet?"
"If I win, you'll tell me your innermost secret, but if you win, I'll have to." His red eyes gleamed in anticipation, casting the same intense gaze she now rarely saw.
"And why do you think I'm interested in any of your secrets?" She teased.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"All right," she agreed, and they began a new round.
It took more time than usual, and Olivier felt that she was in her limit . The feeling of defeat began to seize her and the fear of revealing her secret began to blow in her ears. She could lie, but it would not be right to do it.
Suddenly, Milles slammed his hand on the glass, knocking it to the ground, accidentally. He could barely focus on the objects on the table, and she sighed in relief that she had no need to reveal any secrets.
"You lost," she smiled victoriously, "now let me know your secret."
"Okay, right." Milles put his hands on the table and looked straight at her. "I have a son" and that was no secret to anyone, the child was almost one year old. "And his name is Charles" she knew that too. "My wife decided to name her father, the most important man she loved in life," Olivier waited. "I'm glad it was not a girl..."
"And why?"
"Because if it was, I wanted to give the name of the woman I loved the most, and it would be Olivier."
The stare was more intense than she had ever seen and felt her face burning, but it was certainly because of the drinking game. It didn't go to unnoticed for her the use of the verb in the past and that was a reminder that he had made a choice, and that choice was not she.
"I'd be flattered," she smiled frankly, "but I don't think your wife would like that."
"I do think so, either," he smiled, and gaze slowly faded until it looked like a spark.
She knew that she would never see that gaze again and the bitterness that always held her when he spoke of his wife was resigned. If they had any chance of getting together, they had simply wasted, and feelings abandoned in the past should remain there.
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