This night, so somber and calm; a deadly calm that nobody but himself could recognize. The night sky, bleak and empty lingered every so heavily. It made him feel as if it was upon his shoulders, like the sorrowful burden he beared.
Today, ten years ago, a dear friend lost his precious life. Lost his life…
The raven-haired man dropped to his knees, unable to stand anymore. "Maes…" he mumbled in a forlorn tone that placed him in only more misery.
Ten years ago, this man's best friend-no…this man's lover was killed in the line of duty and promoted two ranks for his actions. He took those accomplishments with him but he left behind so much in return; a child, a wife, and his friend? Was it right, while just among himself to say Maes had been his lover?
"Roy?" a voice rang through his ears yet his body wouldn't respond, not even to look up, all he could feel was the numbness caused by the alcohol he had consumed.
Yes, that ghostly voice again, it seemed to haunt him lately on these lonely nights.
The ex-soldier stood up, slowly and unsteadily at first but composed himself to straighten. His dark, blood-shot eyes darted around, though he saw the owner of the voice nowhere, he never really did.
The Flame Alchemist's stomach gave a sudden lurch and the thoughts came flooding back into his minds eye. Within his stupor, he staggered and swayed toward a dusty old self that was hanging in the corner of the near bare living room. His hand reached upward and groped the top of the wood, looking for the one thing other than alcohol that could severely yet permanently end the miserable, dreadful life he'd fallen into.
Then, the cold metal barrel of a Korriphila HSP-701 nudged his clammy hands before he let himself take a hold of it with an unfixed grip. Holding it in close to his chest, his darken eyes studied the cold steal wondering if this was what it had all come down to.
He made his way once again, swaying back to the one couch that lay at rest.
Click
The safety was off and now there really wasn't no turning back. No, there was no going back to a more gay time in life now that his beloved was dead. However, it had taken ten long mourning years to even reach this breaking point once more.
No, going back…The ghastly voice waned into nothingness as the Flame Alchemist prompt the cool shaft to the underside of his chin and placed two trembling fingers on it's rusty trigger, and then, in only seconds, maybe only milliseconds a gun shot filled Central cities air. Then all was silent once more. However, the corrupted ex-military officer lay as silent on the blood-spattered sofa. The cast iron stove that illuminated the only source of light soon burned itself out, just as Roy Mustang, The Flame Alchemist's life was smothered out.