And He Cried
(A/N: I don't know how many of these have been done, but, in my love for Hughes, and my bigger love for RoyxRiza and Roy angst, here it is!)
(Summary: Roy finally breaks when Riza comes to see if he's alright. SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 25!)
He hadn't shown up for work in three days. Nobody mentioned it. Not even myself. We all knew why he wasn't there. Roy Mustang had been silenced. I slid on my coat and headed out. There was nothing left to do. Even if there was, no one was in the mood to do it. Ever since Maes' death, the offices had taken on a gloomy feel. Worst of all, Maes' door remained open, for no one wanted to touch anything. It was just too hard. I stepped out and opened my umbrella.
Rain.
Rain for three days…
The sky was crying for Maes Hughes.
As I walked down the street, headed to my humble apartment where Black Hayate waited patiently, I halted. My eyes trailed to the left, staring at the large building above me. Roy's apartment building… I thought about it… then traveled up the stairs to his door. If anyone was going to get him out, it was going to be me. I knocked on the door, hearing it reverberate off the walls inside.
"Who's there," came a low, droning voice, plagued with exhaustion.
"Colonel Mustang?" I asked softly. "It's me… um… Lieutenant Hawkeye."
The door creaked open and I had never been quite so shocked. Roy Mustang, one that had almost always been in perfect shape and condition, not even a stray hair to fault his appearance, was standing in the doorway, shirt untucked and wrinkled- it had obviously been worn for quite awhile. His hair was messed, and his face was pale. It looked older, and definitely whiter. It was dotted with sweat, and his chin held stubble. His hand loosely held a bottle of bourbon.
"What," he asked, sounding more like he was stating it. His words were a bit slurred.
I grabbed the bottle from his hand and glared at it. "You've been drinking."
"Thanks for telling me. Leave me alone," he replied darkly, ripping the bottle from my hands and retreating into his home. I followed.
His home was a complete… total… utter… mess. He had food sitting out. Clothes were strewn upon the floor. His bed wasn't made. Pots and pans and plates lay around the kitchen, a large pile gathering on his counter.
"This isn't healthy," I said, trying to sound as professional as I could in the situation.
Roy merely snorted.
"Colonel-"
"Could you just leave me alone?" Roy hissed over his shoulder before taking another long gulp of bourbon.
"Give me that!" I returned in the same tone, pulling the bottle away.
"What are you trying to SAY, Lieutenant! Make it quick and GET OUT!" He yelled.
I had never seen him in such a manner. His eyes were flaming. I stepped back slightly, but regained my confidence and set the bottle down slowly. I clenched my fists.
"You have to stop this," I said, shaking. "I know you're upset but--"
"Upset! I'm not upset! I'm perfectly FINE!" He screamed, storming toward the back.
"The hell you are!" I returned darkly. "I know it hurts but-"
"Leave me alone!" Roy yelled, eyes glassy.
I was about fed up with his attitude, though I kept telling myself that his heart was hurting him. Still, he didn't need to keep himself angry.
"Colonel Mustang, please stop," I begged.
"JUST LEAVE!" he screeched, flinging his hand across the counter, knocking pots and pans every where, clattering the floor, filling the room with a racket.
I bit my lip, not wanting to do what I had to, but I had no choice. I stomped up to him, glowered into those charcoal eyes, then threw my hand across his cheek. The sound reverberated off the walls and an uncomfortable silence fell upon us both. Nothing moved-nothing at all. Everything was perfectly, utterly still. Even my breath halted. I feared what he might do in his grief. I drew my hand back quickly and took a step back. Roy's hand moved very slowly to his cheek, brushing gingerly across the reddened surface. It then trailed to his forehead and he closed his eyes, obviously deep in thought.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, leaning against the counter. "I-I lost it there for a minute. Sorry."
"It's fine, Colonel. I only do what I must." I saluted, as I usually did in his presence.
He rubbed his temples. "You're so… business. As usual." He gave an exhausted sigh. "Look, I should probably be by myself for awhile."
"I'm sorry, but I must decline that," I said, closing my eyes. "After seeing you like this, I think it's a bad idea. I know it's not my business, but-"
"It's okay. You don't have to ramble," he replied. "We're not at work here."
"Yes sir," I said, reaching down to pick up one of the pots near my foot.
Roy leaned his elbows on the counter, pressing his hands on his eyes. "I must be going crazy," he whispered.
I halted with the pot in my hand, watching him closely. "Colonel, it's natural to feel bad when someone you love dies."
"It was my fault… if I had been there…"
"Sir, there was no way you could have been there on time or have known about it anyway. You'll have to take this as it came and use it to your advantage when you fight."
"Yeah, the advantage will be that the only other way they can hurt my heart is to stab right through it," he muttered. "But they've already done that…"
I felt my heart slow with a pain reverberating throughout my veins. The sound of his voice was just… painful. "C-colonel Mustang…"
He began to pick up pots and pans, seemingly distracted. "Forget it."
He placed each one sloppily back onto the counter, then sunk to the floor, hugging his knees in deep thought.
"It's hard… isn't it?"
"Excruciatingly," his voice came in a harsh, hoarse undertone.
I hesitated, then lay a hand on his shoulder, not quite sure of how to comfort him. After a minute or two, I took a spot on the floor next to him, my hand remaining on his shoulder.
"I… I'm sorry… I miss him too," I stammered. "I'm sure nothing could compare to your pain, though…"
"Gracia… and Elicia… Th-they lost someone they loved… They lost their family… and… I can't stop thinking it's my fault…"
"You'll have to eventually. You can't go on living like this," I said, staring at my feet.
"I keep thinking… I don't have to go on living like this… I don't have to go on living… I've had that damn gun in my mouth before… I was just too scared to do it… Maes stopped me from doing it back then… He's not here to stop me now…" His voice was withering away.
"I'll stop you," I said seriously. I definitely didn't want him killing himself. I knew he would on impulse, especially with all this pain. It pulsed from his very being… with every beat of his heart.
"Don't worry… I'm still too scared…" he whispered, barely audible. "R-riza… you're the only… other person I've ever trusted… Did you know that?"
I was caught off guard. "N-no sir…"
"Y-you're all I got…"
I watched him from the corner of my eye in silence. I gripped his hand. It was cold; shivering. I couldn't… I wouldn't look him in the face. It hurt too much to see him like this.
"I'm so tempted to burn everything… even me. Just to die… I just want to die! WHY THE HELL CAN'T I JUST DIE!" Roy yelled out all of a sudden, standing and slamming his fist into the wall. He looked up to the heavens. "I DESERVE IT, DON'T I! I DESERVE TO DIE! WHY LORD! WHY WON'T YOU KILL ME!"
He quieted and stared downward. I didn't move. I wasn't sure what would happen if I did.
"Do you want me to do it?" he asked softly. "Do you want me to…?" He grasped the gun on his belt and stared at it. "Does this fear really stop me?"
I froze, inside and out. Was Roy truly going to commit suicide… right… in front of me? Slowly, I stood and approached him, shaking.
"Roy… don't do this…" I said, trying to make my point.
The gun dropped from his hand. He stared at me, pale. Then an almost maniacal smile spread across his face.
"You… called me Roy."
"Y-yes…" I said, kicking the gun aside. "N-now… don't be like this… M-m-maes would not want his death to affect you like this…"
"Th-then why did he die in the first place?" He asked, his voice tight. "Wh-why did he leave his family… why did he leave his family alone? Why did he leave me? He… he was my guidance… the one man I trusted… He was… my b-best friend…"
He was trembling so badly that I feared his legs might give out. I grasped the arms of his jacket, staring into those pained, ebony eyes. "Roy…"
"Why did he leave me… alone!" He sounded as if his vocal cords would burst any second.
"You've been like this for three days, Roy! Get it together!" I yelled, trying desperately to bring him back to the cheerful dolt he was.
"Three days? THREE DAYS! I'VE BEEN LIKE THIS FOR ALL MY FUCKING LIFE!" he growled.
I bit my lip. "STOP IT, ROY!"
"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO--" He paused, his hand in the air, nearing my cheek. His eyes widened and he slammed the back of his head against the wall. "DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!"
He skidded down the wall, hitting the floor again as a clash of thunder boomed across the sky. I went to my knees and crawled to him.
"Roy, I'm the only one left right? The only one you trust?"
"Yes," he said with shuddering breath.
"Then you've got at least SOMETHING to live for don't you? I know it's not much, but… you DO have me!"
He was silent.
"A-and…" I continued, feeling my heart squeezing. "I'll… be one… to follow you to your grave… to take a bullet… to sit and watch you… as you… mourn…"
"Riza… please… call me Roy… again…" he whispered.
"Roy," I complied.
He buried his head in his knees, his hands ravaged in his hair. "I c-can't believe… I almost hit you… God, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
"But you stopped," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "M-maes… would be… proud… of you for that…"
"I…" he choked. "I miss him so much!"
And that's when it happened. That was when I saw the Colonel, one that seemed so much stronger than me at times, break. Sobs erupted from him, tremors racking his entire body. I shakily wrapped my arms around him, trying to calm his convulsions. He was weeping so hard that he was coughing. I gripped him as tightly as I could as he cried into my bosom, my heartbeat faltering erratically. I squinted my eyes closed, not wanting to see such anguish. My heart couldn't take that… not from him. He squawked slightly as he mourned, sending the hot, salty liquid rushing to my eyes as well. It was the first time… I had ever felt his pain… and I hated it. But I would be there for him. I decided it.
I would follow him to the grave… I would take a bullet for him… but I would not just watch him mourn… I would be there… mourning with him. I would…
…Love… him…
…Love him through it all…
"Roy," I whispered. "I'm here… I'm here…"
And I always… would be…
(A/N: Phew… got a little misty there… Heh. I hope you liked it. Curse you sad Moulin Rouge soundtrack! Putting me in this depressed mood! Oh well… Off to feel more depressed about Hughes… :walks away to pout: )