Not really sure how this all works yet-
This is a story I wrote based off of the song "The Last Time" by Taylor Swift and Gary Lightbody.
Thanks for reading!
Characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa~
Stumbling up the stairs. He could smell the whiskey on his own breath.
He felt the pain of a thousand bullets on his back, his spine breaking as he stepped in front of the door. His eyes scanned the entire outside, every crevice was the same. It was an exact copy of hers. It was.
He cursed under his breath. How had he ended up here? Did his feet just drag him to this destination every time he wasn't sane enough to bring himself home? His hand reached for the knob, but as his fingers touched the cold metal, he stopped. The tang of the golden ice brought back a memory. His gloves heated in his pocket. Why had he brought them along? It felt like a snap, touching the door. It felt like throwing a flame into oblivion. It felt like searing her back. It felt like nostalgia. Of course the door would be locked.
His hand grazed the bleached wood, his mind desperate to knock, to let himself in, to kiss her and ask her to forgive him.
His knuckles shivered. His sober hand wouldn't let him, but his foggy mind demanded it. His heart cried out, his lips parted, no sound escaped.
What would she think when she found him- half drunk on her doorstep? How many times had this happened before?
She probably sat inside, tucked beautifully into her rusty brown couch, her cropped blonde hair quivering below the heater, her soft palm grazing a page of a book, maybe holding onto the blanket they'd shared so long ago... Maybe she drank tea, two teaspoons of milk, never enough sugar to taste the sweetness. He remembered tasting it once. She scolded him as he joked that it was too bitter for his taste, just like her. She kicked him out again.
His head found the door, his hair blinding his already dimming eyes. His hands scrambled onto each other on his back. His teeth grappled his bottom lip in anxiety. What would she say to him? What could she possibly have to say?
The first thing she noticed was Black Hayate's ears. They were turned up, and his nose twitched.
She heard a knock, next. Her own face turned to the door, her chin hovering over the top of her beaten up couch. She set her warm mug onto the small table, and pulled the blanket over her legs and hung it over the arm of the chair. Her curved calves and thighs were revealed by a pair of jogging shorts, and her skin suddenly grew bumps of ice. She crossed her arms to warm herself, and shuffled to the door. She placed her hand on the door, feeling the frigid outside, and placed her cheek against the grain, listening for a voice, a breath.
"Who is it?" she called, her eyes droopy with exhaustion. She waited long before she got a response.
"Do you love me?"
The voice was so familiar, it warmed her ears and lungs. Her eyes widened in the darkness. Her other hand reached for the handle, tugging the lock open, and then cracking the door for her to see him. He looked like hell. But his eyes were trained on hers, his shaky fists on the wall of her threshold.
"What do you want, Colonel?" she breathed. Did she love him? Why would he ask?
"Tell me, Lieutenant... Do you?" his breath permeated into her apartment. He'd been drinking.
"I think you need to go home, sir." she suddenly felt naked under his eyes. He was fully dressed in uniform, and her in shorts and a sweater. He'd seen her like this before, but someone this time was different. It felt wrong. Especially after their previous visits.
"I am home, Riza." her stomach flipped every time he used her first name.
"I believe you're mistaken." she replied, narrowing her eyes and placing her hand on the door to close it. His hand reached up to stop her, his eyes pleading.
Answer me. Answer me. They screamed.
"Do you love me, Roy?" she asked, in turn. Her eyes hardened, her heart spinning in her chest. She'd never known.
The question caught him off guard. He thought about it for a split moment. Did she feel him hesitate?
"Yes... so very much." Could she even hear him? He decided to repeat it. "Riza Hawkeye I'm in love with you-"
"Go home, Colonel." she said solemnly, her forceful hands stronger than his. "You're drunk." the gap was closing quickly, panic flooded over him. His hand pushed the door back with immense strength. She fought back for a moment, and gave up the fight.
"It's always been you," he said, almost begging for her, "I've always loved you. Since the moment I saw you I knew that we'd be together for a long time."
"You don't love me." she commanded, her eyes wet but strong. His heart ached at her sudden angered words. "If you did-" she stopped, fumbling for words, "Why do you hurt me all the time? Why must you-" she stopped mid-sentence, no longer able to even look at him. His body shrieked in pain. He couldn't answer her question.
"You've got it all wrong," he began, "I-I'm sorry-"
"No, you've got it wrong." her eyes filled with rage. "You can't come here anymore. This is the last time I ask you to stay away." she paused. He let his hand down; let it down by his side. "You can't come here anymore." her voice cracked in anger.
She was disappearing right in front of him. She was almost gone. He had to tell her. His lungs exploded suddenly, he couldn't breathe until she knew.
"I promise... I won't hurt you anymore. I won't... I love you. I-I..." she was replaced by the door again. "Did you ever love me?" he asked, like so many times before. He couldn't remember the last time he had asked this, but he knew it was fresh on his memory.
His back turned and hit the wall that paralleled her door, sliding downwards. He sat on the freezing cold carpet, his hands setting in his lap and nothing to look at but his own knees and the other wall.
For the moment he saw her eyes again. His whole body melted. Her brown eyes. They made everything... better.
"I did." she breathed, her back on the wall. Her dog's head sat in her lap, her fingers stroking his head quietly. She heard him whimper, feeling her tears on his pelt. He'd just broken her so many times. Together, then not. Promises broken. Too many drunk apologies and she had had enough. It didn't seem like him, but he'd just beaten her down too many times. Not physically, if he had touched her he would have been shot on the spot. She was herself but it never seemed like enough, or maybe she wasn't herself enough.
"I do..." She felt an itching on her shoulders. The burns against her cotton sweater didn't settle well with her replenished skin. He was there for that too. He held her, unable to finish the job. He was weak. She was weak. He broke his first promise. If he'd destroyed her that night, maybe none of this would have happened.
Stop thinking. she ordered herself, bringing her fingers to her temples, her teeth grinding in despair.
This was it. She'd keep her promise to protect him. But she refused to love him. She'd never let him in again. No more. No more opening the door if he'd just walk right back out.
He wouldn't come back. This was the absolute last time he would get to her.
But was it?
Unknowingly, they sat, facing each other, separated by a door. A wall of reminders and memories. They'd shared to much.
He sat, guilty. She sat, in pain.
If only he could see her once more. If only she could make him feel the way he made her feel.
If only this was the last time they'd sit and wonder.