Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these events are real nor do I own any of these characters.
It wasn't fun. It wasn't fun at all. Staring down a loaded gun tends to not be fun. But of course, what do you expect when you disappear for years and come back expecting nothing to change? She either didn't remember him and thought him a stalker or remembered him all too well. He gulped down the lump in his throat, the barrel of the gun aimed at his forehead.
"Do you really think that's necessary?" He asked, not revealing any fear in his voice.
"Not really," she replied coolly. "But it sure does help."
That was reassuring. He knew if she pulled the trigger she would greatly regret it. It was impossible for her to shoot at him. Unless she had forgotten him and thought he was a stalker. But we're trying to optimistic here. He dared reached up his hand and curl his fingers around the barrel. A muscle on her hand twitched as he slightly flinched. When he heard no bang, he moved the gun away from his head.
"Can't we just talk this over?" He asked.
"What's there to talk about Colo—Roy?" she asked harshly. So she had remembered him. That helped, kind of.
"It's better than shooting me," He replied flatly.
"Are you sure?" she grimaced.
How could he answer to that? It was like a well-plotted trap. She must have been scheming it for years. Females can have whole conversations in their head, and the actual conversations usually turned out in their favor. As this one had.
While he sat and pondered the answer to such a rhetorical-like question, he was able to notice her changes. She wore her hair down, and it was short. Not too short, but shorter than it was when he had left. It was slightly above her shoulders. Her hair didn't affect her overall beauty, though. Her outfit was that of a normal female's. Although, he was quite accustom to seeing her in the blue military outfit. Another mistake that he must have made.
He then found his answer.
"The trigger is locked," He remarked. Her brilliant amber eyes gazed at him for a long time. Then did he add, "When ever I try to pull the trigger, it is locked."
She hadn't planned that in her mental conversation. Her eyes betrayed her that time. Her emotions hardly seemed to betray her, but as they say, 'eyes are pools into someone's soul'.
She held up her gun toward his head again. "Let's find out," she whispered coldly.
When you are about to embrace death, you might want to do something that will be remember. He hadn't really planned out his death, but this might be a good one. A bullet to the head by the one you betrayed. Some people might try and close their eyes, to avoid the pain of their situation. Roy simply gazed up at the blonde haired women. Click.
You'd expect death when you are on the wrong side of a gun and you hear and see the trigger being pulled. But he was wrong; he was never staring down a loaded gun. It was a mere bluff.
"The trigger's fine," she muttered. The gun hit the floor with a thunk and she just stood there. He stepped forward, reaching out to touch her, but she recoiled. It hurt him when she rejected his offer to help her. All her trust for him has probably drained. It drained like the color of her face had drained. It felt like he was being stabbed when he saw a blemish suddenly appear on the ground below them. Directly below her.
"I never intending on hurting you, Riza," he assured her. He took another step toward her and she turned away. The tears running down her face was like a sun-shower. No gloomy, gray clouds enshrouded the sky, yet the rain fell. It was equality of someone dieing to see that something he had done made her cry.
"Why?" Her voice was shaking. "Did you insist on just leaving? No warnings, nothing. Do you ever stop and think about the ones around you?" He knew her comment wasn't aimed toward anyone in specific. But two names came to his head; one person who was dead, because of his ignorance to being more observant, and other who he had hurt, beyond any pain of death. He took in a breath, since she couldn't see him, he might as well move toward her. With success this time.
His arms snaked under her arms and met at her stomach. She tensioned at his touch. His chin rested on his shoulder. He gently whispered "I'm full of burdens that I have been carrying. I will make sure that your pain is not included."
Her arms reached up, and her hands touched his arms. He felt the salty rain falling on his arms as she did. It made him shake with such great sorrow.
"Promise me you'll never leave me again," she declared.
Such an ample promise. Maybe it wasn't as large as he thought it was. But at that moment, he couldn't think of any other excuse to say no to it. He would have to vow to forever stay near her. Like a loyal dog. She always did train her dogs well.
"I suppose I could," He replied.
"It is a yes or no question. You are either dead or alive," She countered him.
The expression made him wish to chuckle, any other time he would have. It was as if she was saying if he said no, he was the equivalent of being dead. But, he knew better than suggested that. Thinking of no better way to answer, he withdrew from his hug. Instead, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and swiftly turned her around, so she was facing him. She looked to wonderful at that moment. You couldn't tell the tears that left their salty residue on her face were for sorrow. Her eyes gazed at him in question. She was irrespirable. He pulled her closer to him and lightly his lips met her, as she wrapped her arms around him swiftly.
"I promise," he muttered. "I will never again leave you with my own will," he told her.
"No," she responded. "You will never leave me. Even if it is against your will."
A/N: One-shot. Don't expect a next chapter, 'cause I can't really think of anything to write with this. This is what comes into play when you are bored, being told to write a one-shot, and listening to my playlist. x3 Oh the FLOOF. Read & Review.