You wake up to the sound of screaming.
It's always like this. Go to sleep, dream of people dying and that blood staining your hands and terror and everyone you love dying in front of you. Wake up, experience most of the same.
You stand up and pull your hood down, eyes blinking back into that comfortable dullness. If you retreat into that safe little corner of your mind, you can survive another day. So you tug on your gloves but you don't, not really, because you're back home with the girls and Madame, or reading next to a girl with bright red-brown eyes.
You don't think about how much you miss them, because if you allowed yourself to you know for a fact you'd lose your mind.
One day, Hughes is suddenly there, and for the first time in months you can breathe. You hate him for being there, but damn it, he chose this life like you did and you've known that you might both show up at a battlefield together since the Academy. And soon it's like you were never alone here in this hell, and everyday you can banter with him is a day you feel more like Roy Mustang and less like The Flame Alchemist. You don't believe in any God, and never will after this war, but if you did you'd be on your knees every night thanking Him for Maes Hughes' existence.
Hughes handles things differently than you. He's quieter, here, but he still smiles and tries to make you laugh. He keeps his pain inside and hidden, something that's physically impossible for you to do. The only time you see it is when he gets those letters, the ones from his girlfriend, and then you can see the guilt and pain and fear of genocide written on his face, clear as the Ishavalan sky. He looks up, and everything's pushed back inside. He smiles weakly, and you just want to cry.
Nothing happens for another few months. Nothing but thousands of families torn apart by your flames and children burned alive and Hughes' smiles weakening and that one night when you both cried together, drunk off your asses and then you got up in the morning and murdered an entire city, hungover, ash and sand mixing in your mouth. So nothing new.
It's the day Hughes gets another letter that things change again. You hate everything and miss your family and can see no end to this war, but at least Hughes is happy for a moment. You're truly thankful for that. And talking to Hughes like this, focusing on his happiness, you can pretend you're still at the Academy, that you don't know what a burning body smells like or what the cries of the dying sound like. You can pretend you don't have nightmares every goddamn night.
You smile for the first time in ages. It's forced, but it's there and that's good, it's so much better and maybe you'll be fine, just a little bit longer and you can survive-
"Major Roy Mustang. Do you remember me?"
She pulls down her hood and time stops. Why is she here- speech at her father's grave- you practically encouraged her, you bastard- you're bare, naked, and there is nowhere to hide with those eyes scorching your soul- you've killed so much with the secrets she gave you- sorry- sorry-so sorry-wait.
No. Please, no.
She has the eyes of a killer, you think. She has the eyes of a killer.
You shatter.
