Summary: Bad dreams and early morning sleepiness. Post-manga, sequel to "Stupid" and "Drink". Implied lemon. A heaping bowl of fluff with itsy bits of angst mixed in among it. Yum yum!
A/N: I actually wrote a crack fic [My darling beta read it :3] about Riza dying, then Mustang attempts human transmutation and loses his torso. Then Kuchiki Rukia thought he was a Hollow [because of the hole] and killed him. Hey, it could happen!
Anyway~ it's superhard for me to write fanfics in first person [for some reason it's impossible for me to write my original works in third person or second person, though], so at first this was in first person so I could practice. It was from Roy's POV because I didn't think I'd be able to write like I was in love with him *vomit* In love with Riza, on the other hand…*bluuush* Plus, the weird tenses in the dream sequences was screwing with my mind. Like I need that. Geez. [Other Self: You only have yourself to blame. Me: *sigh* I know… I have too much Pride. Pride: *comes out of nowhere and destroys me with his shadow-attack-whatever. Sorry. I had to.] But anyway, I ended up changing back to third person by the second paragraph by accident, so I just gave up and reverted back to third person because it was intensely easier. O.o I'm so lazy.
SORRY FOR THE EPICLY LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE [A/Ns this long should be outlawed] But just read this, then I promise I'm done. This is dedicated to my amazing senpai, because I tricked her into helping me write it even though she hates Royai with a burning passion. *cue evil smile*
A Ring, Or Some Sappy Title Like That
"The spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly" ~Owl City, Vanilla Twilight
He had always envied Hughes after Hughes had mentioned that he could control his dreams. And nightmares. Mustang was plagued by nightmares fairly often, as was everyone involved in that wretched war.
But ever since the Promised Day, the nightmares had changed, if not his [lack of] control over them. No longer were his bad dreams filled with scores of Ishbalans crawling after him, children clinging to him with bloody hands, adults screaming at him to let them escape, please, no one will know… No. Now he had nightmares of losing her. Riza. It was so strange yet exhilarating to think of her as "Riza" as they had in older days, rather than the stiff "Lieutenant Hawkeye". He hated to think about the prospect of what could have happened if that blade* had gone any deeper. Would the Xingese girl have been able to help her then? The thoughts invaded his mind almost every night…
000
Some nights it would be about her actually dying. Watching her fall, watching her eyes close for the last time. Every time he had this nightmare, their allies would arrive too late. She would die of blood loss. There would be nothing anyone could do for her.
All the way back to the surface** he would carry her still body as close to him as he could, as if his beating heart could start hers again. Even though they had won against Father, no one would be celebrating. Edward and Alphonse would be fighting back tears, and several people would be crying openly; nothing could heal these holes in their hearts where she had used to be.***
Finally he would have to give her up when the doctors got there.**** At that point, he would just sit down on the ground, closing his sightless eyes, ignoring everybody around. Ed and Al would sit down on either side of him, and in a rare display of emotion, wrap their arms around him and weep.
000
Then there was the dream of the funeral.
It was Hell.
As her commanding officer, he would have to do a lot in the ceremony, even though he felt like never moving again. He would have his sight back by then, but he would wish he was blind again. It was terrible to have to see his men standing around sniffing bravely and for once not up to any antics, Fuery holding the leash of a confused Black Hayate.
And at the end, when people would be throwing dirt over her coffin, Mustang would wait, invariably, until most of the people were gone. He would approach the almost full hole.
"I hate this. I miss you so much." He would not know who he was talking to, as he had never been very religious. He would slowly pull out a small box that she never got to see, and drop the silver ring into the hole, watching it fall slowly, spinning, catching the dying rays of sunlight, hitting the dirt with a small thud…
000
"No!" he shot up, gasping. After a moment, he realized he was at home, in bed. He sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. It was six thirty. And it was raining.
He looked down at the sleeping form of Riza. Her blonde hair was splayed out about her face and she was smiling slightly in her sleep. He leaned down to kiss her cheek lightly and he saw something glint silver out of the corner of his eyes. Her- their- engagement ring rested on its chain in the hollow of her throat, rising and falling with the little breaths she took.
He rested back against the headboard, taking deep breaths. The nightmare had freaked him out quite a bit, and he didn't want to go back to sleep, even though he'd now only gotten four hours of sleep.
"Good morning." Riza rolled over, pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at him. "What's bothering you?"
He started, and then smiled a little bit. She could always tell. "Nightmares."
"Oh." There was a tremendous amount of understanding in her still-sleepy gaze. She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his chest so she could hear his heart beating.
"I have them too. I have nightmares that they would kill you, or the transmutation would kill you, or…" she trailed off.
There was silence. He put his arm around her.
After a few minutes, he turned more towards her and reached behind her neck to pull off the necklace. She didn't ask what he was going to do. He slid the ring off and picked up her left hand. He put it onto her ring finger slowly.
"I can't wait," he whispered, and she nodded her agreement.
* -sarcastic smile- I say "blade" cause it's angstier than "knife"
** Wait a minute… they were underground right?
***Just let me say that I hate that sentence, but I'm 99.9999% sure it's grammatically correct.
**** "would get there."? I don't know? Ah, screw it. This is murder trying to convert something I already wrote in past tense into a different, weird tense, that I rarely use.
***** Oh look! More angst! Wheeeeeeeeeee
A/N: AGH… I HATE WRITING ANGST. I THRIVE ON FLUFF. I NEED MORE FLUFF. *goes on fluff rampage*
Yeah, the end was kind of terrible. …Yeah, the whole fic was kind of terrible.