Disclaimer: I don't own the characters involved in this piece… because if I did, well, their relationship wouldn't be implied. It would be canon.
Closing Time
(riza)
"May I… stay here for the night?"
She smiles weakly and bites her lip. Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire; she can hear the blood pounding through her ears. She knows that she must look foolish and stupid to him. She's just another plaything, just another notch on his bedpost, just another tale of innocence lost to be prostituted for beers at the local bar.
She tucks back a strand of hair as she waits for his reply. Though she's not a teenager anymore – legally, that is, and that's all that really matters, anyway – she still feels like one. She feels horribly self-conscious, out-of-place. It's not a feeling she likes.
"It's late, and, my tent, it's farther away." She can't help herself, she knows that she's babbling now. She's grasping at straws, looking for anything to fill the awkward silence.
She really does hate how that now, around him, when they're alone, she can't seem to stop talking. She blathers on about her dreams, her hopes, her fears. Lately, it's gotten worse – she's told him about her innermost secrets, including one about her vision of a perfect wedding (thousands of roses, her mother's wedding gown, Prince Charming; she wants it all).
It wasn't like this when they were younger. She used to be able to hold her tongue. She used to be able to handle long stretches of silence between them. And, most importantly – this is what bothers her the most at night, when she lies awake, staring up through the sheer cloth of her tent at the smoke-laced sky – she used to be able to sleep without him lying by her side.
And she feels just a little bit sick for feeling this way. She feels as if she's betrayed someone, something. A standard, an ideal, maybe? Or perhaps the paragon of the perfect, independent soldier who she thought she could be: a woman without the imprudence of the heart.
She looks at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed; he hasn't said anything, hasn't done anything. He's only just stood there and let the seconds and minutes trickle by slowly, agonizingly.
And why would he say yes to her, anyway?
She isn't beautiful, just pretty; she's seen him with better girls – with girls that he actually calls by their first names. She isn't charming, only courteous. She isn't even pure anymore – granted, he tarnished her, but still. She has nothing to attract him, to lure him in.
And he isn't drunk, like he was two days ago, the last time she stayed overnight in his tent.
She turns to walk away, mortified. Oh, she won't be able to sleep tonight – both because of him and because of herself. I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, just like those girls I've always hated, those girls who giggle and whine over absolutely nothing, pining for men who will never love them back –
"Wait." His voice comes out, barely audible as she takes a step into the night. "You're right, it is dark. It's too late now, and there isn't much light to guide your way back. Plus, everyone's asleep."
She turns, hardly believing her ears.
"It would be rude of me to turn you away." Now he smiles weakly, steps back, waves at her to come in as he turns around to walk farther into the tent. "Come in… Riza. I've got an extra blanket."
And she follows him, an inaudible whisper escaping her lips, her hands reaching up to unclasp the hairclip nestled in her blond locks.
"… Thank you, Roy."
END.
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AN: I absolutely love Semisonic's cover of "Closing Time"! :) So, it's no surprise that I ended up writing this (and the follow-up to this) while listening to the song over and over again. I really love how this particular piece turned out.
I understand that Riza's a very calm, collected woman; however, I've always wondered what she was like with Roy at the beginning of their relationship. My best bet is insecure and awkward, from observations IRL; thus, I hoped to capture that in this piece. I hope I did so.
The second chapter is from Roy's POV. It's definitely darker.
Thank you for reading!
Chatte Blanche