Sparks
Written by Tenchi Kai
Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist.
I know he did more to protect me than he would ever let on. I know he's working for the betterment of the country he will lead one day. However, I also know that I'm not a kid anymore, and it would be great if I could get some credit for being eighteen. Everyone sees it; he treats me like he's supposed to be the father I've never had. He acts like he is forced to wear that burden by some force no one else has seen or heard of.
Doesn't he already have enough on his back?
The more I think about it, the more the fire in me begins to spark…and it is something akin to being set on fire (or, at least, how I imagine it feeling). From there, it takes control of my nerves. At that point, it is just a matter of time before the reaction of chemicals in my brain cause me to clench my fingers into fists. After that, it is always a simple matter of letting the bitter words fly from my mouth like bullets to his ears.
My moodiness would have to annoy me more than anyone (and, trust me, it annoys a lot of people). If you were to ask me, I'd blame it on teenage hormones, but the truth is I've always been horrible at controlling my emotions; and anger was the furthest from my control. To be honest, it made me feel like a pregnant woman at the worst times…and I don't say that lightly.
But…is it really so bad that I want him to treat me like an equal? He may outrank me, but that does not mean he gets to treat me like I'm two. Now that Al's got his body back, all I really want to do it help him reach his goal. Equivalence, right?
The spark that caused the anger would always turn into a full-fledged flame when I would bring all this up to the man in question, Roy. Sure, if he would talk back, there wouldn't be much of a problem. But, at this point in the conversation (and always when I bring it up, never before, never after, always right at that moment) he would become a different person.
What do I mean by that? Well…he eyes would dull from a midnight color to a nearly lifeless black. That was his mask coming into play. I knew better then to fight it then, and I usually gave up and ended up storming off, slamming the office door behind me.
Believe me, it was like this every single time I tried to talk to him.
I don't like masks, I don't need masks, and I don't know anyone other than Roy that required one.
With both Roy and I like this, we're going to have heart attacks before the next five years are over. At least I'm writing it down on paper, so I don't becoming aggressive to the people that don't deserve it, like I normally do. We should go to an anger management class together.
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A/n: I'm becoming a shameless one shot author. And the more and more I look at this, the more and more I think it's one-sided. Like always, written in math class. And, also like always, reviews are nice.