(A/N: I recently realized I never put disclaimers on my fanfics. I guess I figure if I have to tell you that I don't own FMA, then my stories are probably going to go right over your head anyway. But, for the sake of not getting in trouble, I do NOT own FMA (which belongs to Miss Hiromu Arakawa) or the song Whiskey Lullaby (which belongs to Brad Paisley & Alison Krauss). Also, this is yaoi. If you don't like that, why'd you put the search settings for a male/male pairing? But, if you do, then enjoy!)
(Brad)
She
put him out
Like
the burning end of a midnight cigarette
She
broke his heart
He
spent his whole life trying to forget
We
watched him drink his pain away
A
little at a time,
But
he never could get drunk enough
To get her off his mind
Until the night…
Roy Mustang sat on his bed in the middle of the night, his hand clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey. There were a dozen more bottles scattered throughout the apartment. In his drunken state, he looked almost as bad as he felt. He lifted his head and saw through his stringy bangs a picture sitting on his chest of drawers. It was of him and Maes Hughes, an old friend…and lover. Roy got up and staggered over to the bureau to pick up the picture. The bottle slipped out of his hand as he remembered their last conversation.
-+-Flashback-+-
Roy stood in front of his lover, Maes, shaken by Hughes's news.
"I'm sorry, Roy. I love her, and I want to marry her." Roy filled with rage at this woman, this Gracia. This woman had simply waltzed in and stolen what was his. There were so many things he wanted to say, to scream, but he couldn't say a word. He couldn't move until Maes tried to hug him. He shoved the other man away, angry tears filling his obsidian eyes. Maes sighed, quietly apologized one last time, and left the broken man to his thoughts.
-+-End Flashback-+-
(Chorus)
He
put that bottle to his head
And
pulled the trigger
And
finally drank away her memory
Life
is short
But
this time it was bigger
Than
the strength he had to get up off his knees
We
found him with his face down in the pillow
With
a note that said "I'll love her till I die."
And
when we buried him beneath the willow
The
angels sang a whiskey lullaby
La, la, la, la, la, la
La,
la, la, la, la, la
Roy picked up the state-issued gun from the bureau and went back to the bed. Looking down at the picture in his trembling hands, his bitter tears fell fast and hard. Shakily, he raised the gun barrel to under his chin. As he closed his eyes, he thought of the happiness that had been stolen from him. He squeezed the trigger and all was silent. The gun slipped out of his hand, but the picture remained clutched in his hand…
Maes Hughes sat at the edge of his bed, his wife Gracia sleeping peacefully beside him. She was worried about his drinking. She knew he was still grieving, but she was still concerned about him. He had tried to go to sleep shortly after she had, but he knew it was useless. He hadn't slept well since he had gotten that call in the middle of the night saying his best friend had killed himself.
-+-Flashback-+-
All was quiet in the Hughes household. The sound of the phone ringing cut through the sleepy silence. Maes groped in the darkness for the receiver and said groggily, "This better be good."
Gracia had woken up and watched her husband go pale as he held the phone to his ear. After a few moments, he hung up the phone with a shaky goodbye. He slowly sat up and found his glasses. By this time, she was getting worried. "What is it honey? Is something wrong?" He was quiet for a few minutes, then answered, "It's Roy…he's dead." She gasped. He continued as he dressed, "I have to go to the…scene."
He drove like a maniac to Roy's apartment, a route he knew all too well. He rushed up the front steps to the door, yet hesitated before he reached the bedroom, another place he knew quite well. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room, and felt light-headed. He took in the scene: his best friend's body splayed across the bed, a pistol lying on the blood stained sheets. An officer came up to him and said quietly, "Sir, this was stuck in his hand…I'm sorry." The man handed him a photograph he recognized as the day they got out of basic training. He had a copy in his house. His stomach churned and made it to the bathroom just in time. When he was done, he shakily stood up and looked around him. Roy's personal scent and the coppery smell of blood assaulted his nose. The room began to spin and he felt everything go black.
-+-End Flashback-+-
(Alison)
The
rumors flew
But
nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For
years and years, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She
finally drank her pain away,
A
little at a time
But
she never could get drunk enough
To
get him off her mind
Until
the night…
Maes got up to get a glass of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. He was more than a little drunk already, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He tried to drown out that nagging voice in the back of his mind that said tauntingly, 'It's your fault he's dead. You drove him to it. You should feel guilty. He loved you and you just left him.'
"Shut up! Shut up now!" He said vehemently to an empty room. But no matter how many he knocked back, that voice never dimmed more than a dull roar. He noted the knives that he was so skilled with sitting on the cabinet. That voice piped up again, 'Go ahead, do it. It'll be so easy…just pick up the knife. You deserve to die, so go on, do us all a favor. Do it, do it, do it…' The voice rose to a crescendo before Maes yelled, "Fine! Just shut up already!" He grabbed the knife and slashed at his wrists and arms, over and over again. The blood poured out and he began to feel drowsy, his vision darkening at the edges. He smiled as his last thought was of Roy's face, smiling a real smile, not his famous smirk, and Maes whispered, "I'm sorry" before he faded away forever…
-+-Epilogue-+-The funeral was beautiful. Many people came up to Gracia, extending their sympathies. Her daughter Elysia quietly stood by her side. She looked across the cemetery and saw her daddy and her Uncle Roy standing side by side in front of an oak tree, waving at her. Smiling and giggling, she waved back vigorously. The movement caught Gracia's eye, but when she looked over to where Elysia was waving, she didn't see anyone. She asked her daughter curiously, "Elysia, honey, who are you waving to?" The little girl smiled up at her mother and replied, "Daddy and Uncle Roy, Mommy. Wave to them!" Gracia gasped and looked back at the spot Elysia was gesturing to. She still didn't see anyone, but for some reason, she believed her. She asked Elysia " Are they still there?" The child nodded. So, Gracia waved a hand at a spot just past the oak tree. A moment passed and Gracia said, "They're gone now, aren't they?" Elysia nodded and, with one final glance, they walked back to the car.
(Chorus)
She
put that bottle to her head
And
pulled the trigger
And
finally drank away his memory
Life
is short
But
this time it was bigger
Than
the strength she had to get up off her knees
We
found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging
to his picture for dear life
We
laid her next to him beneath the willow
While
the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
La, la, la, la, la, la
La,
la, la, la, la, la (x2)
-Fin-
(A/N: Psst, you see that neat looking little button down there that says 'Submit a review'? Click it. Go on, you made it this far, you might as well. I'll give you a cookie if you do. .)