Disclaimer: I do not own FullMetal Alchemist.
AN: Well, let's see. I've written a fluffy-romantic oneshot and I've written a humorous one. Time for angst, then.
"You're happy. Let's see what I can do about that." – Life; How many of you out there relate to this quote? I do. -.-
Just a little, she thought. Just a bit more.
Slushslushslushslush
There. That's it. That's fine now.
Gulpgulpgulpgulpgulp
That wasn't enough. Just a bit more. She could still see him. That wasn't enough.
Slushslushslushslush
The sound of liquid sloshing against a glass container was the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen. The usual noisy and festive antics of a bright, happy child by day lasted well into the evening, but when Elysia would fall asleep, there was nothing to distract Gracia from the cold silence and from her dark memories.
Gulpgulpgulpgulpgulp
It still wasn't enough. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. More.
Slushslushslushslush
The smell of whiskey hung in the air, a total contrast to the scent of freshly baked pies and cookies when daytime came. At night, it was like a sudden turnabout of everything. Happiness fell into despair, a smile turned into a frown and the joyous become the despondent.
Gulpgulpgulpgulpgulp
She could still see him, remember him. Her whiskey was running out but her memories remained strong. How many glasses would she have to drink to forget him? How drunk would she have to become to erase the sorrow from her heart? How much does she have to hurt her daughter to dispel the image of a smiling, green eyed, bespectacled man from her mind?
Slushslushslush—click.
Empty. Bottle empty. Glass half-full. Not enough.
Gulpgulpgulp—
She had promised herself that tonight would be the last, the same promise she made since the day she found out her husband, Maes Hughes, was assassinated. She had promised herself and her daughter and the spirit of her husband that tonight would be the last. And like the many promises she had made, she broke every one of them.
Standing up, keys grabbed, coat worn, house locked. Downtown store. Liquor. Whiskey. Home. Again.
She had promised herself that it would be just tonight. Just tonight, she'd be allowed to drown herself in alcohol and revel in her sorrow. Forget everything and allow her to mourn.
Just tonight, she was allowed to lament.
Slushslushslushslush
Gulpgulpgulpgulpgulp
AN: I have no idea how but I did like writing this. No, I have never gotten drunk before. I'm like the sober brother in a fraternity. I take care of the drunken bastards. LMAO. Anyway, happy day to you.