CHAPTER 3

Roy sat at his house, feet tapping out an impatient rhythm against the hard floor, eyes glued to the clock, the handle seeming to tick slower than a snail.

He was stuck in contemplation, lost in the memories where he was there with the boy.

It was a Tuesday night after all.

There were only a few hours until he could see him again.

Roy leaned against the mirror, breathing heavily, gulping down water like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Did I tire you out, bastard?"

Roy turned his head slightly to look at him.

"You wish."

The boy grimaced, determined eyes glaring bullets through his head.

Roy laughed as the boy continued to glare at him defensively, muttering something along the lines of

"Cocky bastard….."

Then a question entered his mind.

All this time, he had been calling him "the boy", and heavens knows what the boy had been calling him.

Maybe "the man" or "the bastard".

Roy quietly chuckled to himself. That definitely sounded like something he would do.

As Roy walked over to his speakers to review the choreography for the next song, he found himself asking the question lingering in his mind.

"Hey, what's your name?"

As he cranked up the speakers, He waited for an answer. When he was left with an uneasy silence, he awkwardly tried to dissipate it.

"Oh… uh….. I'm Roy Mustang, by the way. You can call me Roy, Mustang, bastard….. Anything you want."

When there was still no answer but the deafening silence from the boy, Roy looked up from his work, worriedly looking back at the mirror.

In the dim light, the boy was staring at the ground sadly.

And when the boy finally looked up to meet his eyes, it was as if the inferno inside of them had died.

"I… my name… its…."

As Roy held his gaze, he tried to make himself sound as welcoming as he could.

"Go on….. It's alright."

"My name is…." The boy paused, looking pained. As he glanced at Roy dejectedly, seemingly unable to form the words.

"Just… call me Al." Al looked away, pained gaze staring at a cold, dark corner, seeing something that was out of his sight.

For some reason, the name felt wrong, different, almost foreign on his tongue.

"If you don't want to tell me your real name, that's alright."

The boy's head snapped up, surprise flitting onto his face for a moment as he met Roy's calm eyes.

Roy smiled softly, calmly, differing so much from his normal smirk.

"I hope someday you can tell me your real one."

…

Roy sat peacefully next to the boy during his break. Closing his eyes, he could feel the thumping of the music pump through his veins, almost like a heartbeat.

The boy walked over and crouched down next to him.

"Whatcha listening to, you idiot?" There was a hint of fondness in the boy's voice. Roy smiled.

"Just some hip hop." For a moment he fingered one of his earphones, wishing he could somehow stick this in the boy's ears too.

"Hmmm. Interesting choice, bastard." He knew that the boy was only putting on an act. He needed to look tough, but he wished he could listen with him.

Roy popped one earphone out, holding it up to the boy.

"Do you wanna listen?"

The boy spluttered for a moment, surprise and hope slipping onto his face for just a millisecond.

"You idiot! I can't- I'm in a fucking mirror! How am I supposed to-"

Smirking softly at the boy's antics, he pressed one earbud against the frame of the glass, slightly unsure if it was going to work.

For a moment, as the boy cut himself off, the boy looked hopeful. How long had it been since he had last heard music flowing through his ears?

When the boy deflated unhappily, Roy found himself deflating with him, just as sad and defeated as the boy.

Then an idea popped into his head. It was ridiculous, completely and utterly crazy and not even really good, but he found himself doing it anyway.

It was for the boy after all.

He was rapping.

He couldn't rap for his life. Whenever he tried it sounded too raspy and slow, never meeting the beat. That was why he tried never to rap in public. In reality, he enjoyed rapping. When he was alone, that is.

But for once, he found that he could rap freely in front of another person. It still sounded like a dying mouse, mind you. But he didn't feel embarrassed. He felt happy.

"Did you see my bag? Did you see my bag?" The beat dropped along with the boy's jaw as Roy's mouth moved along with the words. Even Roy felt shocked at himself as he rapped to the strong lyrics.

"It's hella trophies and it's hella thick" The boy stared at him, a number of emotions flickering across his face.

"What'd you think 'bout that? What'd you think 'bout that?" A grin finally settled itself onto the boy's face.

"I bet it got my haters hella sick." As Roy got into the song, bobbing his head randomly to what he hoped was the right beat, a beautiful sound entered his ears, making him falter for a moment.

The boy was laughing. Truly, just right out, genuinely laughing. It was carefree and happy, a musical and, strangely, heart-wrenching sound.

The words died on his lips as he listened in wonder, an earbud falling to the ground in his awe.

Then, as if he had just realized that he had stopped rapping, he fumbled to get back to the lyrics.

"Come and follow me- uh- um, something something signs up" The boy, if possible, seemed to laugh harder at that, as Roy flailed his arms a bit trying to focus on the next lyrics of the rap. Why couldn't he remember….. His gaze landed on the boy again, and he gaped widely, admiring that laugh.

Then he realized he was doing it again.

"Oh shit- uh firin… something- uh- time?" Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as the laugh continued to tumble out of his mouth relentlessly.

"Uh- god- running and running- something- catch?" The boy was on his knees, pounding at the ground lightly with his fists in his fit of boisterous laughter.

"How you dare, how you dare, how you dare."

Roy continued to try to remember the lyrics that were evading him.

Finally, as the song continued on in his ear, he gave up, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

"Fuck, whatever, at least I tried."

The boy still continued to giggle a little on the floor in the mirror, bringing a small smile to Roy's face as well.

"What's so funny, huh shortie? You think you can do better?"

The boy straightened up, gasping for air.

"Who- you calling- short?!" He managed to speak between his desperate gulps of air.

Then, with his blinding smile on his face, he stared straight at him.

Roy felt his breath catch in his throat.

…

"Hey…. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

The boy looked back, confused.

"Uh….. sure."

Roy took a deep breath, unsure of what his next question would do.

"How… did you die?"

The boy gasped softly, gaze moving to the floor.

Roy found himself staring at the boy sadly. It was an awfully personal question. But… he really wanted to know. He thought that he deserved to know.

"I….." The boy looked back up at him, looking determined.

"I'll tell you." Roy's eyes widened, surprised, feeling very honored.

After all, the boy was trusting him with this information.

"I… I suicided." The boy somehow managed to get through that sentence without moving his eyes from Roy's.

Roy felt a chill sink into his bones as, for a moment, his heart stopped in shock.

The boy's words flowed from his lips like a waterfall, and those eyes stared at him until the end.

When I was younger my father left the family. I don't know exactly why he did it, but I'll never forgive him.

My mother was sad a lot afterwards, feeling loss for him, but believing that he would come back.

Whenever we did a complex dance move, she would smile and ruffle our hair, praising us, and we would feel so proud…. we loved our mother very, very, much. Me and my younger brother….. Al

She was the light of our lives.

And then an epidemic swept through our town, and…... our mother died.

My brother fell into deep depression, and the both of us tried our best to cope on, dancing being our only salvation. Some days we would dance until we collapsed onto the floor, complete deadweight.

And then my brother and I started cutting. It seemed like the only possible thing we could do.

That's where we went wrong.

My brother gave up. He killed himself.

Here in this very dance studio that we used to come every single day. Here, where a part of our souls, alight with music and rhythm always lived.

He died right there, hung himself in that very corner.

When I found him, I went crazy. He had been the only thing I'd had left.

I tried to continue living, tried to see the good in the world, but I couldn't, so the very next day, I came here and I cut myself with a shard of this very mirror until the world went black.

The next thing I knew, I was in here.

At first I thought that my suicide had failed.

But when I realized that I was inside of a mirror, unfeeling and unable to breath…..

I wasn't bitter.

This was my punishment.

I was to stay here for all of eternity to suffer for my sins.

Roy felt tears fall from his eyes as he stared at the dead, blank gold still gazing at him.

Here was a soul.

A cracked, broken soul.

Just like him.

…

The sunlight flitted through the open window, and, as always, Roy frowned unhappily at the prospect that he had to leave once again.

But as he headed towards the door, sighing, a question flitted into his mind.

"Hey….. where do you go when it's not a Tuesday night?"

The boy looked at him curiously, brows furrowed.

"Well…. I'm not sure if you'd understand, you idiot bastard, but it's like I'm floating in a plain of….. Nothing."

Roy turned back around, intrigued.

"Nothing? How can there just be nothing? There isn't anything at all? What color is nothing then? Black?"

The boy grimaced, drilling holes through him.

"You're so clueless. It's white, of course. And there are these gates, but every time I try to get near them, this bastard, even weirder than you just keeps pushing me back."

"It doesn't even have a body. It's like… a fuzzy outline with only a mouth. No eyes, no nose, no nothing. It calls itself Truth. It's even more psycho than you, can you believe that?!"

"Gates? I wonder what they are…"

The boy snorted, unimpressed.

"So idiotic. They're obviously like a doorway to heaven or something like that shit. I don't believe in god, but I'd have to say that Truth guy is the closest thing I can think of."

Roy nodded, mind moving miles per minute.

"Yeah, from what you've described, that seems likely."

Then a strange thought popped into his head.

"Hey… don't you get lonely there, alone, by yourself?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, stuttering a little, seemingly caught off guard with that question.

"N-No! Why the fuck would I get fucking lonely?! You ask the craziest questions I swear."

Roy frowned.

Okay then, he got lonely.

"Can you hear anything from the outside world when you're there?"

The boy looked even more confused with the sudden topic change, but he answered his question anyways.

"No….. Not really, but I can sometimes feel presences, like, I can tell if you've been by. You always feel so dirty, like sweat. Do you even wash properly?!"

Roy blanched, he was so straight-forwards sometimes….. Like, he dances all the time, so he always did smell like sweat but no need to say it like that…

He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"No shit sherlock, I do dance for a living you know."

"Sheesh, I probably know it better than you, bastard."

Roy composed himself again, settling his usual smirk back onto his face as his resolve became clearer.

"Well, since you're obviously lonely alone, shortie, I guess I'll just have accompany you here all the time then."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU COULDN'T SEE HIM, EVEN THROUGH A MIRROR?!" The response was almost instantaneous, as though it was instinct just to reply back through yells at the word 'short'.

Then the boy seemed to realize what Roy had said.

"What?!"

Roy smirked even wider, reveling at the expression on the boy's face.

"Why, shrimp, I said that I'll be accompanying you here a lot."

Shaking his head, the boy barely seemed to acknowledge that he had called him a shrimp, instead gaping at his words.

Then, as if he was unsure how to reply, the boy looked to the side, trying to plaster a nonchalant expression onto his face.

"Huh, I don't need you to stay with me, you bastard!... But, I guess since I can't stop you, you can come here from time to time."

If possible, Roy smirked even wider.

And so that was how Roy came to spend his afternoons at the studio, blasting hip hop on his speakers while ignoring his growing pile of homework.

And sometimes, rarely, Roy thought he could hear the boy's laugh echo through the empty room.

…

Roy ran, wind whipping through his hair, his legs burning a bit as he rushed down the streets.

He couldn't wait any longer.

He was going to go there, a whole 2 hours early, and wait for him to appear.

It was crazy, after all, what would he even do for two hours straight?

He wouldn't dance, that was out of the question.

Dancing was for him and the boy to do together. Roy would never be able to dance alone, especially not in that practice room.

Of course, he would never even go near touching that devil called homework either.

He had no idea at all what he was going to do when he got there.

But nevertheless, he was going.

Exhilaration pumped through his veins again as he remembered the boy's smile.

Roy felt free, happy, as if someone had drugged him with the boy.

The boy's laughter rang in his ears as he ran through the dark streets of his home at night.

The lampposts flickered, dull in comparison to the brilliant gold of the boy's hair.

As the boy smirked at him in his mind, Roy through his head back, dizzy with happiness.

And he laughed. It was genuine, pure, and happy.

As his legs raced on to their destination, Roy continued to giggle, high on the invisible drug that the boy had struck onto him.

Whatever this drug was, Roy was happy.

He loved it, it was better than anything that he'd ever felt.

This beautiful, devastating drug called love.