general content warnings for anxiety/depression mentions & Roy's accidental overdose.


Holed up in a VIP waiting room in the airport, Roy and Riza were killing time before their London flight boarded. They sat on a plush couch across from a plump redheaded reporter by the name of Jenna Wildes. Between their arrival at the terminal and their wait to board, they'd managed to squeeze in an interview that had already gone on for an hour. Beside him, Riza coughed and nudged him with her elbow. Roy's knees knocked against Riza's as he slid shut his Sidekick. They'd been waiting on him to finish a phone call.

"Sorry," Roy apologized. "Business call. Signing emancipated minors to an imprint label requires a bit more paperwork than I'd expected."

"Everything requires more paperwork than you expected," Riza said lightly, shifting. Roy snorted, and then tucked his phone into her purse. There'd been one major drawback to his wearing women's jeans - unfortunately, they seemed to lack proper pockets. Riza often ended up carrying his phone.

Jenna smiled. "Was that the Elric Brothers on the other line?" she prompted.

"Could you hear them from over there?" Roy laughed. "It was. They're going to be working while we do our photoshoot in London."

"Already working on their debut album?" Jenna asked.

Riza dug a tube of lipgloss out of her bag and swiped it on as she nodded. "Mmm," she hummed. "They're going to start writing."

"Meanwhile, the rest of us are flying out. It's going to be our first time home in awhile," Roy noted, adjusting his hoodie and rolling up his sleeves. "We're glad you asked us to go back to England for this. Fitting for us, and for Rolling Stones."

Looking around, Roy searched for the other members of their group, watching to see how they'd settled in and scattered at the mention of an interview. The rest of the band had crowded at the other end of the lounge, sprawled out by the bar as Breda and Havoc sucked down beers. Jenna Wildes kept Roy from being distracted for too long however, and he found himself trying to keep up with the barrage of questions she had for them both. She was keen and clever, and most of all, knew her shit.

Jenna gave them a catlike grin and sucked her teeth underneath coral lipstick. She turned to Riza and raised a brow.

"Let's talk about your personal lives now that you're famous," she prompted, and Riza gave her a cool and impassive look in response. Roy crossed his legs as he forced himself to keep from fidgeting, and idly checked his phone before slipping it back into Riza's purse.

"What's it like being the only woman in a room full of boys?" Jenna asked, tapping her pen lightly against her pad of paper beside her recorder. "Any unfortunate situations or assumptions...?"

Roy swallowed silently. Riza shifted back against the couch and calmly answered, "You know, I looked over the Rolling Stones masthead. I could ask you the same thing - what's it like being a woman in a room full of mostly boys?" Plucking an invisible thread of lint off of her soft leather jacket, Riza smiled. Roy fought a grin himself; Riza wasn't trying to be rude, she was just being deft. Dry.

Roy coughed to hide a laugh. Riza caught his gaze out of the corner of her eyes and gave him an amused shrug.

"Point taken," Jenna said, already obviously recalibrating the questions in her mind. "Let me ask something else," she hedged. "How involved is the band in each other's personal relationships? Are they protective of you?"

Riza didn't shrug a second time, but Roy caught the tightening of her shoulders anyways and kept an impassive expression.

"It's not really a big deal that we know where everyone is all the time, or who they're with. But they can be protective, yes. They care that I don't get harassed by overeager men," she said carefully, lifting her chin.

Jenna scribbled something quickly enough that Roy's head hurt from the noise of her pen scratching against paper. When she looked up from her notes, she asked quickly - "Fans?" for clarification.

Riza frowned softly. "No. If you have to harass someone - some men have gotten really aggressive, which is why we have security - then you're not really a fan. There's no respect there."

Roy kept a level gaze as Jenna hmmed, fascinated. Bottle green eyes flicked back up towards him. "Speaking of knowing where everyone is, you were recently spotted with a trim brunette in Philadelphia. Are you involved with someone?"

His stomach turned, and Roy sighed. "Funny thing is, I was talking to my best friend's wife. We met up before meeting him for dinner, so that that got in the papers...it's surreal. I was their best man, of course, and they have a kid, so it's nothing like that," Roy began, glancing at Riza before he paused, and took a deep breath. Meeting with Gracia before he met with Hughes had looked suspect to the tabloids, but it had been nothing unusual. And it was frustrating.

Running a hand through his hair casually, he continued. "I keep getting asked if I'm dating someone, and I'm starting to wonder if I should just make it up," Roy said, exasperation leaking into his words. His thumbs pressed into his knees and he glanced down at Jenna under thickly lined lids. "About a month or so before we sat down to record the album, I broke up with my girlfriend. She didn't deserve how I handled my feelings," he said, the words coming out of his mouth before he had even really tasted them.

"Or how I treated our relationship in general. And without that - things get harder to deal with you're alone. I kicked my own supports out from under me. And then we started to prepare to record and under a lot of pressure to do well," he splayed his palm out over his knee before folding his other arm across his chest.

"I broke down on the entrance to the highway on the fast lane," Roy said, fixating his gaze on the back of the couch that their interviewer sat on, its worn and muted upholstery blending into swirling patterns. Without looking, he could feel Riza watching him for any sign of upset. Roy fought to keep his expression neutral. "So the album, it - it sounds like a breakup, but also like a mental break, it's broken in a lot of ways." Something wavered, but Roy wasn't sure if it was the world around him, or Riza's breathing. He continued.

"There's a beauty in that. In Japan, a broken cup can be soldered back together with gold and the cracks show the beauty within," Roy looked down. "But if you ask if I've been seeing anyone, or sleeping with anyone - I've been in the hospital, and I've been on tour, and I've been not really a good person to be in a relationship with. I haven't seen anyone, not in months." The last word fell hard between them and their interviewer, and Roy's gaze flickered back to Jenna's hands briefly as she looped out another line across the pad. There had been times his therapist had made the same noncommittal hum in the back of her throat as she made her notes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy caught Riza moving forwards, head bowed in his direction. She was looking down he realized, and for the first time he'd noticed his hands were shaking slightly. It was almost indistinguishable, but the squeeze in his chest and the sudden chill that ran over him was obvious to her. Riza noticed everything, now. Warm hands reached out for his, and she clasped his right hand tightly, fingers lacing with his and palm flattening into his own. His pulse jumped, and Roy reflexively tightened his grip on her hand as she soothed her thumb over his knuckles. His shallow breathing quieted as her voice sounded out beside him, warm and smooth and far more held together than he was.

"We've all put health and touring first. That aside, maintaining relationships with people who don't travel with you isn't easy. We're always having to call friends and family in a rush," Riza said, rubbing Roy's hand, "And now we meet people who want to know us because of our fame, or run into old acquaintances who suddenly care now. It's stressful," she explained quietly, "to find something genuine."

A warmth settled over Roy, curving up from his hands to the gentle point of contact from her shoulder casually brushing against his. She was firm and solid beside him, and with a effortlessly calm look, she gently added - "But we have the band at the end of the day. That's a constant."

Rolling his side against hers, Roy pressed his weight into her own body, their jackets adding a small layer of cushion still between them. A wave of exhaustion pulled at his body like a great tide, dragging at his limbs. Riza spoke again, cutting off Jenna's next question.

"Unfortunately, I think we have to be going," she said with a polite smile. "It was wonderful speaking with you, but our flight will begin boarding soon and we haven't yet checked up on everyone else, or gotten snacks."

Eyes darting quickly to Riza as she squeezed his hand again, Roy helpfully added, "You know how international flights are. Absolutely endless."

"Ah," their interviewer said smartly. "Of course. It was a pleasure speaking with you both. I'm sure you've given me a wonderful article." She stood up, as if to extend a hand, but instead Jenna merely smiled as she shrewdly watched Roy and Riza stand up from the couch together, Roy's hand slipping away at they did so.

Their goodbyes were as quick as their retreat and once out of earshot Riza gently steered Roy in the direction of a row of empty seats just out of reach from the rest of the band. Roy sat down hard on the chair, his knees giving out from under him. She sat down on the bench beside him, idly watching the rest of the room out of the corner of her eyes. Fame didn't matter as much in a nearly empty VIP suite.

Riza brushed her fingers lightly over his arm, an open invitation. Roy fell forwards into her touch, arms wrapping under hers as he buried his face into her shoulder. The next ragged breath he took caught in his chest, then shuddered out as he exhaled slowly over her collarbone. Strong hands wound up over his back and Riza stroked Roy's hair gently as she pulled him closer to her. The taste of apprehension filled Roy's mouth, but exhaustion took precedence.

Her head dropped to lean against his, pressing her cheek against his ear as she murmured quietly, "Are you okay?" The tips of his fingers pressed tightly into her back, and Roy nodded slowly, pressing his chin into her shoulder.

"I'll be fine on the flight," he said.

"That's not what I mean," Riza said as she ran her hand up and down his back once, soothing him. Although worry clung to her words, Roy heard the fondness as well and he sighed and relaxed into her touch, the suddenness of the attack fading.

"They're going to publish that," he said thickly.

Riza hummed in agreement, her chest vibrating against his. "And the hand-holding," she added.

At that, Roy pulled back with enough force that he narrowly avoided smacking his head against her chin. Eyes wide, he ducked down in nervousness and bit his lip. The sudden swell in his throat choked his words as he scrambled to speak. "I didn't think-"

A soft hush passed Riza's lips, and without hesitation, she pulled him back to her shoulder. "I initiated it. I don't care what they make of it, you-" she sighed deeply, before continuing. "You lied a bit, anyways."

"I'm sorry," Roy pressed, mumbling against her shoulder.

Riza turned, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, her lips warm and lingering. Her exhale fluttered over his skin and she shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for," she said.

Licking his lips, Roy nodded slowly. "I didn't think about what I was saying, or why I said it. I just thought about defending the band..."

Riza paused as Roy quietly dropped his head. "Do you regret it?"

"I don't know yet. Who knows how much of that will be the focus of the article?" Roy said, hands curling tightly back around her waist. "...Are you okay with it?" he asked. Telling the truth would have been inadvisable - celebrity leant itself to a little dishonesty in order to maintain privacy - but that didn't mean Riza approved of how he had handled the interview. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as he waited for her response.

She shrugged, shoulder rolling under his chin before she spoke. "Hayate might be disappointed you denied cuddling him at bedtime," she said lightly, "-but explaining the rest..." Riza broke off, pulling away. She brushed Roy's cheek, stroking his jaw once gently as she avoided his gaze. "People would get the wrong ideas."

"Of course," Roy echoed, voice hoarse from the dry air of the terminal. "You're right." Riza was always right, about everything. Even if they did spend nights together, it wasn't the same. It had been close, so near and within reach, but they weren't a couple. Not a couple a magazine wanted to know about, anyways.

Riza pressed her forehead to his for a moment. Her lips opened, and a word formed in her mouth before the sharp female voice over the intercom announced their flight would begin boarding shortly.

The sudden and impending sense of dread returned in a panicky clutch in his chest. Drawing himself back, he looked at Riza. The crackle of the announcement faded after a firm click, and Roy shook his head. He coughed, a slight scratch working in the back of his throat.

"I can't go," Roy explained quickly, his voice trembling as he worked through the possibilities in his mind. There were too many strings attached to his arrival home in London, and an endless number of things that could go wrong. A shiver worked its way from the bottom of his spine upwards. His mother would inevitably see him like this, would want a myriad of explanations and would have just as many expectations. "I can't go back home now, we shouldn't go to London-"

Riza brushed her thumb over his cheek, bringing Roy's words to a lulling stop as he focused on the soft movement of her fingers. "Roy," she said. "We're going for work. If you don't feel up to going home, we can get a hotel room in the city with the rest of the band. Chris will understand." She gingerly removed her hands, and looked over at the pile of luggage they'd left beside Falman. "Is that alright?"

Biting his tongue, Roy thought about it. Staying at home while in London was supposed to be a convenience, a break from a flurry of activities and album promotions. Booking a hotel room had seemed unnecessary at the time, and Roy had offered to go home. Even disregarding that, the photoshoot was important and cancelling wasn't an option. His stomach lurched and he swallowed. With a final sigh, Roy nodded. "We should probably," he stumbled, moving to stand up, "-we should get going," he hesitated for a moment before peeling away from her gaze. Riza stood up behind him, rolling her shoulders as he braced himself for retrieving their things. All they had to do was board the plane.

They walked in companionable silence to their luggage, no more than a few yards away from their seats. Havoc and Breda had crowded back into the fray, tossing bags of luggage this way and that between them as Fuery suffered under the weight of his own carry-on that looked about half his weight. Falman calmly picked up his satchel and slick suitcase, while Jean seemingly purposefully whacked Breda with his duffel bag as he threw it over his shoulder.

It was Havoc who spoke first. "Hey boss, you alright to fly? I think we have a xan-" he began loudly, before shrugging as Riza shot him a glare. "Alright, alright. You just seem like you're not excited to be sitting in a small seat for hours on end is all."

Breda snorted. "Name me one person who would be looking forwards to that."

Roy didn't bother trying to cut in a word edgewise. Instead, he shrugged noncommittally, letting Fuery enthusiastically cut in. "-I don't think I've ever flown first class before though, and on an international flight to boot. I'm excited!"

"Of course you would be, Kain," Havoc said, leaning over to ruffle Fuery's hair, messing up their beloved techie's spiked black style.

Riza smiled tightly, and cast him a warm look before sliding her gaze back towards Roy. "I'm glad we were able to arrange for you to fly with us," she said lightly.

Looking up from his bags, Falman snapped shut his satchel and calmly asked, "Are we prepared to board the flight?"

"Yes," Roy answered as Havoc and Riza nodded. "I think so."

They left the VIP lounge with little fanfare, passing by a few tired businessmen and someone who Havoc recognized as an American football player but whose name didn't register with anyone else. Their gate had been close to the lounge and Roy and Riza hovered at the center of their ragtag team, Fuery leading the charge and Breda and Havoc hovering at their sides while Falman tailed them. Roy was grateful for their heights blocking the majority of prying eyes as other passengers craned to watch who was rolling in to the front of the first class line. With Breda at his side, and Havoc at Riza's it was hard to get a definite look at either of them; there had been plenty of times Roy wished he had been taller, but never in moments like these, when privacy was dictated by who could see him.

A timid tween girl leaned forwards in her seat with her razor phone, and snapped a candid shot before Riza twisted to peer down, building up a slight glare. Another camera flash went off and Roy slipped on a pair of Ray-Bans. From behind them he watched impassively, too tired to bother with his usual bravado. He slunk down, pulling back as someone leaned in too close. Murmurs of recognition rippled through the crowd as their boarding passes were scanned, and a few more shots were snapped before they disappeared down the ramp and into the connecting hall to the plane.

Their pilot grinned at the door of the plane, but Roy didn't bother to do anything other than nod as he boarded the aircraft. Fuery ducked into the first of their rows, excitedly hefting his bag over his head and into the luggage compartment before he slid into the wide bench seats and pressed himself up against the window.

Behind him, Breda squeezed into the row before Riza, before double checking her boarding pass against his.

"Trade you," Breda offered, pressing his ticket into her hands. He took the middle row of seats, while Riza turned to read off of Roy's ticket. Taking Breda's seat put her in the seat beside Roy's instead of across the aisle. She paused, waiting for Roy to put up his luggage and take the window seat before she slid in beside him and made room for Havoc to join Breda and Falman to sit beside Fuery.

The dull hum of the plane rumbled over their movements, and Roy settled into his half of their bench seat. First class was supposed to convert into small cots for sleeping, each pair of seats easily partitioned out by a screen blocking the aisle. Riza pushed up the armrest that had been laid down between them, and the flimsy additional screen that slid out over it. Roy buckled himself in as the band chattered idly around them, passing out snacks amongst themselves. A bag of pretzels was passed his way and Roy played with the plastic bag, half hoping to pop it, and half hoping he wouldn't. He bit the inside of his cheek, replaying the interview in his head again and again, each time focusing more on the feeling of Riza's hand taking his own. Roy wondered if he had even registered Jenna's expression when it had happened, what his own face had looked like. When he closed his eyes, potential headlines swam behind his eyes.

Most of the flight boarded without consequence, although a few of the other first class passengers recognized them and gawked. Riza gave a warning frown to passengers who lingered too long by their seats, while Roy passively turned away. The dull drone of the plane picked up as they taxied to the runway and a flight attendant went over the flight regulations. Roy pulled off his sunglasses, and tucked them into his seat pockets. Outside of the window the airport winked away, vanishing beyond their view.

When they leveled out in the air, Riza pulled out their divider, blocking them from view from the aisles before she leaned towards Roy. He glanced back over his shoulder, watching her concerned expression fixate on him, and then the view from the window. Clutching his water bottle, Roy let the condensation run over his fingers as he played with the moisture silently.

Sensing his distress, Riza loosened her seat belt buckle and slid over, drawing Roy closer to her. Without resistance, he leaned into her shoulder. Riza's hands wound over his chest, and she pulled her thumb over his ribs, as if counting each one individually. After a moment of silence, Riza sighed. "Do you want to talk?"

Roy closed his eyes. Although the noise of the plane was loud enough to muffle their quiet conversation, he still preferred not to be overheard. Roy pressed his ear to Riza's chest, listening for the soft squeeze of her heartbeat before he hummed in agreement.

"I never thought about it all like that until today," he began as she stroked his hair. "I hate the repetition. Explaining and having people not understand that I went wrong somewhere and couldn't fix it-" Roy made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "-the damage is done. I knew even then what it looked like," he said. "I destroyed good things that mattered to people."

At this, Riza paused mid-stroke and brought her hand down to his cheek. "You didn't destroy anything, Roy. You weren't well. It wasn't your fault."

When she leaned in to rest her lips against the crown of his head, Roy placed his hand over her arm, quietly pressing his palm against her. "I did, though. I know I should have broken up with Emma sooner than I did," he said, quietly recalling his last ex-girlfriend with perfect clarity. "She genuinely cared, and I ruined that relationship and held onto her anyways. Then I nearly ruined the album," Roy murmured against her collarbone, words low enough that Riza had to lean in to catch them.

"She's a big girl, Roy. Whatever happened between you," Riza replied, tightening her grip on Roy, "-she's still our friend. That's not ruined." Riza moved back in her seat, reclining her chair gently as she let Roy settle into her embrace. "Do you think," she whispered, "-any of us would have cared about the album if you being okay was at stake?"

"We worked hard for that-" Roy began to protest, shifting away to meet Riza's gaze. He watched as she swallowed hard once, and then looked down at her lap.

"I'm not saying there wouldn't have been disappointment if the album fell through," she said, holding back the small crack in her voice. "But losing you would have been so much worse than that." Roy watched as the corners of her lips twitched downwards. He moved to slide her back into his arms, this time tucking her under his own chin.

"You didn't ruin anything, dammit," Riza said, her voice wavering.

"I don't want to do that again, I won't," he promised. "I don't know what to tell you to make it better. Or what to tell my mother, I just..." he fumbled for the words, desperately rubbing her shoulder for any sense of reassuring contact. Roy fell silent for a moment, and then calmly kissed the top of her head, lips pressed to her buttery blonde hair.

Her grip tightened. Riza made another small noise in her throat, and then cleared it before she said, "You never said, and not that you have to but," she began cautiously, "What...what happened that night? I didn't know what to tell Chris, and I - we worried about you and what we could have done..."

In the silence that followed, Roy cleared his throat. There was no easy answer, nothing he could say that would ease the worry entirely. But the idea that saying nothing at all worried them more surprised him and a sudden rush of guilt prompted him to speak with honesty. "I don't know what it was," Roy said honestly. "I didn't intend to get the results I did. I just - wanted to sleep. To slow down and stop thinking so much, I didn't, I didn't think about what I was doing. I was desperate."

Another moment passed, and finally Riza nodded against his chest. "You should tell your mother that, Roy. Just. So she knows."

He made a noncommittal noise in his throat, linking fingers with her as she reached for his hand. "Is there anything else...I can help with?" Roy asked. With his next deep breath, he felt Riza lean heavily against him. Worry edged at him, something still missing that he needed her to know, something that could assuage her concerns. There had been so many factors in his withdrawal from their friendship that Roy was unsure of how to explain himself honestly. Everything he had done in the months leading to his hospitalization had been with the intent to protect Riza, to keep her from worrying - to keep her happy even as he struggled with himself. As he'd distanced himself from her, he had found it harder and harder to reach out. Now, he wanted to bridge those gaps.

"Just...be here," she said, squeezing his hand. "Don't leave me," Riza said. Spreading her other hand over his collar, she paused and wrapped her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. For a brief second, her fingers trembled against his chest.

Roy soothed his palm over her arm again, pulling their linked hands back to his chest and across his heart. "I wouldn't ever leave you," Roy said, kissing her forehead again instinctively. Riza sighed in response, her hands relaxing. After another shuddering breath, Roy determined that Riza was content, if not necessarily happy with the promise.

He sighed. "Are we going to be okay?" Roy asked.

"Mmm," Riza hummed. "I think so. Do you think you'll be okay going home?"

"I want to be," Roy said honestly. Swallowing, he pressed their foreheads together. "I'm going to try, anyways."

With a soft murmur, Riza agreed quietly - he could do it - before they both fell into an even silence, listening to the rumble of the jet and the white noise hush of the air conditioning in the cabin. Between the hum, Riza's warm hands linked with his, and her even breathing, Roy was lulled to sleep in their seats as Riza curled into his chest.