60. At the Window
Manga-Verse Spoilers. Past of Roy and Riza.
After everything was settled—the coffin buried beneath six feet of soil, final effects of the parent arranged and taken care of, and the alchemical array properly memorized—he chose to leave. He made this decision based solely upon the fact that he couldn't look at her.
He couldn't look at the girl whose father thought she was bloody notebook paper, for God's sake. He couldn't look at the girl who was orphaned and alienated by her entire family. He couldn't look at the girl who would spend the rest of her days cleaning up that old decrepit house, pretending that she was enough to fill the expansive rooms. He couldn't look at the girl who had nobody left to turn to, because he knew he wasn't enough.
So he chose to leave.
And that evening, in the rain—he hated the rain, and she said something about not liking it either though he didn't make a point to commit the fact to memory—he walked away from the house. He trudged through the mud and kept his eyes fixated ahead of him for fear of needing to turn back.
When he did turn, nearly far enough away to lose the distinctions of the old building, he saw a candle glowing in the upstairs window, the faintest shadow of a person's figure staring out into the rain. He knew, then, that if he couldn't bear to look at her, she would continue to keep her Hawk's eyes on him.
