Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.

Theme: 037. Match

Dedication: Hey Fabulous, thank you!

Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, I would be able to think of a witty disclaimer.

Angles

037. Match

There was a small pop.

In the silence of his otherwise empty apartment, Roy Mustang lit a match. The flame danced on the end of the thin, lit stick he held in between his thumb and forefinger. It shone brilliantly in the stark darkness of the room, making different brilliant shades of orange, gold and red shimmer across his numerous possessions. Each of them more unused than the next. Broken teacups, scratched records and scribbled on paper littered the floor. He had no need for any material goods any longer. They served only as some sort of filler of the emptiness surrounding him, just like she had. But with her, there hadn't been any cracks letting the things he had never wanted to feel again reach him.

All he had left of her was a box of matches, too. A box of matches she had kept with her at all times, and cared for just as much as he had once cared for his pocketwatch. They were always with her incase something went wrong, just incase. She had kept them for his use, so he had them as some sort of odd parting gift from her. One taken from her pocket as she had lay there, staring up at him with empty eyes.

He used the first match to light a candle. A candle to show a little light, to show a little hope. Light was the only thing you ever needed in darkness, even if it was the tiniest one you ever had in your life. It was the difference between complete and utter darkness and that little light being there that could stop you from doing stupid. But now that was not an option to have, that light being there. It had been extinguished, figuratively speaking that was.

The second match was used to create a light in his old-fashioned coal fireplace. A fireplace they had sat in front of the previous winter when it they had been snowed in. Of course, it was entirely his fault to begin with for taking the wrong present just to annoy both her and Havoc, but in the end that did not seem to bother her. He supposed it had been because he was her light too, but he found that unlikely. She had been too good, too perfect to need someone like him. He was a liability, he was a weakness, and he was so God damn useless at protecting anyone close to him. The very thought of her needing him was stupid, scandalous, idiotic. Absolutely insane. She was flawless, and she did not need anyone who was flawed.

The third match was used in place of his gloves, and in place of a gun. He had tried to use a gun once before after killing two doctors, the Rockbells, in order to kill himself. The gloves had been shredded to pieces when he had lost her, the uselessness in the rain being one of the reasons but the main reason being that because of them she had been wiped off the face of the planet, out of existence and away from him. He could bear her no harsh feelings for her though, not for leaving him. He had been the one to make her leave, however unintentionally he had done so. He had been the one to let her die.

He had been the one to let Riza Hawkeye, his light, the one he loved die. All she had ever done was protect him, care for him, and do anything she could to make sure that he was doing well. That was what she got in return, the disgusting, ugly end to her existence in a fight where both guns and gloves were useless and matches were the only things keeping them alive just a few seconds longer. Remorse would be useless, though. He needed to tell her that he was sorry, sorry that he could not be her light too in return, face to face.

In three seconds the apartment went up in flames.

So far in this collection we have had an awful lot of ansty!Riza, but nowhere near as much angsty!Roy. So of course, this asked to be written. Mentally, that is. Not that I hear voices, or anything, it just needed to be done.

Preview: His favourite type of mischief? What was he on about?

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