Sunlight filtered through sheer white curtains, only to land squarely onto Roy's face. Why had they bought those curtains, again? What was the point, if the light could still make it in? Then again, it was probably a good thing. Rolling over, it was with chagrin that Roy realized he'd (once again) slept longer than intended. More importantly, longer than his wife had. Her side of the bed was cold; she'd been up for a while, then. Whenever it wasn't a school day, Roy had this problem. He always resolved himself to just suck it up, drink an extra coffee, and rise with the sun to beat Riza to the kitchen. To be fair, a few times he'd managed to do just that, but for the most part he simply couldn't escape the comfortable confines of their duvet. Roy just wasn't an early riser.
Stretching, he sat up slowly, savoring the last vestiges of a good night's rest. Roy rotated his neck and shoulders, working out the kinks. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Roy heaved himself up and padded across the plush carpet to the bathroom. As a result of the school mornings he had to work, Roy had made a habit of showering at night before bed. Riza—as was evidenced by her boundless energy even on the weekends—was more of an early bird and showered before dawn on school days in order to "start fresh." To keep everything in sync, she did the same on the weekends. It was a mystery to Roy, how her showers never managed to rouse him.
Going about his usual morning routine, Roy took a quick leak before brushing his teeth. After that, he splashed hot water onto his face, something that served to shock the sleep out of him. Quick enough. Walking back into the connecting bedroom, Roy made his way to his dresser, selecting underwear and almost grabbing a pair of socks before remembering it was his day off. No proper shoes today, thank you very much.
No proper pants, either. It had been a source of conflict, early in their marriage, that Roy preferred loungewear on his days off. Riza felt that just because they were at home didn't mean they shouldn't look presentable. Roy felt that he spent five days a week looking presentable and that should be enough. Of course, it was all water under the bridge now.
They had more important things to argue about, after all.
Shaking his head to clear away the negative thoughts, Roy pulled a plain white shirt over his head. The tugging motion reminded him that he'd forgotten to neaten his hair. Quickly, he remedied that fact with his fingers, combing through his black mop easily enough. Unless he used product, his hair never sat perfectly, but it was good enough.
Now that he was awake and focused, Roy could smell the bacon Riza was cooking in the kitchen. She always waited for him to get up to make breakfast, so that they could eat together. It was a kind gesture that made Roy ache with affection for his wife. She deserved so much.
Sheepishly, though he knew she wouldn't complain after so many years of his sleeping in, Roy meandered through the hall of their modest home and into the kitchen. "Morning, Riza."
His wife, busy at the stovetop, turned her head to greet him. When she smiled like that, and with her hair down, Roy was reminded of the Riza he'd known in his youth. "Good morning, Roy. Sit down—breakfast is almost ready."
Roy, however, did not sit down, instead heading over to the cabinets to grab some plates and silverware for the both of them. He figured it was the least he could do; if Riza was going to cook for him, he could prepare their places at the table. Only once the task was complete did Roy take his seat.
He itched, already, to grab the newspaper. Or his lesson plans. Only with difficulty did Roy resist the temptation to fill the silence with the shuffle of papers. He'd spend breakfast with his wife, the way he should.
Minutes later, Riza was dumping piles of bacon onto his plate (slightly less onto her own), along with some eggs he'd not even noticed her scrambling. She removed her apron with quick, tidy movements, and sat down across from him. Unable to wait, Roy dug into his meal with gusto, and for a time the only sound in their cozy dinette was that of forks scraping against rapidly emptying plates. It was Riza who spoke first, after a sip of the coffee she'd brought to the table as well. "How did you sleep?"
"Like the dead," Roy replied, hurriedly swallowing his mouthful before elaborating. "The first week always hits me the hardest."
Riza nodded in understanding. "I like the first week back," she commented. "It's fun to see the old students again, and the new faces are always nice, too. It's like a family reunion."
Chuckling at that, Roy gulped down the last of his eggs, washing them down with coffee. Sometimes it felt like he drank more of the stuff than he did water. "That's easy for you to say! You don't see the little hellions in class. They say their good mornings to you and then you can be rid of them."
His wife raised her eyebrows at that, peering at him over the rim of her mug with those bright brown eyes. "That bad, huh?"
Standing, Roy collected their dishes as he pondered an answer. Was it so bad? No, otherwise he would have quit teaching long ago. Mechanically, well used to washing the dishes, he sprayed them down and began to scrub away the lingering bacon grease. "No, I suppose not," he finally answered. "They're not all bad, at least. My first class is rowdier than the second. But once they settle down, they do just fine. My other class…they're more studious, so far."
"How'd they all do on that quiz you surprised them with yesterday? You're always so hard on those students of yours."
Roy was surprised by the question. Usually, Riza preferred not to discuss his work. He supposed she was trying to be nice, and the kind thing to do would be to give a short response and move on to less touchy subjects. But she'd unintentionally struck a chord with him. "Most of them did very well—it's a comparatively simple subject we're working on, so I wasn't being as mean as you think. One kid in my first bell, Marcus, he got every question right. He also drew doodles on every inch of unused paper. They're quite good, actually. In my sixth period class, a girl named Winry tried too hard. She did well, but her answers were overexplained beyond the point of necessity. I think she's focused on impressing me, rather than on the material. And then…"
Trailing off, Roy finished with the dishes, placing them in a rack to dry. With a sigh, he made his way back over to the table where his wife was waiting, plopping down into his still-warm seat. "What is it?" Riza asked, brows knitted together.
"Edward," Roy murmured. He coughed, raising his voice to give his wife a proper answer. "Edward Elric."
The name was all he needed to say for his wife to understand. Expression thoughtful now, she placed a finger to her cheek as she recalled, "That's the boy from last term, right? Who got in all that trouble for fighting with his classmates at the very end of the school year?"
"That's the one." Roy shook his head. Having the school's secretary for a wife made him privy to lots of half-baked gossip. "The one you were surprised to see in the principal's office. Looking at his grades before this year, he was top of everything. That kid must have studied like a madman. But he's not said a word in my class, barely tried during the lab, and second guessed himself into a B on the quiz."
His wife only shrugged. "Well, I don't know, Roy. Perhaps he's just a teenager lashing out. Maybe he's tired of trying so hard, or maybe something's going on at home or with a girl. There are a million reasons why a kid might start slacking when it comes to schoolwork. Especially in senior year."
While she wasn't wrong, exactly, the maybe answers didn't satisfy Roy. He was too nosy, too involved a person. Riza was a great secretary; she was kind and cheerful, as well as organized and hardworking. But she was also emotionally distant, able to separate herself entirely from the job once she made it back home. Roy just couldn't do that. He didn't know if it was because he interacted one on one with the students, or if they were just different people in that regard.
Either way. A quick glance at the clock hanging above the sink—it was almost 10:30—told Roy it was time for him to drop the subject. Riza spent her Saturdays with a true crime group. They followed active cases within the Central police department and studied unsolved cases from across the country. Whenever he asked, Riza claimed they weren't hurting anyone with their curiosity; in fact, there was always the potential they may be able to help the CPD. Privately, Roy thought it was a way for Riza to be close to her old goal of becoming a police officer herself. A pretty morbid way.
Smartly, he did not voice any of these thoughts aloud. "It's getting late, Riza; you wouldn't want the others to start without you."
Though Roy had meant no offense in the comment, his wife's eyes blazed brightly for an instant before she stood. Okay, maybe he could have left off the last bit. It was just funny, how the group's meetings didn't officially start until noon, but Riza felt the need to be there an hour early every week.
"I suppose you're right." Blonde hair swishing over her shoulder, Riza spun and strode out of the dinette and into the entryway. Deftly, she stepped into her shoes—she was almost out the door before Roy could stop her.
This time, the irritation in his voice was real. "Not even a kiss goodbye, then?"
Riza paused; he'd honestly half expected her to continue on her merry way. As it was, only when Roy went to her, laying a gentle hand upon her elbow, did his wife twist to give him a quick peck on the cheek. When they'd first married, that would have been a loving kiss instead, and back then her farewell wouldn't have been so utterly emotionless. "I'll be back in time for dinner, Roy."
And just like that, Riza was gone. Not nearly as bothered as he realistically should have been, Roy simply locked the door behind her. He'd given up wondering what had gone wrong with them—deep down, he has some theories, but Roy much preferred to keep those notions buried.
Roy gazed through the small window in the middle of their door. He watched his wife stride purposefully to their shared car, get in, and pull away. When she had first started going to these meetings early, Roy had thought Riza had found herself a lover. A few months later, when he realized he didn't care whether she had or not, he stopped dwelling on the thought.
Sighing into the now empty air of their house, Roy let his hand fall from the doorknob and made for his study. He'd devote a few hours to lesson plans before getting to work on laundry and dinner. After all, while Roy had a generalized lecture setup he carried over from year to year, he liked to switch up the labs and tests. Plus, after having a week to get to know his classes a little, there was always something worth tweaking.
Perhaps his first bell would benefit from a slightly looser structure. A few extra labs (single person labs—they would be less likely to rile each other up), and maybe having the students make presentations on the textbook material rather than having them listen to him. That could help get their excess energy out. And for Roy's second class, the opposite might be true. Having them take notes and then work in groups for experiments would allow them to learn the basics and then bounce ideas off each other instead of keeping their heads down.
Briefly, as Roy settled into his well-worn leather chair, he considered whether that would help Edward excel as he should. The boy didn't seem to interact with his classmates, so maybe the extra push would urge him to come out of his shell a little. Of course, without knowing more about what was giving such a bright kid troubles, there was no guarantee of what would help. But Roy would give it a shot.
After all, what was the harm?