First of all, thank you so much to my lovely two reviewers! I just hope that CaptainKase will stumble upon this soon, because once again, this second chapter is also dedicated to her:) Playing around with present tense here, and after the first few lines, you'll know the timeline. Oh, and there are spoilers if you haven't watched past Episode 25. And once again, reviews are loved--Actually, Aemilia Rose's lovely review is what got me to upload this chapter--and requests are taken.
In Roy's ever bustling office, there is silence.
In the military's ever buzzing buildings, there is silence.
Outside, things go on, birds chirp, people laugh, and all that rubbish, but in every life that man touched, there is silence.
Thick, brutal, deafening, shrouding, disturbing, torturing silence and a spilled flask of whiskey lain on its side. It was dropped just to break that goddamn silence. People move soundlessly through the halls, a glimpse of Havoc was seen outside, five packets of cigarettes worn out in ten minutes, and barely after one was lit, he takes another one out in desperation.
He had loved him. They all had.
Riza sits at her desk, her usually neat pile of finished paperwork left unfinished and scattered on her desk. She buries her face in her hands, struggling not to weep, not even bothering to look up to tell some young soldier, for God's sake, never put your finger on the trigger of a gun unless you're aiming at someone.The safety hook is there for a reason!
Silence reigns her desk as well. She had loved him. They all had.
Roy and Hawkeye catch each other's eyes in the hallways, a wordless agreement between them. Roy holds up his flask; Riza takes a swig out of it; Riza holds up a picture; Roy stares at it for a moment.
Roy drifts back to his desk, wishing to hear that telephone ring and to hear that smooth, flawless, easygoing voice flow out of it, babbling about something that had no importance to him. His glance flits towards the gun laying on his desk, and he picks it up, staring at it introspectively for a moment before setting it back down, wishing to hear the door burst open, that voice snapping at him to don't even think about it.
A head pokes its way into Roy's office, eyes underneath thick rimmed glasses questioning if he wanted to take the day off. The mouth moves silently, but no words escape it. Roy realizes that he can't feel himself breathe.
Roy looks at the clock. It should be around this time he came in, around this time he flicked out dozens of photographs, cheering about how utterly beautiful they were. Roy turns to his flask, feeling bile rise up in his throat. It couldn't be the alcohol; he hadn't drunk any yet.
He drifts in and out of the funeral, his mind working at halting times. Gunshots ring in the air, his hand rises up to his forehead out of pure habit. This wasn't the type of funeral that the man he knew deserved. The public thought he deserved it, but Roy knew he deserved oh, so much more.
Two days later, Roy stands in front of a gravestone.
Maes Hughes
Honoured Military Man
Silently, Roy lays down flowers, and tapes a note beside the stiff words,
Good husband, great father, blathering idiot, my friend
Not terribly proper, quite informal but Mustang was never one for words.
Words suddenly pierce the thick silence, an arm snakes itself around his waist, crystal clear blue eyes flit over to his face. Blonde hair shadows her eyes, shaken loose out of her tight bun.
"I miss him."
Roy swallows painfully, and suddenly, he can feel it, "Yeah," He agrees, "Me too."
You'll never know how much.
And as a little bonus drabble which was for a friend--Great Beaver, if you're seeing this--who loves humour, which I always fail to write for her. xD
Ed stormed through the hallways after working himself up to be as arrogant, angry, bratty and impossible as possible. He was going to meet up with Roy Mustang, and dammit, thatColonelwas going to hate it as much as Ed did.
Ed pushed the door open, held his finger up and stopped his vocal chords from making a sound as his mouth open.
There was the prestiged Colonel, tipped precariously on a collection of three chairs, his jacket thrown over a broad shoulder and licking a hankie before rubbing it on a window. He was even whistling a happy little tune.
Ed had to stop himself from snorting as he peered at the window, judging the height. They were on the first floor, and it would be awfully funny...
"Hey, Colonel!" Ed exclaimed, slapping the man on his back much harder than necessary with the exact amount of force that the chairs did tip, and...
CRASH!
Ed bent over double, laughing so hard that he thought his gut would burst. Peering out the window, he saw a rather angry Mustang scaling the building. Was that a vein throbbing on his temble? Was that a glove on his hand...?
"Oh. Shit."
Ed immediately began running as fast as he could.
Al, who was in the hallway, cheerfully cuddling a kitten, saw Ed striding angrily through. He desperately tried to find a spot to hide the kitten, and then failed to as he saw what Ed looked like. He looked ashy, and charred, and overall burnt. The bottom of his coat was in cinders, along with the edge of his braid.
"Uh, Nii--"
"Shut up, Al."
Can you tell that humour definantly isn't my thing? xD Well, anyways, I hope that you all enjoyed this, and remember, reviews are much loved!
