A/N: For Royai Week 2015 prompt 2, 'Skin'.
The first time Roy met Riza Hawkeye, he couldn't help but notice how lovely her skin was, especially that of her hands.
When he shook her hand, he could feel the warmth radiating off of her palms, the soft skin almost welcoming as their hands touched. And yet, despite the gentleness of it in general, he could feel that her hands were dependable, for they were rough around the edges, slightly callused in some places.
They really were a wonderful thing to touch.
But they didn't stay that way forever. War had spoiled them, leaving them blood-stained and guilty beyond repair. Mustang knew because his were the same. However, his, at least, had been protected by gloves while she had none.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to look at them the same way," she admitted to him once, soon after the war had finally ended.
Roy took her hands in his, feeling responsible for their destruction. To him, they bore the same skin, but he knew that the scars ran deep, deeper than his eyes would allow him to see.
He could see his own, though. His hands had burned through everything. He had burned houses, weapons, people, and even the skin on Riza's back.
Unsure of how to reply, Roy simply gave her a weak smile and a low chuckle. "I wish we could ditch this skin of ours. Maybe then, we'd be rid of these ghosts."
Riza only nodded, a tired grin spreading on her lips. "I'd like that. Perhaps one day, we can."
Roy closed his eyes for a long time afterwards, one thought replaying in his mind endlessly.
Maybe then, I'll be able to adore that skin without hating myself for it.