I swear I was going to post this yesterday before I went to bed... But when I nearly finished this, like... the first paragraph of Riza's part, my mother demanded that I shut down the computer right then and tidy up my clothes drawer. My brother's is not tidier than mine, but she never tells him to tidy up it himself... But today I finished it only in... five minutes! XD

Oh... and Happy Royai Day everyone! Triple update today! Oh, and 108 is out, too! Since quite several hours ago, actually.

Thanks to ssadropout for the kind reviews.

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to the Cow-sama.

Chromatically Related

He used to like the color red. When he was a child, he would stare at the fireplace, awed at the beauty of the fire. When he was a child, too, he used to wear a red jacket over his shirt all the time, much like Edward Elric. Red used to be his favorite color. His favorite toy cars were all red. Tomatoes and apples used to be his favorite fruits, too, though that was not only because of they were red in color.

When he went to study alchemy under Master Hawkeye, his fondness of the brilliant color increased, his reason being his Master's pretty daughter's eyes were almost in that shade. He thought those eyes were unique, although not really red in color, but they were nearly red, and very beautiful, too. When he grew up to a teenage and found out that Master Hawkeye was researching about the Flame Alchemy, he was totally intrigued. Unfortunately Master Hawkeye refused to teach him it and he left for the military.

He thought he could never like the color red again when he came back to the Hawkeye Manor after three years of being in the Military Academy. His Master died coughing blood right in front of him only hours after his arrival. Then only hours after his Master's funeral he saw his Master's 'masterpiece', which was a tattoo off the Flame Alchemy array on his Master's own daughter's back, drawn with red ink. He was wrong, though, because he was soon fascinated with the color he could spark only by drawing an array.

During and after Ishbal, Roy decided he couldn't take more of the color red. He was tired of it. No, he was sick of it. He had seen too much blood on the bloody sand. He had seen too much of his own flames licking the bodies of the Ishballans. The view of the red of his flames combined with the red of Ishballan blood was sickening. He couldn't even understand how Basque Gran could still be proud with his title of the Iron Blood Alchemist. If he were Gran, he would have demanded the Fuhrer to change his title.

But when he saw those pair of eyes again, the ones almost red in color but as red as the ones that belonged to the Ishballans, he thought he fell in love with the color again. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. It was confusing, really, how he could hate the color red for the whole day but suddenly turned to like it when he made eye contact with her.

When he was made commander to the new State Alchemist Edward Elric, he was almost disgusted at how the boy could wear and bring that red coat along with him wherever he went. Of course, he'd forgotten about those times in the past where he insisted he couldn't go out of the house without his ruby red jacket. But then he'd be reminded of that pair of eyes, and understood how the younger alchemist could fall in love with such a bold color.

Yet recently he decided he couldn't bear red, again. There was no way he could bear seeing such a bloody color after seeing his own beloved Lieutenant's throat slit and blood, lots of blood, poured from the cut. How could he stand that color when it was the last color he saw before he went blind?

And when he was reminded of those almost-red orbs, he loved the color again.

It was funny, really, the love and hate relationship of Roy Mustang with the color red.

point d'orgue

She had never been fond of that particular color. She found it way too bold, sticking out like a sore thumb. And a sore thumb itself was red in color. No, how could she ever like that color when her deceased mother was dressed in red in her own funeral? She began to hate red more and more and more and more when her father scarred her sense of individuality with that offending color. She knew her skin must have been bloody and swelling red after that. And no, she wasn't about to change her opinion about the color, at all.

She had always hated her eyes, too. Their color was too weird and they stood out way too much to her liking. She remembered when she was still at school the children would tease her for her different eye color. The others had blue eyes and she was the only one who had brown-almost-red eyes. Some even said she must have Ishballan blood in her for her odd colored eyes, and stayed away from her, because Ishballans were hated. Ishballans were supposed to be slaves, they said. Riza had never known anything about the origins of her blood because both her parents were secluded from the rest of their families; she never had the chance to find out.

And then there was the Ishbal Massacre. The view and scent of blood was really too much – she definitely couldn't stand more of the red. The tan sand had even turned red, and she was sure she couldn't bear the view anymore: both the sand and the red. But whenever she looked at the mirror, she saw those two odd-colored eyes staring back at her, and no matter how she hated the color, it would never change. It would always stay there, haunting her with the past. She sometimes wondered if the things her schoolmates in her childhood said were true, if she had Ishballan blood in her. Sometimes she felt very tempted to find out; she recently found out she had a grandfather in the army, a general, too, but then she felt she didn't want to know. If she really had Ishballan blood in her, she would feel twice, no, thrice as guilty as she was now about the Massacre. She would be murdering her own kin if it turned out that she had Ishballan blood pouring in her veins. So no, she wasn't about to find out.

And for all the bloodshed that happened after that, for all the despair caused by the color red, Riza Hawkeye was never going to like the color.

A/n: Too much like number seven, yes? And the relations between the title and the story might be very confusing, too. So let me explain. First of all, the only thing I can get from the song is the chromatics, can't think of anything else, and that's how I came up with the title. Then I wiki-ed 'chromatic' just to see if it has another meaning other than what it means in music, and found out that (for short) it means 'colored' (usually red). Go wiki it yourself, I am too lazy to get the exact sentences. So yes, hence the title and the color red.

Two more to go! Review, please!

EDIT: page break.