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: 058. Before Falling Asleep

Dedication: aizuhime, thank you!

Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, Roy would not have been very scary. ;_;

Angles

058. Before Falling Asleep

It was an unspoken routine.

The neat, pressed sheets would be crumpled into a messy heap and thrown around the bed until they resembled a lopsided spillage. The pillows would be caved in, the chicken feather insides of them exploding out into a mess. Only the mattress would be almost spared sometimes, cut in half and pulled to separate sides of the floor like a reminder of the better days. Most of the time, it was not however. Instead, it was shredded to pieces and used as rags to clean or act bandages in the rare events of bleeding as a toe was stubbed.

Then still in his everyday military uniform, Roy would curl into a ball and sleep on the hard maple floor, trying to tell himself that it was a sleeping bag on top of sand-covered dunes. Riza would sit with her back to him, watching the door. It was a precaution. A ridiculous one, but it was always carefully carried out anyway without complaint. If anybody were to ever find out, they had an answer prepared at all times. Behind Riza's loaded gun that she kept by her side and in the fire of his gloves. Neither of them liked beds.

Then one night, everything changed. Roy stopped dreaming and Riza stopped being a realist. They were fighting for justice, and Ishbal or no Ishbal keeping that routine was not going to make them welcome at any place that it chanced they could stay at on rougher nights when they needed a little extra comfort and felt the risk was worth it. He no longer wore his uniform as he slept, as he no longer stood for whatever the blue fabric and decorations had. Order was no longer his friend, as it existed only to keep him in line. To make sure he didn't ever expose the corruption and hurt. Riza silenced her guns, and fire no longer sprung from his fingertips. Not at night. Not when the world was sleeping and nobody could find them in the darkness.

It was only on that night that for once, the neat pressed sheets were drawn back and gently returned over two bodies that curved to meet one another as they wore childish matching pinstripe pajamas. The pillows were under both of their heads, the innards no longer spilling out and showing the disorder of such a routine. The mattress was slept on properly, kept together instead of being torn apart. Then Roy messed up the routine even more with a few simple words and a crooked heartbroken smile that almost made Riza cry.

"You know, we might not get out like last time." Riza watched him gently. His eyes were closed, shutting out all the ugly things surrounding them and she could not help but want to shake him and tell him that this was what he had wanted. They needed this. Without freedom, without life not dictated by others that made them do only wrong, there was no point in living. It was better to die than to not wake up every day and be able to smile because all was right for once in such a wrong world. But she did not. Because it might not have been a confession, but it was his way of saying everything. She understood. So she rolled over, turning her back to him before settling her sight on the door.

"But that is fine." She answered, almost silently before returning to her original position and closing her eyes. He had said it before falling asleep, the words were simple but so complex and they would keep her awake instead. He had terrible timing. But that was fine. They had no routine. They had each other. They had that night.

That was all they needed.

Roy was very scary in Chapter Ninety-four, if you have read it. It made me very worried. Hawkeye, however, did not seem exceptionally terrified by his rage. So I wonder when she has seen it before? The updates are starting to worry me, but I want to see where it goes.

Preview: It was not anything important.

Reviews are loved. :)