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: 069. Are You Satisfied?
Dedication: Aosugiru Sora, thank you!
Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, every sentence said would end with 'in accordance with the prophecy.'
Angles
069. Are You Satisfied?
He asks her once.
"Is the glass half-empty or half-full?" The light of the lamp is fading. He is watching the stopped pocketwatch jammed on eleven fifty nine she holds in her hand, having tirelessly tried to fix it for the better part of an hour. She does not answer.
When he asks her again, it is winter. She is too busy waiting for spring to come quicker and he likes the taste of the cold air. There are no words, just a crumpled up envelope from a card scribbled on with words that evaded them. She fumbles with the paper, writes out the alphabet, because the letters could never be right enough to make him happy. She likes to hide her words. He might not appreciate the crumpled up card he began with in return for the are you satisfied with living the half-empty life question she never wanted him to ask, but she thinks that not answering him is far better.
The next time it is spring. She is bored of it already and wants to get out of the season again and he likes the way she reacts when he leaves a daisy chain on her desk. He asks on a pink lined paper does happiness evade you and she gave him no smile. Sometimes she forgets to come back to herself, he knows, because he has seen the way she stops the corners of her lips from turning up. She always knew just the right way to make him smile. But not that day. She has already given him all she has, and right then she can give no more.
"Your glass is half-empty, Hawkeye." He has stopped questioning in the summer. She leaves a piece of paper on his desk that night, saying do not just do not because she does not want to crack open her mouth to tell him to stop treating her like he knows her secrets. There are some things even those you love should not know, not even if it means strings come attached and because joy on their face would never look so sweet otherwise.
"Tell me who you are." He tries to command her in the autumn. But even if he is above her, he can never know. He stumbles backwards, flings his arms out into the open air. What he is really asking is when did we become strangers as he looks down from the roof. His raven hair is being pulled by the wind and his chapped lips are downturned. He could be just another stain on the pavement like the last blood of crunched leaves. She almost answers.
"After all, one always loves the one that destroys them." She whispers the next winter, when he tells her the glass is only half-full because you don't know love like he understands. She refuses to be sorry for how harsh the world can be, and she will not apologise for the way she wants him to write happy endings instead of questions she cannot answer for fear of breaking him. The pocketwatch jammed on eleven fifty nine was testimony enough to an ending not being what they needed; after all, at twelve so many books said that people were not alone.
"Is the glass half-empty or half-full?" She is watching the stopped pocketwatch now jammed on twelve he holds in his hand, having given up fixing it after the worse part of an hour. Leaning forward, she kisses him.
She does not answer half-full, as long as I have you, but this time he understands.
Sorry for the lack of updates, I have been very ill and unable to do much. Then I went back to sixth form this week, so I figured I am well enough to do something like this. Overly subtle on a large part, maybe, but some feelings just cannot be expressed like this, eg. get lost Christmas, I do not want you this year; without being depressing.
Preview: "Hawkeye, I think you have given me a disease."
Reviews are loved. :)