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: 074. Great Distance
Dedication: My one thousandth review giver, My. Onlyfriend. Thank you!
Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, then the whole entire series would be unbearably emotional to the point of making fifteen year old boys in red skinny jeans cry more than usual.
Angles
074. Great Distance
Their fingers miss by millimetres.
Riza has never once said how she wanted to fall away with him, like every romance novel Roy has ever attempted to read dictates she should; but he feels that even if she had she would not have meant it like this. The ground is crumbling and she is screaming and he knows he is not making a noise from something akin to shock and this is not alright. This is not ok, or perfect, or anything like a beautiful moment which a novel would dictate it should be.
"Why will you not let me touch you?" He finally manages to shout as she curls her fingers away as they fall at a thousand meters per second, plunging through the air like falling airships and hoping that someone will find beauty in their destruction. She barely smiles at him, thin lipped, and he tries to imagine that these are just words because nobody has ever been smashed to the ground by a mixture of the alphabet and ink and a voice.
"Because then I will have to admit I exist." She answers, her voice draining away like water going down sink pipes until he can barely hear it. People like to use literature to hide things, like why they want to curl their face into their knees and hide and run and not tell somebody they love them. Riza probably does not want to cover up any of these things, but he knows that she does not want to exist in this moment because she is so damn scared and holding his hand will not change a thing about this.
"If we do not cling to each other, when we hit the water we might freeze alone." He shouts the quick garble over the roar of his bursting eardrums and hopes she hears. All women who are secretly little girls need something to cling to, something – a bow to fit the string or a memory flashing black and white in the back of their memories or a sentence they can barely recall – and even if it ends up not being him at least she has that. That is what he has always told himself. But she catches his fingers just as they hit the water, like she has never thought of doing anything differently.
Even as the impact hits him, he does not let go.
Roy would use cold logic to win her heart in some ways, but at the same time I do not think he could help but be warm and loving. He forgets how not to be sometimes.
Preview: "Stop pretending that love does not exist."
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