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: 082. Words That Fade Away in the Chaos
Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, Riza would be in the mini skirt army.
Angles
082. Words That Fade Away in the Chaos
If you look carefully, you can see it.
Roy is tired. The years have been kind to him, but he is still far too wise to look young. He has seen too much, and Riza should know; he is not the only one who can barely sleep. Yet he is beautiful, as he has always been, and he is still shimmering beneath the surface. Glitter waiting to be lost, trapped safely in between her pale fingertips and palms because some things are better off not being free.
But still his crowd roars for him, although he is the grizzled lion. They would cheer for anyone if they thought it would benefit them. But this is his dream; and he has achieved it and he will always shine brighter than a thousand diamonds. She cannot hold herself back even as he turns to give her a wary smile and her tongue is churning ash in her mouth even as the words leave her.
"I do not know what to tell you to make you stay."
Maybe because there is not anything. He turns and enters back into his chamber, smiling briefly at her in the flitting light filtering in through the window panes. She wants to tell him these days are peaceful, these days are golden; but they are not. They have left their rebellion behind. They have lost whatever beauty they possessed because they have slipped into domesticity. Without rebellion, they have no fire; and the lines of what is correct and what makes them fit are blurred.
"I could not hear you, Hawkeye. Did you say something?"
She raises her hands to his cheeks in an effort at redemption. He is the returned prodigal son - or something like that - in this world at least. But she stops before the contact. She knows that he understands. In winning, they have lost. They no longer have purpose. Guidance is nothing when you cannot keep control of yourself.
"You will always be the same to me, Hawkeye."
He tells her. To him she will always be Riza; a kid with a bag with an old leather strap, an awkward teenager smelling of gunpowder and burnt flesh, an adult with a beautiful smile and endless eyes. And she knows even now, even when they have nothing else to fight for, he will remain because it means at least he will be left behind with her.
They speak with words nobody else can hear.
Some people can just read each other. It is like you have been waiting your entire life for that person, even if you only just met them.
Reviews & criticism appreciated.