On a quiet Sunday morning, months after the Promised Day and perhaps a year or so since moving to Central, Riza draws her curtains open to let sunlight into her apartment and thinks, for the first time, that she is satisfied with the way she has put it together. It took starting the day early and setting aside her other errands for her to finally unpack her things, sort and store them in their proper places, and decorate the rooms, but just the fact of having done it, Riza finds, is already its own reward.
What she truly likes about the place now is the way she has made it truly her own. Her favorite coats hang from hooks beside the front door, and beneath them, her heels are lined up right next to her work boots. On a side table in the living room, friendly faces smile up at her in pictures from her military academy days, birthday parties, and a night out in town. And everywhere, there are many reminders of her simpler childhood days; a lamp from her old bedroom, a set of heirloom silverware, couch cushions her mother had loved.
Black Hayate curiously weaves around the newly placed furniture, poking his nose at all the new items he had vaguely smelled in cardboard boxes for the past several months. Riza chuckles and crouches down to scratch his ear. "What do you think, Hayate? Do you like the house better now?"
His mouth stretches open and his tongue lolls out in an expression that resembles a human smile, and Riza happily takes his word for it. She allows him to continue exploring the living room, up until he comes to the console table by the window and reaches up as if to peek at its bare surface.
"What is it, boy?" Riza asks.
Hayate lets out a short whimper in response before immediately moving on to a different part of the room. Riza looks at the spot that attracted Hayate's attention, and the longer she stares at it, the more she feels as if something is missing from it. She looks around the room. It certainly looks cozy, but soon it dawns on Riza that the place lacks color. After that, she's unable to ignore it—the quaint sameness of her old curtains and her upholstery and even her kitchen towels. While it's lovely, it's hardly invigorating. She's sure that something can make it better.
Riza turns back to the table to try and imagine it with some sort of decoration. Before long, the view of the city from her window catches her eye. It's a lovely day out—the sky is clear and a pleasant shade of blue, and the weekend market must be in full swing now. Riza lights up. A walk with Hayate to the market will be just the thing she needs to find something new for the house.
She hums in thought. "I suppose I could start with a flower vase."
The florist's stall is easy to find in the market, with its array of blooms in more colors and shapes than Riza can name. It attracts a good number of market-goers—some briefly stop and admire the flowers, some browse the bouquets and other small arrangements for sale—but there are few enough people that Riza is able to stand back and take in the full display. Just looking at them is enough to brighten her mood, and it's easy to imagine what they can do for her place, all despite the fact that Riza never truly gave flowers much thought before.
Beside her, Hayate wags his tail and sticks his nose up in the air from one flower to another. Riza loosely loops part of Hayate's leash around her hand to keep him close. "Stay, Hayate. Good boy."
"Hello there, dear!" A short, elderly lady with sandy hair emerges from behind the stall and approaches Riza with a wide smile that reaches her eyes. Riza guesses that she must be the florist. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes, please," Riza says. "Can you help me choose flowers for my apartment?"
"Ah, you're decorating, I see!" The florist gestures to a rack at the end of the stall. "These ones over here are quite sturdy, so you won't need a lot of water and sunlight for them. And right here," she adds, pointing to the lowest row of buckets on the rack, "these flowers are safe to have around your dog."
Riza nods thoughtfully. She studies the recommended blooms, comparing their sizes and their shades of mostly red, pink, purple, and yellow. She recognizes some of them, but decides that roses are far too common and sunflowers will not be as interesting as some of the other options against the shades of brown in her house. Then, a ripple of small salmon pink, purple, and blue flowers catches her eye. She reaches for them carefully, noting how dainty they look with their ruffled, papery texture.
"Do you like those, dear?" the florist asks. "They're called sea lavenders. Very easy to take care of. You won't need to water them much, and even when they die, they don't wither and wilt like other flowers do. They keep their color and shape for a very long time."
Riza smiles. "They're lovely."
The florist beams. "Well, if you think so, then these must be the ones you're looking for! Here, let me cut and wrap these for you."
Delicate sea lavenders adorn the console table by the window at Riza's apartment for exactly two nights. On the third night after, a Tuesday, Riza comes home from work expecting to be greeted by the same beautiful hues, only for her heart to sink when she finds that the vase has toppled over on the table—thankfully, it isn't broken—and a large part of the arrangement has been, for lack of a better word, shredded all over the floor.
"Oh, no," Riza sighs. She crouches on one knee to examine the damage.
As if on cue, Hayate appears and sits next to her. His nose twitches as he lets out a soft whimper, and he avoids looking Riza directly in the eye. Most tellingly, she finds small bits of salmon pink, purple, and blue stuck to his coat, which he seems to try to hide from her by shuffling in his spot. Riza chuckles and gives him an understanding smile.
"Hayate," Riza croons sympathetically. She brushes off the flowers from his coat. "I don't know how this happened, but I'm just glad you're not hurt. Be careful next time, all right?"
Hayate thumps his tail on the floor and rubs his head against Riza's hand in response. Riza prepares his dinner before sweeping up the mess and rearranging the flowers that remain intact in the vase. Despite being less lush now, the sight of them still makes Riza smile appreciatively. Maybe this is why people give flowers to the ones they care for.
Two Sundays later, Riza comes home with new flowers in her arms. Pansies, the florist told her they were. Capable of lasting indoors, less likely to be torn up by Hayate even at his most excitable, and much more striking in pink, orange, and red, with stains of deeper colors in the middle.
Riza takes her remaining sea lavenders out of their vase and spends the afternoon putting together a new arrangement that combines the older flowers with the fresh pansies. She will miss the blue ones, but the small pink and purple blooms that surround the pansies complement them well. When she's done, Riza steps back to admire her work and finds that even though it's simple compared to the arrangements she saw at the florist's stall, she is proud of what she made.
But the pansies barely last more than a week, to Riza's dismay. For several days, Central experiences a gradual but unexpected rise in temperature, not high enough to be called a heat wave and only truly uncomfortable by the third or fourth day. Then, Riza comes home from work one day and notices that the pansies have curled in on themselves and begun to droop. This she cleans up right away, thinking to herself that this is another lesson learned.
The following weekend, Riza visits the florist for the third time, surprised by her previously unknown determination to find the right flowers that will make her place feel more like home.
A small book catches Riza's attention at the National Central Library's natural sciences section sometime in the following week. The Art of Flowers in the Home, Vol. 1. It's handsomely bound in dark leather and stamped with gold floral swirls, and at the same time, it appears worn, its yellowing pages frayed at the edges and filled with faded watercolor pictures of various blossoms. Riza imagines an author who must have lovingly composed the book after years of growing their own flowers at home for their family. The thought brings a smile to her face.
Riza glances at a large wall clock that hangs not too far away and decides that she has a few minutes to spare before the Brigadier General completes his library errands. Flipping through the book, she recognizes some of the flowers that she has taken home over the past few weeks, as well as a few others on display at the florist's stall. Opposite the illustrations, the author has typewritten the flowers' names, care instructions, cautionary notes, and symbolic meanings. Riza raises an eyebrow out of curiosity.
She flips forward and finds the page for pansies first. Symbolic meanings: Thoughts of love, remembering another, missing one's lover. Riza nods, fascinated. She never thought of flowers meaning any specific thing other than a gift on special occasions. A few pages on, she finds the page for sea lavenders, which she learns are also called statice. Symbolic meanings: Missing another, steadfastness.
"What have you got there, Hawkeye?"
Riza looks up, and she doesn't know why she's embarrassed to see Roy Mustang standing there, as if he caught her reading something that she shouldn't be. She snaps the book shut and puts it back on the shelf. "Just a book that seemed interesting, Sir. Should we go—?"
But Roy appears to not be listening. Something has caught his attention. He lifts his face up and inhales softly, looking this way and that, reminding Riza of Hayate's first reaction to the flowers at the market. Roy takes a small step in her direction and inhales, and when he looks directly at her, it seems that he's found what he's looking for.
"Are those roses I smell?"
Riza blinks and steps back an inch, suddenly overwhelmed by his closeness and the idea of him breathing in the scent from her. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't realize it was that strong."
"Don't be," Roy says. He leans against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms in a relaxed pose. The corner of his lips turns up in amusement. "But now I'm curious, Hawkeye. Why the roses? I thought you didn't have a flower vase."
A breathy, suppressed laugh escapes Riza as if he had just cracked an inside joke and not recalled a memory colored by anxiety. "I just found the time to decorate my place. I thought having flowers might be nice, but unfortunately, I've been having trouble taking care of them."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. But I guess your roses are doing all right?"
"They are, so far. I was told they're not difficult to take care of indoors. But I don't think I'll be keeping them for long. I'm not sure I enjoy the scent that much."
"I see."
One moment, then another passes with just the two of them quietly considering each other, before Riza feels her cheeks turn red at the thought of having discussed her home life with her superior officer and just the fact of him being there, mere inches away and paying attention to what she says and even the fact that she smells like roses. She quickly turns away.
"They're expecting you back at Command, Sir. Your next meeting starts in fifteen minutes."
Riza avoids meeting Roy's gaze for the rest of the day.
Sunday morning brings Riza the promise of pleasant weather and another fruitful visit to the weekend market. Despite not knowing what exactly to look for, what else to do, or where to go after, Riza now looks forward to seeing the flowers being sold there, whether it's to find something new to take home or just to enjoy the sight of them. Today, she gets dressed and prepares Hayate's leash with the idea of maybe picking a suitable flower on a whim, whatever brings her the most joy today.
Riza stops just short of putting on her shoes when she hears a knock at the door. Before she can ask who it is, Hayate trots up in front of the door, wagging his tail and panting expectantly. Riza blinks; he isn't usually this thrilled to see just any visitor.
"Yes—?"
When Riza opens the door, she finds Roy standing there, dressed more nicely than she is used to, holding a wide, blush-colored pot with a layer of lush green leaves at the surface and several tall branches with large, full-bloomed flowers in red, purple, and white. Riza's eyes widen as Roy grins.
"Good morning, Hawkeye."
"Sir," Riza manages to say. "What brings you here?"
"Well, I happened to be in the market early, paying a visit to my favorite florist," he says, "and I remember you mentioning that you had trouble taking care of your flowers. I thought I might help."
Riza exhales with what feels like great effort, the same amount that it takes for her to try—and fail—suppressing a smile. "I appreciate the thought, but you didn't have to do this."
"I wanted to. And I don't think you have an excuse not to accept these, since they come in their own container." Roy waits for a couple of seconds, then asks, "May I come in?"
"Oh—of course."
Hayate barks excitedly up at Roy as Riza steps aside to let him enter. While Roy balances the flowers in one hand to scratch the back of Hayate's ears, Riza watches them to give herself a moment to collect herself. Just talking about home decoration at work was enough to make her blush. Allowing Roy into her house brings about a confusing flurry of emotions and the physical sensations to match—heart pounding, hands trembling slightly, the pit of her stomach growing warm.
Riza turns to the flowers instead, to give herself something tangible to think about. She knows she has seen them at the market before, and she knows she must have learned their name a long time ago, the way someone picks up on things just because they happen to be there. She asks anyway, "What kind of flowers are these?"
"Orchids," Roy says. "They're quite tough; you water them and add fertilizer once a week, and they'll survive. But I wouldn't call myself an expert on caring for them, so I asked the florist for instructions." He stops petting Hayate to reach into the pocket of his coat, pulls out an envelope, and hands it to Riza. "Here."
Riza takes the envelope and immediately opens it. As she reads the handwritten note, she recalls the book in the library. "And what are orchids supposed to mean?"
Instead of answering her, Roy exhales with a laugh and an evasive smile—almost shy, even. He stares quietly at Riza for a moment, but she isn't sure whether he means to try and tell her the answer without saying a word or to keep himself from saying anything at all. The longer she tries to decipher his expression, the more flustered she feels.
Riza takes the orchids from him and stretches her lips into a wordless thanks, then goes to place the orchids by the window, on the very spot where her vase of peach-colored roses was before she moved it to the dining room table this morning. By their shape and form alone, the orchids seem to have the greatest effect on her apartment out of all the flowers she has tried. The sight of it is exciting, but at the same time, its presence calms her, as if she's got something more than flowers on the table to keep her company.
She turns to Roy, meaning to ask him what he thinks. The words get lost on their way out when she sees the way he's looking at her, like he's seeing something precious that she cannot. Maybe it's the flowers, and because Riza has come to appreciate flowers in her own way, she understands the way they can make a person feel. How bright a room can become because of a well-thought out gift, what it means to want to care for something and see it bloom fully, how fulfilling it can be to share something precious with another person.
Or maybe, deep down, it's something far more.
"Thank you."
Roy nods in acknowledgment, and Riza swears he has never looked more content than he does now. "I'd better get going now."
Just as he reaches her door, Riza blurts out, "Wait."
He does.
"Would you like to stay for a while?"
Roy smiles, and his shoulders relax. "Do you even have to ask?"