Pairing: Roy Mustang / Riza Hawkeye
Genre: AU / drama
Spoilers : Chapter 59 of the manga.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
A/N: This fragmented piece sets in a strange alternative universe of mine, sometime in the future when governments have collapsed and fights have spread and it's rather chaotic everywhere. It begins from a situation where the conflicts have lasted so long that people are beginning to grow accustomed to them. When I say 'end of the world' it doesn't necessarily mean that the entire world is actually ending, but rather that from the characters' point of view it seems that way.
Feel free to point out my mistakes; English isn't my first language so I don't notice everything.
Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are always love.
Riza is sitting on the floor with her chin against her knees, and Roy sits down beside her, scoots closer, so near that their knees skim each other. She startles, not because she hasn't noticed him, had she not, she'd be dead by now, but because she has been deprived of all physical contact apart from pain for so long – they all have. This never ending struggle which can't even be called war anymore has made them wary. It has taught them that hesitation and distraction kill. It has made them ghosts; they walk as if on a tightrope, never touching the walls, never touching each other, willing themselves into invisibility.
There's a terrible sadness stealing his air when he realises this. That they have learnt only distance is safe, that they've learnt to live on air and hope.
Something is burning outside, and no one knows who their enemy is. Maybe that doesn't matter; this is no longer a war. This is madness. This is the end of the world.
Riza looks up at him. Her eyes have an animal-like quality to them, and they are deeper in her skull now, and darker.
When she stands up, shaky, and the gunfire has quietened outside, Roy's hands are suddenly on her wrists and then he has her pinned up against a wall, and her mouth is wet and needy beneath his.
The paint is flaking off the wall, and their hipbones collide like they did in the war, when they were young and painfully naïve.
Everything is sharp and edgy now, when they make love up against the wall (it's not a word he tends to use, and it shouldn't fit here, but it does) but there is odd gentleness in their fervent, savage kisses and his hands counting her protruding ribs, her hands in his hair, her leg around his waist, and she gasps but remembers how to be quiet, and he suppresses his moans into her shoulder.
They shudder against each other, and gunshots are heard again, and this must be where it all ends. End of the world sex isn't that different from war sex, but the taste of death is stronger and the desperation stings worse.
They stand there, forehead to forehead before they slide to the ground, and breathe the same air, mouths half an inch apart.
When Riza is dying and her eyes are dark and dim, clouded, (he doesn't know if this is the time she'll die or when she just dances on the edge, but that doesn't change anything) Roy lies beside her, their fingers intertwined, and tells her the story of a young girl who knew a boy who left for the army and never came back, and how the girl lived, by herself, and became happy, even though she thought she wouldn't when she was all alone in the mansion and it seemed silent and hollow.
He cries only once she's asleep.
When he first saw her in the field, flawed and broken and beautiful, he knew he'd be with her when the world ends.
I am here, her hands say when she has lost her words.
I am here, her hands say when the world ends, and he understands he was a simple man, and that this was enough.