Maybe, Havoc thought upon looking back, he was not meant to have seen the creature.
Maybe, Havoc thought, he was not meant to have even been alive to think of this.
But that was 'maybe' and not 'reality'.
It was possible that the first time he saw those haunting purple eyes was outside Mustang's window. Mustang was rambling, and he knew it, whining and complaining about the work ahead of him, the subject then changing to Ed, who often came up in conversations to act as a scapegoat for all wrong things that had happened recently. He let out a breath of smoke, tilting his head to the side. Eyes gazing out the window, his mind did not at first comprehend what his eyes saw. Perched precariously on top the adjacent building was a figure of black, purple eyes narrowed just so into a squint of…malice? But the (person?) was gone before he could once again lift a cigarette to his mouth.
"Lieutenant?" Mustang leaned forward onto the desk, head low, looking up at him in interrogation. "Lieutenant, are you listening to me?"
Yes, everything was fine. He had just seen a ghost.
Like a specter, the image of those eyes haunted him. Narrowed in hate, they stayed clear in his mind. Hypnotizing. Exotic.
Havoc was surprised the next time. In the same place, on the same building, the figure was back. But then he had just stared, and the (person?) stared back. Inquisitive. Just as he looked back. Smiling, the purple almost disappeared as its eyes narrowed further. A grin, a smirk…there was no word for an expression like that.
And once again, they were gone, leaving Havoc there to stare at the place where it formerly crouched. He wanted it to come back.
He then remembered that later, the eyes were everywhere. Shopping for curtain drapes (the colonel had burnt his when he knocked over the candle on his radio, the draperies bursting into flames. It was almost comical if not so aggravating) they appeared again, if not only for a second. Vanishing once again, he was left with a feeling of…caution? Something about those eyes weren't quite sane.
Then black in the corner of his eye, blending with the alley he had seen it. Spinning to face the thing, it was, once again, gone. Frowning, Havoc continued his business of a date (doomed to fail) even if the person he thought about was not the one sitting across from him.
Time passed, and he knew that something had to happen. The Elric's fate was close, and it was then that he understood. Homunculi. Homunculi, the ones who had killed Edward. The homunculi, the ones who had changed everything. Everything. It was all their fault.
And he was scared. He, Havoc, was scared, for who would not be? They had killed one of his closest friends. They had so much of an impact onto the colonel to resign from his rank. They had spurned genocide.
And then, as he tossed in bed, waiting for sleep, he saw the eyes for the last time, on his windowsill. Sitting as cool as ever, it smiled, sharpened teeth gleaming. The long strands of green hair stirred in the breeze, pale skin making it as ghostly as it first appeared.
Frozen to the image, his mouth was sealed tightly, just staring, eyes wide.
It was not a ghost, for surely, ghosts do not speak.