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: 100. Until That Day
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
100. Until That Day
"When we come back here, we should get married."
He says casually over breakfast. Even though neither of them will probably survive until that day. She has been aching all winter waiting for this day to come, the day when they will go underground and become a nasty rebellion she had never dreamed of; the day when she will say goodbye to him and become a piece held against him by Bradley. In twenty four minutes exactly a taxi will collect her, and she will be saying goodbye to whatever they have here. And she will want him to forget like he sometimes forgets her birthdays, because that will make his survival so much easier. But for now, she does not take these things into account; skirts over the fraternization laws and notices instead how sharp his cheekbones are in the sunlight.
It is not a yes sir, not formal, or even a flat out yes; but with a small crooked smile he knows that is the closest he will ever get to such an answer. Perhaps she will forget the feel of his skin scorching against hers even in the winter, how his hands danced fire across her back and then calmed it all with salve, how she frowned every time he so much as went near a woman and only he would notice; but that does not mean she will ever forget this.
"And this is not just a slap to him. I mean it, Riza."
He says. If the guards they will bring to escort her get burnt, that would be the biggest repercussion he could manage until they killed the man; but not this. This is not about Mustang and Hawkeye against the establishment, against the world; this is about Roy, and Riza, and how much he loves her. And how in every letter to the leader until that day, he will tap out the letter 'y' aggressively; and how even though she is going away it means nothing because he will fight and tear and scratch his way to getting her back. Her eyes flicker to the clock quickly. He licks his lips.
"They are running behind."
She remarks casually. He leans across the table, bread and toast and butter and jam be damned and kisses her. It feels like all the people on the street stop and stare, like everyone knows this is sacred; and he wishes she could stay right here, but as much as he loves her, he wants her to live. But then the guards are there, one minute and thirty seconds exactly late; and they are not pleased with the rule break or how they have to pull him away from her like some commoner instead of an army commander; and she is a bird flying south for winter, composed and as she is expected to act, not making herself like stupid. Then like an afterthought, he laughs and shouts just to see her try to contain her embarrassment. It works.
"We should have it in the summer, Mrs. Mustang."
Roy always was a show off.
Well, this is the final one. Wow. The last time this was updated it was 2011 before I finally added all these chapters I have been storing on. It started in 2007. It has been five years in the making for one hundred tiny little things about love; and how not to love, and how everything is becomingly so troublingly beautiful nowadays. I do not know if it is going to an art school or the aging, but my cynicism is becoming weaker lately, and finishing this feels like the end of an age. Half a decade has gone into this. But it is done.
And I hope everyone enjoyed it. And lastely, I can say this is it - the end.