Apothecary Products Dallas Texas

[Fullmetal Alchemist] The noise of an empty house [What is]

Title: The noise of an empty house [What is]
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Roy Mustang
Pairing: Implied ! Hughes / Roy
Rating: PG
Party: 1 / 1
Warning: Angst write things I do not know, but if I could do this would be one of those.
Spoiler: Vol 4
Word Count: 1276 ( Contaparole )
Summary: Because he knows how these things go, I learned many years ago, during the war of extermination Ishbar. He knows that even if the pain you feel is the sooner and then everything fades, you know that in the end, everything is hidden in remote places of the mind and heart back out only at particular times, in a dark bedroom, for example, in solitude and silence that no one would ever could desecrate, and with those thoughts in my head goes into what he always called with a hint of irony hall and threw himself on the sofa, sitting, let they rest his elbows on his thighs and his face hiding behind your fingers intertwined as he held pressed against his forehead. "Hughes is dead ..."
Notes: As often happens, this would be one thing and instead it is coming off a completely different and meaningless, patience. Dedicated to mapi_littleowl , though she has had enough of the depressing things about these two. I'm sorry, darling, I tried to do something happy and with a little 'sex it never hurts but did not succeeded. ç_ç I hope you like it anyway.
Discaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and its characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa and therefore I do not gain anything except the taste of them to do what I want * evil laugh *.



The house, with the exception of the beam of light coming from the landing behind him, is immersed in total darkness and even if Roy knows by heart the exact spot where her, there are few pieces of furniture - and it's not that difficult to do, as between those four walls there are only a small kitchen, a table with just two chairs and a sofa in Lately he has also served on the bed - he seems to be finished in a place unknown to him, as if it were not to the place where those last years of his life he sought refuge to hide from the horrors and worries Day after day looking for him and harassing him and never give it some 'respite.
sighs deeply, and slowly slips his hand on the wall is to the right, without haste, and one-off down, and when his fingers encountered the boss switch him down, flooded with light environment. Must close your eyes and stay in that position for several seconds to get used to, but when he begins to see the shadows of his house and family estate grits his teeth and finally closes the door behind him, then letting it fall against.
is alone at that moment, because even though he made no effort to find someone willing to go with him that night - and now that comes to mind, perhaps Lieutenant Hawkeye had said something, before he zittisse with a nod of the head and hand, before he told her that all was well and at that time had not absolutely need neither she nor anyone else - much prefers silence loud and horrible memories of her, rather than kind words and gestures of comfort that would end only to make him feel worse. As if it were possible
feel worse.
Idly took his first steps on the wooden beams that cover the floor and clear after shaking his hat between his fingers throws it away, as if it were an old rag, on the first horizontal surface that comes in sight - the table - and then does the same fate to the coat, folding it, and awkwardly hanging on the back of the chair, and a long jacket of his uniform. Has neither time nor want to do order of thinking, does not want to worry that sooner or later have to leave the kitchen from that stuff, if you want to eat, because the very idea of putting something in his mouth, the thought that sooner or later the course of his life as that of any other person, will resume its slow and monotonous flow as if nothing had happened makes up the guts and twist a feeling of nausea on the throat, leaving him almost breathless.
Because he knows how these things go, I learned many years ago, during the war of extermination Ishbar. He knows that even if the pain you feel is sooner or later, everything fades, you know that in the end, everything is hidden in remote places of the mind and heart back out only at particular times, in a dark bedroom, for example, in solitude and silence that nobody could ever profane, and with those thoughts in my head goes into what he always called with a hint of irony hall and threw himself on the sofa, sitting, let they rest his elbows on his thighs and his face is hidden behind the interlocked fingers he held pressed against his forehead. "Hughes is dead ..." Those words did not escape
casually from the lips and not even a thought which he expressed aloud to break the oppressive silence that surrounds it. No. He said those words because so far not been able to do so, for now - as had happened many, many years earlier, during the only day that perhaps he had felt defeated just as is happening at that moment - need to understand the terrible difference of a person passing by the informant 'to accept the fact happened. must do so, and although he knows that's not enough years to make peace with the sense of anger and frustration that surge within him like an animal out of control, at least he managed to say those words aloud. And he is already a victory, though no word will be able to repay what an unknown face and a pistol taken away from him.
ran a hand through his hair dark, tired, and leans even further forward, as overwhelmed by a burden that can not support that crushes it down and that enters into him, even, making him feel unimaginable pain, making him pluck the eyes , pushing the tears out of him. Would you cry, as did that afternoon, but just think that now nothing would prevent him from letting go, not just tighten and tighten the eyelids, before his eyes begin to slide too quickly remember that until then he had tried to hold in his mind, and its ears follow one another without stopping the words not heard for many, many years and the long silences full of meaning of which he has always needed, as the air we breathe.
"What are you punishing me, Hughes?"
The question echoes around him and his head in a constant swirl of sounds that only he can recognize in part, and he brings his hands over his face, on tired and dry , the few words he repeats again and again, like a dirge or a desperate attempt to drive his thoughts away from the happy moments that contort the soul. Because it hurts to remember his smiling face, it hurts to hear her voice in vain babble of arguments that do not interest him - I took some beautiful pictures of my child. My wife is the most wonderful woman in the world. When did you decide that you finally marry Roy? - but he is still listening, complaining, but never hung up the phone in his face as he deserved, because when he has known since he had the good fortune to call best friend, has not met person who can make you feel full, happy and made him feel as important as Maes Hughes, that no one had the strength to take him by hand, to push it and hit it strong in the face as he did. And miss all this.
is dropped on the couch, banging his head against the padded armrest, and thinks it would be nice to stay there for a while ', in the confusion of his memories, he thinks after all he has the right to do so, to stop for a moment again with the memory all the really important moments of his life - even though he knows Hughes would not, even if the image of his face keeps coming back, again and again, ordering him with a smile not to, saying that there is no reason - cry. Crying because he knows that those moments do not happen again, crying for everything funny and sad that they were lucky enough to share, because by now, except that for the , his past no longer needed at all.