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[Fullmetal Alchemist] Impossible wishes

Title: Impossible wishes
Fandom: Fullmetal
Alchemist Characters: Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang
Pairing: One-sided ! Roy / Riza, One-sided! Havoc / Roy, One-sided! Havoc / Riza
Prompts: Snowman (part I), "Dear Santa ..." (Part II), biscuits and cakes (part III)
Rating: from PG to R
Party: Complete (divided into three parts)
Beta: mapi_littleowl
Warning: One-sided ! love (but should be? XD), collection, self! love, shounen-ai, triangle
Spoiler: Vol 22
Count Words: 4047 (1271 + 1388 + 1388) ( Contaparole )
Summary: an endless cycle of disappointment. Three people and their impossible love triangle because of the never-ending that involves them.
Notes: Sritte Advent Calendar for the [out of the race] held by michiru_kaiou7 . I usually do not do these things, because my stories are so basic that anyone could understand, but for this I need to do some explanation: it is a fic divided into three chapters, and even if they seem unrelated to each other in fact they are not. So keep in mind that the one-sided before each pair is there for a reason, and the reason is that couples, in my story, it is absolutely impossible . 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 clock ticked loudly, so loud as to be almost deafening silence of that little house. Black Hayate had already gone to sleep for a while, in his basket, and from where Riza was - at the table with nothing but a front white cup from which plumes of white smoke came out - could see its black back curved, tail and ears sticking out just from that little bundle curled up on itself. He must have been really cold, he thought, then shifting his gaze towards the window, and for some time, even she would be able to say what, if they stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Parpaglia of snow falling slowly from the sky, while his hands were wrapped around the ceramic hot and his thoughts were buzzing in the head like an echo indistinct.
He always had a soft spot for the winter, when she was a child, and remembered clearly that he had spent all day with my nose stuck fogged up the glass of the window - while his mother was busy preparing lunch, and his father was locked up in his studio, as usual - waiting to see the snow fall or waiting time to go out to play, throw white balls and soft to nobody in particular and build its own small cairns snow tenessero the company while all those around her were busy doing something else, something - they repeated forever, and now she did not know whether they did so to convince you or put peace in their consciences - very, very important.
shook his head from side to side, when the memory of his sculptures of snow became more clear in his memory, and then throwing look again toward the window, he told himself that much time had passed since the last time you had one. It was childish habit, of course, and it was obvious that a woman her age would deal with things much more important in winter, yet a part of you missing those friends silent and motionless during the afternoon and played with her, patients , listened to his stories, the secrets that nobody else would never ever have known. And because she missed too many years had passed since the last time you were allowed to speak to someone of his suffering.
still remember - and, ultimately, how could he forget it? How could remove from his memory of a moments that meant for her more than anything else? - And if he closed his eyes he could still pretend to be there, crouching in front of the last building that had been soaking his hands in white, with a heavy heart and empty head, so downcast, so alone, he could not do without opening your mouth and say whatever he felt inside, speaking of his desolation. It was only a moment, but before that he had never realized how much she needs someone willing to listen.
sighed, rubbing the back of the hot hand on the cheek and settled back after the little shawl which took on his shoulders stood up and walked to the sink. He let the hot liquid and dark slip away from the cup and fell directly into the drain and then put his hands on the cup and moving around her, leaning on it as if he felt the need to vomit.
do not have to think about these things, you said, clenching his jaw and clenching his fists so hard his knuckles whiten themselves. You yourself know that it is useless. was repeated several times that phrase again, good to have it enter the brain, to ensure that never again would forget, and after some time and suddenly it seemed that his eyesight had begun to waver, as if someone it to him was carrying away, dissolving in Gradually image after image. And a tear gleamed across his cheek.
shooting put his hand to his face and straightened up, almost horrified, and then began rubbing their eyes in a desperate attempt to stop them, fighting back, but the more I felt most seem to increase, and within a few seconds she found herself with her face hidden by his own hand, his lower lip between his teeth and back shaken by sobs quietly. Because now he could not control himself? Why, when he was in office, all I felt was swallowed by his reason and buried in the depths of his soul, where even she could reach, not even wanting to? Why hell I can not stop feeling this way? A
hiccups, one, the escape from his lips, Riza and covered her mouth with her hands and back, one step, two, until his feet gently banged against the table legs, and then leaned one hand on the wood surface, to stand, while it seemed that the whole world was collapsing on him. Stop thinking about it seemed so easy when wearing the uniform that she had decided to go in and out of the house to go to work, so easy that sometimes, while he was engrossed for the umpteenth time to recheck the documents should be signed the Colonel, he wondered if the feelings he had thought to try the night before were nothing but fantasy created by his mind too tired.
Yet when he was alone with the only airline of the snow coming down and remember times past and lost forever, his feelings came back stronger than the previous night, the strongest of all the nights that preceded it, and she could not help but succumb and curl up in bed, repeating to stop, because the knowledge that it was impossible, knowing that every time he looked he saw nothing but a collaborator, a Lieutenant that anything had happened to he always looked back and would continue to do so in spite of everything - a woman who would look from a distance until the end of his days, which would see him achieve his dreams, which would remain there even the day when he would finally decided to marry, to make a living - it was too painful, even for her. Riza
inhaled and exhaled deeply, hoping to rid the mind, and when after a long, long time - so much that his ears even now seemed deaf to incessant ticking of the clock on the wall - was finally able to calm down, drive out to dry the tears back and they still ran free on her face, she told herself that perhaps it was the right time to go to bed.
at a slow pace and quiet, with hands clasped around the shawl, walked to his bedroom, but before opening the door and turned off the light last look at the window. The snow was falling more rarefied, more like freezing rain, and Riza relaxed arms and shoulders in defeat for the umpteenth time, she could not do anything to change things, but the first thing you Knock down the discomfort over her shock his head and clenched his teeth.
I'll try anyway, you said, and after turning off the light and to have entered his room he remembered to change the time of his alarm clock. The next day - and not care how small he would come - would have built a snowman, and making sure that nobody could hear her, she would tell her biggest secret.



*


The home that Roy Mustang had rented in Central City after his transfer was small - there were barely him, a couch that also served as bedroom, table on which to place everything he needed and a small kitchen for heating the two or three dishes that could prepare for - and sometimes it was said that perhaps he could also make an effort to find a larger one, just a little, 'what would have been enough to avoid having to always remain locked in a tiny space with his thoughts. She knew it was stupid, that was not the fault of those four walls where he kept thinking and thinking and on, but put the blame on that place was much easier - maybe - do not admit to having a problem.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and eyes closed, breathing deeply and filling your lungs with the hot air around him, and then began more comfortable on the couch with his head resting on the arm and a soft bare foot resting on the ground. He stared at the ceiling, the play of light created by the car in the dark of night, darting under her window with the lights on, disappearing at the exact moment in which they appeared, like a distant and elusive dream, to leave room for other cars, other lights, other dreams. Roy could spend hours looking at them, only to find something to do that forced him to think, but sometimes it seemed that those headlights talked to him, everything and anything, and he could not help but respond to the mute questions that were made in a continuous vortex always ended to get to the damn point.
He ran his hand over his eyes, seeing the thousands of dark-colored spots that made his head explode, and after being raised, with a groan in frustration, and you close the window, all around him was not anything but the ' deeper darkness and noise of road that reached him from afar. Not even her breathing could impose itself on what around him - a clear sign that, however strong or determined, a man can not achieve all its objectives nor overpower those forces that are exceeding their nature - and he let out a laugh from the lips quick and silent, more like a sigh.
What could have whatever he wished he had always been clear, since he was little, ever since his aunt looked at him straight in the eye and said, without showing a minimum of resentment or guilt for the fact that star destroying the dreams of a child, no, Roy, you're still too small for this. Do not wait for your birthday because I'll give it to you. had always been so, Aunt Chris, always ready to say or do what you think was the right thing to make it grow better, always ready to put before the truth even when it hurt or was not at all necessary.
had always been afraid of her child, fear of rejection, and it took long to accept the fact that perhaps she was doing really for his own good, that what he was trying to teach - with its highly questionable ways - it would be something that future would come back very, very helpful. But how could a child understand a lesson in that scale, if no one had ever bothered to explain how difficult it was being in the world? Roy always remembered with an amused smile, his innocence of a time, and if he closed his eyes, sometimes, especially when his birthday was approaching, he could still be seen, seven, eight, nine years, her heart broken by rejection and a pen in hand, to write sentences that year after year became more elaborate and demanding, to put on paper the desires that had failed that year for fear to say out loud, to sneak into the bedroom of her aunt when she c 'was to leave his precious piece of paper on the table, in plain sight, where she could not ignore it.
He folded his lips into a grimace, when the thought struck him, and his hand resting on her face first slipped on his lips, his throat, chest hidden by a dark blanket and then below it, further down, while a stream of bile is going up your esophagus, leaving him breathless and with the desire to bash everything that would happen to shot. It was easy, a child, write on a piece of paper what she wanted more than anything else, a gift the following year would become obsolete, that he would want to have something new, something better, easier that if he thought he had done every whim or just that he wanted do he was willing to take and shake vigorously, repent that he was an idiot to complain about a damn kite would forget the week after.
She slipped her hand past the elastic of my pants, boxers, and unceremoniously squeezed his limp penis between his fingers and began to move up and down, encouraging them with his bare wrist since that night, it seemed that his thoughts had not the slightest intention to go wherever he wanted. And only God - if anything it had existed a - what did he know that he needs to do so, because it made no sense to cling to those memories of childhood that did nothing but remind him that ever in his life, there would be something he would never could reach, and so moved his hand faster and faster in hopes of pumping away, even for a miserable while, if only for the time that it would serve to orgasm to make him lose contact with his surroundings, all the suffering that is dragged in by the day that Havoc had told him: leave me, Lord, leave me here! She has no time to waste with a soldier of my rank.
How the hell could he think, that damn fool, that he was willing to let him back so, as you leave a gun that no longer serves any good? How could he believe that it was so easy to separate from him? Roy gritted his teeth hard, and even more strongly increased the frequency of movements around his now hard member, crushing his head against the arm and with his eyes closed by force, because those two stupid tears were unable to escape.
It makes no sense crying for the stupid, you said, as the thoughts in his head so hated gave way to images perhaps even more hated, so they want. He could feel the heat of another body, time, and if more closed eyes could even hear the his body open, welcoming There is something that never could have in real life. Even in those moments it was useless to pretend to have a chance, and Roy was not so stupid as to believe, by now had had enough, to believe that at any moment Havoc could stop looking at women with breasts to notice him. But this did not stop some to want more than he ever wanted a train or a damned kite, and did not stop me not even want to grab him by the shirt and shouting in his face what he felt, that reproach, if he had chosen him, perhaps now would not be in a hospital bed.
began to pump ever more intensely, more quickly, and then all of a sudden, brief and fleeting peace that had so desired struck him like a white flash, catching him by surprise. His whole body strained to spasm and the only thing I could think was that if only he was stupid enough to do it, he wrote on a piece paper what they wanted most and would have left it there, in plain sight, dragged who knows where the cold wind, hoping that someone reading it would have the power to make it real.



*


"Oh, sorry if I disturbed you."
When Riza Hawkeye appeared from the booths that divided the room in the middle two-headed blondes, a man lying on the bed and a woman sitting on a chair beside him, turned in her direction and looked for a moment with an air of surprise. Do not expect more hits now - Jean was very categorical about this, when he told his mother not to worry about, that everyone had to salute those who were already here - and only after a while she realized what must have seemed rude to remain in standing there staring at the girl arrived just as if it were a sort of very strange animal.
"No trouble, my dear," he said, standing up by going and meeting, Riza and stretched her lips into a smile of courtesy. "The fact is that I knocked and I did not hear answer, so I thought I would get to see if everything was OK."
"You did good, well done," said the woman, visibly embarrassed. "Do not you have just heard. You know, we're so nervous about tomorrow's departure that ... "
" Mom! "The voice of Havoc forced the mother to stop abruptly in mid-sentence and when the woman turned to him and asked him what was wrong with what he had just said, given that was the truth, Jean nervously ran his hand behind his neck, while his cheeks are tinged with a faint red, and almost without realizing it raised its head over the shoulders of the woman who stood before him and make eye contact with Riza . He smiled, she enjoyed it, and if one part of this long amplified his embarrassment that the other could not please him. They were always too little time I had seen her smile, and the idea of being alone, for once, manager, made him feel better than the people around him at that moment could never imagine.
stared at her for a moment, hardly even hear what his mother was saying, but after a while, 'it was the woman to stop talking with him and turned to that Riza, caught by surprise, did the impossible to return to serious, drawing on his face an expression so that false Havoc could not help but let a giggle escape from her lips with amusement. "Of course I'm just rude," he was saying his mother, one hand resting on her cheek as she always did when he felt he had made a big, very big mistake. "I did not even invite you to sit! Please, dear, sit down here too, "he continued, pointing at the chair on which, until a few moments before, she had been sitting, but she drew back politely, saying he could not stay long, since it was his turn to begin.
"I went just to bring them," he said, holding out her hands toward the other woman, and only at that moment, it appeared as if by magic, Havoc and his mother noticed the package that Riza was their offering. It was covered with a white card decorated with silver wavy lines that were seen only when the weak winter sun crash down on them, and thanked the woman for the good thoughts in a voice all too acute and bow just mentioned.
"They are just cookies," he continued, Riza, leaving the package in the hands of the mother of Havoc. "The Lieutenant is always complaining that the office does not bring anything good ... I thought you might like, "he concluded, looking the man straight in the eye. He thanked her with a smile and a wave of his hand and she, after having wished him the best and snatched the promise that he would feel if he went away, leaving them alone again.
The room fell silent when Riza came out, and nobody broke until the mother was not sure that now she could no longer hear what she had lots and lots of it means. She folded her lips just mentioned in a smile and then, without saying a word, he sat down again beside his son and slowly unwrapped the package until they saw white pasta golden pastries. Havoc and handed the package to be served after both she glanced toward the door.
"It seems like a really nice girl," she said, trying to keep the tone more vague as possible, but this did not prevent some of Havoc to feel a shiver up the back. He knew his mother better than he would ever be willing to recognize and if there was something he had learned about her, all those years of living together, was that when the woman used tone that could mean only the argument that they were talking about her so anxious that, a bit ', even if she was ashamed.
The boy finished his biscuit slowly, hoping to gain some 'time, and then shrugged. "Always try to be helpful," he replied, it being deliberately vague, and praying, in vain, of course, this could put an end to that conversation. But the woman had to have other plans, because as soon as he tried to change the subject, asking whether he had brought an umbrella, because that morning he had heard from nurses who would soon began to snow, she said hurriedly, anxious to return to what they were saying before.
"And it's pretty," he said, in fact, and nearly choked Havoc is not a cookie. And such a thing as hell would have to meet? She watched her mother with her mouth and eyes wide open, wondering where to find the courage to go to him to say such a thing, and take him long to be able to scrape together enough firmness - in voice, attitude and every fiber of his body - to be able to tell his mother, loud and clear, once and for all, that the argument Riza Hawkeye was absolutely off limits . "It's already in love with someone else."
From the throat of his mother went to a mortified, of surprise, and when he looked at his son to apologize and tell him that it was insensitive to talk about it when it was clear that he did not intend to broach the subject, he felt the earth open beneath his feet, plunged into the bowels of the earth. Havoc was turned towards the window, staring at nothing in particular and even though she could not see the expression painted on his face did not make it hard to imagine. He was serious, his brow furrowed, his lips tight against each other in a hard line and the breast regularly moved up and down, controlling your breathing with difficulty. As he were ill, she could only imagine.
Havoc ran a hand through his blond tufts that falling on the forehead and then, without saying a word, reached out a hand to the back tray of cookies and took one, sending him down in one gulp, almost, before taking another. They were good, his favorite, and he never gave his blessings that his mother did not gliel'avesse pointed out, because if it was painful in itself because being in love with a woman who never, ever would have even taken into account the ' idea to reciprocate, knowing that she was aware of these, however, was absolutely useless things even worse.
took another biscuit from the tray, with a sigh, and when the corner of his eye he noticed that the cakes had come, leaned his lips in a bitter smile. It was ridiculous as all that concerned her was so damn short - time he could spend with her, the times when we delude ourselves that perhaps the hint of a smile that he had seen it appear on the face to face for some reason him and not somebody else - and while stretched out his hand again to take yet another cookie could not help but think that despite everything, he would have much preferred that she had brought a pack of cigarettes. With the life that forced me to do here, you said , at least I would last longer.
and swallowed the last cookie he had left.