Work Text:
Riza stared at the front door to Hawkeye manor. She was hoping, once again, that Roy- Mr. Mustang would walk back in again. As if nothing had happened. As if a whole year hadn’t passed by her. Waiting. Hoping. Wishing he’d come back.
This had never happened with any of her other father’s apprentices, though they hadn’t ever stayed as long as Roy had. He’d been there so long she tried to forget about her life before she met him, it all seemed so gray and pale in comparison to the colors he brought with him into her life. She didn’t even know how he did it. She’d never been that attached to anyone. After her mother died she always made a conscious effort to remove herself from people's lives, she never wanted to feel the crushing grip of death’s clutch around her once again.
But Roy had been different, he was slow and persistent. Slowly working his way into being her friend. Like one would befriend a stray cat, gently and not through force. Much different than the way he last talked to her father. She could still hear their voices as they yelled over his decision to join the military.
“If that’s what you want to do, you’re not ready for my research.”
Those were the last words she heard clearly from her father. Roy left later that night, without even a goodbye. She hoped he’d come back, every morning she hoped he’d walk out of his room. As if she dreamed the whole fight and he’d still be learning from her father.
Maybe then he wouldn’t have asked her to guard his research. She worried she wouldn’t do a good job at guarding it, every prick of the needle in her back reminding her just how important her job was now. Even now, months after her back healed, she could still feel the weight of the tattoo.
Though she didn’t understand why Roy wasn’t ready for his research. Roy had always seen the good in everything. Being able to find the silver lining no matter how dreary the situation was. It was why he was so persistent in befriending her.
“You seem nice.” He said, softly and with a smile.
“Nice.” She parroted back.
She’d never been called nice before. Everyone always said she was quiet and polite, but never nice. The compliment had spread warmth across her chest and into her cheeks like she’d never felt before. It scared her, at least she thought it did.
Over time though, she got used to that feeling and enjoyed it. Even craving more from him. Reveling in his compliments and praise like a cat napping in a sunny window. He always seemed to have an abundance of them too. Even thanking her for the things she did daily, which surprised her. Her father never did that. The most she got was a mumbled thank you under his breath.
She’d missed those most, his kind words. She hadn’t savored them enough and wished every day she could get one more. Just so she could hold onto that feeling forever and help ease the ache in her.
Then she wouldn’t stare at his room, wishing to see the light glint out from under the door or to hear his soft footsteps against the hardwood floor. And then she could give him back the things he left, like the top hat he’d gotten at the market because he thought he looked dashing in it despite what she told him. She could still feel the tears that splashed from the hat onto her hand as she held it.
She didn’t know why she was having such a physical reaction to him leaving. Even the thought of him talking to other people made her stomach fill with an uneasy dread. She even had a dream where he was talking to another girl and threw up, though she was certain she just undercooked the chicken from the night before.
But it all just felt wrong .
She knew it was coming, no one ever stayed with them long enough for her to think otherwise. Her father was a tough teacher who everyone thought was mad. She couldn’t blame them, it was even hard for her most days to find the person she remembered from childhood. She didn’t even expect Roy to last longer than a week when they first met. He’d been too excitable and she knew he’d never last with father. Yet he surprised her, he seemed to understand her father's ramblings and proved to be a vital student. He ended up living with them for years. Studying with her father during the day while she was at school and then at night talking to her while she prepared dinner as he studied, he always said he studied better with her around talking to him.
The only time he didn’t sit and study with her was that last day, he was too busy packing and didn’t even eat the last meal she made him.
He just left after she went to her room and turned off her light. Though she didn’t sleep, she was too busy listening to him. Hoping he’d stop and start to unpack, but he didn’t. He didn’t even say goodbye. Though she swore she heard him stop in front of her door. Watching his shadow creep in from the light in the hallway and stand there; like the words were on the tip of his tongue. But then he left. Leaving his key in the mailbox for her to retrieve in the morning as she felt her life seep out of her and into the muddy ground below her boots.
Even now, as she studied the door with a mop in her hand, she still had hope he’d come back. That it was his shadow creeping under the door and he’d knock to signify that he had returned. He’d talk to her just like before and everything would be fine. She wouldn’t have this aching feeling in her chest anymore and the world would make sense again.
But she knew the shadow was just the trees that took pleasure in tricking her ever since she was a child. It wasn’t him. It would never be him.
She returned the mop to the bucket once again, switching around the sudsy water. Then a knock lightly tapped against the door.