#and like. OH MY GOD. IS IT NOT SO UTTERLY CRUEL THAT PERHAPS THE TRANSITION OF HIS REVENGE BEING FOR THEM ---> BEING SO FOR HIM WAS IN --

[lululeighsworld]

decided to play the heirs of fate dlc this weekend (ive been meaning to for awhile; admittedly my knowledge of it all comes from browsing the wiki, and i really wanted to experience the anankos characterization for myself). this isn't even the part i was excited to get to BUT I AM REELING OVER IT..........FOR REASONS I WILL DISCLOSE IN THE TAGS (from part iv: light's sacrifice)

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge. 

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more. 

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence. 

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful. 

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se. 

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that. 

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel. 

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing. 

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode? 

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo. 

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too. 

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

[egoiistas]

may i feel, said he (19)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn 

[co-written with @tsaritsa]

a/n: mmmm that was a long break wasn’t it? let’s go ahead and jump in! there are some important notes on the ao3 author notes that you should totes check out! enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual Content ™, cursing, roy being cute af Words: ~8.5k || Rated: M - Royai 

Chapter Nineteen, in a minute

Summer arrives and officially, Riza is no longer his student.

Throughout the months, he’s tried to rationalize the pros and cons of jeopardizing her academic career from her perspective. A better grade? A decent fuck? Or a nice basket of both with a bow on top? His worst case scenario had always led him to the conclusion that if there was an ulterior motive, then she’d leave as soon as her grade was administered. If this was an elaborate, painstakingly cruel ruse, she would know him by now and have every advantage over him, forevermore holding this over his head because of a thoughtless impulse. She would know that he had unwittingly fought for what they shared, exposing himself freely, and that he’d never be the one to hold it over her. That cool façade in the beginning of the year had never collapsed so quickly and he would have fallen for the trap; hook, line and sinker.

Yet, his fears remain as unfounded as they ever were.

Time passes.

The newborn summer days swiftly turn into sweltering, humid weeks and in those weeks, he wakes with her at his side more mornings than not - passing by uneventfully, comfortable just existing in each other’s presence, finding solace indoors with air conditioning, lazily planning day trips to the countryside and never going.

Their heated, explosive start has transitioned into something that simmers comfortably now.  They’re turned into an average couple, falling asleep in the middle of movies or ignoring them altogether for a bit of naked reprieve, swapping one heat for another. The root of any of their short-lived arguments usually stemmed when either of them were hungry or tired or both. It’s bizarre to Roy how easy it is to just ...be.

During one idle afternoon, he wonders on the the microcosm of their relationship, built up in these walls. In some ways they had come to rely on the self-imposed rules, and moving beyond those parameters into something that resembles a normal relationship was going to come with its own set of challenges.

This is the one and only detail that simultaneously vexes and excites him when he thinks of Aerugo. The walls that constrained them would be knocked down now and they would free to roam around an island, holding hands if they so dared. And he would. But the real test in question was the structural integrity of their relationship on mostly neutral ground - with her and him finally as equals.

In the days before they embark, the photo of a time past resurfaces on the surface of his dresser. A younger him and another woman that he’s been trying his damnedest to forget, even jumping dangerous chasms to do so. He doesn’t exert much effort into deciphering it’s whereabouts or the delayed journey it took from his old box of mementos to finally arriving on his dresser. The why is not important in the wider scheme of things.

And as the day arrives that they set off for another country entirely, Maes reassurances him that her answer is still “no.”

With that response, he departs with a lighter weight on his shoulders that perhaps this trip can be just about a celebration between friends, family, and the sun. Perhaps he can aid her in lifting some of the weight off her own shoulders. Not forgetting, but enjoying herself as her own person and coming out forward for all that she’s been through in the years.

Already, he sees excitement beyond the surface of her eyes as she boards a plane with dissecting curiosity and hints of dread when the aircraft bumps. The window seat proves to be the optimal choice and her eyes hardly tear away from looking outside to the stretching landscape up until the vast ocean comes into view.

This restrained curiosity doesn’t change when they get on the ferry that’ll take them to their last stop. Immediately she’s drawn to the outside deck, eyes wide and bright as she drinks everything in. San Clavel shifts from a distant formation, to an outline, and then to a shimmering, bright beacon as the sun reaches its zenith.

Upon seeing the approach on the island, he checks the time on his phone and sees a message that should have been seen earlier. “We have… a slight problem.”

Completely and utterly enthralled since first sight with the ocean, Riza hesitates and rather reluctantly tears herself from the balcony edge of the ferry. She takes one last cursory glance, as if the azure water would disappear the instant she looked away, and a smile of endearment appears on his face.

She squints looking up at him with the sun in her eyes, her hand flat over her forehead to try to see. “What kind of problem?”

Roy takes off his sunglasses and places them on her face. He decides it’s best to rip the plaster off quickly here. “Well, there are some guests we weren’t - well, I wasn’t expecting that are showing up.”

“Oh.” He can’t see her eyes anymore because of the reflective glass, but her smile drops. “Is that so?”

“My mother,” Roy confesses. “And some of my sisters.”

“Your mother,” she parrots back monotonously. Her poker face is practically bullet-proof without the nuances of her eyes to clue him in. “Is that what you were worried about?”

“I- what?”

“I was half expecting you to tell me the trip was cancelled.” Riza slides her arm around his waist and leans against him, looking out across the water once more as the ferry begins to dock. “I can’t say I blame them for being curious. I know you said we would visit them next week but-”

To say he’s blindsided would be somewhat of an understatement. “Yeah, for a few hours, not days.” He can’t help the petulance that creeps into his voice. “The whole point of this trip was spending time with you. Preferably with us naked for hours on end.”

She snorts a little at that, tucking her head slightly against his chest to hide her face - the faint pink tips of her ears betray her regardless. “Yes, well, that too. But you’ve met my dad. It seems fair.”

“No offense but I feel like you’re getting the short end of the stick when it comes to meeting the in-laws.”

To her credit, Riza doesn’t outwardly react to his slip of the tongue beyond adjusting her posture - the hand that had been resting comfortably against his hip flexes. From his position, her ears are bright pink now. “A family who clearly think the world of you? That’s hardly grounds to say they’ll be terrible to the people you choose to introduce them to.” Her tone is a little too measured, but nonetheless she draws back to look at him better, her hand instinctively raising to push the hair from his eyes. There’s a bright, nervous smile on her face - one that he knows is reflected on his own as well.

“Though, maybe hold off on talk of in-laws until I get the chance to actually meet them for myself,” she teases. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as what you’re imagining.”

Roy will swear until he’s black and blue that he kisses her to stop her teasing - but that’s not the truth, not entirely. Out of the two of them he’s most certainly the one who is more practiced in dealing with emotions, and certainly the more likely out of the two of them to wear his heart on his sleeve.

There was always an undercurrent of emotional attachment with any of the women he had slept with, regardless of whether the relationship was serious or merely fleeting. Riza was meant to firmly be in the latter camp, a terrible means to the end for the itch that begged to be scratched. Instead, he had taken her out for breakfast the morning after, and offered her an open invitation for more if she pleased. He has the tendency to take the mile when he’s only meant to have an inch, and in hindsight he was already in too invested in a hookup that should never have happened.

So, it is difficult to not apply the same logic here. He knows Riza well enough to know she’d have no problem in telling him if he were wrong, but the fact that she doesn’t even seem to hesitate at an off-cuff mention of a more distant future with him, and even goes so far as to tease him - Roy knows exactly why his heart is beating in triple time. He deepens the kiss and pulls her close to him; Riza makes a noise of contentment, curling her hands around his neck, fingers burying themselves in his hair.

Her nails scratch pleasantly against his scalp, and Roy hates himself for drawing back after a few blissful moments; even more so when Riza instinctively follows to close the gap. Her blush has abated somewhat, but her lips curve up into a secret smile, full of promises for later.

Instead, she contents herself with leaning back into his chest, rearranging his arms over her; he pulls her firmly against him and she hums in contentment,

“Why are you nervous about us meeting?” Riza asks after a moment. Her confidence in knowing the root of his anxiety is something he’d ordinarily want to pay greater attention to, but -

They’re a lot. Fiercely overprotective to a fault. I was selfish, and we’re dealing with those choices.

The truth is a little simpler than he wants to admit though. “There’s a right way about introducing you to all of them and this holiday wasn’t meant to be about that.”

“What’s the right way then?”

“With a bit more preparation.” He cranes his neck and checks his watch. “She just sent me a text that her plane comes in around four this afternoon.”

Riza twists to see his face, her mouth dropping comically open. “You’d better give me a summarized version then. Good thing I’m a quick study.” She pushes the sunglasses back, catching in her fringe.

He drops a kiss on her temple, guiding her back indoors. “It’ll have to be on the road once we pick up a car.”

When they finally disembark from the ferry with their luggage, Roy thinks they might have been blessed by the gods. In the terminal he can see no familiar faces and he feels himself relax. The company he’s ordered a taxi from on to take them to their lodgings is on the other side of the terminal and sweat is already glistening on his forearms from the heat of the midday sun. In his head, he begins conjuring an outline of how to breakdown who’s who and how to detangle the enormity of his unconventional family. It would take several hours to cover in its entirety and time is not his ally here.

“First things first,” he tells her as they move from the building into the forecourt, following painted yellow strips directing him towards the southern end of the terminal, “I call her my mother but she’s my aunt by blood. When I’m in trouble I’m Roy. When I’m really in trouble I’m boy. Otherwise I’m papito. She might pretend not to understand a lot of Amestrian, but it’s all lies. She just likes to be contrary and difficult because she can.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Anyway. For the most part we have a good relationship, but she’s never quite forgiven me for leaving Central. She…” he falters here, wondering if it is worth the pain to get this next piece of information out. “I think she took my and Greta’s breakup harder than anybody involved - myself included. She has a bad habit of not thinking before she speaks and I don’t want to put you-”

Riza’s hand covers his on the handle of his luggage and he slows to a halt, looking at her. “You’re very sweet, you know,” she tells him. “I know I haven’t been the most mature in regards to her but-”

“Hablando del rey de Roma.”

That coarse, near nasally call has always carried easily over crowds of people, and in the cavern-like forecourt, it bounces against the nearby walls and sunroof. He looks in the direction beyond Riza - the wrong one, because Chris’s manicured nails-cum-talons dig in sharply into the shell of his ear and pivots his entire body from where he stands to face her. From where she materialized is still unclear to Roy. His sisters titter and crowd around him unhelpfully. He hears several different sentences at once as he receives one hug after another. “You’re looking buff!” “No, he’s looking thin! Do you have eyes?” “You need a haircut!” “We’ve missed you!” “I’ve missed him most!”

Finally, the girls scatter when Chris swats them away and in the same carrying voices tells them, “All right, all right get back.” Her face is serious and grave as she looks at him. It’s that same intimidating face that lectured him when he did something stupid or dangerous or both. Roy  doesn’t say anything because he expects the signature arm cross, tapping foot, and demanding to know why hasn’t he called more often?

Instead her arms extend out and up as Roy takes half a step back. “Mi niiiiño!” she sings, an unmistakable happiness in her expression as she grabs his face and kisses each cheek. She hugs him tight and he returns it in kind, shelving the initial skepticism. “How I’ve missed you, papiiito.”

Then she shoves him back and crosses her arms. “Why haven’t you called, boy?”

Ah - there it is.

“I’ve been a little busy…” Not totally untrue, but somehow Roy doubts that will cut the mustard here. “But I should be calling more often.” He looks to the side and Riza, by some miracle, is still there and only a few steps away from him with their luggage. In fact, she has the strangest  grin plastered on her face. “But,” he continues, “since you’ve managed to get the drop on me…” Roy walks next to Riza who has suddenly changed in expression as he hugs her from the side. “This is Riza,” he says expectantly and after a moment of only faint chatter from the terminal, he adds. “My girlfriend.”

The girls look at each other and one by one he can see their lips curve upwards into coy smiles. They come closer, prowling like lionesses. The barrage of greetings begin with one at a time hugs and kisses as if handshakes were old fashioned.

“So you’re Elizabeth!” says Sofia.

Riza manages to turn her body to face Roy as she’s passed from one sister onto the next. “Elizabeth?”

“I gave you a code name.”

Her grin is knowing. “So they knew?”

“Some knew.”

“They knew?” Chris asks from the end of their man-made barrier of ladies. “Why is it then that I had to find out through other channels?” She glares between Sofia and Roy.

“Some knew,” Roy insists. “I couldn’t remember who I did and did not tell and you are all in deep shit for not warning me about this.” He inclines his head as subtly as he can in the direction of his mother.

“Roy. Please. You’ve kept Riza from us this entire time! Please, please we want to know everything.” Isabelle says.

Chris urges everyone to be prying banshees in an airconditioned car. It’s a welcome reprieve from the hot midday sun, although the subdued attitude of his mother is unexpected - and worrying.

As well as Sofia and Isabelle, Phoebe and Karina are also a part of the welcome wagon. They crowd around the two of them inside the car, waving off Riza’s protests about wearing seatbelts.

“He hasn’t told us anything about you, you know,” Isabelle laments, tying her long blonde hair into a high ponytail. “All I got told was he was seeing a very pretty woman and if I said anything to Mama we’d never get to meet you at all. So tell me everything - how did you two meet? What do you do? How long has this been going on?”

Riza giggles a little nervously at the onslaught. “Not a terribly exciting story, I’m afraid,” she begins. “I worked in the university library overnights and he would come in and make a mess of the private study spaces. We got to talking after a while and…” she gestures to the scant space between them, “Here we are.”

The disappointment from his sisters is hilarious: they seemingly deflate back into their respective seats, shoulders dropping.

“To be honest though, Roy hasn’t told me much about you guys either. He’s told me your names but it would be nice to finally put faces to them as well.”

It’s a good distraction from the other questions posed - an excellent one, actually; as Riza slowly makes her way through this small fraction of his family. His mother remains quiet, seemingly happy to watch the events unfolding with a curious eye. He lets his mind drift, gaze sliding to the view outside which shifts from the town centre to higher up, wide expanses of yellow-white sandstone spotted into the lush green hills. He fiddles with her hand in his own, and when Karina catches his eye with a knowing smile it’s hard not to beam in response.

The trip goes quicker than expected, much to his relief, but the girls won’t take ‘no’ for an answer when it comes to showing Riza the villa they’ll be staying at with Chris before letting them disappear for the afternoon.

“We’ve had a long trip from East City-” he tries.

Phoebe shoots him a withering look. “We’ve had a long trip from Central too,” she reminds him none-too-gently. “Honestly, when’s the next time you’re going to come around, let alone with Riza in tow? Last time you didn’t even bother to let us know you were in town! You owe us.”

He doesn’t have much of an argument against that, and from her new position being volleyed between his sisters, Riza nods in deferment. She winks at him from across the room, mouthing something he can’t quite make out. He moves to join them; they’ve taken her out to one of the balconies and are pointing out different parts of the island but from behind him -

“Boy,” Chris calls.

Heart sinking, Roy stops in his tracks, and dutifully makes his way back to where his mother sits, overlooking the bay. “Watch her,” he signals to his sisters, and Karina’s fingers flutter in dutiful acquiescence.

With the sun favoring the other side, there are more shadows in the parlor he’s beckoned to. The motherly air to her has vanished and her face is serious. Lips are thinned, her brow entertains no amusement and a hand on her lap and the other propped on the high table she sits next to, expectantly. A seat isn’t offered to him; instead, she nods to the door to make this conversation more private and he complies. It shuts with a soft click and the sounds of excited conversation become muffled and indistinct.

Chris is quiet. He imagines she’s choosing her words, perhaps even predicting his own, and if pensive could be deadly, then she might be the only one in the world who has mastered it. She shifts in her seat, crossing one foot over the other, and her fingers rest on her many rings, twisting them over and over. Until, finally, she takes in a drawn breath.

“What are you thinking?” She asks him. Each word is enunciated and calculated in a low and gravelly tone;  a night and day difference from her earlier greeting.

“Well.” He chuckles bitterly. “I’m thinking it’s been a long trip. The weather, the sun, the beach is gorgeous.” He walks towards her and she is unflinching in following his movements. “You’re looking well and the girls look well too.”

“Don’t you play coy with me. You know what I’m talking about, bringing her around here.”

He pulls the accompanying chair out from the table and takes a seat. At this level, the light shifts out of her eyes as if to perpetuate the gravitas of the situation on her behalf. “I’d prefer if you didn’t refer to my plus one like she was a disease. She’s here at my behest, as well as Maes’ and Gracia’s.”

Her only answer is a half-chuckle that sounds somewhere between a hah and a hmph. “My boy, you can prefer, refer, request whatever you want.”

“Then, what’s the problem here?”

“She’s twenty-one, Roy.”

His eyes close as he sighs. His fingers slowly ball into a fist.

“Did it ever occur to you how’d that look? Que va decir la gente? Or rather, what are they already saying? ‘He went off and got someone younger.’” She scoffs, rolling her shoulders back. “I’ve raised you better than that. Think of the example you’re putting on for the girls.”

“It’s more than that, believe me.”

“Ah, si?” She is mocking, sarcastic. She’s daring him to prove her wrong. And she is wrong - he knows this emotionally, more so than anyone else in this room. But no matter which way he would spin it to her, it would still sound the same to her: appearances are everything at home. “How selfish. Ask yourself what your reaction would be if the girls came home with an older man?”

He meets her hard gaze in equal strength. “If you’re wanting to lecture me you can do it another day, I’m not in the mood for it now.”

“No, now is the time since you decided to cut us out from your life when you moved. You are never around anymore and quite frankly I don’t know much of you since you left.” She is measured, near hissing. “Stop thinking with your dick for once, pendejo, and use that brain of yours-”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. His heart rate elevates; he feels it in the constriction of his throat. “Ya, okay?” He swallows the simmering emotion, the telltale prick of budding tears. “I have told you time and time again - endlessly - about why things didn’t work out before.”

“You’ve given me crumbs,” she says unsympathetically. “While she’s given me entire loaves, crying at my doorstep, hoping you would be reasoned with.”

Sighing, he says, “Why can’t you come to terms with this? Respect this decision that was made years ago? Or at the very least, have trust in me that what I have to say has more to do with the truth than whatever fabrications she’s feeding you?

“I’ve told you that relationship was toxic and brought out the worst parts of me. What will it take for you to understand?”

Chris thinks for a moment and it gives Roy the opportunity to release tense muscles that were winding themselves up again from the conversation. “Did you bring her because she’s pregnant?”

A hand runs down his face and mentally he apologises to Riza. “No.”

She hums, intrigued. “Do you love her?”

Yes.

The letters pop in his head; glowing, neon letters illuminating in his mind’s eye. He does not say it. His lips curl in to stop them from giving away the smile at the thought of Riza and love and the warmth that suddenly radiates in his chest. Pensive, he tries not to give any facial cues but his mother knows him far too well and she sighs, letting a hand fall to the table.

“How?” Chris asks, almost exasperated. “Where-” And then that word chokes and dies in her throat because it dawns on her immediately, because Chris Mustang is smart and sharp and where else would he find a woman of Riza’s age to be around him long enough to catch feelings? The color drains from her face watching him as he processes his own revelation - because the only thing more scandalous than this is if she was pregnant. “You were always so, so smart, but also so, so incredibly dumb sometimes, mi amor.

“You are toying with more than just your life here, but permanently with hers.” She gets up from her seat and her words are somber. “Make sure it’s worth it.”

He’s left in the parlor by himself, to his own thoughts; knuckles to his mouth.

The subject of his thoughts enters the room and softly crosses to where he sits. He perks up in his seat and his heart skips a beat. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greets him; her brows dipped in concern and she takes a seat in Chris’s chair. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” It’s a terrible attempt but she humours him nonetheless.

“Because you’re just sitting in here by yourself.”

“I just needed a moment of silence after being ambushed.”

She quickly moves out of her seat. “I can go if-”

Roy grabs her hand to stop her. “Don’t be silly,” he says softly.

She nods, slowly settling back in the chair - hands connected over the table. “What did you two talk about?” she presses after a moment, when he falls silent once more.

“Oh,” he says, stopping the circles he was rubbing on the back of her hand. “She was ripping me a new one for not introducing you earlier, for not calling.”

“What an awful son,” she teases. “And an awful brother from what your sisters were telling me.”

“I should probably go talk to them.”

Riza makes a face. “Actually… I came in here only because they were going to head into town for some food to keep in the house. They figured we would want to get settled first. I may have strongly suggested it. Karina was kind enough to back me up.”

“That’s right. You haven’t even seen the inside of where we’re staying, have you?”

“No, but I imagine it’s like any house with four walls and with rooms.”

He smiles knowingly, standing from his seat and an extending a hand for him to lead her. “Let me show you why I like to leave Amestris.”

With a slight hint of confusion, she takes it. After some quick goodbyes from his sisters - Chris is notably absent - they walk in comfortable silence to just a few houses down where the ocean waves hitting the shores becomes a little bit more audible.

Roy unlocks the door for her and her eyes widen as she takes in a breath.

Riza darts inside, taking quick strides between the rooms, jerking her head back towards where he stands, half-questions-half-incredulous-noises leaving her mouth in a garbled mess.

Yes, Roy splurged this time - but how could he not? There is something intensely satisfying about being able to elicit a reaction like the one she is giving him, to enjoy how she enjoys it. By the standards of his peers this villa might not be the fanciest, nor the most kitted-out, but Roy knows Riza doesn’t care about outward appearances. He chose it for the age and history of the stone walls, for the way it overlooks a portion of the island, and yet remains tucked away from the other villas in the area.

After he moves the luggage into the master bedroom, he asks into the house: “Just four walls with rooms, is it?” When he doesn’t receive a response, he finds her in a sun-filled study on the second floor, skimming through the book spines on the bookshelves.

Her mouth is slightly ajar. “You’re quite the schemer, aren’t you?”

Roy leans on the doorframe, arms crossed and feeling triumphant in his choice. “I’d prefer the word charmer.”

A reluctant grin appears on her face as she turns back to him. “You keep this up and I’ll be effectively spoiled. Surely, you understand that.” Her grin is infectious.

“Then my plan is working.”

She chuckles, shaking her head at him, and that tension from before simply evaporates. “So, schemer-charmer, what’s the itinerary for the day?” She absent-mindedly asks flipping through a book.

“Itinerary? That sounds so severe.” Roy pushes himself off from the door frame; overjoyed when she follows behind him as he opens the windowed white doors to the master bedroom’s balcony.

“You know what I mean…” She trails off and Roy feels his breath leave him from the view too. It truly is stunning - from the ocean to the lush green of the trees, the yellow-white sandstone fortifications bisecting the island cleanly in two. East City had its charms, but San Clavel was a blatant seduction by comparison.

Roy points out, “Now you can ignore me to look at the ocean from here.”

“Stop,” Riza warns playfully, darting her eyes between the ocean and him. “It’s not my fault I’m not well-travelled.” She stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss him - briefly, he supposes, from the way her hands rest only lightly on his chest. But her lips on his creates a tide of emotions Roy doesn’t anticipate. Hands on her hips, he pulls her flush to him, thrilling in the way she grinslaughs against his mouth, relishing in the contended hums from her throat. He is content to be, like this. Truly. Hours could pass, or even days - and yet how he is right now, a little sweaty and overheated, is where he wants to be.

One of his hands slides down over the curve of her arse, inadvertently hiking up the flimsy material of her sundress. His wandering fingers move too lightly against her skin, and she gasps, body instinctively moving away from the ticklish sensation.

She mouths against him “one minute” before ducking into the bathroom and door quietly shutting behind her.

Roy turns back to the balcony and walks out onto it proper, inhaling the sea breeze. The red carnations that dance around the sandstone pillars of the villa greet him as he steps outside. He’s missed this terribly, too. The temperature straddles a certain perfection of warmth with just enough wind to roll off the heat from lingering on his skin. In the distance, the ocean shifts below him, a mesmerising blue that softly crests until it blankets the alabaster coast; its surface is broken into fractals of light from the late afternoon sun, reflecting lazily like pieces of jewels over the water. The view is a welcoming sight and something about it breathes sunshine into his soul.

Years have elapsed since his last visit, and yet, San Clavel seems timeless; untouched by modern architecture common in Amestris and locked in a perpetual season of summer.

The air, the view, and the entire island may have remained static, but change was now a certainty for him. He looks out to the sea now with a different mindset altogether than even just hours before. He is far from the formative years of his youth, and the time he had spent here previously, saturated in alcohol, smoking Clavileño cigars, drunk on overconfidence and basking in his immaturity. Though, now he’s not so sure how much of that has changed.

“Interesting.” He hears behind him. “I can’t tell if you’re brooding or just enamored with the sight.”

A quick smile appears on his face as Riza rests her hands over the stone balustrade. There must’ve been a witty response to her tease but blown away by the wind when he manages to drink in the sight of her in the sundress. From where she stands, the midday sun hits her from behind, encasing her in a halo that filters drown from her hair into the soft white of her dress. There’s still a ghost of a grin on her face, and he’s tempted to bridge that space between them once more to kiss her, to see if the sheer warmth she’s radiating might transfer to him, even if only a little.

If he thought the sunlight on the water was mesmerizing, then the sunlight on her - the sunlight was made for her.

Her hair glows golden as it sways and brushes her pale skin. She puts a hand up to her face to stop her hair from flowing wildly with a squint in one eye.  The white dress hugs all the right places and somehow an ethereal aura surrounds her.  Roy composes himself, collecting his slightly ajar jaw, and eyes her up and down. “Well, enamored by the sight now.”

She grins at his response. “It’s beautiful out here,” she says finally. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Roy inclines his head in acknowledgement, his fingers drifting over hers; as if on instinct, her hand flips over to meet his, palm to palm. It’s a simple enough gesture, borne from repetition as much as affection. It tugs at his heart in a pleasant way. Tucked away in her words isn’t an I’m sorry, not quite - but an acknowledgement that goes beyond just saying thank you.

“You are very welcome,” he begins, shifting his weight to rest against the balustrade fully, pulling Riza into his space a little more. “This would be nowhere near as fun if you didn’t come.”

Her hands slide up his forearms, over his shoulders and curl loosely around his neck. She smells faintly like his soap and blinks demurely under dark lashes. “You take pleasure in me gawking at things, do you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Riza flushes visibly, immediately. There’s an attempt to push away from lightly but he holds her in place and she stays. “All this natural beauty and instead you’d be a slave to your phone, waiting desperately for me wake up.”

“I would be,” he tells her, enjoying how his honesty throws her for a moment. It is the truth. He would’ve still attended - Maes would have had his guts for garters otherwise - but at best he would only stay for a few days, and certainly not make a meal out of this trip, surprise family be damned.

“I’d be very demanding, you know,” Riza tells him matter-of-factly, tongue poking out to wet her lips briefly. “Video calls as soon as I wake up. A million souvenirs. That sort of thing.”

“If that’s your idea of demanding, how about a quick refresher?” Her eyebrow lifts momentarily, urging him to go on. “You storming into my office about a grade? Now that was demanding.”

Scandalized, she says “If I can recall correctly - and I do - there were ulterior motives for that changed grade. It was well warranted given the circumstances.”

Roy adjusts his hands on her hips, the thin material of her sundress rising a little once more as he brings her closer to him. He officially loves this dress. A finger lifts her chin. “I beg to disagree, avecilla. Not that I don’t appreciate the fact that we’re on the same page nine times out of ten, but I’d be a little disappointed if all you asked for was a call. In fact...” He pushes himself up from the balustrade. Riza cranes her neck a little to continue meeting his eyes. It’s perfect for what he wants - his hands leave her hips, and instead cup her jaw fully, thumbs resting against her cheekbones.

Deliberately, he kisses her temple, and then the other. Her eyelids follow, then her cheeks. He intentionally ignores her lips, barely grazing against them as he opts to leave soft, unhurried kisses against every part of her face bar her mouth. Her fingers twist themselves against the shirt he’s wearing.

“You’re mean,” she tells him breathlessly, brown eyes fluttering open after a kiss that skirts the edge of her cupid’s bow. “You never mentioned what’s going on today.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“A dinner. Nothing important.” With his mouth brushing against the edge of her lips, he says, “It’s basically tradition to be late to these things anyway.”

“I think you’re lying-” she responds, nearly cut off as he takes her lips onto his own. She tastes sweet as she always has, but the sound from her throat hints at something more mischievous. Any items on any itinerary ever is eviscerated by what is in front of him: Riza, his Riza, in a sundress and slowly eroding what sensibilities he still has left.

“Mi reina… you wound me. I would never,” he answers coyly. The aftershocks of their kiss still thrums on his lips. He feels electric, fizzing with the knowledge - the freedom - that he could have her here, that he could potentially love her here as her fingers grasps his shirt and she gasps over his fingers. She would let him, he thinks, with the way her lips seem to brush against him with the lightest of pressure, barely enough to feel but more than enough to tease. It’s beyond tempting to give into that baser desire, to have her as he wants her; but here he stills, thumbs drifting over her now-flushed skin.

He can feel the words on his lips, waiting to be said. There’s simply so much he wants to say to her, to tell her, divulge in her, that words fail him here. He hasn’t the faintest clue of where to even begin.

“Mi reina?” Riza asks, a flirtatious smile curling her lips upwards. “I guess that would make you ‘my king’, no?” She chews the inside of her lip, thinking. “Mi…”

“Rey.” He finishes for her. He doesn’t usually have a possessive streak a mile wide but for this nickname, Roy might make an exception.

“Quite a promotion you’ve been given, sir.”

Roy chuckles darkly - a reminder that she knows him well too. He tilts her head back slightly, enjoying how her eyes flit between his gaze and his mouth rapidly. “I think it’s deserved. An upgrade from the previous one you gave me.”

Riza swallows, focusing on something beyond his face. “The ones that I..?”

He tilts his own head to the side, to her exposed skin and in between kisses on her neck he tells her, “Back in East City. With your father.”

Understanding crests over her face. “Was I wrong?”

He pulls his head back. “No.”

“Because I happen to like that one,” she tells him, drawing back from his grip after a moment. “Still feels weird saying it though.”

“Then practice.”

Riza’s reply is shot out automatically with only a lick of her lips to prime it. “Make me.”

“Make you?”

She tightens the grip on his shirt, pulling him closer to repeat herself in his ear. “Make me, sir.”

Static screeches in his brain for a moment and he looks at her, amused, and she, so daring as she dons the smallest smirk on her face. “I think you and I both know I can make you say many things.” He breathes out through his nose, slow and deliberate.

“That was then.” She bites her lower lips. “This is now. In a completely different country.”  

“Is that right?” A brow flits up in her small act of defiance. His gaze drifts down to the thin straps straps of her dress and looks back at her; blood pounding in his ears. Riza takes a cursory step back and he steps forward. She seems to understand, quick study that she is. Wordlessly, he begins to unbutton his shirt and she never takes her eyes off him as she walks backwards towards the bed. She stumbles a little when her calves hit the edge of the mattress, releasing a tiny gasp, and he takes this opportunistic moment of her distraction to coax her onto the bed.

She moves deeper into the bed on her elbows to give him space to join her, and he does as his belt hits the floor.  

There is something deep and dark about how he likes her like this. Riza doesn’t show lust in an overt way: flushed skin, lips a brighter shade of pink, almost entranced when she sees what she wants... or perhaps it is him that’s been entranced by this very look the entire time. One loose strand of hair curls over her shoulder - perhaps by design - and Roy leans in to hungrily kiss her, situated in between her legs; hands roaming up her legs and he feels the goosebumps rise on her skin, under his fingertips. His kisses consume her, drinking greedily from her like a man dying from thirst. The straps of her sundress are pushed to the side as his hands shift up to her neck, thumbs splaying across her pulse point. She’s breathing hard when he pulls back.

“Take it off,” he orders quietly. To elicit a quicker response, his hand dips in between her legs, ghosting over the fabric of her smallclothes. Without needing to ask twice, she sits up and they both work to get the sundress over her head and he helps in freeing her of her bra.

Riza lies back down and is a sight against the sheets. Creamy thighs beckon to him like a ship to wreck, but instead he lets his fingers drift along her torso, up over the bones of her sternum and collarbone. He studies the edges of jawline, committing it to memory, before tracing the outline of her lips with his index finger. She trembles underneath his touch, and whimpers when his other hand slips under her underwear, slipping into slick folds. His fingers are coated in her sex with a single stroke. “Excited, are we?”

“I love a good menacing walk towards me,” she jests, grinning and arching her back as he toys with her.

“Tell me what you want, avecilla,” he murmurs against her lips, barely exerting pressure.

“That would be too easy, sir,” she manages between sighs. Her fingers fumble over the button of his trousers and he takes satisfaction in the fact that he’s reduced her to this state: hips gyrating in the hopes of some change in tension. She brings her palm to her forehead, mouth open and gasping.

His hand pulls back from her completely.

Riza opens her eyes in curiosity, concern or both and his fingers tug at the edge of her underwear. Her hips move up carefully to help him remove them: first through one leg and then on the other, he holds her leg as he glides it off her, kissing her calf gently.

“You have to tell me what you want. I could have you on your back and fuck you so slowly you’ll be begging me to let you come. Or should I eat you out instead, or fuck you so hard into the bed that everyone at dinner will know exactly what you’ve been doing and not just because you’ll be walking funny? Or if you really want, do all of the above and not recover until tomorrow?”

His fingers place her leg down with delicate care next to him. “But until then, we won’t start.”  

“Fuck you,” she manages in a sigh.

“Clearly. But how?” He moves in closer to her again and she watches him inch closer to her face. He closes his eyes, mouth hovering over her lips just so that they brush against each other as he speaks again, softer this time. At this distance he can feel the heat of her skin under his. “Avecilla, you have to tell your boyfriend how you want him to fuck -  you.”

-------

They finally arrive when the sun is melting into the ocean; its bright orange remnants are painted across the sea and gives everything else a deep red-orange hue.

Roy takes a moment to survey the view before him. Aerugo on a good day really didn’t disappoint, and San Clavel was certainly no exception to that rule. Despite the earlier heat of the day, it was getting cooler now and out of instinct he pulls Riza closer when she rubs her arm from a wandering breeze that passes through.

Riza hums in gratitude, casting a quick complementary glance at him, before she’s pulled back again to admiring the venue. It’s a converted battlement: the familiar white sandstone forms a parapet overlooking the eastern side of the bay, before dropping down into a garden seemingly overgrown with roses in every shade and hue of red. Beyond is where most of the party guests are congregating, on a raised terrace that hugs a large hall. The exterior is covered in dark green ivy, looking classically timeless rather than unruly.

Strings of fairy lights guide them towards the center of the terrace with a view of the sea, no doubt intending to create a glowing effect when the day’s light was finally extinguished. Soft, instrumental music plays from a quartet tucked away somewhere - a vast change from the stereo system and an mp3 player playlist manned by one of the cousins - behind round tables topped with plates and silverware and intricate flower arrangements for centerpieces. They are decorated with pristine white cloths that blow lightly with the breeze and the chatter around is light and pleasant.

Riza shivers again and she scoffs. “I think I underestimated how cool it would get.”

“Do you want me to go back for your cardigan?”

“No, don’t be silly. You can’t leave me alone with these people.” She points an index finger at him. “Not again.”

“They’re not so bad.”

She looks away with a noise that neither affirms of contradicts his statement. Roy grabs her hands, looking down at her with a smile. “I can understand that you’re anxious, but I’d also like this to be for us. It’s not every day we can do this without looking behind our backs and I have to say, I’m a little excited for it.”

Riza looks down to where he’s rubbing circles over the back of her hand and she laces her fingers with his, squeezing. “You’ve been giving this a lot of thought?”

“Have you not?”

She grins and turns away slightly like she does when she’s been caught red-handed. “It might’ve crossed my mind once or twice, yes.”

He smiles back at her and nods over to the bar set up from a market stand. “Then why don’t you go get yourself something? If not for the nerves but to help with warming you up.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re being awfully thoughtful today.”

“As if I’m ever not.” He pivots her shoulders as she cracks a laugh and he waves her on.

She hesitates for a moment, turning her head back towards him. “What do you want?”

He takes pleasure in making a meal out of admiring her; the affected way her gait has changed for the moment more than anything else. As if she could read his mind, Riza blushes a deep red. “Surprise me,” he tells her finally.

Roy watches as she disappears into the small crowd. It’s later than the start time but true to fashion, people are still trickling in. Some greet him with a courteous hug and a kiss on the cheek but thankfully, no one stays for a proper conversation as they make their way to the stars of this whole event.

Maes and Gracia stand near the parapet with a group of people around them. They are positively glowing in spite of the backdrop of the deepening sunset. Elicia is the most entertaining part of that picture, however - for every kiss and hug that’s transferred between the adults above her, Roy watches as she demands her own set. Maes is dutiful to the point of smothering, and her squeals of protest about his scratchy beard carry far over the gardens.

It’s a far cry from the family he knew three years ago, and he couldn’t be prouder of them for what they’ve endured and risen up from. He’d never tell the two of them out loud for fear of Maes’ ego never recovering to a normal size, but if he could get something even close to what they had found in each other, he’d consider himself lucky; amongst valued peers and someone to share successes and trials with.

Part of him thinks he may have found it; a smaller part of him whispers that he’s been wrong before. He’s even less sure about how to even approach the topic with her: they haven’t discussed it in any serious capacity and he’s loathe to bring it up in a space where she isn’t on equal footing with him.

The conversation with his mother from earlier floats to the forefront of his mind.

Large, neon-colored letters. Yes.

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe it really was that simple.

Behind him, he can hear approaching footsteps and the warmth in his chest reemerges as her hands wrap around his torso. Contently, teasingly, he says, “I thought you were going to bring me a surprise.” His last word is tapers off in emotion and volume as he notices the contrasting difference in skin tone on the arms around him. The breeze picks up once more, carrying a fragrance from a guiltier time. The warmth ices and turns into a quick-drop feeling of dread from his throat to his gut.

She doesn’t resist when he jerks himself out of the embrace, but her dark eyes are still locked on him, amused. Hand on her hip, she stands there in a red dress complimenting her deep, sun-kissed skin and dark loose ringlets of hair; the matching blood-red lips curl up into a self-satisfied smirk.

Greta sighs dramatically. “I am the surprise.”

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