Warning: This is a YAOI! Which means boyxboy! Don't like? Don't read. There is this nifty thing called a 'back button'. And I don't care for flames; I'll just spit them back at you.

I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, as much as I wished I did.


Fire.

Flames.

That is what I am.

Midnight blue eyes stared into space, a distant look present on his face. Ghosts of flames danced along the edge of his vision as he sipped at the glass of whiskey in his hands.

Regret gnawed at his stomach when he saw those flames; even if it was just a memory. He closed his eyes briefly, the flames coming fully into his view; then opened them again, willing away the fire. He took another sip of his whiskey and set it aside. Hot whiskey was not what he wanted.

He sat forward and ran a hand through his ebony hair. He sighed.

He looked at the whiskey again and frowned when the whiskey burst into flame.

Ever since that day, he tried not to use his power; however, the less he used it the more it would unintentionally come out. Being a Pyrus without a mate to anchor his emotions made him unstable and very dangerous.

A knock split the silence and he wearily looked at the door to his apartment. He sighed again and rose quietly.

He cracked the door open and peered through to see whoever lied beyond. Blonde hair and whiskey colored eyes greeted him. "Hawkeye?" he ground out, voice hoarse and raw.

She smiled slightly, before asking, "Mind if I come in?"

He nodded and closed the door to undo the chain. The door swung open to let Hawkeye in. She entered and closed the door as he went back to his chair and sunk into it. Her brows furrowed as she looked him over. "You look like hell."

He snorted. His mind drifted to what he saw this morning in the mirror. His eyes had dark circles under them and his face needed a shave. If he was pale before, the gaunt face he saw earlier was ghost-like. He did look like hell. And he felt even worse. He had been depressed since he was eighteen and that only worsened when Riza met Jean and that incident. Now he was miserable and had a horrible habit of drinking the day away.

"You really should lay off the booze," Riza said softly, snapping him from his stupor.

"Tch… it really won't matter," he paused to clear his throat, "Gives me something to do."

"Maybe you should go back to working. It's healthier than drinking your life away."

He shook his head. "Not after last time. I-I don't want something like that happening again."

Riza sighed, irritated, "You know why it happened. Restricting your emotions like that and wearing those masks is just asking for trouble! We all knew you'd snap eventually."

"I don't want to talk about this."

Riza sighed again. "Okay." She sat down across from him, her eyes drifting to the burning whiskey. "You should get out more. Or… at least vent somewhere."

"I know." He sank deeper into the chair.

"The reason I came here… is because…," she looked back at him, "I was hoping, that you might come back to work."

"No," he answered immediately.

"Roy, please. Just think about it."

"After what happened 2 years ago, you really think I would even consider putting myself back in that environment?"

"It's not the same. The building is bigger and has a great deal more fire safety features." He snorted again. "There are multiple fire sprinklers in every room and, if you do come back, the rooms you will be in will have safety showers in the room."

"I don't think those are designed for fire hazards."

"But they could douse you if you needed it," she shot back at him. "Please, Roy. Just think about it. We are all worried about you. Hughes nearly came over and kicked down your door."

Roy chuckled at that, Hughes would do something like that.

"I won't force you; you know full well that I could, but I won't," Riza said sadly.

He looked up at the ceiling; maybe… no. He shouldn't. Not after… but, his life was pretty pathetic right now and with the mass amounts of liquor he drank on a daily basis, a source of income might be a good idea. He sighed. "I'll try."

Riza eyes widened. "But…," he continued, "If I start to lose it… I will leave."

"That's all I ask for," she said with a small smile.


So, can anyone guess what Roy's profession is? R&R