♕ The Hawk's Eye ♕

Thinking about this drew a chuckle out of him. As much as he complained about his coworkers’ tendency to select him as their test subject, he’d never consider firing any of them if he were given the power to. As time went by, they had become like one big family; a family he held close to his heart. 

As he sat there under the sun, the wind carried a flute’s sound to him. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, but instead focused on the notes that drifted in the air, letting them sing their lullaby to him. As the melody continued, it slowly swept Roy under its wave.

Though he had never heard the song before, it sparked a sense of familiarity deep within his mind. They said music could convey distinct emotions, whole stories even, but this...? No song had ever succeeded in creating such a connection between his thoughts and the notes. The rational part of his mind told him to simply brush it off, but whatever this sensation was, he was certain it wasn’t a product of his imagination. It felt way too realistic to be just that.

Roy’s eyes shot open and he bolted up from the bench. He glanced around, trying to locate the artist behind the flute’s rapidly fading tune, but there was no one in sight. Frowning, he grabbed his bag and started following the sound deeper into the park. Rest be damned, he had to know who the artist was. He knew all too well that his thoughts wouldn’t give him peace of mind otherwise. 

After searching the park for some minutes without the flute’s sound there to guide him, he noticed a woman sitting on a bench far to his left, a black flute case sitting beside her. Thanking his lucky stars, he walked to the bench.

"Excuse me, Miss?"  

When the woman turned to face him, Roy's breath got caught in his throat. He froze in place. 

That vigilance in those warm brown eyes, the way she carried herself, how her long blonde tresses cascaded down her shoulders and reflected the sunlight… He instantly recognized those beautiful traits, but how?

The woman stared at him for a moment, as if she were caught in same state Roy found himself in. Finally he snapped out of his haze, clearing his throat before taking a step forward.

"I apologize for disturbing you, but were you the one playing the flute just minutes ago?" 

“Yes, it’s one of my newest compositions,” she answered without breaking their eye contact.

He sighed in relief.

"I’m glad to have found you,” he gave her a careful smile. “I've never heard a song more beautiful. You must be a talented artist." 

The woman blinked once before realization brightened her features.

"Thank you… I’m honored to hear that," she smiled and gestured Roy to sit down on the bench, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister— "  

"Roy Mustang," he offered her his hand after sitting down. From close by, he could sense a hint of confusion, or maybe wonder, he wasn’t quite sure yet, in the way her left eyebrow quirked upward.

"Riza. Riza Hawkeye," she shook his hand. Hers felt cool in his, but softer than he had expected.

"The pleasure's mine, Miss Hawkeye."

How strange… Her name felt familiar on his lips, the syllables connecting to one another in the most natural way. As if he had spent countless times calling out her name, so many that voicing it resembled the art of reading a poem; even the slightest change of tone could mean a world of difference.

"Have we... met somewhere?"

Roy's eyes widened when his mind registered Miss Hawkeye's question. Could it be that he wasn't the only one who felt that strange sensation of familiarity?

"To be honest, I am wondering the same myself. Though I don't remember meeting you before, there’s this feeling in my mind that tells me otherwise,” he shifted his focus on the ground before giving her a nervous chuckle, "I'm not making any sense here, am I? I must sound crazy…" 

"No, not at all," her answer made Roy turn his focus back on her, the sincerity glinting in her eyes almost palpable as she looked at him, "I don't know why, but I feel the same way."

It felt like eternity passed in the few minutes they spent looking into each other’s eyes, not a single word exchanged between them. For a short while, Roy thought those warm brown eyes had put him under a spell, one he had no desire to break free from.

Their moment, however, was broken by two laughing children as they ran by the bench, their mother following right on their heels, a concerned tone in her exclaimed warnings.

Roy and Miss Hawkeye looked at each other, smiling in amusement.

"Would you like to grab some coffee, Miss Hawkeye? There’s one splendid cafe nearby,” Roy asked.

“I would like that. Very much, actually,” she smiled and stood up, grabbing her flute case from the bench. Roy smiled and followed in suit, then taking the lead.

As they walked down the street, a wave of contentment washed over him. Seeing Miss Hawkeye walk beside him felt so natural, as if there had always been an invisible puzzle in his life, one with a missing piece that he had found now. He knew he had only just met her, but a voice in his heart whispered he could trust her with everything he had.