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Maes Hughes clears his throat, takes a deep breath in, and begins the impossible task of saying goodbye to his best friend.
His best friend, who’s been dead for several days by this point, but who doesn’t feel truly gone. Not yet. But Maes has the feeling that’s about to change.
It’s the funeral, after all. And Maes is supposed to compile everything about Roy Mustang, every final thought and emotion, into a eulogy that will fall short no matter what he does. Because when it comes to Roy, there’s simply not enough words.
There... there are no words. Maes has come to realize every moment of a world without Roy in it is devastating, and something he doesn’t want any part of.
He has to keep living in it, though. If only so that Roy’s killer will not.
Another deep breath, now. Everyone’s eyes are staring, staring, and Maes feels his must begin. He’s prepared a few words, of course, though they don’t feel right. But if he waits much longer, he knows he’ll just burst into tears on the stand.
So, he starts talking.
“Hello, everyone.” A somewhat awkward beginning, but Maes Hughes is a somewhat awkward man, so he thinks it’s fitting. “I can’t even begin to describe my pride at being chosen to speak before you today. Or my sorrow that we’re here at all.”
A pause, a falter, maybe it’s the nerves, but he presses on with a nod from Gracia.
“As I’m sure many of you know, Major General Roy Mustang—” it still doesn't feel right to say “—was a great man, and an incredibly powerful alchemist. A soldier of the highest caliber, without whom countless lives would have been lost several times over. Including my own. Many of you know his name and his bravery, and I assure you your high opinions of the one and only Flame Alchemist are more than warranted.”
Nods and murmurs of approval. This time, the encouraging nod comes from a woman with blonde hair and three guns visible on her person even today. Maes Hughes freezes for a moment, just a moment, as he realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen Riza Hawkeye cry.
“But to me, Roy wasn’t some living legend. He was just my best friend. He’s... he’s always been my best friend.”
He forces down the sob that’s been building since he opened his mouth. He has far too much more to say.
“Roy was a difficult person to get to know, and so instead of discussing Roy’s military accomplishments, I’d like to share with you all a side of Roy Mustang that I was one of a very lucky few to be able to see.”
And, for the first time, Maes smiles.
“Roy and I met during our academy days, so I’ve known him since we were both just… kids, really. If you’d believe it, we met when I took the last slice of quiche from the dining hall. After that, Roy tried— with a decent amount of success —to best me in absolutely every class. Although if any of you know Roy as well as I do, or at all, you’re probably aware that such pettiness is normal from him.”
A scattering of laughs, and Maes chuckles himself. He’ll never forget the look on Roy’s face when they’d first met. An exasperated sort of irritation he’d seen many times from his best friend, though more often than not it became touched with a badly disguised fondness, especially as they got closer through the years.
“Roy was, generally speaking, not very interested in making friends, as he saw all my attempts at conversation as more challenges. Admittedly, they often were. But he didn’t know anyone else, and I was considered to be a bit... much by many of the other students, including Roy, and I suppose we were sort of... outcasts together, in a way. There are some things that you can’t avoid becoming close to someone after, and kicking the collective asses of several bullies together is one of them, apparently. We were stuck digging trenches together as punishment, of course, but... we were pretty much inseparable, after that.”
He doesn’t dare mention Heathcliff. He’s not an idiot. Even if he hadn’t been Ishvalan and therefore a taboo subject, Maes doesn’t want to bring up the man that shot his best friend right in front of him at said best friend’s funeral, anyway. He figures it might be in poor taste.
Countless memories do come to mind when he thinks of the three of them, however, even if he keeps them to himself. The one that had played behind his eyelids for days in Ishval was what he saw the moment he stepped onto that roof— the gunshot shot into Roy’s chest, the subsequent fire from his own weapon that he hadn’t even realized he lifted.
Maes isn’t sure what had terrified him more. The fact that Roy had nearly died— if the bullet had struck a few inches to either side or if, God forbid, Maes hadn’t followed him on a hunch —or the fact that Maes hadn’t even hesitated before shooting someone he’d once considered a close friend between the eyes just to protect Roy.
Or that he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Contrary to popular belief, Roy wasn’t really much of a ladies’ man,” Maes continues, shaking himself out of the thoughts. “In fact, I only saw him have eyes for one woman the entire time I knew him.”
Another glance at Hawkeye, here. He quickly draws his eyes away, unable to mention her by name. Maes knows she must know he’s talking about her, of course she does, and he watches as Havoc takes her hand in a comforting gesture. Platonic, of course, because Hawkeye’s only ever had eyes for Roy herself, and while Havoc’s own eyes may often be wandering, he’d never go there. Havoc is a good man. Roy wouldn't have trusted him otherwise.
“But as the years passed, I watched him let down his walls for more and more people, and I always felt unbelievably proud to be one of those that Roy Mustang trusted most in the world.” Even if I didn’t deserve it. Even if it’s my fault he’s gone. “He led his team fearlessly, he took two younger alchemists under his wing selflessly, and no matter how busy he got being a hotshot alchemist—” he can't resist at least one pun, okay, “—he always made time for everyone. He always made time for me, no matter how annoyed he would get by my constant phone calls and impromptu visits.”
Another deep breath, for the ending. He could do this without crying. He’s made it this far.
He feels the tears coming now though, and, well, he lets them fall.
“Roy Mustang was the kind of man you could depend on. And he was every bit as brilliant as I’m sure you’ve all heard, but impossibly, he was more than that. Roy was... he was the kind of friend who trips you during a running drill, causing you to land on your face in front of your entire class. But he was also the kind of friend who would tackle you to the ground when an explosion went off during the war, shielding your body with his own, and giving himself a nasty concussion as a result. He was the kind of friend who would threaten to burn you to a crisp for teasing him about getting married or bragging too much about your own lovely wife, and then drive several hours during a storm to the hospital just so he could meet your newborn daughter, his goddaughter, and be moved to tears when he got to hold her for the first time. He was the kind of friend who would scare you half to death with his reckless, self-destructive behavior, and then come to your daughter’s third birthday party with an oversized teddy bear and use his alchemy to light her birthday candles. He was the kind of friend who—”
Maes’ voice breaks, a sob overtaking him. It's difficult to continue, but he does so anyway.
“Roy Mustang was the best friend I’ve ever had, and ever will have,” Maes tells the crowd, no longer ashamed of the tears rolling down his cheeks. “He was the best man I’ve ever known, and without him, the world is a much darker place indeed. I will miss him more than I can possibly describe. Thank you.”
He steps down off the podium, amid quiet, respectful applause. Maes still somehow feels he should’ve said more. It isn't enough.
It will never be enough, and nothing will ever be again.