Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or the song 'Gloomy Sunday'. I can't really say who wrote it, because a bunch of different interpretations have been written. It's also often referred to as 'The Hungarian Suicide Song' because of the fact that it caused hundreds of people to commit suicide in the early 20th century, and was banned in several countries. Thank you and have a nice day. :D

Sunday is gloomy
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless

It's Sunday again. My least favorite day of the week.

Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach
Of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought
Of ever returning you
Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday

I put on a black dress and a wool jacket. It's raining today. He would have hated it if he were still here.

On my way to the cemetery, I pick up some flowers at Grace's shop, like I do every Sunday.

I reach the cemetery and look at the tombstones. He was buried next to his best friend. I smile knowing that they're together again, after all the time they were apart. My grin widens, but falls just as quickly when I read his name etched in the granite of the grave marker.

Roy Mustang

I've seen this particular tombstone many times before, of course. But it never fails to shock me when I remember that he's dead, even when I'm expecting it. Inevitably, the tears start to roll down my cheeks and lean my back against the stone slab.

"I miss you, Roy. I want to be with you." I whisper.

I stand up and brush the grass off the back of my skirt. Then, I place the flowers gently in front of the tombstone and walk off, nearly hitting an old man at the grave of a woman, his wife I assume, in my blind rush to get out of that place, and away from the corpse of the man I once loved.

Sunday is gloomy
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided
To end it all
Soon there'll be flowers and prayers
That are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know
That I'm glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul
I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday

I can't take it anymore.

People say he needed me to function. But it's not true. It was the other way around. Maybe we were interdependent. Either way, it doesn't matter anymore, because he's dead. Dead dead dead. Gone and never coming back. Finis. Whatever you want to call it, he's not here anymore and he never will be.

And I can't stand it.

I take my favorite pistol out of my hip holster, the same infamous one I used to threaten Havoc and the gang with when I still had the strength.

I know they'll miss me, of course. I don't want them to, but in a way I do. It makes so little sense that it's perfectly accurate. But they want me to be happy, right? I'm not happy when I'm not in his arms.

I hold the barrel of the gun up to my temple.

"Forgive me, Roy." I whisper and pull the trigger. There is a flash of unberable pain, a redness, and then…

Nothing.

Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart dear
Darling I hope
That my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you
How much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday
Gloomy Sunday

I wake up in the arms of my lover. I turn and look at his face, so tranquil in its calm slumber. I smile and kiss his cheek softly.

"Thank you." I close my eyes and wonder if it was all just a dream, or if this is the true bliss that is so commonly referred to as heaven.