A/N: It's a rainy day, and I thought it would set the mood for a LelouchShirley ficlet, and here it is!
Warnings: Um, spoilers for the first few episodes of the first season?
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own it.
She's looking at him.
(He does not think of kisses in the rain, thin arms, warm lips and the scent of strawberries. He does not think of the faint taste of soda and her hands tangling in his hair. He thinks of nothing at all.)
No recognition.
(It hurts. It settles like a weight in his stomach and he ignores it, does not despair because this is what is right, correct? The correct path. She does not deserve—)
He turns and walks away.
(—him, the devil, or perhaps the devil's advocate. Hell is not a place for her. She belongs in life; she is no Persephone. Pomegranate seeds are red and bleeding like a wound, spilling from the skin of the fruit, and they would not look good beading the edges of her mouth. Her sunshine eyes would look wrong.)
His heart doesn't break.
(It cannot, not anymore. The devil doesn't have a heart.)
Perhaps her heart would, if she remembered.
(But she doesn't. Angels might not have hearts either; or maybe they do and it's not beating caged in their chests. It's their wings.)
There's a lump in his throat.
(Love is a sin between angels and devils.)
And he breaks.
Feedback appreciated!