author's note:
So I've had this story in my files for quite sometime now. And I'm still deciding if I should continue it or not. I love Buddy Complex and I can't wait for season two! I'm convinced that Sunrise makes the best mecha animation. BuddyCom is next to Gundam Wing in my heart.
Lemme know what you think of this story, k? :)
Sapien
Rorudesu-chan
Chapter 1
The year was 2089.
On a winter day in New York City, Dio downed a glass of whiskey in an attempt to kick back and let loose. Of course for someone like Dio Weinberg, the idea of having fun was confined to any kind of activity done in solitude. Captain Gengo Kuramitsu dispatched his crew members earlier that day on the premise that everyone in the Cygnus battleship deserved a holiday for a day or two, three at most. And why not? It was the end of the year, the end of a long, tiring year fighting off the enemies of the Free Pact Alliance.
This generosity, however, was frowned upon by a certain blonde Ensign who took polite cares in addressing the need to stay onboard in case the Zogilians decide to attack the New York base. The Ensigns, at least, should stay alert for enemy clusters lurking about. It was of utmost importance, he said to the captain whose drowsy-looking eyes and a lopsided smile pleaded for Dio to convince him otherwise. But Dio's efforts were futile. Much thanks to his coupling buddy, Watase Aoba. He literally dragged Dio outside his cabin and pushed him down the ramp of the airship's entrance.
"Merry Christmas, Dio!" greeted Petty Officer Mayuka that afternoon.
"Why so serious?" said Fromm, helping Dio to his feet. The coupler nearly slipped again as he was currently without snow boots like the rest.
"Christmas?" asked Aoba, easing down the icy ramp. "You guys still celebrate Christmas in this decade?"
"We're not that advanced in the future. Sorry to be a disappointment, Aoba." Elvira tossed her ginger hair and hooked her arm to Lee's.
"Let's go!" Anessa mimicked the scientist's gesture of affection by latching onto Fromm. "We have a lot of shopping to do!"
She dragged Mayuka along who stole a glance at the pilots who were being left behind. A raven-haired girl approached Aoba with a silent, endearing smile. The ex-Zogilia pilot's presence was a hindrance to her feelings toward the boy from the past. But seeing the happiness constant in Aoba's disposition meant that there was a fair chance he didn't have the desire to return to his time anymore. Everything was at peace, thought Mayuka. That is until the elite coupler decides to pick a fight with him.
"Aoba, you idiot!" Dio brought a fist to Aoba's cheek. Along the way, he'd learned how to dramatically exclaim his name, complementing it with a fist or two whenever his coupling buddy miserably fails the soldier's standard of conduct.
"What the hell, Dio?!" Aoba retaliated with a kick to his coupling buddy's shin.
Dio was about to deliver his left hook when Hina stepped in. "Please stop this, Dio."
"What's the matter with you? Can't stay away from your Bradyon Next for too long?" Aoba rubbed the sore spot on his cheek. "Or is it me you can't bear to stay away from?" He laughed and added, "Sorry, Dio. But I owe Hina a date today." Aoba's comment caused Hina's cheeks to color considerably.
"Tch," muttered Dio. He started walking off the opposite direction.
"That's all the fight you've got?" said Aoba. "What's wrong with him? He's all over the place!" he turned to the girl beside him. Aoba took Hina's hand and led her to a car nearby. He wasn't about to let a selfish coupler like him ruin his day with the beautiful Hina.
-o0o-
Dio asked the bartender to fill up his glass again. The events of that afternoon were still nagging at the back of his head. He wanted to blur the memories with as much alcohol his system could take. He might as well take advantage of the three-day holiday the captain gave the Cygnus crew.
There was an aftertaste in each swig of whiskey he took. Not bitter, not sweet, but the pang of truth and realization found in Aoba's words. The idiot was right. He was all over the place. Not one to succumb easily to his emotions, Dio decided today would be one of those exceptions. It wasn't just the people and the weather. It was the day itself: the twenty-fourth of December.
"Another, sir?"
"Yeah," he breathed and tilted his glass.
Sax and piano filled up the pub's entertainment menu by eight. An olive-skinned woman in a sleek black dress took the stage and began singing old tunes dating several decades back. A couple rose from their tables and glided smoothly to the center. They seemed to have led the others to the dance floor as well. Meanwhile the music of the evening lulled those in the corners. Their concealment in the dimly-lit spaces of the bar proved comfort to their souls. The only other sound that seemed to clash with the jazz n' blues was the distinct voices that came off from a television. It hung at a convenient space beside the shelf of shot glasses and beer mugs. Tonight's program was an interview with a couple of New York's finest about how these individuals celebrated Christmas amidst the ongoing war with the Zogilia Repulic.
Dio's right cheek was leaning heavily on the base of his palm. There was a glazed look in his eyes. A thought played in his mind—fate had a way of teaching him he didn't deserve any happiness. The other thought which persisted from being muddled by his alcohol intake was his mental calculation of the temperature outside the bar. He spun lazily around his barstool. People were coming in and out of the place. They were mostly Americans. The men's moustaches were peppered with snow, as were the ladies' velvet coats and knee-high boots. For a moment there, he felt absolutely ridiculous in his neatly-pressed, white Valiancer pilot uniform. The red scarf that Aoba carelessly wound around his neck when he dragged him out of his cabin was probably the only thing that spoke of his ignorance to the city's climate. Never mind. He took another swig from his glass. He wouldn't want to stay long in this place anyway.
Dio Weinberg made his way home to the White Swan at around two or three. Maybe at four a.m. Actually, he'd rather not remember. He fumbled with his room's passkey when his phone seemed to have jumped out of his pants first. He only bent down to pick it, but suddenly found himself diving head first on the carpeted floor. The hallway was quiet. Aside from the light beeping sounds coming from the control room two floors below, there was no cheerful female chatter, no boisterous male chuckling—indicating the absence of his co-pilots and the crewmembers. The corners of his lips turned upward. Bliss.
He laid there for as long as he could remember. The door to his room remained shut. The room's passkey was still tucked somewhere inside the pocket of his pants. Before drifting off to sleep, he mustered the strength to reach his phone and tap its screen awake with his index finger. Several messages waited to be read. He scrolled down, down, and saw, through half-lidded eyes, Watase Aoba's name, Elvira's, Fromm's, Jarl's, and even Hina's. He only opened one text message. Aoba's probably. Dio summarized it into, 'Go home, idiot.'
And then there was the matter of the missed calls. Surprisingly, none of them were Aoba's. They were not even from any of the Cygnus members, but from one lone person. Weinberg, Fiona. The name registered on the screen shot him awake. He could feel the blood rushing in his head. Dio sat up and tried to keep his focus. He opened the messaging application and typed with trembling thumbs: Sorry, Fiona. Big brother was on an important assignment. Don't worry. I didn't forget. He sent the text right away. He'd call, but he would rather not wake up Fiona and risk letting her know his current state through slurred speech. Dio followed it up with another message seconds later: Did you make sure to bring the right flowers? Mother would love pansies on her grave. Dio only hoped that with his current state, he didn't commit any typos.
The next morning, he checked his phone to see if his little sister called again. The throbbing pain in his head grew undeniably worse when it came to him that the last message was sent to a contact number registered under the name, Watase, Aoba.