Warning: Very dark, very angst. Kind of OOC, I think? It's just something that I whipped up out of boredom.
Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.
She opens the door to an empty apartment. The suitcase in her hand is lowered onto the floor and she slowly closes the door behind. Her once bright golden orbs travel around the familiar yet painful space before her.
She steps forward once… twice, then thrice. Her feet keep dragging her toward the white clothed sofa, and she sits down. Her head lifts slightly so she is looking at the dusty wooden ceiling above.
"What are you saying?" she asked breathlessly over dinner.
He looked away for a split second before turning back to her. "I'm sorry…"
"What are you saying?" she pressed. She couldn't believe this was true. She couldn't believe he's telling her this, right now.
He cleared his throat. "I love her," he answered, looking her directly in the eye with an unwavering expression. "I'm leaving."
"You can't," she whispered.
His eyes… His bright violet eyes… They were so cold and unloving and determined, and she knew at that moment that she'd lost him forever.
She swallowed and bit back the flowing tears. "Those three years mean nothing to you?"
He looked like he was refraining himself from reaching for her. "I'm sorry, C.C…."
"Smile," she tells herself. "You can do better than this. He's just a boy. He was a boy when you met him. Remember how you always made fun of his naïveness. Remember how he matured just for you…"
"No!" She stands up abruptly and shakes her head. "You can do better than this." With an artificial smile on her face, she turns around and pulls away the white cloth, revealing a brown sofa underneath. Next, she removes another cloth from the table, and goes on to open the shades on the window. Then she moves to the clothed mirror. Pulling the cloth away halts her action immediately.
"You look beautiful," he smiled while wrapping an arm over her slender waist.
She tilted her head so that she was leaning back against him. "Do I?" she chuckled.
"Always." He tenderly kissed her neck.
A light laugh escaped her as she reached up one hand to ruffle his perfect raven locks.
"You can do better than that," she said with a smirk.
With a frozen smile on her face, she walks toward her suitcase, automatically picks it up, puts it on the clothed bed and unclasps the straps. Removing all her clothes, she emotionlessly smiles as she goes over to the closet where she will hang the clothes.
Opening it, she realizes how empty it's become. With a small sigh, she starts putting her outfits on the hangers, and stops when she spots something in the far right side of the closet.
He forgot to take his dark blue jacket with him.
Tremblingly reaching out, she lightly touches the jacket and can feel his warmth emitting from it.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
"No," she stubbornly answered, only earning a chuckle from him. He quickly shed his dark blue jacket and wrapped it around her small shoulders.
"Didn't you hear me, boy? I said I'm not cold."
"You're a bad liar." With that, he threw her a knowing smirk and walked on while gently pulling her behind him. Her small wrist was secured protectively in his hand.
Her feet wobble and she feels the whole world closing down on her. Quickly retreating to her suitcase, she pulls out a bottle. The familiar, pain-reliever, and toxic chemical bottle that she has come to love so much, that she cannot live without. Ever since that day, she's started an addiction. The deathly pills are her medicine, her pain takers.
Spilling some out onto her trembling palm, she stares at them for a split second before bringing them up to her mouth and swallowing them.
A coughing fit hits her. Her body resists, begging her to spit the pills out but she refuses to. She clasps a hand over her mouth and forces them down her scathed throat.
Falling down onto the bed, she drapes an arm over her forehead and closes her eyes. A single tear trails down her pale cheek.
"C.C., wake up."
She slowly opened one eye and stared at the man in front of her. He was smiling.
"What's going on?" she asked sleepily, annoyed that he had the nerve to disturb her sleep.
"Today is your first day of work." The bright smile was still on his handsome face. "So I decided to make it even more special."
"What?" She forced herself to sit up and gasped. In his hands was a tray of food. Just a simple breakfast but the fact that he'd made it and brought it to her was a pleasant feeling.
A rare smile broke out on her pretty face. "Thank you, boy."
She cracks one eyelid open and is met with a harsh sunray.
"What day is today?" she whispers to no one in particular.
"My first day of work…?"
Tossing around, she stares out the window next to her bed, and a sudden realization hits her.
Sitting up abruptly, she grasps the bottle and looks at it. Half of the pills are gone. Her eyes travel to the cellular phone lying on the bedside table, and she reaches for it.
If I'm still alive the next day, that means there's still hope for us, and you'll pick up the phone…
Her hands are trembling as she waits for the other end to answer. The signal goes silent instead.
She desperately dials again. And again, no response. The line goes dead after a few seconds.
Frustrated, she throws the phone down onto the mattress and wraps her arms around her small frame. Her eyes are wild and teary and red. She makes herself appear smaller as her whole frame shakes with each time she sobs.
Noon arrives.
Dragging her tired feet to the bathroom, she opens the door, steps in, and walks toward the mirror. Her lime hair is still beautiful despite her effortless attempts to fix it. There are no gray strands that are an obvious indication of pain and suffering. Something in the corner catches her interest.
Turning around, she sees the cologne. The cologne that he used. So he must have forgotten to pack it as well in his haste to move out.
A tiny smile makes its way onto her quite pale face as she picks it up and examines it. She then sits down on the cold bathroom tiles and spills out the entire bottle's content. Her eyes soullessly and uninterestedly study each drop.
"What do you want for dinner?" she asked one night.
"Is it pizza again?" he called from the living room. A playful note was evident in his tone, and she rolled her eyes knowing he couldn't see it.
"It's not," she answered shortly. "So what do you want?"
A minute passed by before he answered, "Pasta."
Putting the decorated dishes on the table, she smiles at her efforts. The china dishes are beautifully decorated and their contents, the pasta, look equally high quality. A satisfactory look crosses her face because she knows how much this dinner will please him.
Sitting down in a chair, she patiently waits for his arrival. He must have been on his way home by now. It's already past his work's hour. The smile never falters from her face.
Fifteen minutes pass… Half an hour passes… An hour and thirty minutes go by… Two hours… He still isn't home.
A worried look makes its way onto her even paler face. She glances toward the clock and frowns. What could have taken him so long? Traffic? More paperwork? His boss-
A cough interrupts her thought process and she doubles over. Coughing and coughing with her hands covering her mouth, she falls down from the chair and onto the wooden floor. When she slowly and tremblingly removes her hands, a cry escapes her. Her hands, her pale hands are stained deep in a color of blood red. Her chin feels wet, and when she gingerly touches it, she sees that it, too, is painted with the color red.
A river of tears flow down from her puffy eyes as she clasps her hands over her chest and doubles over. Another coughing fit hits her, and this time, she coughs out even more blood. The floor surrounding her is covering in a dark red color.
She squeezes her hands and stands up. Her feet are wobbly and she's shivering but she doesn't care. What she cares about is…
Then she sees herself in the mirror.
"You look beautiful."
"Do I?"
"Always."
She screams as she picks up the china plate and hurls it at the mirror, breaking it into thousand sharp pieces. Then laughing to herself, she slowly drags her feet toward the living room. A trail of blood is sinisterly shadowing her.
The bottle is two-third gone, but she doesn't care. What she cares about is how much she has left and whether it will be enough. Weakly, she dumps the pills out onto her palm and once again forces them down her damaged throat without the aid of water.
She sinks deeper into the sofa and stares at the space ahead. It is so empty and cold and lonely. She is so lonely. He is her everything. He is her cure. Without him, she is nothing but a lifeless person. He is the center of her world but he doesn't know that, and he will never get to.
A sound captures her attention. It is the sound of the clock going back in time. She glances over and sees the hands of the clock travelling backward.
A smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she slowly tilts sideways on the sofa. Before she knows it, her head hits the cushion with her hands clutch the bottle that is the center of her world ever since he left.
She feels so sleepy, so she closes her eyes. The sounds of the clock going backward are echoing in the background. Her fingers slowly uncoil and her smile gradually disappears…
Her phone rings. The caller ID says Lelouch.
A/N: I cannot take all the credits. I was watching this MV called "Painkiller," and suddenly I had an urge to write a one-shot for Lelouch and C.C. based on this concept. So that's how the story was born. I hope it wasn't too bad because it's my first time attempting something like this - something so dark like this O.O Sincerely, I hope it was enjoyable. Thank you for reading! Reviews will be appreciated much!