"After tomorrow- it's over. Are you really okay with that? Are you okay... leaving?" That's what he asks you, eyes closed and a faint, wry smile upon his face at his own choice of vocabulary. You stir, lifting your head unwillingly from the pile of pillows you were resting on.
"You're questioning me? Now?" You smile a little- smile, not smirk, because after what you two have just done, it's hard to feel in control of anything anymore. "You know better than that, Knight of Zero. Besides, isn't it a little too late to change the plan?" You scoff a little at his uncertainty, but inside you know that's his nature, caring for each and every one around him.
His hand twists the sheets into his fist and the words drop like anvils from his lips.
"Once you die, why would I still be living? You won't be here."
His green eyes open and – so clear and earnest, you think – look straight through you and pierce you to the core.
"Don't try to use silly things like 'rebirth' and 'time will heal', because they won't work on me, Lelouch."
You blink, startled slightly by this unexpected turn of conversation.
"You'll get over it."
"What?"
You laugh. "There is truth in old wives' sayings, Suzaku." His name rolls off your tongue in a familiar, affectionate way. "Besides, they say idiots forget easily."
"Wha- you think being a martyr is all that, but that doesn't help the people who have to watch you go! This is what the person who couldn't think of a better plan than to instate world peace by making his lover kill him says? The person who even wants to spend the night before in bed with said lover?"
An undignified noise of protest leaves your mouth and before you can put your emotions in check, you sit up too despite the protest in your muscles and shout back at his surprised face, feeling your own redden.
"You – you wanted to too...! If you didn't want to you could've just left, you know, stupid jock!"
But inside you come to the realization that yes, after tomorrow, everything would be over. In a way you're glad, although you'd never admit it to any one. The last two years have taken more out of you than you'd ever thought, and you look to your upcoming death as a release from burden- while finally accomplishing your goal.
But you'll miss him.
The brunet blinks, and you feel your anger drain away at his expression – so endearing, that confused look – and you breathe heavily, also confused at your uncharacteristic outpour of feeling.
You'll definitely miss him, you think - as his lips curve upward resignedly and he leans to touch his forehead to yours in apology, black and brown strands intermingling – and as a slight sigh escapes you both, you realize that no more would there be moments like these. No more gentle kisses – like now, as your lids close unwillingly and you let yourself succumb to desire – no more nights like these, no more of the playful lovers' banter you had gotten so used to.
After tomorrow, you think – as his lips descend upon yours and your limbs entangle once more in a rhythm you cannot deny yourself – no more.
You walk away from him, your knight, your lover, your friend, the only one you trust in this world now without a backwards glance. You know what he looks like in the deep indigo of Zero's suit, the burnt-amber curls instead of straight ebony locks dissonant above that gold-trimmed collar – and you, you in the ridiculous garb of the ninety-ninth emperor of Britannia, you walk away to face your death.
You know he's standing straight, snapped to attention like the soldier he's been and your hands are still missing the weight of the mask you've donned for two years, the mask you passed on to him. You know he knows what you both have to do today, and it is only a matter of hours before the last play is made in the life you've called a game for so long.
As your footsteps lead you farther away from him, you wonder if he hates you now, just as everyone on the globe does. Your hegemony made sure of that, and you know more than a thousand curses are laid upon you each and every hour. But you still can't help but wonder if you've managed to isolate the one who you have opened up to, shared the most of yourself, and loved for most of your life, short as it has been.
You exhale, air coming in a short burst. It doesn't matter. Suzaku lives for his own beliefs and will live on after you, upholding those beliefs to the end, just as you will die for yours- both of you, stubborn to the end.
Maybe that very pigheadedness is what attracted you to him in the first place, and you let yourself smile as you reach the exit of the dark throne room because maybe now, you're feeling a little regret.
You almost turn around to say the three little words that bubble up unexpectedly to your tongue. Your fingers are almost upon the shiny brass door handle gleaming dimly in the smoky darkness. This is your last chance. The three little words from the heart, three insignificant little words you realize now that you –
have never said.
But instead, you pull, and the feeble strength of your arms is just enough to open the grandiose entrance and let a stream of brilliant light shine through. And you leave.
Because, you think as you settle yourself into the makeshift throne atop of the ridiculous moving float, three little words are not good enough.
Not for him.
And you smile once more as the float starts moving.