hi! so this is a project i summoned out of the blue. no guarantees for excellent grammar and quality content, but i swear i'll give it my all. i humbly ask of my readers to please be open-minded about this whole thing. i accept suggestions for as long as this story goes. i do not own the series or any of the characters. i am merely a fan who just loves to go deep with everything sometimes.
take serious note of the following warnings that are going to take place in this story:
(1) this story is male x male. if you disapprove of it, i highly recommend you to exit this story immediately. i am not going to accept any action of homophobia if ever, in the reviews section. (2) trolls are to be ignored. (3) furthermore, there will be mentions of suicide, depression and drug intake but nothing too graphic or grave. i will not risk this to be put in the M rated section, because i am on strict compliance to keep this limited to rated T. 4) beware of coarse language. 5) please be alert of other trigger warnings in future chapters as well. (again, not too serious. i don't intend to hurt anyone with this at all.) do not fret, i'll be sure to warn you beforehand. the author cares for you. stay safe and ily all ^^
btw, consider this chapter a simple interlude. so it won't be much of a thrill at first since my main goal here is building immersion. this is roughly similar to setting the mood for a play or smth like that.
TIME LAPSE
wingsycthe
I - Collision Course
Hours fall, minutes die, seconds wither. The eternal march of events wears on - the general mechanism of time. Time, which I consider an unstoppable entity constraining a phenomenal haze somewhere in the perpetual, galactical wonders of our universe, is what I believe to have the potential to determine an individual's fate to redeem his one life.
Abstract, untouchable, uncontrollable and highly unpredictable, time is swift, uncanny and definitely doesn't require an undo button. Time can bring you the best and the worst, no matter what it is you deserve. Time will either be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on what you deem fit in your situation.
Did time serve mewell? Did time heal for me if time did the opposite? Is time my friend? Or is time my foe?
If I were to question myself, time indeed served me well in making a complete mess out of my existence. What a surprise. Time being my friend? I don't seem to recall much, but I've had my days. So little, so sad. Foe? Oh, you don't need to ask. It's already pretty obvious.
Time decided it would be hillarious by going all fun and games on me until my 10th birthday passed.
Then, it wanted to humour me some more and willed my mother to commit suicide.
It cursed my father, who I have always seen as the insufferable bastard who abandoned Mother, to be sent in prison for committing adultery out of his insanity. Hence, shame tarnished my family's name.
And for the last trick, it cursed my innocent, little siblings - my sister Nunnally, the younger of the two, handicapped. It was derived from a terminal illness she caught when she was only months old. My brother Rolo, suffering from severe trauma because of our mother's suicide, therefore forcing him to live under the shadow of a recluse to this day.
It's only an understatement if I slipped into a nightmare because of it all.
Everything that happened after waking up was a blur. Screaming - mine. Crying - mine as well. Crippling anxiety. Frozen fear. Unspeakable fury wanting to eat me alive. Then, the heavy exhaustion pulling me back down on the bed followed. I took this as a cue to calm my nerves down, my distraught heart that was beating dangerously fast. I need to get my shit together before I'll go too deep in.
It hurts to breathe... I think, lifting a trembling hand to rest on my chest. It always hurts. Mother…is this how you felt every night?
My heartbeat continues to race, whilst memories of my mother's lavender eyes, a feature that we shared. They were staring soulless into my petrified ones. It plagued every corners of my brain.
Mom…? Mom, why aren't you speaking…? Why are you covered…in so much red? Mom? Mom!
That child's voice never fails to hit me at the right places.
"Shit…" I rub my hands across my face in sheer frustration. My eyes are burning yet again. Worse, they feel wet. This is the fifth night this week, the second week this month and the sixth month this year. The breakdowns and the nightmares seem to go on forever. I don't know how to stop it. Disoriented, my eyes navigate the darkness, hoping to find some sort of solace to nurse the throbbing ache in my chest or the unquenchable churn in my soul. Going back to sleep will only trigger more bad things. Taking pills would only result to crappy sideffects in the morning. And I don't think 3 am is a reasonable time to phone your friends in the middle of a school night.
Not like I even call them for problems anyway.
Well, I can make an exception for my best friend, Kallen. She knows what's up with me since childhood. Plus, she's the only one outside my family who knows the whole story of my past, including my mother's death. Still, I'm not going to risk waking her up at such an ungodly hour just because I had a stupid nightmare. I'm used to this, I just need something to calm me down and I'm good for the night.
Though, it might be a little harder than usual.
I prop myself up with much effort. I wipe away the remaining traces of sweat and tears. Pathetic, this is pathetic. That same reminder goes on repeat, swirling in multiple circles around my head as I push the blankets aside, swing my legs on the edge of the bed and stand on the cold oak floor. A heavy sigh worms its way out of my throat, before heading for the door. I never planned on tiring myself out tonight, considering the big day ahead of me. Responsibility is definitely not a laughing matter, if you were in my age and my situation.
Once outside, I basked in the emptiness of the hallway, the pitch blackness enveloping me and the deafening silence harbouring my ears. To be frank, it's the kind of peace I desired in life. Emptiness. Not wanting to wake anyone, my siblings in particular, I strode through the dark with a certain level of stealth I never expected to have. My instincts brought me to a familiar oak door leading to a particular room. A room where I am definitely not comfortable crossing paths with.
My deceased mother's room.
Go figure.
For a moment, there's a pointless staring contest going on between the door and myself. I ponder on my actions, asking myself why I considered re-visiting my mother's room a wise thing to do, especially when my recent nightmare was about her. The thing is, her room brings about every single thing about her back to reality. Her scent, her priced posessions, her personal belongings, her memories, but never her life. It's a bitter reminder, an inevitable fact I can't escape. It brings me over the edge thinking about it. Because of that, I stopped my nightly visits. I practically provided myself a reason to cut my connections from her room. Mainly for my own sanity. I only limit myself to a minimal from flat zero up to two days in a month. Of course, I don't always stick to it.
Unconsciously, I open the door. I must be insane for doing this. It feels as if something, or rather someone is pulling me in. Could it be Mother herself? No, I'm delirious. I need to square up. I take deep, reassuring breaths, in and out, hoping it'll assess the unsettling, pending doom brewing in the pits of my stomach.
The moment I step in, I nearly wished I hadn't.
The all too familiar scent of aloe and jasmine tingles my senses. It was a spur of a moment when her kind, smiling face ; a facade she's incredibly good at faking, a face she used for playing decoy, visualized in front of me. I shake my head instantly at the sight of it. I honestly don't know what the hell was that about. I know I'm not in my element at this point of time, but this is getting too much.
Since her death 7 years ago, her room stayed in its spontaneous, victorian glory. It's the 20th century, the heart of modernization, but I knew Mother wouldn't like it if her room was to be improvised because of the simple, passing of time. She liked frolicking in the good old days, playing oblivious to the swift flow of time. It was the sole period of her youth days. So the walls remained the same beige color, the furniture arrangements stood on their original place, her intricate, mahogany sheets were left untouced on the spruce bedframe. Silver, corinthian, picture frames hung perfectly in place on the walls, including her and that man's wedding photo.
Saying his name or even his title leaves an unwanted, bitter taste in my tongue. Weeks ago, I considered ripping him off the photo myself. He doesn't deserve to be a part of Mother's memorabilia. To add up, there's no doubt he was one of the factors that contributed digging up Mother's grave. The insolent bastard. Why Mother agreed to put up with this man is beyond me.
Yet I knew, deep deep down, Mother loves him. She would go to the extent of giving up every damn thing she has just to please him. She loves every fucking inch of him, which irks me a lot more than life ever did. The sort of love "Father" was meant to give her, ranges from little to utterly nothing in the duration of their short lived marriage. He only showered her with a respectable number of extravagant possessions and minimal acts of a husband's love. But because Mother is a very stubborn individual, if not a little dense, she refuses to give into the truth and hate him. Despite how much essential quality Father was lacking as a husband, she still loved him more than words could ever express.
Even if he's a lost cause to me and to Nunnally and Rolo as well, he's that huge fragment in her life who Mother would never have forgotten. And because of that, I couldn't find it in me to remove him from the wedding photo on her wall. Not even my profound hatred for that man could make me do it.
Why do I feel so…guilty everytime I go here? Has this happened before? No, sort your life out. Perhaps, it's mere exhaustion eating at me. It is around 3 am. I haven't gotten much sleep the night before either.
Closing the door behind me as quietly as I possibly can, I venture further into the room. I find myself first approaching her dresser, the top table lined up with mounds of perfume, fancy glass bottles, a small picture frame of her side of the family, another of the four of us in our current household and countless beauty supplements I don't even know existed followed. She wasn't the one to organize a lot, but she's not into a pigsty lifestyle at least.
I have nothing to do with any of the aforementioned items, but it's the forlorn, little drawer slightly sticking out from under the dresser table that caught my attention. I pull at the drawer handle, hearing the clutter of ballpens and eye pencils roll around the wood. There, an old, little box makes an appearance. A banished relic since the fateful day of her suicide. One of her notorious and most gifted property, her photobox.
This might have been what I'm looking for. The problem is, I have indeed vowed a long time ago I'd never come near this thing. Not only it contains half of Mother's memories in it, but also an entirety of mine. Often, my childhood is my weakness. I have a strange attachment to it, a guilty pleasure of looking through recollections I want to forget so badly. There's no logic as to how the photobox is supposed to make me feel better, but my inner child is somehow alive in me and is rejoicing at the glimpse of it.
To hell with it. With that thought firmly said, I left the room immediately, shutting the door and hopefully not slamming it. I'm not aware of its intensity, because I'm blinded with thoughts about the photobox. Looks like I won't be going back in there for a couple of months.
So here I sat, on the center of my dishevelled bed. At three-thirty in the morning, on a bleak Tuesday night. I grimly skim through the thick pile of photos from my mother's precious photobox. Why am I going back to salvaging fragments of my desolated past is way out of my league.
How long since the last time I did this, I have no idea either.
I know I have many better things to do at this hour. But no, I just had to choose this out of everything. Thus, this box in front of me.
The accursed, square object, mocking me with its sickly brown color and the aura of elation wafting from it. Its contents - pictures I used to look at with childish fascination. Little snapshots of my golden days, the primary bits of my childhood, including the day I was born. The soft colors, the ethereal scenery swallowing my family and myself. The permanent bright smiles we wore in these photos, forever sealed within these cheap, saturated films.
I listened to every significant thought behind the colors, the smiles and the elegant backgrounds. I have never forgotten the way these pieces of memories made my heart swell with so many unfitting emotions, as it was Mother herself who told me everything about the immortalized joy it holds within its brim to this day.
The photos inside screamed nothing but warmth, home and a deluge of happiness I could no longer fathom since the day she died.
It frightens me, as much as my ego doesn't want to admit it. But it's only my mother and this damned photobox threatning to rob me of my pride. I love my mother to the point of irrationality and the photobox just reminds me too much of the past.
For the life of me, I wouldn't even dare to come near any measely objects from the paradise I harshly fell from. I only honor my mother's memory but not my old life. The home I have lost. The comfort life I have lived. I don't want anything to do with them anymore, because life is a whole different story now. I raised myself to play cynical over offering trust, to put pride and ego into priority, logic over feelings, using arrogance as a tool to build the perfect indestructible wall.
Going back to the photos, I pick one up from the pile. I see myself smiling in this. The grin plastered on my face was as mocking as the ludicrous euphoria oozing from these captured moments. I was a "stuck-up, boorish, little smartass" as my cousins and half-siblings would seldom call me, but the difference from now and then, is the fact that I actually had a heart to talk openly to them, a heart for at least few handful of people to appreciate, just a heart in general.
Almost like Rolo, but less awkward and more elusive, I retreated into a state of recluse myself.
"What happened to you, Lelouch?"
"I don't know."
"You talk less, you're always angry, you're getting skinnier from time to time and you've been avoiding us, your family."
"You wouldn't understand."
"Can we help you in anyway at least?"
"Help yourselves, but never sympathize with me. I'm fine."
Sometimes, I would feel guilty for blanking out the rest of my family. Besides my siblings, of course. Other times, I…simply wouldn't feel a thing. I think I may or may not have gone numb over the years and…yeah. They must have figured it out themselves already, since the phone calls and text messages concerning my mental and physical health stopped rolling in. Either they really understood or just didn't care anymore. Oh well. I can take care of myself and I can handle things on my own perfectly. I do not need to be monitored. If it'll be anyone who needs to be taken of, it would be Nunnally and Rolo.
I look a little bit more at the pictures. Unfortunately, I vaguely remember most of them. We all look so happy and carefree. Young, wild and free. The glossy, lamenated surface feels odd on my fingers. Having not seen them for a long time, it's understandable. There's a photo slightly isolated from the bunch, one photo I can still recall clearly, one photo captured a couple of days away before an ill-fated event shook our lives into shambles.
The night after my 10th birthday.
A photo of me and Mother herself. It used to be my favorite. Now, I'm not so sure anymore. Mother left us with no closure at her sudden death. I search for answers every now and then, but I get no leads whatsoever. It's so damn frustrating sometimes. Huffing, I drop the picture and flop back down the bed. Totally ignoring the mess of photos on my bed for now. I roll onto my sides, glaring at a harmless wall, willing it to combust if I stare hard enough at it. I'm stressing myself out with all the reminiscing and the whole ordeal about Mother again. It's a bad, nightly habit I accustomed myself to.
A migraine starts acting up again. I'm afraid I'll have to sit this one out while it's still dark outside. Well, last time I checked, the clock read 4 am. School doesn't start until eight, but I wake up at six to whip up breakfast. I also make sure I have enough time to satisfy my regular coffee fix.
I close my eyes, hoping the headache dissipates by the time I wake up.
-linebreak-
I was not happy when my microsleep was rudely disrupted by my phone blaring like crazy from my nightstand. Ugh...I should put that on silent before bed. I groused inwardly. I refuse to force my hideous, crusty eyes open so I result to blindly reaching out for the abomination. I absentmindedly tap my hand on random empty spots on the table.
Screams of exasperation threaten to rip out of my throat upon not feeling the presence of the device on my palm. Finally, I manage to grab it at the furthest end of the table (not without knocking off a few objects like my watch and the couple of detention slips I recieved the previous day and the day before that), pressed the answer button and sloppily held it to my ear.
"What...?" I groan.
"Rise and shine, prince charming." A female voice says in a mockingly, sweet tone. I immediately recognize her real voice behind the sarcastic get up. I groan even more.
"Kallen, it's quarter to six in the morning. Why are you up and what do you want?" I calmly snap at her. Calm snapping, yes, it exists.
She snorts on the other line. "Oh yeah, I forgot. My best friend isn't a morning person and doesn't give a crap if I phone him up to see how he's coping with life." She dramatized, the sarcasm not leaving her voice.
I rub my eyes. "I appreciate it, but at least call at an appropriate hour next time." I sigh. "I'm fine. I had a nightmare, but it's nothing I can handle."
"The last time you said that, you called me up at volleyball practice saying you couldn't breathe because you had a bad dream."
"Did I fell sleep in the middle of track and field or something?"
"Close enough. You were snoozing off from gym class." Kallen says, probably rolling her eyes as she spoke. I've known her long enough to predict the little things she does.
"Yeah, but I'm not lying this time."
"Enlighten me."
"I'm not lying."
"Lelouch, you've always been a liar and you're hella good at it. You maybe fine now, but I'm pretty sure you went through some troubles before managing to fall asleep again."
Again, I sigh. There's no use trying to get past her nor do I have any decent alternatives to swerve my way out of this. Kallen maybe a touch reckless in dire matters and seldom hostile to the people around her, but her intelligence, intuition and spirit is undeniable and unbeatable. Right now, I'm simply too tired to argue, having fallen back asleep at 4 am.
"Fine. I did have trouble breathing when I woke up. And I was tempted to use sleeping pills."
"Tell me you didn't actually drug yourself to sleep."
It's my turn to snort. "If I did, you'd be having a one-sided conversation with my voicemail right now.''
"If you did, I'm going to maul your pretty face down the gym bleachers."
"Noted." I shift the topic, not up to feeling like talking more about myself today. "And you? Why are you up so early?" I ask, sitting up. I briefly notice the tumble of photos splayed all over my bedsheets. A reminder of last night's coaster of emotions. "I find it strange, since you seem to have a personal vendetta against early birds being inhuman."
"True, but my mom called last night." Kallen replies, suddenly sounding sullen. I understood immediately. "Family emergency. My brother's condition took a turn. I'll be leaving Ashford in 30 minutes."
"I see. Mind if I ask how's he holding up?" Everytime we would mention our families in a conversation, the mood between us tends to darken a little. On a lighter note, none of us would have to worry about crossing each other's boundaries. We understand each other quite well. Kallen and I connect in terms of our constant struggle to create a clear path for our loved ones to walk on. We're both incharge of our own families. While I'm currently the last, living eldest of the Lamperouge bloodline, Kallen is the only sane and ill-free person with a backbone strong enough to support her family. Her mother fell into an insufferable depression since her dad's divorce and her older brother is caught in a terminal illness with no possible cure.
"He's barely hanging, but still there. It's...pretty bad, really." She says.
"He was doing so well the last time. What could have worsened it, anyway?"
"I...I don't know. Look, I don't really want to talk about it. Maybe I'll tell you when I get back. "
"Understood. So you won't be coming to school today?"
Kallen sighs. "That's right. I'm taking the 7 am train to Narita. I'll be spending the entire day at the hospital and lodging by my old house. By the time I come back, it would most likely be sundown." She explains. I note the heavy lament mixed with her usually steel voice. "Oh and if anyone asks, a teacher or whoever, do me a favor and make up an excuse for me."
"Oh? You're asking me to lie for you?" I muse. "I thought you hate it when I lie to people."
"Just personal matters, you bastard."
"Right, sorry. So about lying..."
"As much as I don't like the sound of this, do the same to the people from the student council as well. You're attending today's meeting, right?"
"I guess."
"Lelouch." Kallen says sternly, near identical to a military officer. Yes, I slack off a lot in school. But I'm not a sloth who keeps himself cooped up in a dark room all day, that's for sure.
"Fine, I will." I roll my eyes. "Don't order me around, woman."
"You better make sure, mister." She chuckles this time. "That's all I ask of you. I have to go, I have a taxi to catch to the bus station. It's going to be a hell of a long day."
"Alright, safe trip." I smile. "Call me whenever. By the way, did you kiss Gino goodbye yet?" Gino is Kallen's long time crush and a good friend of mine. I'd go hours on end teasing her about him if only she isn't such a top notch wrestler and I, having the combat skills of a chicken.
"Fuck off, nerd." Kallen grits out. "I'll punch you tomorrow. Bye, now."
"Goodbye, then. I wish your brother luck."
"Thanks." She replies. "And go to gym class, dammit."
"Sure thing though. Later." A flat, monotone sound came the following response from the other line. It's too late for me to go back to sleep now. I have breakfast to make for two people (I'm fine eating granola bars for breakfast) , coffee to drink and school to survive.
-linebreak-
After sending Nunnally and Rolo to school, fed and satisfied, I finished my coffee (thankfully, I drank enough to keep me going through the day) and got the dishes washed without so much of a hassle. I've been doing household work since I was seven. Of course, with the exception for the cooking part. (Mother wouldn't dare, not even for a second, let us lay a finger on the stove.) Somehow, doing house work for a solid decade granted me light speed in doing so, because washing breakfast dishes these days only take me five minutes to get it done. It saves me a lot of time to shower and dress for school.
I only have 30 minutes left, but I'm not really in a hurry. 10 minutes from here and I'm already in campus.
We live in one of the shelters situated within Ashford Academy's grounds, built solely for students' families in need for a home. The director of the school was kind enough to turn down rent from the tenants, as long as they are under the permission of an enrolled student. Originally, our family lived outside of Tokyo's premises together with our relatives. Same region, but different house locations. We moved out for one, crucial reason: we goofed out on money.
Our former home came with a loan and we have strict orders from the landlord to keep our payments in tact. This wasn't much of an issue when Mother was still around, since she's earning fairly well from her job as a local business manager. When she died, money was tight while I was too young for a job. Fortunately, my relatives were merciful enough to send us money and help us out. However, they can only give us a limited amount in a month. It's not enough to cover the rent, the bills, the school fees and our needs altogether. We gathered as much as we could, including my own savings. I tried to split the payment, but we were still at stake of becoming bankrupt in the end.
Thus, I was obligated to consult the web for a job suitable for 15 year olds. Not much decent results were found, but then I found Ashford Academy in one of the advertisements. I clicked it out of curiousity, even if I wasn't looking for a highschool. But all previous plans were thrown aside, when the ad states they offer vacant homes for students and their families for free. I immediately called the school for inquiries. Days later, I was called in to take their entrance exam. I passed and was enrolled.
A whole semester later, I was finally given the oppurtunity to live here from the director himself. That and he also knew of my family's status. On my second year, I sent Nunnally and Rolo to finish their middle school in the same school I went to. Said school offered cheap, but credible education. As of the present, our money is sufficient enough to pay for everything.
Hopefully, it will always be like that.
All showered and dressed up, I make my way to the front door. A mirror dangles innocently on the wall and I look, reflecting raven hair, pale skin and amethyst eyes. Sometimes, I avoid my reflection. Only because I look a lot like my mother. I'll try not to think about it for too much today. I quickly turn away to open the door, allowing the morning sunlight filters through my eyes. I lock the door, twisting the handle in case I didn't do it properly. All good. I put away the keys in my bookbag. At last, I start my 10 minute walk to school.
Trees line my vision, lush green grass crowning either sides of the sidewalk. I hear subtle chatter in the background, signifying other students starting to fill in as well. I'm rather reluctant to go to school today, but Kallen would be livid if I skip school. She's already mad enough at me for avoiding gym class, just because it's her favourite and I suck at it. Jokes on her though, today's Monday. My timetable doesn't require gym classes every Mondays. Unless I'm called in for make-up classes. Fuck.
I can sense the peaceful chattering around me gradually escalate to loud, obnoxious talking. Seems like I'm close to campus. People are starting to gather in groups and pairs. I don't usually go alone, I have Kallen with me. The shelters aren't too far from the girls' dorms. We'd meet up my place, then off we go. When she's out to aid her family though, I went on my own. I'm not that much of a people person. But mind you, I'm not unpopular.
In fact, I'm practically known to be a celebrity here. For two reasons. One - my "killer looks" among the girls, two - my "alien mind and weird, sassy face" among the guys.
Okay, I do think I have a hell of an appearance, but I don't see why people have to scream over it.
I don't have an alien mind, my brain just works differently and I believe it's always good to have an alternative. You need strategies in life, people.
I don't have a "weird, sassy face", I just have the face. Honestly speaking, Ashford is more than just a school. Half of its population consist of those belonging to noblety and the other half is just a brigade of shenanigans.
"Heeey, vice-prez!" I hear someone call me as I enter the gates.
Right, and I'm the infamous Vice-President of the school student council.
"Hey Milly." I address the blond, blue-eyed woman running towards my direction. She has her signature cheshire grin plastered on her lips, often a sign that something new is up. I hold back a groan at the sight of it. Milly Ashford is the school director's one and only granddaughter. Knowing her last name, it isn't much of a secret to hide. She's, obviously, popular but mostly hangs around the people present in the council. She's the crafty, mischievous, student council President. (Ashford Academy is a school of noblety and high standards. But it doesn't really apply, because Milly throws the craziest school festivals and activities.)
She stops on her tracks, her grin widening as she spoke, "Student council meeting today! We're loaded on paperwork, since last week's prelims took our time." she beams. She looks pretty excited, only because I have to do the majority of them and she's going to slack off the table again.
"I thought last week was the last pile, Madam President." I calmly point out, walking ahead. Milly follows in seconds.
"It's a new pile this time. We have another event to host." Milly winked, flirtatiously flipping her hair. "My, my, are you planning to avoid your job again?"
I roll my eyes. "I could ask the same thing to you." I shoot back.
"Ah, cheeky today aren't we, Lulu?" She teases.
For once, I wish Kallen was here to save me from Milly. "We just had an event three weeks ago. Why are we planning another one again?" I sigh.
In case you're wondering, Milly cooked up a massive school pizza party. There was a mini-rave concert, pizza was flying everywhere. It was messy, horrible, disgusting. Since that uneventful day, I personally banned myself from Pizza Hut or any pizza company lodged around the vicinity.
"It's not a school event. As much as I'd love everyone to join in, we're running low on funds to provide for them. Another reason why all officers are obligated to attend the meeting today is because we need to settle our finances. So it's more like a get together party, but only within the council." Milly says, her smile still glued in place. "The money we spend for this will rely on the remaining cash on hand for food and decorations."
"Another team-building exercise?"
"Technically. Everything we do is a team-building exercise!" She chirps. We walk through the wooden doors of the main building, swallowed by the contemporary hallways adorned with white, lavish walls and gold trimmed pillars and ceilings. Semi grand windows lined the wall, causing the room to glow with pure, natural light flowing into artificial, fluorescent ones. People pass us by, moving along their business. Voices mingle and echo all over the area.
"So what time does your first period start?" Milly asks.
"8 o clock sharp." I spot a vintage clock by the far end of the hall. It read 7:45. My first period is Calculus. Ugh, I forgot how painstakingly slow and boring my morning classes are. Calculus, History, Algebra III...
Milly's face transforms into a pout, folding her arms across her chest in a childish manner. "Aw, what a shame. I could've sent you to the student council room to get started already." She says in mock defeat.
"Sorry, Madam President. Education first." A complete bluff on my part.
"Oh fine..." She mutters. Her eyes perk up again. "By the way, where's Kallen? I haven't seen her around. You're surprsingly alone today..."
"She's calling in sick." I lie. Although I am, indeed a liar, I'm a man of my word. Moreover, it concerns Kallen's personal life and I'm not about to endanger that. "You know her when she's sick, she doesn't take any calls." I opt heading first door to my left, leading to my designated classroom.
"Right. I wonder why..." Milly shakes her head. "Anyway, before you go, I'd like to remind you of something."
I turn to her. "What is it?"
"My grandpa told me we're having a new student today. Actually, he's already a student here, he just took a clean break to nurse an illness of some sort." She says.
Oh. The faintest image my memory could muster, is a mop of brown curls, tan skin and eyes, painted in perfect intensity, of brilliant emerald. He's a face of the past, a stubborn image. One that I simply could not turn away from. Nobody knows that I knew him. Not even Kallen. (I should probably tell her soon. I mean, she knows I had a friend before her. She just doesn't know who he is in person or anything else about him, really.)
During my second year in Ashford, I met him again. But we never talked. Everytime we would cross paths, no words were exchanged between us. We seldom share awkward glances but that's about it. The silent treatment went on for about 9 months into the semester until he suddenly disappeared.
Illness...huh? He never gets sick, he was always in good shape. Vivid snippets from 9 years ago resurface at the thought of the boy who could've been. The adventurous, altruistic Japanese boy who never stopped exploring, never stopped smiling and caring, never stopped loving. Until there came a time, he stopped and I was cursed to witness it. As well as the fated day our friendship pivoted to its downfall.
For some illogical reason, it has become a part of my weaknesses. To be honest, it's him for the most part.
"I've seen him around campus before." I say. Silence would only raise suspicion. "He has that anti social aura around him." He usually doesn't.
"Is that so? You guys should get along, then!" Milly laughs.
I wish. I wanted to say. Instead, I respond chuckling, "I'm not anti-social."
"If you say so." She playfully rolls her eyes. "One more thing, the party we're having concerns not only us, but him as well. Regardless of the fact he's not a council member, I'm willing to recruit him to our group. It's mandatory for every student to join clubs, after all."
"It's a get together and a welcome party, then?"
"Uh-huh! Of course, since I'm the one in charge, it's going to be a blast." She smirks deviously. That's not a good sign for anyone at all.
"I'm still on about the pizza party three weeks ago. Take it easy this time, madam." I narrow my eyes at her.
She giggles. "Hm, we'll see about that!"
"So when is he going to come?" I struggle to maintain my calm facade as I ask.
"Today. He'll be joining you in Calculus."
My heart made a startling leap, causing my breath to stop short. Milly barely noticed the change in my expression, thankfully, but I assume she still heard the unmistakable hitch from my throat. Much to my relief, she did not mention it. I'm going to see him again... I think. And he won't recognize me at all. Fantastic. Now, I really really wish Kallen was here to smack me upside my head and call me an overdramatic stuck up.
"What else...I think that's all." Milly grins. "Well, I gotta run! Don't slack off!" She bids me goodbye. Off she went to the opposite hall.
As I saunter over to my seat, I briefly consider the action of skipping first period. I wouldn't care too much about Calculus anyway, I have enough intelligence to wing it. Unfortunately, it's too late for that now. The moment I sat down, our homeroom teacher ambled in and everyone scrambled to their respective seats.
Sardonic by the whole situation, I distracted myself by fishing out my ridiculously thick Calculus textbook and a ballpen. God, the day barely started and I'm already hating it. I release a long breath through my nose, dreading the upcoming storm of events ready to slap me in the face. Our teacher positions himself behind his lecture podium and cleared his throat, loud enough to eliminate the last of the unnecessary talking among the students.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you studied yesterday's topic, because today, we will be working on a couple of worksheets." He announces. As if on cue, everyone groaned aside from myself. It's not like I studied even. I'm only heavily relying on my stocked knowledge and analytical skills to ace any worksheet or tests. Not always a lucky tactic to pass, but it worked well for me anyway. "But before we start the day, we will be joined by an additional student. He's not new here. He already enrolled before, he was just on leave to recover from an illness."
Two years. An illness. Possibly psychological. For a moment I actually felt worried for him. Psychological illnesses are as dangerous as terminal ones. Maybe that's why he...
"You can come in now, young man." our teacher calls to the door. I took note of how my heart raced at an alarming speed when the door squeaked open.
In went, a tall, slender figure. Same brown, curly locks, but it seemed to have grown thicker and softer. Emerald eyes, bright as ever, but they're colder and distant than warm and welcoming. Lips drawn into a thin line as he strodes into the room. Suspicion sweeps over me. He looks so different. His appearance doesn't count, but it's the look on his face...it does not feel right. I think. I feel my chest clench painfully at the prominent stiffness in his posture, the obscurity enshrouding his eyes, the usual blithesome face he constantly shows the world, replaced with an offending stolid expression. I frown in confusion. It looks as if he's wearing a mask. But why? Why must he look like that? What happened?
He faces the class and is silent for a handful of seconds, before he smiles softly. The gentle curve of his lips, breaking the ice covering his face. "Hello everyone. My name is Suzaku Kururugi. I look forward to working with all of you again." He speaks with unadultered kindness, but it sounds forced and just so fucking empty. My fists clenched as hard as my heart. This isn't him. The Suzaku I know does not hide behind a mask. He was always true to his emotions.
More importantly, Suzaku knew where he stands in this big, crazy world. Why does he look so lost?
He's now a stranger. A stranger with a name. I don't recognize him anymore.
Our teacher nods. "Good to see you again, Suzaku. You may sit beside Lelouch over there." Suzaku's smile falls a little, but he keeps it on his face nonetheless. I don't like it...I don't like this change at all. It took me so much restraint to not spring up from my seat, tackle him and scream right out in front of his fucking face:
Suzaku...why? Is it me? Is this my doing? I never lied to you. Did you lie to me? What the hell happened to you?
"Yes, sir." And I would've been the least bit charmed by the smile he sent my way if it isn't so damn fake. I'm used to seeing him smile geniunely at me with an unspeakable amount of zest and...perhaps, admiration. I'm not even sure if that's quite correct, but I'm sure as hell it's not plastic.
When he sits beside me, it's so hard not to look at him. I briefly recieve a whiff of his scent. It's still the same ; it smells like home. But he doesn't feel like home. I vaguely hear the teacher speaking in the background, saying something about the worksheets we have to work on, but that's none of my concern right now. I focus my eyes on the board, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. I repressed my desire to stare into his eyes and just ask him why. Why did he have to put on such a false face? Why did he smile when he's obviously bleeding inside? Why, why, why?
"I'm sorry..."
"W-what?"
"We can't...go on like this. I'm sorry, Lu."
Melancholy spreads through me. I kind of predicted this would happen, that we were bound to meet again, that I would remember his last words before he left me on that barren sidewalk after all, but I never anticipated him to become a complete stranger. Before his recent disappearance, I could still see bits and pieces of the Suzaku I remembered as that one, special friend who just couldn't be forgotten. Whoever I saw in front of the class a while ago was utterly foreign and I see no one in him. Nothing at all.
Now, I don't think it's only Mother who will render me powerless in this hectic life I lead. I silently pray to every holy being out there I'll be able to survive the day.
-tbc-
this chapter turned out to be longer than i had planned it to be. i'm so sorry it's so long, but details are hard to ignore. ^^
don't worry tho, author's notes will be put in the bottom starting from the next chapter and onwards. (excluding the disclaimer and warnings. it's a must for them to remain on the beggining of each chapter) anyway, i appreciate feedback from all of you. i still have no idea why i came up with this garbage, but whatever. chapter 2 is currently in progress :)
see ya!
~w.s.