Disclaimer: GS and GSD are copyrighted by Bandai. I do not own it.
Summary: It is quite unlike the kisses they have shared hours ago. It is a sweet caress, a subtle promise, and an attempt to return to innocence, when things were far less in between.
Pairing: AC, set during GSD timeline after Cagalli makes her speech without her ring.
A/N: I hope this fic is not too confusing. I wrote the story then moved everything around. hint It starts with the end and goes backwards and returns to the end again. Please review. Also Adieu chapter will be out soon, sorry for the delay.
Warning Mature Content!
"All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here"
-"You and Me" by Lifehouse
It is quite unlike the kisses they have shared hours ago. It is a sweet caress, a subtle promise, a return to innocence, a kiss similar to their very first one.
It is not until the door closes behind her figure that they realize that it was a heart-breaking kiss of parting ways.
They are sprawled on each other atop his meager bunk, blankets slightly twisting around their legs, neither wondering why his bunk mate has not yet returned. Their sweat mingles and only their breathing echoes.
It is not until she thinks that morning has crept in that she finally entangles herself from him, gathering their clothes off the floor and neatly placing his by his foot.
She takes her time in putting her clothes back on—a leg at a time, an arm at a time. She does not want to treasure the moment. She wants to stretch it.
Once she pushes the final button through its hole, she feels her heart heavy, rolling the ring around her fingers.
She does not know what to do with it.
He is unsure of everything. He cannot determine whether he is dreaming or not. Or perhaps he is afraid of finding out, because he does not want to be disappointed. He does not want it to be one of his dreams. He wants it to be real as real could be.
Her voice cuts quietly through his thoughts and shuts it all up. It was no command, but a half-plea tinged with weariness. "Stop thinking," and with just that the two nimble hands that were unbuttoning his uniform entangle themselves in his darkish blue hair and pulls him down for a searing kiss. It lingers with a burning sensation that travels from his mouth to his tongue and down his throat.
It awakens him.
And he boldly takes hold of her shoulders and pushes her against the wall. His body covers her petite ones and his lips hovers her reddened ones. He could feel her moan against his lips.
Invigorated, his hands slip deftly under her white pristine uniform, part of him wanting to take it apart. It constricts her—her liveliness, her intensity, her confidence, and it tears him inside to watch her lose a little of herself each day. He wants to see her again, to see the real her. And he slides his hands beneath her red undershirt, his fingertips eagerly touching the flesh of her broken self.
She stifles a moan, trailing butterfly kisses down his neck. She feels the pin-prick of tears behind her half-lidded eyes, and she hides them from him, behind her short tousled hair.
She wants to push away this feeling of desperation.
She wants to believe that there is a tomorrow for them.
She wants him and her own self to know that this is not a goodbye.
Her hands return their attention back to his coarse uniform—burgundy, white—it did not matter to her. All she knew was his uniform, his chosen livelihood, or livelihood that has chosen him is suffocating them. Just like how hers has the same effect. And at that thought, she simmers in frustration and she impatiently tugs at his clothes, forcing it to tear away from his body.
But she does not stare at it long as he quickly gathers her in his arms, and she does not realize how cold she felt until she feels the warmth of his skin against hers. His hands push her up, her body rubbing against the wall. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around him for support, her head leans against his chest from there she could hear his beating heart. She feels one of his arms slide under her back end the sudden motion easily slips him inside of her. She is reminded of his strength when his free hand takes hold of her chin and tilts it upwards for a breathless kiss.
"Look at me," he directs her and she feels at loss as his green eyes unguardedly stare down at her golden ones.
And she, finally, falls prey to her own tears.
He stares at the beauty of the setting sun, thinking quietly how the Plants version could not decently compete with it. He breathes in deeply and slowly, watching interestedly at the little mist he creates as he exhales. His features falter sullenly, thinking of what he would leave behind. "You can stay here with her," a familiar voice interjects.
He shakes his head, a frown forming in his face. "I've been fighting who I am." He drops his hands inside his pant pockets and turns solemnly to his songstress friend, "Now I have to accept it and finish what I had helped start."
Her eyes peer down at the busy crew beneath her, sadness lingering. She hunches her shoulder as she leans on her hands that are grasping the metal railing.
"You would like to fight with them," the somber voice notes and she does not turn to face her most trusted advisor. Instead she bites her lip, trying to bid time, trying to lull the constriction of her throat. She does not want to cry. She has done too much of that.
"Yes," she exhales slowly, her head sitting atop her enclosed hands. "But I have my own fight to deal with." She slowly straightens up, the words reminding her of her own resolution. She tucks her sun-kissed hair behind her ears and cranes her neck to face her confidante, a sobering smile darkens her features. "And I have run away from it too long."
Lacus' gaze rests on him and sees that his conviction on the matter will not falter, and that fact alone weighs him down as his shoulders slouch unconsciously. She gives him a half-hearted smile, but maintains her silence. She knows he will not change his mind.
He breaks away from Lacus' scrutinizing stare and gazes back to the sky, his lips slightly down-turned. Lacus thinks he looks a little younger against the back-drop of the sunrise as it hides away the scars he carries from the wars he had fought in. And it also belies the battle he is currently fighting within him.
And she thinks to herself, that somehow he has already lost.
Kisaka watches her figure disappear to the cabin; a feeling of pride swells in him, seeing the woman-child blooming in to maturity. But a feeling of sympathy attaches itself in him; he knows that her decision will leave her with nothing but a country to care for.
And he thinks to himself; growing up was never a child's play.
He has not moved from his position afraid of breaking something, perhaps, the mood; maybe, the stillness.
From the corner of his eye, he watches her and impresses his memory with her; the way her hair softly falls, hiding her beautiful face in a blonde curtain; the way she nibbles her lips in silent concentration.
It is when she is moving away from him that he realizes she is about to leave. His hand shots out and grasps her wrist, pulling her down to him. She covers her surprise with a broken smile. And he wants to tell her that everything will be alright.
But they have said many things to each other.
And now, they all seemed utterly insufficient.
She pushes something cold in his hand and he doesn't have to look down to know what it is. He ignores the heaviness in his heart and steals a kiss from her.
It is quite unlike the kisses they have shared hours ago. It is a sweet caress, a subtle promise, and an attempt to return to innocence, when things were far less in between.
It is a kiss similar to their very first one, the one they had shared in the very same ship.
It is not until the door shuts tightly close behind her that they realize the kiss for what it truly was.
It was a heart-breaking kiss of parting lovers.
.finis.