Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. :]
Been a while, hasn't it, m'dears? But I didn't want to forget this Christmas tradition. Alas, I am quite late, haha. :] Enjoy, minna-sama! :]
…………………
The Gift
An Angelight Christmas Story
…………………
So this is what Thoreau's quiet desperation feels like.
He rolled down the window to clear some of the dank oppression from inside the Audi; specks of dust waltzed in and out of his vision in the white, winter sunlight.
"God, Trowa, are you trying to contract hypothermia?" Duo rolled the window back up and shot his passenger a look of mild reproach. "You know, we don't need two people sick."
His companion flinched but brushed off the comment with the dainty disdain of a cat shaking water off its paws. "It's not that cold." He paused as if picking out his next words so that they tasted just right in his mouth – a subtle mixture of effervescence and solemnity. "And you need to clean your car."
Duo rolled his eyes heavenward as he slowed to a stop at a red light. "Not cold compared to what? Russia?" He looked askance at his impassive passenger and sighed, the sarcasm melting off his features to reveal something more compassionate. "Don't worry, Trowa." Duo let his hand fall casually a couple of times on Trowa's shoulder. "We'll find something."
"An angel," he murmured in return, the one jade eye unobscured by auburn bangs gazing sightlessly out the window.
His companion sighed and shot him an uneasy glance. "Well…"
"Believe me, Duo. There are angels among us." His gaze remained fixated on the last-minute Christmas shoppers outside. "We just need to find one."
He closed his eyes briefly to sear the image of their smiles into his mind.
This is what Christmas is supposed to look like.
Duo sighed and turned his attention back to the road. "Whatever you say, man. I'm just driving."
They paused at another stoplight. Trowa peered into the corner Starbucks and singled out the only person alone in the café, a man in his mid to late twenties sitting down in the dim, orange-ish glow. He unwound the off-white scarf around his neck, removed his gloves, and inhaled deeply the scent of the coffee before taking a sip and looking out the window, a decidedly pensive look upon his chiseled features.
Maybe that's what loneliness smells like.
The man started and turned as an auburn-haired woman tapped him on the shoulder. They embraced and she sat down opposite of him before taking the coffee in an offhand manner and savoring the warm richness.
Trowa smiled faintly at his misinterpretation.
Ah, that must be what happiness tastes like.
That was when he saw her. Or, rather, that was when he saw them.
"Stop the car, Duo."
"What?"
"Stop the car; I need to get out! Stop the-"
"Okay, okay! Stop shouting." They careened across two lanes to the side of the street; he jumped out before the car parked, looked about frantically, and spied her turning a corner.
Duo caught up shortly, his breath almost opaque in the cold air. "This'd better be good. My car'd better still be there when we get back,"
"I can't make any promises about the car," Trowa called over his shoulder between gasps for air, an amused smile coloring his words daffodil yellow. "But this'll be worth it. Trust me." He ignored the don't walk sign and sped up. "Miss! Miss! Could you please stop for a second!" The blonde directly in front of them hesitated and glanced back; that was all Trowa needed to catch up.
Swerving past a gaggle of teenagers and adroitly avoiding a middle-aged woman herding three giggling children, Trowa caught her arm and slowed to a stop, bending over to catch his breath. Duo joined them just in time to catch his first words.
"Angel, please. You're an angel, right? I know you're an angel."
The blonde looked unnerved. "I don't know what you're talking about, mister."
"I saw your wings. I see them now; they flicker in and out of sight, but they're there. Please, we need your help. I have a friend whose fiancée is-
She eyed him incredulously. "You see my wings?"
"Yes, please, his fiancée is dying and-"
She eyed the flashing walk sign behind her longingly and tried to tug her arm from his grasp; he held tight. "I don't want to get involved. Seriously. You approached the wrong person. I don't know what you're talking about." In one, fluid motion, she jerked her arm from his grasp and ran toward the intersection. He sprinted after her and caught her arm again before she got to the next curb.
"Please at least hear me out!"
"Don't touch me!" She tried to pull free again, her eyes wide, but this time he held tight. She winced and glowered. "Let go of me, sir. I don't know what you're talking about. You must … you must be crazy! Believing angels exist! You-"
Duo pulled him away from the girl. "Let her go, Trowa. I don't know what you're thinking-"
"What I'm thinking?! I saw her wings! H-"
"Trowa, you're attracting a crowd," Duo muttered as the blonde lady dusted herself off and backed away.
Trowa shrugged him off, but the crowd that encircled them had already ravenously swallowed her slight figure up. With strength derived from frustration and hopelessness he wheeled around and grabbed Duo by the shoulders. "Duo, I don't know if you've realized it yet but Relena Darlian is dying. And you know what that means? That means Hiiro Yui is dying. It means that we'll have to watch our best friend fade away into oblivion. It means…" He stopped short, stared a bit at Duo's furrowed brow and averted, cobalt eyes, and sighed. "I guess … I guess you do realize it." He let his hands fall to his sides and allowed himself to be led to the sidewalk as the crowd slowly dispersed and the midday New York traffic carried on.
"Duo, let me tell you a story." He paused to sigh and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. "My sister died when I was young, you know. She-"
"Was an angel?"
Trowa looked up and there she was again, the petite blonde.
She stepped closer until the clouds of their breaths mingled. "I thought you looked familiar. Her name was Makoto? Same green eyes, same brunette hair, same height, same slim figure, same handsome features, and … dare I predict: same frank nature?"
"Yes, I…" He found himself at a loss for words. Upon closer inspection, the stranger was unequivocally beautiful. She looked down at the day-old snow, her fringed lashes coyly hiding paradise blue eyes of a certain intensity that seemed too good to be true. A wisp of sun-kissed hair fell against her pale cheek and she brushed it away tentatively while biting her lower lip.
"You said, dear stranger, that your friend's name was Hiiro Yui?" she finally asked, glancing up at him with an earnestness that almost made him take a step back. Her orbs were blue disks of fire burning in the middle of a heart-shaped face distinguished by delicate features. At his hesitation, she looked away and blinked as if something had caught in her eye. "Hiiro Yui, right? Tell me, please."
"Yes, Hiiro Yui."
Duo edged closer to the two as pedestrians flowed around them, some shooting them dirty looks for blocking their paths but most too engrossed in their own lives to notice.
"Hiiro Yui," she repeated, her voice soft yet audible over New York City's syncopated melody of honks, screeches, and "Up yours!"s. Then, in a voice almost heartbreakingly faint laced with nostalgia and something like sorrow, she said, "Take me to him."
In retrospect, Trowa thought, this … this is what love sounds like.
…………………
She looked like poetry. Just a little. The washed-out winter sunlight accentuated the contrasts of her aspect, highlighting the almost liquid quality of the blues of her eyes against her fair skin, the warm honey tones of her hair against the cool pinks of her lips, the sooty arcs of her lashes against the dove grays of the shadows on her face.
"You look familiar." She started out of her reverie and looked a bit confused before seeming to remember where she was. Duo caught her gaze in the rearview mirror; his blue-purple eyes crinkled into a smile. Her lips twitched a little as if she was about to smile back but couldn't muster the spirit.
"I model. My public name is Serenity. Please call me Serena." Her voice became increasingly far away, and she turned her gaze back to the right, out the window, at the passing blurs of faces as afternoon relented to dusk.
A few seconds ticked by before Duo snapped his fingers, causing both Serena and Trowa to jump. "That's it! You're a Victoria's Secret angel, aren't you?"
This time a small smile escaped before she could school her expression. "Ironic, isn't it?"
Trowa suppressed a smile and glanced at her outline behind tinted glass in the side-view mirror. "A little."
The three lapsed into a bleak silence. The engine and wheels against asphalt provided a monotonous background roar interrupted only by the exquisite clarity of a recorded piano. She took the opportunity to observe the driver. There was a certain cavalier quality to how he handled the wheel, a certain languidness she saw in both men that indicated a charmed life. However, that was where the analogy ended.
While Trowa's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, Duo's shifted from one item to the next, the vivacity of color matched only by the vivacity of movement. While Trowa kept his hair tidy and parted to one side, Duo seemed to have deliberately mussed up his chestnut bangs and wore his hair long, pulled back in a hasty braid. And while Trowa's ensemble consisted of a simplistic turtleneck under a structured trench coat, Duo's included a crisp collar peeking out from under a slightly rumpled cashmere sweater over which he sported a dress jacket of wool.
Serena broke the silence first. "So … tell me about Hiiro."
Trowa raised an eyebrow and turned to catch her in the corner of his eye. "You knew him before?"
"I asked first," she retorted. Then, as if realizing the severity of her tone, she smiled apologetically. He turned back to face the front but from the way his shoulders fell a little, she knew he accepted her apology.
"Hiiro is … dying."
Her head jerked up. "What?"
"His fiancée is very ill. She-"
"What is she like?" He thought he detected a tremor in her voice, but it was gone before he could ascertain.
Duo shot her a hard look in the rearview and thinned his lips quizzically. "She's actually … she looks a lot like you."
Trowa let the answer sink in a little before prompting, "So now I believe it's your turn. You knew Hiiro?"
"I did. A long time ago." She paused as if considering whether or not to disclose more and clearly decided against the notion as a guarded look conquered her countenance. "He won't see me. Please keep that in mind. He won't physically be able to see me."
"What?"
She bowed her head and then turned to look out the window, her tone arch, feigning nonchalance. "Hiiro … Hiiro doesn't believe in angels."
"I don't understand. Duo here doesn't believe in angels, either."
Duo shot Trowa a mildly irate look followed by a shrug that seemed to say I guess I do now.
"Hiiro has … said that he doesn't believe in angels. Explicitly." To me. She bit her lip and forced a fluttering chuckle out, but his command cut her insincere laughter short: "Expound."
She sighed and thought a little. "There are angels everywhere. Those who wish with all their hearts that angels exist will be able to see outlines of angel wings."
"Like me," Trowa murmured and she nodded in mute confirmation.
"Those who let the world know with a certain degree of vehemence that angels do not exist … cannot see us."
"Like Hiiro," Trowa whispered; Serena didn't reply.
"To everybody else, we are merely people."
Trowa thought a little and started slowly, "So to Hiiro…"
"So to Hiiro Yui, Serena Summers does not exist," she finished curtly.
…………………
After a short drive through the estate populated by bare trees, they pulled to a stop in front of the chateau. Duo turned the engine off and paused to take a deep breath before pulling out the key and unlocking the doors. "Well, here we are." He smiled but mostly for their guest's sake. She mirrored his gesture and stepped out with Trowa, closing the door after her while looking up to observe the building's icy gray façade. The balconies' intricate ironwork stood out against the pale brick like black lace and the frosted glass imported from continents away glittered coolly in the weak light of a fading December day.
The wide entrance opened and a maid stepped out to curtsy. "You have returned." Her eyes passed over Serena, and she accepted this turn of events as a given. "Shall I prepare a room for the lady?"
"Please do," Trowa replied and nodded his thanks as he led the way into the house. "How is Hiiro doing?"
"The young master has yet to come out of Miss Darlian's bedroom."
Serena caught Trowa and Duo exchanging a defeated look. "I see." Trowa suppressed a sigh before straightening a little as if remembering his duties. "Please prepare a bath for Miss Summers here. Will dinner be ready soon?"
"Yes, shortly." The maid curtsied again after removing their outerwear and leaving the foyer.
"Please make yourself at home." Trowa indicated their surroundings and shrugged a little. "It's still wonderful, isn't it? In spite of everything."
She bit her lip a little. "It's charming, I suppose. But cold."
"Very cold," Duo amended. "We don't do warm around here. Not when Hiiro's in mourning." He shot her a cocky grin and walked into the living room, the high ceiling overarching the transition from swirled marble to immaculate white carpet. "Hiiro's kind of…"
"Tyrannical?" Trowa supplied. Duo made a face but nodded.
Serena hid a smile. "I wouldn't be surprised."
Trowa shot her a probing look, but she looked away before he could pose the question waiting at the back of his throat.
"I think I'll go take that bath."
Duo nodded. "We'll ring you down for dinner."
Before heading up the sweeping staircase, she took one last glance back at the entrance of the chateau. It was abysmally beautiful with its marble and alabaster and ivory tones hardly set off by silvery tapestries, ice-encased roses, and drops of Swarovski crystal.
"I hope you don't mind my asking but could you tell me who decorated this house?" she blurted out.
Both men turned to her, slightly taken aback. Duo spoke up first. "Hiiro did."
She hid a look of surprised pleasure and nodded in reply.
…………………
The maid showed her a room almost a replica of the pearly foyer with tasseled curtains shielding a long, vertical window that overlooked a lawn of iridescent snow interrupted only by the impolite branches of dormant trees. She was reminded yet again of a most felicitous marriage of moon and sun behind a veil of icicles and starlight.
"The bath is ready, Miss," the girl told her, and Serena smiled her thanks before stepping into the room and jumping a little when the maid closed the door on her way out. Despite a job description that not only included but demanded pampering, Serena had to admit that she had never seen a room as exquisite as her temporary bedroom. The white carpet from downstairs was reiterated here and reminded her of warm snow; the padded silk walls glittered with a subtle labyrinth of silver threading.
Serena moved onto the bathroom, unsurprised by the dust pink drapery shielding a tub filled with rose petals and framed by sprays of white lilacs.
"I don't think … I don't think you did the right thing."
She whirled around, eyes wide, but there was nobody there. She let her shoulders fall, Hiiro's voice still echoing eerily in her ears. Her image in the wall of mirrors caught her eye, and her gaze lingered on the wings protruding from the small of her back.
"I don't think I did the right thing, either."
"No, I know I didn't do the right thing," she amended; shadows tiptoed onto her face as she bowed her head slightly. "But I'm trying to…"
She unfolded and refolded her wings. The paucity of feathers became glaringly apparent in the moment her wings spread; they riffled a little and then fluttered limply back into place. Serena's lips curved into a bittersweet smile; she was a shabby sight.
"I'm trying to change that, Hiiro."
…………………
When she stepped out again, the colors had already faded wearily out of things and dusk had relented to night.
Moments later, she exited the room without even bothering to dry her hair, shushing and promising her nagging conscience that she was merely exploring. She had only taken a second to admire the outfit laid out for her, a thick, wine-colored gown that expressed luxury through its material and hue while maintaining a casual air with its simplicity of design and cut.
There were three other rooms in her wing; the hall then transformed into a bridge-like structure crossing over the entryway and living room below. She looked into each room, mesmerized by the innumerable shades of cream, some just a breath away from the next but each effectively creating a disparate color scheme. There was a decidedly romantic ambience, and she smiled a little at the thought that Hiiro had personally looked into the décor.
The other side of the bridge was an entirely different story, and she started a little at the rich shades of ebony and onyx in the first room she entered. The carpet remained white, but there was an emphatically more masculine and modernist touch in the west wing. Instead of the subtle curves of lace and silk, the rooms were predominantly populated by the structure of wood paneling and right angles. The only repeating accessories were the roses and lilacs but this time dipped in soot or wax or glass to make them almost as dark as hate.
She shuddered a little and backed out; it felt as if two separate people designed the two wings, but somehow she knew Hiiro did both. Her mind balked to travel on down the train of thought to the reasons why.
The next door was the only one she had approached that was slightly ajar, and she knew she would find Hiiro and this – this fiancée inside. Taking a deep breath and then letting it leave her lungs in a long, slow sigh, she stepped in.
At first she couldn't see much; the black, wood blinds were half-closed to block out the waxing moon and burn of distant cosmic lights. The carpet blended into lonely walls that glimmered in what little moonlight slipped through, contrasting sharply with the blinds and the canopy bed of black velvet. The light glinted off her wheat-colored hair sprawled over and in delightful contrast with the darkness of the pillow.
Serena's breath quickened as she stepped closer to behold her. Duo had been right; Hiiro's fiancée did look almost uncannily like her with hair just a whisper darker, skin just a tinge tanner, and lips just a hint fuller. Serena was sure if this woman were to open her eyes, they would be a similar shade of blue.
But at the same time, they would never pass as twins. It seemed that there was something intrinsically different between the two that set them hopelessly apart despite similar attributes.
Maybe, Serena thought caustically to herself, it was that this other girl was innocent, was sweet, was loved.
And loved she was for at her bedside, with his head resting on folded arms, kneeled Hiiro. Serena staggered a little under the barrage of half-mottled memories triggered by the sight of him; they were worn and frayed with age but held images still intense against sepia backdrops.
He was the same Hiiro from years ago, but at the same time he was a stranger. The violent color of his acrid blue irises still stood out alarmingly from the seamless pallor of his skin accentuated even more by his dark, unruly hair; stray strands fell messily in front of his half-open eyes.
His breathing was even and slow as he guarded over her, creating the image of a dark prince watching over a dying angel. He played the role well; there was something frigid in his gaze that Serena was sure had never been there before. There was a subtle but unmistakable cruelty to the set of his mouth, a sense of succumbed-to temptations to the arch of his brow, but at the same time she was sure pain and sorrow had only recently worn his features until all the contentment and softness that she remembered was gone.
"Hiiro, dinner is ready."
Serena jumped and turned to see Trowa in the doorway. His eyes flickered to her but so briefly that only somebody looking for the gesture could've caught it.
Hiiro glanced up and replied, his voice gravelly from disuse, "I'm not going down." His gaze shifted and turned directly to her; his eyes met hers and held them for the space of some fifteen seconds and then turned back to the sleeping figure of Relena.
Trowa nodded; clearly this was not unexpected. "I'll have a maid bring food up for you and Relena." Only at the sound of Trowa's voice did Serena realize that she had been holding her breath.
It must've been a fluke, she reassured herself unsteadily. Yes, it must've been a fluke.
Hiiro smiled his thanks. Except it was such a sad smile that Serena felt tears burn at the back of her throat. She swallowed them and followed Trowa out of the room, but couldn't forget how instead of lighting up the blue-grays of Hiiro's eyes, the smile had dimmed them and invited shadows to trespass on his face.
Trowa awaited her at the bottom of the staircase. "You see what Duo and I were talking about now?"
She nodded.
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze probing. Finally, he shifted as if giving up on trying to read her. "Come on. Dinner's ready to be served." He offered his arm which she, with mild surprise evident upon her features at the antiquated gesture, accepted.
Duo was already at the dining table when they entered. "Finally," he greeted. "I thought you'd died up there, Trowa."
Trowa's lips twitched a little as if he were about to smile but thought better of it. Serena, however, offered Duo a small grin after sitting in the chair Trowa pulled out for her.
"And it's nice to finally dine with somebody aside from Trowa here. He's not really the most lively conversant." Duo paused to take a sip of his lemon-tinged water and a bite of the salad. "Better than Hiiro, of course, but that's not saying much." He made a face.
"Does Hiiro not talk much?"
"Yeah. I can't tell if he was just innately handicapped or what." Duo shrugged and laughed to indicate his statement was in jest before pushing the salad away. "I hate salad. I wish they'd just bring out the main course."
"All you had to do was ask," Trowa muttered as a maid took away Duo's salad and another almost instantaneously brought forth his dinner. Duo shot Trowa a sheepish smile and the maid a look of apology.
"So you have quite an impressive portfolio, huh, Miss Summers?" Duo asked between bites. "I should've recognized you sooner."
"Serena," she corrected automatically. "Why?"
"Duo likes to dabble in fashion photography. It's one of his hobbies," Trowa replied without looking up from his food.
Serena raised a brow. "Oh?"
"No, I'm an aesthete. I appreciate beauty." Duo smiled and shrugged. "Truth is beauty and beauty truth; that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
"Keats," she identified.
A look of happy surprise flashed across his face. "You read Keats?"
She hesitated before answering, "No, Hiiro did."
"I didn't know Hiiro knew that poetry existed."
She hesitated again. "He … he used to."
Trowa kicked Duo under the table before he could ask his next question. He received a confused, wounded look which he blithely ignored. However, when he looked up, Serena was smiling knowingly.
"Don't worry. I'm not unwilling to talk about it. Besides, you deserve to know for being so kind as to give me this opportunity to … well, allow me to explain." She looked away and frowned a little as if peering into the recesses of her memory.
"I met Hiiro when I was – when we were – very young. I'd just received my first pair of wings and accidentally flew onto the Yui estates where he found me. We became instant friends partly because, I think, Hiiro had so few playmates, and from then on, I visited him every afternoon after school."
"Can you keep a secret, Hiiro?"
"Sure I can. I've kept lots of secrets. Like how my dad used to-" he stopped abruptly and glared at the suppressed smile on Serena's eight-year-old face. "That's a secret," he finished and turned to concentrate on the drawing he was scratching into the dirt.
"Okay, but this is a really important secret. You can't tell anybody."
He didn't look up. "Does it have something to do with why my dad can't see you?"
"Yes." She pursed her lips and finally blurted out, "I'm an angel, Hiiro."
He stopped his drawing and looked up.
She played with the hemline of her skirt nervously. "Do you believe me?"
With the genuine, direct, and utter seriousness of an eight-year-old, Hiiro replied, "I think … I think I knew it all along."
"We were the best of friends and then something more. I didn't tell him about how I felt until I was fifteen."
"Did you hear me, Hiiro?"
"Yeah," he replied without looking up from his laptop.
"And?"
"I knew it all along."
She scowled. "You're so full of it."
He looked up to meet her eyes, the intensity of his gaze causing her to break eye contact. "You want to know how I knew?"
She nodded mutely.
"I carried you home once when we were eight, and you said that to me while half-asleep."
Crimson stained her cheeks. "Oh."
He turned back to the screen. "I said that I loved you, too."
"When Hiiro was seventeen, his mother became sick. She … she was dying, and Hiiro entreated me to save her." Serena stopped and thought a little, the light in her eyes dimming as her mind traversed to more unpleasant terrain.
"You have to understand first … every year at Christmastime, an angel gets one wish. For most angels, this wish is a new pair of wings because if there is anything an angel cherishes, it is his or her wings; they are status symbols. Hiiro wanted me to use my wish to save his mother.
"However, the wishing is not an active process. The angel doesn't say aloud what he wants; rather, his heart's desire is granted. Sometimes without his even knowing what his heart's desire is.
"That Christmas, when Hiiro's mother was dying, I woke up to a new pair of wings."
"What do you want?"
She started at the sight of him dressed in a black suit when he opened the door. "I came to visit you, Hiiro. Merry Christmas." Serena beamed and threw her arms around him in a hug. She pulled away with an uncertain look upon her face; he had failed to respond, his unrelenting figure cold and still. "What's wrong, Hiiro?"
"My mother is dead." The dry staccato of his words hurt her, and he seemed to delight in the pain he inflicted with every syllable, rejoice in the blood he drew.
"She's-"
"Yeah, dead. Why didn't you save her?"
"I-"
"Never mind. You probably got new wings again. Congratulations." His voice never rose above a reasonable level and hardly any emotion-inflicted inflection marred its glass-like smoothness.
He turned and was about to close the door but an idea seemed to strike him and cause him to turn back around. "And you know what, Serena? I don't believe in angels."
The blood froze in her veins. "What?"
"You heard me. I don't believe in angels because what distinguishes them from humans if they are just as selfish?" The smear of cruelty besmirched his lips as he narrowed his eyes and sneered at her pained expression.
"Hiiro, don't do this; I can explain!"
"Did you hear me?! I don't believe in angels!"
"He never saw me again. I visited him still just to make sure he was okay, but he never saw me again. And when it came time for college, I left." She stopped; her chin dropped to her chest. A minute ticked by before she looked up again and forced a smile.
"During college I was approached by an agent from IMG here in New York to model. I thought about it a long time and finally agreed because … I thought I could repent this way."
She pushed her untouched food aside and rested her elbows on the table.
"You see, angels … angels are not meant to be public figures." She smiled a little at her choice of words. "For every picture taken of them, a feather is tugged out of their wings, so you can imagine how most angels avoid cameras at all costs."
"Why though?" Trowa prompted.
"It causes confusion. Everybody can see an angel in a photo. The people who don't believe in angels would start to catch on that there are people in photos that they never see in real life."
Duo grimaced. "So your penance is destroying your wings every year?"
Serena let her shoulders rise a little and then fall. "I deserve it."
"What happens if you wish for something other than wings?"
"Nobody knows. Every angel that doesn't wish for new wings disappears."
"My sister disappeared."
The blonde looked up. "Makoto? Yeah, she disappeared." She heard Trowa's unasked question and shook her head sadly. "Sorry, nobody knows where they disappear to, either."
Trowa nodded as if he never hoped for an answer and steered the topic away from himself. "It's Christmas Eve."
Serena nodded and looked down at her folded hands in her lap. "It is, isn't it?"
Duo cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "You never finished your sentence earlier. You said we'd given you the opportunity to?"
The blonde nodded. "Yes. I wished to leave Hiiro something. You gave me that opportunity."
Duo arched a brow.
"A video. I left him a video."
…………………
She insisted on leaving the lights off in her room despite the stuttering protestations of the maid. Once left alone, she crossed over the expanse of untainted carpet and stepped out onto the small balcony. The cold was remorseless, and she rubbed the skim of goosebumps on her pale forearms in an awkward attempt to keep warm.
"Standard film is twenty-four frames per second. That's twenty-four feathers lost in one second."
Serena smothered a scream and whirled around, heart pounding in her ears.
Hiiro, with the CD she left him gingerly held up in his right hand, pursed his lips and took another step toward her, still steadily holding her gaze.
"This message was one minute and twenty-three seconds. That translates to – can you do the math for me, Serena?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "One thousand nine hundred and ninety-two feathers."
He was a foot from her; she could see the clouds his breath made in the night air. "My God, Serena," he said softly, "do you still have wings left?"
Again, he didn't wait for an answer and turned away abruptly to walk back into the room, flipping the light on in such a haughty manner that she frowned and wondered if this was indeed the same Hiiro.
"I know what you do now. You model, right?" He glanced back at her before letting himself fall onto the decorative sofa in her room. "More feathers lost. You can live with that?" He smiled bitterly to himself. "I wonder how."
She continued staring at him, speechless half because of his sudden appearance, more so because of his heartbreaking callousness.
"Aren't you wondering how I can see you, Serena?"
She waited for him to continue without regard for her answer again, but this time he looked up and waited expectantly for an answer.
"I…"
Hiiro sighed and stood again to approach her; it was his first indication of any emotion aside from mockery and contempt. "It's good to hear your voice again," he admitted, smiling down at the carpet as if not daring to meet her eyes. "I-" he paused and started again. "I regretted what I said the instant you left. So I wished with everything I had that angels existed." He smiled ruefully to himself.
"I could see you all of those days that you came to visit me, but I never said anything. I thought … I thought you would, and for a while, I delighted in your pained expression.
"But then you left. I waited a long time that first afternoon that you failed to come. I stayed out in the gardens until the next morning, in the rain, until the butler nearly carried me inside." He laughed a little at the memory, but it was not a happy laugh.
"I did the same thing the next day and the next until I lost count. But you never came back, and I had to leave for Cambridge."
He stopped himself again self-consciously and took a deep breath. "Then you showed up this evening. Like a dream. Like a … like a nightmare, maybe."
"You saw me."
"Indeed. As clearly as I see you now. I wonder … I wonder if I do see you." He took a deep breath and rested both hands on her shoulders almost timidly as if afraid they would only swipe at air. "You see, I have seen you before today, too. These last few days, spending every moment of every hour at Relena's bedside … sometimes she looked almost exactly like you. Sometimes I called her Serena."
He brushed the tear from her cheek and smiled a little. "Don't cry for me yet, Serena. I love Relena now." He met her gaze squarely. "I do. That is why I have not slept for at least thirty-five hours. That is why I think you might be a nightmare."
"I see," she whispered and pulled away until she was out of reach. "I understand, Hiiro. It is only to be expected that you moved on."
"Does it look like I've moved on?" His fingertips were icy as he stepped closer and tilted her face up so that their eyes met again. "Look at this house, Serena; look at Relena. Everything has something to do with you. Does it look like I've moved on?
"I say what I do because I have never let go of what you used to be. What you are in my memories. And Relena brings that distant image to life. In my eyes, she is you. Hell, even her name sounds like yours."
Serena bit her lip and tried to phrase her next question so that all her muckish desires were encased in rosy euphemisms. "So if Relena were to…" She licked her lips and tried again, "Were to-"
"Die?" He shot her a mildly amused look as if he were laughing at her moral dilemma. "If Relena were to die, would I love you? Is that what the question was?"
She looked away, and he took it as a yes.
He took his time answering, the silence weighing heavily in the air as if blanketing the room under a layer of ash. "I think," he started softly, "I think I would."
Their eyes met, but she looked away quickly. "I understand, Hiiro."
"Do you?" It was an earnest question. "Do you really understand, Serena?"
Her hesitation made him frown.
"I'm sorry for the way I have acted this evening, Serena. There was no cruelty intended. I … I am merely tired and hopeless and – and angry that I have yet to forget you."
She sighed and replied with bell-like clarity, "I understand, Hiiro. Trust me, I understand."
…………………
Serena went to bed feeling awful, ready to throw up what insignificant amount of dinner she had managed to keep down until now. It was nearly three by the time she managed to fall into light slumber and as dawn approached, she found herself caught between consciousness and sleep, alternating between seconds of semi-awareness and moments of unsatisfying dozing.
She wished morning would never come.
But it did, as always, and right on schedule.
She got up reluctantly and drew back the curtains, allowing dawn to brush the room with its rosy fingertips. When she stepped into the bathroom, she delayed looking in the mirror. With eyes closed, she turned to face the glass and slowly opened them.
She almost cried when she saw them. New wings, the most glorious ones she had ever seen, almost twice the wingspan of last year's. But she wasn't rejoicing in their whiteness or their strength or their perfection because these new wings meant that she'd failed again, that she'd-
Trowa burst into the restroom. "Come quickly, Serena. Serena?"
"Yes?"
"Serena?" He looked around, but didn't appear to see her and, with a furrowing of his brow, left.
A number of thoughts flashed across her mind at breakneck speed until she almost felt faint with vertigo. Without wasting another moment, she ran out of her bathroom, out of her room, across the bridge, and into Hiiro's room.
"…It's an absolute miracle. I feel as if I've had the best night's rest of my life."
The look of surprise on Serena's face mellowed into a smile, and she approached the bed slowly before allowing herself to perch on the windowsill with an unobstructed view of the blonde-haired lady named Relena.
She was everything that Serena had expected – an angelic beauty with eyes of a sanguine cornflower blue. There was a certain air about her that conveyed everything new, unspoiled, and soft.
"You feel entirely better?" Duo asked, a happily bewildered note latent in his voice.
Relena nodded and sat up as if to prove her point. "Yes, I-"
"I can't find her anywhere, Duo."
Relena, Duo, and Hiiro all looked up to see Trowa at the door.
Hiiro beat Duo to the question. "Her?" Trowa didn't answer. "You mean Serena?"
Duo gaped. "How did you..."
Trowa let his tense shoulders fall. "I see now."
Duo looked confused. "You see what?"
Trowa smiled a little. "Serena … Serena has disappeared."
She laughed a little to herself at Trowa's insight and stepped down to kiss each of the four people in the room on the cheek before throwing open the window and flying out.
She glanced back to meet Hiiro's delightfully blue eyes as he looked searchingly in the sky for her. Tugging at her right wing, she pulled out a feather and dropped it in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, dazed, before holding it up and mouthing a silent thank you and something that looked a little like I love you.
In retrospect, she thought it must've been I do believe in angels.
And he did. Because he made sure all his children and their children did, too. She knew. Because she still visited them every day, after the children came home from school.
…………………
Weak ending. :/ But it'll have to do, haha. It's Christmas, guys! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Enjoy your winter break, and best of luck in 2007. :] Thank you, as always, for your time. 3
Yours ever,
Ange-.