Their Last Days
They say there's no such thing as good endings. That they are but unfinished stories, cut at peaks before falls. He'd like to say otherwise.
True love stories never have endings, or something like that.
a/n: As you can see, someone is nervous about the Macross Frontier franchise ending tomorrow. /intense finger-crossing for AruSheri going on. Meanwhile, I decide to crawl out my antisocial college shell, to spend my entire day, writing this. Lawl, at the risk of sounding cheesy (but I will say it anyway), this is my love letter to Macross Frontier, AruSheri and the wonderful people who love them too. Thanks for an awesome (and exceedingly obsessive) 3 (or something like that) years!
They say there's no such thing as good endings. That they are but unfinished stories, cut at peaks before falls.
He'd like to say otherwise.
(but hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves and give the story away)
He thinks their most tumultuous times occurred in their youth.
It would be quite difficult to recreate the highs and lows of a love during war-time. Theirs was a story of a soldier and his muse or rather, a songstress and her muse, and of how in the span of months, something akin to a tragedy unfolded as their lives.
It began with a quickness, as though time was a narrator too eager to get to the climax of his story. They meet when he is brash and she is haughty, and they do not like each other at all (but maybe they do). But chance and circumstance make their paths cross one too many times and suddenly, it is not a question of liking each other but a question of loving each other. Yet soon enough, she will be dying and he will be pointing guns at the wrong enemies. They will stand with stars as their witness as they put themselves second to her songs and his duties. They will throw themselves into a war, and they will think that they are living their last days.
Until a miracle happens.
War ends, she heals, and he survives. Their last days become their first days and there are so many possibilities...
He is up in the air.
He is staring at the sun and it is so bright that there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Below him is the swell of celebration from winning a war and finding a home. Below him too, is her.
He thinks of the past few weeks and months and sees that most of what he remembers involves her. He thinks of the moment he most loved her, of standing in front of her vanity as she stood a distance away from him, of watching her put on a brave face when she was most afraid and telling him to do the same. He thinks of her and realizes that she's become the constant of his memories.
His head is filled with thoughts of her until night-time. And it is only when he feels that he has a clear enough head that he begins his descent to the celebrations below.
The moment his feet touch the ground, they automatically lead him to find her. He spots her among his friends and comrades and maneuvers his way to be at her side. When she finally spots him, he watches in amusement as her expression changes from a playful frown of annoyance (he kept her waiting after all) to a subtle hesitation. He knows her well enough to understand the look, Where do we stand?
He meets her gaze and hopes she can see the clearness in his eyes.
That night, as they let themselves be lost to the multitudes of people, he will take her hand into his. (He could feel a warmth reach the tip of her fingertips.)
He will tell you now that the days that follow do not replicate the same intensity of the romantic tragedy that was their beginning. He thinks it better this way because while those days may have been exhilarating in its highs, they were also spectacularly exhausting in their lows. Emotions like that are best reserved for the young, they can bear them; and despite all appearances, he and Sheryl often like to think of each other as kindred old souls.
This does not mean to say that their life is without excitement, even less that their life is one without missteps.
Some days, they will lie idle. Tired from long days of school, work and song, they will curl up in warm blankets and lean against each other's frame for support. They will hear each other's breathing, and she will play with the rhythm in her head and make a song out of it.
Some days, they will remember why they used to say each other's name with an exasperated sigh. They will fight, call each other names, and dance the dance of their common weakness, their stubbornness.
And some days, they will not be able to keep their hands of each other. He will press his lips against hers, run his fingers through her hair, and cradle her head in his hands. She will untie the knot of his robes and he will feel the twining of her arms between the cloth and his back. And he will make love to her, burying his head in the curve of her neck and call out her name.
Sheryl.
(He no longer remembers how his days were without her.)
This is a funny story.
He asks her to marry him twice. The first time was on impulse. The second was more intricate, with a purpose in mind.
1. On a particularly pleasant Sunday, he is preparing lunch and she is leaning against the counter, nicking stray carrot sticks from the steadily increasing pile. There is an almost cat-like smile on her face as she hums in time with his chopping of the vegetables. The window behind her is open and a gentle breeze whisks the curtains forwards and backwards. She will make a teasing comment about the look of concentration on his face and he will get all flustered and set his knife down. When he looks up, he will witness tendrils of her pink hair swaying with the wind and a carrot stick, stuffed halfway into lips hinting a smile. And this will be a revelation to him (he remembers thinking, Everyday. This is what I want for everyday.); and unconsciously, he will say: "Let's get married."
And there will be a silence, in which they will both realize what had just been said. He will blush and return to his vegetables in embarrassment. And she will laugh, but it is neither mocking nor mean-spirited.
"I don't think Sheryl Nome should say yes to a proposal like that."
She will say that as she places her hand on top of his to stop him from chopping the vegetables. And she will lean in further through the counter and place a soft kiss on his lips. And after, when they are forehead to forehead, she will nod. (He swears he could see tiny tears in her eyes.)
2. The weekend after their first engagement, he takes her out to some place fancy recommended by one Luca Angeloni. It is not often that they have nights like this; they usually avoid the limelight to sidestep hounding reporters. But this night, he pulls out all the stops. Their table is lit by candlelight and stands alone in the balcony of the restaurant. Their dinner turns out to be a three course meal that has tiny portions and is eaten with far too many utensils, so he's pretty sure it's fancy. And by the time the dessert plates are lifted up from the table, Sheryl, whose cheeks are pink from the little champagne they drank, looks delightedly impressed. But this will not keep her from asking curiously, "This is sweet, but what brought this on?"
And he will take that as his cue, answering her question with a knowing smirk and a motion of his hands. And just as swiftly as he does it, a great swell of sound will fill the air. He will walk to her side and offer her his hand. She will take it, and her eyes will widen when she sees that an orchestra boasting various brass instruments have suddenly appeared to surround them. As the music goes on, he will lead her in a clumsy dance and will whisper in her ear, "Klan told me that I should do this right."
And when the song is over, he will do like they do in books and movies and get down on one knee. And he will slip a ring into her finger, look up to her and say with a tiny tear-induced hiccup, "And I wanted to see you cry a little. Is that okay?"
Tears will dribble down from her swirling blue eyes and she will nod again, "Alright, but you better appreciate it. This is not a service you get everyday."
They will start laughing, to the bewilderment of their privileged company, and the crescent moon above them will look as though it was laughing with them.
(They are married the following spring in a private and traditional Japanese ceremony Sheryl insisted on. Alto, insisting on being the opposite of traditional, carries his wife in his arms out the wooden screen doors after the wedding much to the chagrin of his father, and amusement of his brother and the general public.)
They have children, of course. (Though at first, they are both terrified by the prospect.)
They name their first after Alto's mother. They name their second, a boy, after Sheryl's favorite flower.
Later, when their children are a little bit older, they will admit to still being afraid and perhaps, not knowing what they are doing.
Even later, when their daughter is married and their son has gone off to be an adventurer, they will look back on those days with a surprised delight at how well everything had turned out.
If you must know, he remains with the SMS until well into his adulthood.
(This is a picture of him leaving home for a sortie.
It is morning. Early bits of sun enter the room in rays, shedding light on his boots leaning haphazardly against the door frame. He will slip soundlessly from room to room - kissing his daughter's forehead and tucking his son's blankets - before returning to theirs. By then, she will have woken, and for a while, she will watch him slip into his shoes and tie them with a practiced ease. By the time he is done, she will have freed herself from the blankets and made her way to him. He will look at her and he will see different things on different days. Sometimes, it will be pride; sometimes, she will betray a hint of fear. Nevertheless, he will embrace her, and she will say, "Be brave."
It will be for the both of them.)
When adulthood creeps into old age, he decides it is time to rest. This will be the day of his retirement, his last day as a soldier.
When he goes home that day, she will be waiting by an open window, head cradled in her palms, as their home record player wafts soft music to the streets outside. By then, many will say that she has lost that quality in her beauty that led so many men to be enchanted by her. Her hair will be fairer and closer to white, her skin marked with the lines of experience and age, and her once ever-captivating presence will have been reduced to a more modest softness. (He does not see any of those things. All that he sees is that her eyes are still as bright and as blue as they were in their youth.)
They will meet each other by the doorway, and he will say, "These old bones are here to stay."
Her eyes will light up with her signature playful mirth and she will lead him in a twirl to their living room, "I hope you don't think that means you can take it easy."
"Oh, not that. Never that." He will laugh before kissing her.
They will spend their last days in a house that smells like the sea. Their nest will be empty, and they will spend the hours in a comfortable silence with only each other for company. He will take a liking to reading thick long books about wars and soldiers. And she will take a liking to playing the piano with the window open to a refreshing sea breeze. During the nights, they will reminisce and they will tell each other stories and they will fall asleep next to each other and forget to turn the lights off.
(One time, Sheryl tells him a story. It is old and Greek, and was often read to her when she was little. There is a man and there is a woman, and they have been wed a very long time. When they are old and wrinkles are playing on their skin, the Gods offer to grant them one wish. They will ask for one thing - that if one of them were to die, the other would follow. The Gods will smile at this. And one night, they will close their eyes and will wake to find themselves changed. One of them will be an oak and the other a linden tree, and their roots will be entwined. Together, they will stand for another lifetime.
"Wouldn't that be nice?")
Later, when the time for sleeping comes, he will place a soft kiss on her shoulder before laying down their bed. He will close his eyes with a hint of a smile.
Maybe tomorrow, their last day will be their first day once again.
end.