Disclaimer: I don't own DGM!
Characters and pairings: LaviLenalee. Allen and Kanda do put in cameo appearances too.
Summary: It's hard to let go of everything you've ever wanted, ever dreamed of, but she'll try.
[sputnik moment]
LaviLenalee
When Lenalee walks along the shore, she dreams of flowers and wine and joy galore, of tales as old as the mountains, of the tragic twists in the narratives of history. She hears Lavi's voice; once again, he tells her the old stories of conquest and war, of romance and mystery, of how the Vikings of old thundered down from the frosty northlands and married the daughters of the mild Celtic lands.
"I love these stories," she would say. "Tell me more about Odin and the ancient northmen."
Then Lavi's good eye would dance in his face, the light in it lighting up his features. He would hold her cold hand as they strode along the shoreline, waves lapping at their unshod feet, and then he would delve into the mysteries of the ancient world, as they were set down in the books of lore.
And now – now, the waves are silent. They sleep gently against the breakwater, and the wind whispers softly, as if afraid to break the solemn bubble. Lenalee traces the old path, barefoot, and she sings old songs, missing the feathery touch of Lavi's fingers and his breath ghosting across her cheeks.
When she reaches the end of their path, she sighs and wipes away a lone tear. They say time will heal all pain, so why does she still hurt? Why does her heart still feel like broken glass, why do her tears still flow unnumbered, why does she stay sleepless through the twelve hours of the night?
Kiss me, she tells the wind, but she only feels emptiness and pale moonlight enveloping her once again.
:::
"For chrissake," Kanda says, "shut your mouth, Lenalee. He can see you gaping like a fool."
Lenalee shakes her head but looks away from the table diagonally opposite theirs. "I am a fool."
"Took you long enough to realise that."
Lenalee picks at her spaghetti. "I'm not hungry."
"Just because you saw him?"
She doesn't deign to reply.
"Is it because of the woman?" Kanda turns to get a look. "He's kissing her."
"Shut up, Kanda. I don't want to know."
"You still love him," Kanda says. "Get a grip on yourself, woman, for chrissake."
But all Lenalee can think about are smiles by candlelight and soft kisses and the sweet smell of roses as the waves lap at her feet.
'I will," she says. "Someday."
:::
Someday is a long time in arriving.
In the meantime, Lenalee takes to writing poems. Sad, dark, angsty love poems, because they're in fashion, apparently. She sits in her garret and writes; she sits by her porch and writes; she walks to that bistro and orders a coffee and writes.
When Allen comes to visit on his home leave, she smiles and is all dimples and bright eyes. She takes him to the bistro and together, they sip tea and wander through dreams, flitting from one castle in the sky to another.
When Allen is about to leave, he takes her hand and whispers across the table. "Are you sure you're fine, Lena? Kanda told me that..."
"I'm fine," she says, because that's the right thing to say. "See, I'm writing poems."
Lenalee sounds almost hysterical and she knows it and she knows Allen knows it and she knows that Allen knows that she knows it.
He nods, though he can almost see the cracks in her light-hearted façade. "Call me anytime you need to talk," he says.
A megawatt smile, a warm hug, and he's gone. I won't call him, she thinks, as she watches him stride away in his khaki trench coat, unless my heart hurts so badly it seems like death has come. He has problems enough.
Then Lenalee shivers and draws her jacket tighter around herself, and thinks back to the day she saw Lavi's mouth working its magic on another woman. She can't get the image out of her mind.
Do you still love me, Lavi? she whispers, and almost hopes that Lavi will materialise and answer her question.
:::
There's a bridal boutique near her brother's office. She's walking to the Headquarters, and for no perceptible reason she stops at the window and stares at the mannequin. The dress on display is ugly, really, but she wishes for the longest moment that she's a bride-to-be looking for the one gorgeous gown.
Then the door opens and a smart saleslady steps out. "Good evening, Miss. Do you want to step in and try on some of our imported gowns?"
"No," Lenalee says, a little too strongly.
The saleslady looks somewhat surprised and maybe a little hurt, so Lenalee blushes and softens her tone. "I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry."
She walks off, heels clicking, and wonders how it would be like to step into a bridal boutique with Lavi. He would probably make fun of half the dresses and get her to try on the other half.
Her heart squirms inside her again, and she wishes she could cut this annoying organ out.
:::
She remembers the fireworks, the shooting stars, the late dinners and walks during wintry nights. Was their romance doomed from the start?
"I never loved you." – His parting shot.
Lenalee lies in bed, glass of champagne in her hand and thinks of how Lavi's face scrunched up as he said that, how his good eye blazed like a star going down.
She cries herself to sleep again.
:::
She's back at their beach, sidestepping the lapping tongues of the water. Lavi's voice is all around her; it's in the curve of the beach, in the cries of the sea-bound gulls, in the crawl of the crabs and in the dance of the wind.
"Lavi!" Lenalee shouts, throwing her voice miles over the silent sea.
"I used to hate you," she says. "I used to hate you and yet love you."
Now, she can see him again, his hair flying in the wind, the red strands looking artificial against the damp greenery and the harmonious sea. His scarf trails behind him and he is smiling in the gossamer starlight.
She remembers how they used to book weekend tickets and board the trains cross-country in their student days. They'd backpack through villages, sleeping in barns and little hostels, and Lavi would tell Lenalee all the old stories he knew, sing her all the love songs he could remember.
Are you doing the same to another girl now?
The wind moans like a sad child, and Lenalee shivers.
But we have come to an end. This is it. Time does heal all wounds after all. It's hard, but I think I can let go of this sea and its attendant memories. Farewell, Lavi.
Lenalee tosses a little chest – full of letters written on modern parchment, her first love letters – into the sea. She can hear a soft clinking, as if her heart is breaking a little further. There is a tightness in her chest that she attributes to the nipping cold. She feels three years' worth of memories slide into the sea, crashing under the moody waves, sinking into the silent depths of the world.
Goodbye, she thinks. I'll try to forget.
AN: I wrote this some time ago; it was influenced by:
(1) Real life. Forgetting is tough, especially when people (who don't know anything about it) accidentally remind you of the person you're trying to forget.
(2) Taylor Swifts's The Story of Us. Perhaps, though, the influence of this song isn't very evident here. It's a lovely song, and so heart-breaking.
(3) Mad Boy's Love Song by leafyaki. If you haven't read it, do check it out!
And - I hope you enjoyed reading this! Reviews, comments and suggestions would be appreciated, as usual (: