Here's to writing fan fiction again! (LONG STORY)
Bleh. Spoilers for MGS4. Face-camo is "face camouflage." It's used for disguise if needed in some locations.
No, I don't own MGS. But like every other fan, I wish I did.
Facade
"How'd you convince Johnny to get out of the house?"
She smirked. "I've got ways that men seem to agree with me given any sort of circumstance. Besides, I haven't gotten to talk with you since the wedding." The grin faltered slightly. "You don't have much time left, do you?"
His head rested in his palm, eyes distant and weary. He was slightly clean-shaven, his raven hair slightly messy. The gaze was directed towards the wooden table. Music in the background was composed of a mournful melody on acoustic guitar. It seemed to give a more somber mood than either person at the table wanted. The woman's hand slipped into his.
His voice was soft, and he coughed harshly. "A month or so."
"And again, you show up with face-camo."
He looked up from the table, shrugging. "It gives me a chance to sort of escape from what little reality is left. I hate waking up and seeing what I've become over the course of nine years- old, wrinkled, gray haired." Wounded eyes gazed into worried ones. "Sort of a denial thing."
Silence for several long moments.
"I wish I wasn't a clone," he muttered bitterly.
She squeezed his hand. "So you could live longer?"
His hand clenched up slightly. He shut his eyes and allowed the face-camo to drop. She put her free hand up to her mouth in stunned disgust. The sight of her old flame with the image of a seventy-year-old man was enough to make her cringe in utter disgust. She turned away for a moment, shaking her head. "I… I had no idea that…"
He coughed harshly once more. "You won't have to see this sight for much longer," he told her before the face-camo went back up.
"But… but you're only in your early forties!" she spluttered.
He looked pained. "I know. I wish I wasn't a clone so I could see you with my real face, not this horribly disfigured clone identity."
Their hands stayed interlocked.
"I wish I could see your kids," he admitted.
She tried to smile. "You will."
He glanced away from the scene, coughing again. "I know."
And the two of them sat there in their own reality- in denial of the inevitable fate that would befall upon them in less than thirty-one days.
Good, bad, sad? I'd love to know! Thanks for reading!