He didn't like the mirror, it always yielded the same reflection. An ugly gray mask that covered a guilty face. As he looked in the one he stood before, he took a moment to observe his mouth. How long had it been since those lips had smiled?
Forever?
No, he'd smiled once, so very long ago, in his youth. Then again, most childhoods can be fondly remembered and he'd had a wonderful family.
'Look what they have spawned,' he thought. 'A creature so awful that he must hide behind a mask. Father, I hope you can't see me now.' Night after night, and all Zechs felt was emptiness.
So now he was at Victoria. He knew this base far too well, he'd been schooled here. No fond memories, except for one. She was here, he knew this. He inhaled and sketched her features in his mind.
Short blue hair, so perfectly set on that beautiful head. Piercing eyes, full and clear. Those eyes knew him like no other. Those eyes cut through his mask. Milk cream skin, straight pleasantly stubborn nose, and full lips. So soft, did his own remember them?
One night, one kiss, so far in the past. Yet, whenever thoughts came to her, it still remained. Always there, the vision of her presence. It commanded respect and something else. Love? Such a term that one was, far too often used by hopeless romantics. Did he love her? Perhaps. He had loved her that night.
She'd been there, a breath away and they'd talked. So peaceful, the moon's crescent a visual spectrum above their heads. He saw her eyes smiling at him. He remembered the feel of his lips smiling back. She had put one small hand on his own. He'd put his own on top of her's. And then that single, inexplicable moment. Amazing how time can stand still for a kiss. They'd connected, on all physical and mental plains. He'd kissed her with all the longing in his soul and she had wrapped trembling arms around his neck, leaning forward, leaning through the mask.
How had that happened? Was it his own adolescent naiveté? Or was it love? That word again, why couldn't he think of another thing then that word? So cliché, so unrealistic. Love wasn't what he felt for her. Or was it?
He put two slender hands upon his tanned face, reaching behind the mask and rubbing tired eyes. Sighing he turned to leave.
There she stood, exactly the same as the perpetual portrait engraved in his memory. She smiled at him, but this time he could not smile back. He nodded instead and followed her out of the room.
Perhaps love was the right word, but just thought of at the wrong time. For now it was unattainable. The madness and chaos of the world would not allow it, that was fact. By chance a day would come when it could be expressed once more. Her eyes told him so. They mirrored his own and living within them was the memory of that night.
He thought of the day he would tell her. Felt her arms around his neck. Touched her lips once more with his own. Yes, he could already taste her. Now though, he followed behind. However, with hopes of that day to come, his eyes showed something that his lips had long forgotten.
They smiled.
Author's Note: There will be no sequel, but hey, no one died this time! This thing was just a short challenge piece I wanted to see if I could pull off, hope it wasn't too boring. Luv to everyone, even the anonymous reviewers. That is all ~JZero