Code Geass R3: Hangyaku no Aoi

by AutumnAudacity

Code Geass R3: (Rebellion of the Blue). "I was never quite like my father, when you went to the very core of thing; I didn't look like him, I didn't act like him, and I certainly wasn't nearly as brave as him. However, one thing united us: We have insanely horrid, or perhaps blessed, luck." Lelouch's son takes things into his own hands as corruption in government is revived.

As I sat beside him, the lush green grass birthed by the coming spring nestled beneath our legs, I felt so small. He towered over me by a good three feet, looming over me like a dark cloud. His countenance could not out-gloom itself as he looked off into the distance, the breeze slowly blowing his ebony hair away from his face. Out yonder was a setting sun of gold and red, giving the city below out outstreched bluff a lazy and orange hue; The sun's theatrical display glistened in his melancholy eyes.

I never dared to utter a sound from my lips; His wistful lavender eyes told me everything I needed to know. I merely sat beside him, silently indulging in the sweet smell that lingered from somewhere sweet and embraced the wind's breath. As I gazed out at the bustling city below us, I wondered what it was like to be a child there: To have a father that engaged in a game of "catch", and to have a mother who loved and embraced you and held you whenever sorrow overtook you. Though, even so, I found myself unable to yearn for these things; As I sat there beside him, I felt overwhelmingly complete. Whole. Like a piece of me that was constantly held above and out of reach of me had finally wrapped its arms around me.

"Adam..." He muttered. If I hadn't been so sense-heightened beside him, I wouldn't have caught it; However, even so, his tone upset me in a way I could not describe as anything but concerned. I was genuinely concerned for him, a man whom I vaguely remember being around at all. "I know we don't speak much..." He spoke once more. "But, I have a favor to ask of you." I don't remember giving any reply to him, my mouth more than likely to stunned to say a word. "I will be leaving soon... It will be permenant." At this, I was stunned. My father was finally speaking to me, finally giving me any sort of social interaction, and it was only to tell me he was leaving. My heart shattered, though my expression remained unchanged. "I will never come back."

And he didn't.