'
"Ouch!"
"Watch what you're doing, Lelouch!"
Massaging the red, slightly swollen spot on his right wrist, the raven-haired teen muttered 'Sorry' as he bent down to pick up the heated frying pan that apparently just flew from its comfortable spot on the stove to the stainless white marble floor, which wasn't anymore thanks to none other than himself.
"Geez," Rivalz said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're always so careful with hot stuff. Now look, we have to scrub the floor again!"
Lelouch threw his friend a look that clearly indicated 'You know what? I'm totally capable of doing that so you don't have to be so grumpy about it'. Instead, he said, "Well, now and then there are days like this."
Your days are now marked. You will know when the time comes.
The pan almost dropped from his hands the second time had Lelouch not gripped it tighter in the first place. That voice, that mysterious yet clear voice was resonating inside his head once again as if it's playing a constant reminder of his death role. Putting the pan back on its proper place, Lelouch placed his hands on the edges of the stove where no fire would come near with his head slightly bent down.
How strange that he wasn't scare but nervous instead. He didn't know when his time would come or what kind of warning it would give. Moreover, how would he prepare for it? Would he just drop death when the soul was collected entirely? Or would there be signs foreshadowing? God, how he wished that guy would give him more details. Lelouch tried to ask before he completely disappeared without leaving any traces. The moment Lelouch turned around to face him after the news that C.C. was recovering had been delivered, he sensed nothing but darkness. An indication that that cryptic man had already vanished.
"Lelouch?" Rivalz was calling him, pulling him out of his reverie. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. What is it?" Then it hit him. "Oh right, the floor. I'll do it right now."
"No," Rivalz said, pointing toward the tea tray. "We'll be good and clean the floor for you this time. Can you bring the tea to Madame C.C. instead?"
A wave of familiar feeling rushed over Lelouch. Something like longing.
"Sure," he said, walked over and picked up the silver tray that a silvery medium-size teapot and two cups made of the same materials were taking residence upon.
When he walked out to the main lobby, Lelouch was suddenly reminded of how grand and amazing and breath-taking the mansion truly was. With three years living in said mansion, he had sometimes forgotten what a marvelous place it was; no doubt that it definitely belonged to a high-ranked noble. There was the pure, spotless and white marble floor, along with the fluted columns and high marble ceiling. There were also several portraits of well-known though long-dead people hung distantly in the bright lobby that had big glass windows built in, inviting the sunlight to come in and spread over the place, shining upon the silver-framed pictures.
Now that he already reached the crimson door to the main bedroom, Lelouch took a deep breath and opened it. He suddenly remembered he hadn't been in there for almost a week.
The first sight he saw was an elegant form of a woman lying on the bed with deep red-colored sheets. Her lime and silky long hair cascaded down and spread about her beautifully, like a blossoming flower. Her simple white dress only complemented the beauty of her hair and its color. Even though the illness had been torturing her for the past few week, or even months, the slight lively pink color on her cheeks had not faded. Lelouch liked to believe that his bargain last night had something to do with that.
"Good morning, Madame—" He stopped short when he noticed someone else in the room. The master, and he was half-sitting on the bed next to C.C.
How did he miss that? Quickly straightening himself, Lelouch bowed slightly. "Good morning, Sire."
"Morning, Lelouch," Suzaku said, smiling happily. He then pointed toward the tray. "Is that the tea I required?"
"Yes, Sire. Do you want me to prepare it for you or you'd like to do it yourself?"
Glancing sideways at C.C., Suzaku said, "She always loves the way you make tea right? So why don't you do us that honor?"
"I'll be delighted."
As much as Lelouch wanted to ask about C.C.'s recovering, he had to suppress that urge; it wasn't a servant's place to strike a conversation with the master or the mistress.
"It's a miracle, isn't it?" exclaimed Suzaku suddenly amongst the quiet clacking of the silverwares.
Lelouch hesitated. Was Suzaku talking to him or C.C.?
"What is?" came C.C.'s cool yet low voice, as if the sickness was still stubbornly lingering somewhere in her.
"Your recovery, of course," replied Suzaku as he clasped her fragile hands in his strong ones. "It's impossible and incredible at the same time. Even Guliford said— Oh," he suddenly spun toward Lelouch, whom had his back to the couple on the bed and was in the process of making tea, and said. "Have you heard, Lelouch?"
"Heard what, Sire?" came Lelouch's quiet voice as he slowly turned around. It was a custom that servants were supposed to always face the master when being talked to, no matter how busy or occupied they were.
Suzaku's smile was widening. "I guess last night was too late to be announcing anything, so you're the first to hear this," he paused for a dramatic effect then began again. "Okay, when C.C. passed out and I carried her here like we all know. Guliford, the physician, came over and examined her, and he said," he cast a tender look at C.C., whom appeared to be sleeping but both men knew she wasn't, "that she had pneumonia. Honestly, if there were a cure, I'd do anything to get that cure, anything. Unfortunately there isn't, and we've all lost hope," he squeezed her hand, "then suddenly—"
She became well again because of the bargain I made with some mysterious man, mused Lelouch. His violet orbs traveled to C.C. as his ears tuned out the conversation. He had already known what happened after that. Heck, he even knew why she suddenly recovered. Then, to his surprise, she opened her golden eyes and their gaze met.
Lelouch froze as her eyes looked him over and scrutinized him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could tell Suzaku was still talking and not paying any attention to his strange demeanor, which was a relief. And just as fast as those questioning eyes opened, they closed, and the contact dropped.
"—Isn't it great?" Suzaku concluded, face beaming with happiness.
"Huh? Well, yes, of course it's wonderful, Sire." And Lelouch couldn't help breathing another sigh of relief when Suzaku didn't notice his slipup. Then as carefully as he could in an effort to not show his nervousness, Lelouch turned around and resumed his tea-making task.
Why was C.C. looking at him like that? Why was she giving him that knowing look as if… as if she knew everything?
Good God the tea was done before he could make up any bizarre answers on his own. Bringing the green tea with a touch of honey flavor and a good, healthy amount of sugar to the king-size bed, he cautiously handed the cups to Suzaku, making sure they didn't topple and fall down, spilling all the nutritious and delicious tea on the brown-haired man in the process.
"Thank you, Lelouch," said Suzaku gently as he took the two beautiful silvery cups. "Can you sit up?" he asked C.C., to which she gave a small nod and slowly rose up on the bed. Her eyes once again flicked to Lelouch.
"Is there any tea left?" she asked.
"You want some more?" said Suzaku.
C.C. shook her head. "No, if there is any left, then it's all yours, Lelouch. Go downstairs and treat yourself to a cup." Then she nodded at him. "We're good now."
A nod from Suzaku meant he seconded that. And Lelouch took his leave.
Standing and leaning on the bedroom door, Lelouch tried his best to forget the scrutinizing look that C.C. had given him in a quick minute earlier, but he expectedly failed.
That night, Lelouch couldn't suppress the urge to groan as the news that there would be a congratulations-on-the-mistress's-recovery party coming up, say, tomorrow afternoon.
"A party, now?" he asked Euphie that night. "When the mistress can't even go five feet from the bed? And it's for her?"
To which Euphie answered truthfully. "It was the master's idea."
Go figure.
