It is the buzzing silence at the breakfast table that struck C.C in such one fine day at their little cottage far from civilization. It is strange for noise was a customary thing served together with their breakfast; may it be Lelouch's nitpicking or her own comeback retorts. But for today, there was none. Lelouch has made no comment or whatsoever on her lack of clothing today. Or how he silently obliged when she mentioned wanting pizza for breakfast.
Lelouch is awfully silent today.
Strange as it may be, C.C. regards it as it just him in one of his moods. Lelouch has his fair share of them – accompanied by his favorite plaything, the chess board while he sets on his brooding. Helps him think better, he says. So C.C. shoves it off, certain that she will have her warlock again by the end of the day, she goes on with her usual day, snacking off pizza in front of the TV (with Lelouch at the end of the sofa, obviously not interested in the melodrama or the witch's whiff of pizza) and more of teasing Lelouch which admittedly was a pity attempt to catch his attention. But when the silence stretches out until afternoon, C.C. takes it to herself to minimize the teasing and just as he, accompanied the silence.
C.C. doesn't mind the silence, but it is in the way how the silence was awkward, unsettling – or so to say, a dead air hang between them like a balloon waiting to be popped by one of its owner. A topic waiting to be touched.
The silence grows louder in the evening.
Cautiously, she watches Lelouch mulling over on his favorite seat, heads down and his tiny hand cradling the chin of his head. The silence is too loud that she fears any noise will disrupt the peace the warlock was in, so she strolls silently to the couch opposite to his then again proceeds to study Lelouch in his brooding.
No words have come out from the man today, save for a few grunts when she teased him. C.C. looks over to the window – why, they have just wasted a perfect day. She should have asked him out to take her to that pizza place today. She should have done that, instead she is stuck here with likely a child throwing a silent tantrum. The day has gone by and night has fallen, she clicks her tongue for the waste of what could have been another eventful day.
And then silence, silence, silence until…
"You are contemplating," It is not a question but more of like a statement that came out from her mouth, eyes still fixated on the blowing trees outside their windowsill. For the first time today, she watches in her peripheral vision as Lelouch finally looks at her in the face.
"What?" In better circumstances, she would have chuckled at that – his first word for today and if he hadn't spoke, she'd assume he was going to give her the silent treatment for the rest of their immortal days. How foreign it sounded, his voice.
Yet she turns around, cold eyes boring on his equally cold ones. "You are contemplating. You wish to be somewhere else."
She watches as Lelouch's eyes narrow, sunken in depth, then turn away from her. She waits for his reply, his comeback but when he remains silent, she continues, "You have that faraway look in your eyes since this morning. You are confused, hesitant, impatient with the way you've been drumming your fingers loudly on the table and somewhat, guilty. You wish to tell me something."
How would she know? She has understand the complexity of human emotions throughout the years of living, and the look on her warlock's eyes was something dreading; something she's seen countless of times before from different people, from different contractors. Something about them. . . – Right, this is where the conversation is going. She can't see it to be about anything different but. As if on cue, her heart plummets, not in a good way when he has been around her. No, certainly not in a good way. A sense of insufferable gloom pervades her whole spirit, though she remains composed, her voice still. No, she will not waver in front of him. She blinks once, awaiting his reply.
It comes in silently and slowly, yet impactful. A splash of cold water on her face. A fire lightened and tossed at her feet, scourging her dress and flesh. A wake-up call.
". . . I met Shirley and the others yesterday."
She does not blink, stares at him head-on, his face devoid of all emotions but confusion. Before she can open her mouth, he continues, "No, they did not see me. I suppose that was the wrong term to use. I saw them; Shirley, Kallen, Rivalz, Milly and Nina."
"And?"
"They seem to be happy."
"Indeed. Your sacrifice for the world had been proven rightful," A comma, a pause. Something more left unsaid yet left at it is.
She watches intently as Lelouch clasp his hands together and brings them together on his knees. Like a prayer to the gods. The final straw of sanity. "I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I know none of them concerns me anymore, but –"
"Why should it not concern you? You have the right to be concerned with them. After all, you who was robbed off a happy and peaceful life and then that life to be flashed in front of your very eyes – why should you not yearn for it?" The life that I robbed, C.C. almost adds.
She can't bear to look at him so she settles on the howling trees that sway now and then. Cold is creeping up in every part of her. The need to wrap herself for the shivering cold is biting and taunting, but at the face of the man who you cherished who was now possibly considering the possibility of departure, how could you show your hand of fear?
A grunt and hiss from the man and she closes her eyes for a second, to take this moment in. The sound of his voice and his uneven breathing that can be heard in the room. That alone, and what of his face? She is afraid to turn around, to discover what emotions is displaying on that beautiful face of his – afraid that the next time she turns to meet his eyes, it is the last time.
"You are regretting your choice back then."
She says so quietly, almost like a whisper. Afraid that what she is saying is real, can be heard to any existing thing. But she knows Lelouch heard it. That damn boy did. The regret of saying it follows immediately, but there was no turning back now. Words had been said, emotions have been laid on the table, the damage has been done.
She bites the insides of her lips and a part of her wonders where she has gotten all the courage to say it straight-on. "You are regretting. You are wondering that you could have stayed with them – with your precious sister and friends and you'd have the life you wanted for a long time. A happy world for you and your sister. And instead, you insisted on coming with me – to live throughout searching and in despair with me, and possibly a newfound happiness. And for that, you are regretting. What little so bound us, Lelouch? A contract? A promise? And yet what of a promise is to a long-time wish of yours? Because truth to be told, I only bring pain to others and you only wish you could have gone off with anyone else except me."
"C.C., I…I –"
"Is that right?"
"I don't know."
"But it is how you feel? You have grown tired of me. I told you so from the beginning – to settle with Nunnally, call Shirley or Kaguya and yet. . .you insisted." A hiss, this time coming from her.
"Is it wrong to crave for the past?"
Their conversations are a whisper despite being alone. No one will be able to hear them. Except the trees will, the furniture they bought together will, the house they lived in will. The life they made in this little suburban house is a witness for today; the fall out, the drop of a roller coaster, the fall of the House of Usher.
"You who have denied the past from Charles back in the World of C, why look back in the past now?"
"Then, is it wrong to be somewhere else in the present? Somewhere... normal."
She snaps back and Lelouch is looking at her, biting his lips and never has he seen him so grieving. Her heart aches at once. Does he hate her that much? – that being with her is so grieving for him to look at her like that.
"But you cannot live in the same time with them already. Your worlds do not exist together. You will remain young and them, you will see them wither and die. Are you prepared for that, Lelouch?"
"Which is more the reason I… I want to be with them,"
The bomb has been set and C.C. holds her breath. God forbid she will be caught in the fire.
"While they are still alive, I want to be with them. Live with them until I no longer have the reason to stay with them."
"And what of me?"
C.C. whispers, soft and hurried. Lelouch snaps back, eyes wavering, and C.C. notes how he doesn't know where to put his hands. They never stay put.
Because they know that the question spoke louder for the two of them. You're leaving me?
"And then you will return to me when the lives of your friends run dry? When you've lived a happy life with them – what, hang out with Suzaku just like old times? Babysit Nunnally? Date Shirley or Kallen? Marry into one of the normal people? Watch fireworks with your friends and celebrate New Year's because we never do. And yet what of me?"
She does not allow herself to cry. She does not allow him to answer – she will not hear his excuses and what-nots. She suddenly feels too tired to have this conversation.
She is facing him now, words not at all shaking and lips not quivering, eyes seeing through him in cold blank stare.
"You wish to be free."
Looking through him and she sees him as the young boy who knew nothing but to obliterate Britannia and a world for his sister to live in peacefully, a masked vigilante who killed and twisted words, an emperor who destroyed and created a world, a gentleman who gave up his past and name for her, and she is reminded how far had those times been. Fifteen years at that and at that very last fifteen years, she sees the man who have bored all sins and one she grew to love slowly to become one of the many people to become nothing but of the past. Lastly, she sees him as a man who have grown tired in her company and to leave her eventually.
At this, she allows herself to smile and close her eyes. And when she is face to face with him again, for the first time in a long-while, she does not know the man before her. She does not understand the emotions on his face. She cannot understand him and his complexity anymore. All of those personas she'd knew of him and a relationship and a name carefully made only to be trashed out and wiped off free from him.
"And that, I release you from our bond. You are free to go."
The man before her freezes, eyes narrow and breaths shaking and for awhile, she sees her in him when he had proposed to take the name L.L. How long had that been, she hadn't realized she had reached the ending already. A tragedy. A tragic ending. For that what's witches deserve, yes?
The man does not speak a word, just gaping like a fish out of the water and closed his mouth shut in a straight line, eyebrows drew in together, and ah, those pretty violet eyes staring at nowhere except her.
Such a shame that she had to let go of those pretty violet eyes.
Such a shame that this is the last she'd see of him.
She chuckles, allowing herself to breathe a little, standing up from her seat. "This feels like a husband and a wife discussing where they had fallen out and a divorce is in order." Strolling quietly to the kitchen, she turns back to meet his hunched figure, eyes lock on hers already, awaiting for what she is to say next.
"Except we aren't really husband and wife, are we, Lelouch?"
Expectedly, there is no reply from the man.
Words have dried out from the man, so it would seem.
They sit together in the next hour on the dining table. Dinner was pizza and yet it tasted badly on C.C.'s mouth. How awful, she has lost her appetite already. If conditions have been better, these huge amounts of pizza won't have to go to waste. And then there was that Cheese-kun animation she had been looking forward to watch at midnight – but it seemed she wasn't in the mood for it. How awful just this day was, to willingly neglect pizza and Cheese-kun.
Her mind wanders to the man sitting across her, silently eating his slice of pizza (C.C. thinks he might as well be grimacing). They haven't spoken to each other after their confrontation; Lelouch has founded it a hobby to look at anywhere except her and she has been staring all the while at the crown of his raven hair.
She nibbles on her pizza even with the lost appetite as she studies Lelouch when a pang in her heart resonated through her. Looking at him so carefully like this – his raven hair and she misses terribly the times she'd slip her hands in those silks when they'd lay lazingly on the couch (which had been rare times), his white polo and she remembers him typing away his work in them, those fine hands that she has held more than before now and the way the spaces on his fingers fit hers so perfectly, the swift of a vanilla perfume and she wonders how long will his smell in the house leave too, and his striking violet eyes that she has luckily locked eyes with for a brief second and she gets swayed in a pool of emotions; she is drowning – she feels her heart in her throat and tears starting to swell in the corner of her eyes, but she shakes them off, afraid that he might see them.
But it is this moment she realizes this will be their last meal together. – it is this moment she pretends to enjoy the pizza despite how she hated it tasted right now. Because what? This is their last meal together for he has to leave. He will leave, she knows that. So she savors this moment as a happy one, never leaving her eyes off his even though he isn't looking. She will remember every feature of him. This is the only thing she can do for now, making sure that the memory of him will carve in her mind. So in that case, she will not forget him. But why was looking at him more than one second hurt?
C.C. smiles to herself, an attempt to bury the hurt, and remembers the memory of Lelouch eating uninterestingly his slice of pizza, in his white polo and violet eyes that never once look at her again. And she smiles, smiles, smiles and pretend it's okay.
Pretend she isn't drowning.
Pretend this isn't the last one, but one of the many.
And she does the same when they sleep together on the same bed.
C.C. is the first to surrender to the comfort of their bed. Lelouch follows not long after God knows what he's been mulling over. Except tonight, they aren't cuddled together; Lelouch isn't hugging her and she isn't burying her face on the crook of his neck. No, they are far from that as Lelouch has his back on her for the night, intent on ignoring as if she was a ghost. Though for her own liking, C.C. would have liked it if he faced her. Staring at someone's back especially when it was your last night together was just horrible. No face to memorize to, except a back, a lanky back figure, breathes even and she for knows, he hasn't succumbed to sleep just yet.
He is thinking, just as he has been for the whole day.
She does not initiate in a conversation tonight.
Just… simply looking over his back.
She has given him the approval to leave already. And whether he would leave or stay was still up to Lelouch after all. She has just… told her say in this matter – that he was a free man, free from his promise and contract to her.
The dreadful part is what choice will Lelouch make.
Silently, she does not tear her eyes away from his back nor let sleep take over her. She doubts if she can sleep tonight. An unsettling fear rests in the back of her mind as she scans very carefully his plain back.
C.C. doesn't know what she fears more – to stay awake the whole night and catch him leaving, so silently like a thief afraid to wake her up with just the little of sounds, or to surrender to sleep and awoke next morning to find out his side of the bed was empty. C.C. doesn't know what will hurt more – to watch him as he goes away from her or find him completely missing first thing in the morning.
When faced with a scenario like this, what is she supposed to do?
The night hums a lonely lullaby for her. Lelouch sounded asleep, she likes to think. It is presumably 2 AM and with the deduction that the man beside her was asleep (if he can sleep, that is) – she finally allows herself to cry, sob quietly, hot tears falling one after another as she put her hands over her mouth to restrain the cries.
He should have heard her.
But then again, he must haven't or pretended to ignore it because no comfort came the next minute, or the other next hour.
She cries until the vision of his back is blurry. Her heart is all too heavy and the pain inside her is alive – much like of being burned to a stake, beheaded and drowned slowly and agonizingly but the only difference is she will never know when the torture will end. God, take away the pain. Dear God, take away her suffering.
Tonight, the last thing she remembers is praying. Tomorrow, it will be alright. Tomorrow, she will find him smiling at her, violet eyes gleaming back and they will reconcile. If not tomorrow, for the stubborn boy has a pride to account for, then the remaining days she can wait. They have an eternity to wait and live. She prays and remembers of Lelouch until sleep finally takes the pain away momentarily.
Dreaming of him and herself in the meadows, sunflower crown on her head, a dog running their way and they are happy. Yet nothing but a faraway dream.
The next morning she awoke, she was alone.
She can feel it in how she searched for any sign of him, her eyes still closed, afraid for reality to dawn on her, when she felt nothing close. Empty. No signs of a body. No signs of life.
She can see it when she opens her eyes and the bedsheets are wrinkled and no violet eyes are looking back at her or even a plain back.
She hears it when she calls out his name, voice low and croaked and when no reply came, and when she calls his name louder again and again and only silence bounced off the whole house.
"Lelouch?" She tries again, this time low and weak much like the first one. She isn't calling out anymore, she is muttering his name like a chant, a prayer, on repeat like a broken record.
There is no note, no lingering message – yet what would a message do? He has already left; that much is everything.
And despite that, the foolish boy did not get rid of his lingering perfume nor even their photographs and a few of his belongings. He should have done her a favor and erase everything that were his – that will save her the trouble from reminding of how she lost him. That foolish, selfish boy.
C.C. does not leave the bed for the whole day.
She sleeps and dreams of faraway thoughts.
She cries and prays.
She waits and no one ever came.
Not on the next day.
Not on the next 20 days.
Nor the 40 days.
O the 60 days.
How she survived all that – that she does not know. But what is a departure of a young man to any of the other depatures of her past contractors? Or the hellish tortures she's been subjected? But call her lovesick or childish, but nothing has come close to him leaving in the way he had. Almost like a ghost, a fragment of imagination – like everything had been a dream and an attempt to keep herself alive. She doubts the memories of him these days and if not for the belongings he had carelessly left, she would have assumed that L.L. was a fiction written in her head. The swift of vanilla is already absent but it will take a hundred years to wash off the memory of him.
Because truth to be told, he was the remarkable man she ever met.
And she was thankful for the world to meet him. To have met a man like him in this never-ending cycle called life – and yet, she berates the world for robbing off an eternity with him. But maybe that was what she deserved, she thought – she had robbed off the peaceful life the man could have lived, who is she to say and spit at the world for doing the same with her?
He had given up his life and her for the world already, who is to say he will not do it again?
What a pity. She would have been happy with him. They could have been the literal definition of forever – yet forever for the man who called himself L.L. was fifteen years so it would seem. What a pity they do not see eye to eye in that matter.
She chuckles weakly.
The man she loved is lost to her.
A witch is meant to be alone, that much is true.
Truth to be told, there is no salvation for a witch.
Perhaps before, she would have called him her salvation – for bringing life in her, for saving her and for simply believing her.
But that had been long ago.
She will continue to live off as C.C. - a witch, no partner, no accomplice. Just C.C. – singular, devoid of any plurals and antonyms. It just takes a matter of time for her to function normal again – for that dreaded name of a man to be just a part of the World of C and she will remember none of him. Find contractors until she is left empty and the little ounce of human in her finally disappears. The thing with humans is they're too attached to their past. Perhaps after this, she will no longer remembering being a human but a full witch, through and through.
And there is no salvation for a witch.
Nothing will save her now.
Not even a boy.
Not even a man.
Not even a warlock.
Because even warlocks leave and break their promise – no matter how willing they'd be to strip off their name and past.
They will stay, but never for long.
I want to live forever
inside your nights and days
Wishing on a silver cloud
crawling across the moonbeams
A summer night in heaven
between the stars and waves
Race across the old bonfire
trample on my heartbeat
I love you with a fire
ablazing till times end
But what good is a heart
when it shudders to speak?
I guess it's too late now
(214 ; Rivermaya)
a/n:
A very poor attempt at angst. An idea last night that came out from the possibility of Lelouch growing tired though God forbid, he will leave C.C. or I will riot. Lelouch Lamperouge is dead to me the second he leaves C.C. ( says the one who wrote a fanfic with that general idea, huff)
Yes, I have the tendency to make Lelouch a jerk in my fanfics.
I love him, but he can be a jerk sometimes.
