A/N: No, it's not Faith or NOTV, but don't kill me! -hides- I've had the urge to write something Gundam Seed for a while, but just didn't what to write about. But now, I have been struck by the lightning of inspiration! It's a one-shot, so don't ask me to continue it. I won't. I think it's fine the way it is. Of course, there may be typos, 'cause I haven't officially corrected it, but that's okay right? Happy readings! -salutes-
Disclaimer: Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino own Gundam SEED, not Carmen Takoshi.
Forever, My Song
one-shot by Carmen Takoshi
Everything was so white in the house. White walls, white floors, white tablecloth in the distant kitchen. Even the sunlight cascading into the vestibule via the twin French doors was pale and icy cold, and he almost shivered as he set his removed shoes down near the hall's closet doors.
The birds continued to twitter outside, as though unknowing or uncaring of his current unease in the gigantic house. Every room seemed to be deathly silent, but once he had closed the door and listened harder, he could just hear the snatches of music spilling from the other end of the mansion. At once, his mind grasped the few notes, clinging tightly to this only lifeline of human presence and using it to guide him down the hallway.
Room after room he passed, and if there had not been that faint melody of promise ringing in his ears, he would have turned back out of sheer loneliness. He would never fathom how such a small family could bear living in such an open space, with the countless windows gaping wide towards the streets, where faraway cars honked their separate tunes.
Then again, perhaps they enjoyed the quietness. Perhaps the muses present in their only son's mind thrived in the solitude and isolation.
He knew that he had found the music room when he was suddenly hit by warmth. It was as though the music transformed the frigidness of the whole house into a grand light that shone across the imaginary stage of this boy's being, immediately dissipating that uncomfortable feeling of aloneness that resided in the other rooms.
He expected, at the very least, a gasp of surprise when he slowly entered the space, but not a wrong note marred the perfect surface of the melody; not a shadow of doubt to taint the purity of the lyrical peace. The tune did not even change as he stepped quietly further in, and at once the song enveloped him in its fullest, every single note sweeping past and around him until he felt nearly dizzied by the musicality of it all.
"Good afternoon, Athrun."
His voice was hardly discernable over the faint pounding of the keys, but for some reason, it registered in Athrun's mind just as easily as the music did.
"Good afternoon, Nikol."
He sensed the smile that was hidden behind the grand piano, and he could not help but smile himself, moving even further into the sunny room. It was oddly pleasant in the space, although it certainly seemed to be the smallest one in the building. It housed the piano nicely enough, however.
"Cozy place, huh?"
It was strange how Nikol always seemed to read his thoughts, even though their eyes were facing completely opposite directions. The younger boy's hands still moved over the keys, pressing them lightly and then moving on to the next installment with uncanny grace, feeling them rather than pushing them down.
"So, what's up?" Nikol asked then, the conversationalist air making the corner's of Athrun's mouth twitch with something akin to affection.
"I had a free day, so I decided to come and see you."
"What about Yzak and Dearka?"
"You first."
"Oh."
His last remark was short-lived and soon replaced by the ever flowing music. There was silence between the two then, and soon, Nikol spoke up again, his gentle voice just above the river of sound.
"Sit down, Athrun. Don't just stand there, sit!"
Without a word, Athrun placed himself gingerly on the edge of one of the many couches lining the walls, as though crumpling the cushions behind him was a sin towards the musicality of the room.
He listened to the song instead of dwelling on that lingering feeling of foreignness. Nikol was turned only slightly towards him, but his eyes were lowered, though not to the keys. There was nothing but a blank space in front of him, where music sheets should have been placed, but it seemed that they were unnecessary for this particular tune. He played it off by heart with perfect measure, sometimes turning his head to glance out at the shining windows or to flick his bangs from his eyes by the mere movement. To Athrun, it was amazing how nonchalant his friend seemed to be when he was making music this way. But then again, this was Nikol Amalfi, the very same Nikol who whistled gently as a war was playing out just above their heads; the very same Nikol who always hummed to himself while folding up his uniform aboard the Coordinators' ship.
"Which song is that?"
He continued to play, as though the question had not been voiced, but Athrun waited. He would wait forever, if he had to, although knowing that Nikol was too kind to leave anyone to wait for so long.
"It doesn't have a name yet. I finished it last night," was the quiet answer.
Athrun frowned.
"But we just got home a day ago! You should have been resting!" he replied, remembering how tired he had felt upon arrival.
The gently persevering melody fell to a somewhat lower pitch, and Athrun could practically hear the catacombs of space echoing within him once more, the memory trapped in the essence of a few bars.
"You should be too," Nikol pointed out, smiling wanly, "you were more tired than any of us."
"Not really."
"You were. Did you think we wouldn't notice?"
Finding nothing to say, Athrun averted his gaze from the piano, but finding nothing that captured his interest any more, he returned, and this time Nikol was looking straight at him. The song was slowing, but rising at the same time: the epitome of the end. How was it that he was still able to play with his gaze on Athrun?
"Is something wrong?" he asked, just as quietly as before.
Athrun started to shake his head, but a sudden pang of guilt hit him at the blatant lie, and he did nothing. Nikol frowned and removed his lithe hands from the piano's keys, resting them on his lap as the last notes melted into the air, fading as gently as a few reluctant ripples in a pond.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I just said that I was fine!" the other burst out, standing suddenly as another stab of unidentifiable emotion struck him, "I'm just…just…"
Nikol was still looking at him with those large, patient, golden doe eyes of his, and Athrun slumped back onto the couch, heaving a defeated sigh.
"I can hardly stand it anymore."
"The war?"
"Yeah."
They both fell silent again, and this time, not even the serenity of Nikol's music was present to chase away the gloom.
"Don't stop playing."
"What?"
"Keep on playing, Niki. Please."
Rare were the moments where Athrun could bring himself to pronounce the nickname that he had given to his friend during their stay in space. Perhaps it was the strictness that the war implied that did not allow it, but now, in the sunny room still filled with the fragrance of a song, such normally hidden affection was not to be suppressed.
Without another word, Nikol turned towards the piano, laying his hands tenderly on the keys and feeling them for a moment before pressing the melody into them. Athrun closed his eyes and lay back on the comfortable sofa, brushing his fingertips over his eyes as the tune grew from an introduction to a full-fledged piece.
It took a few more bars, but then Athrun opened his eyes and trained them towards the virtuoso, brow furrowed slightly, fetching a distant memory from a vat full of so many others.
"I know that song," he said hesitantly, as though reluctant to break the string of song, "yeah, you…you were humming it once…on the ship…"
Nikol nodded, and even from his slumped position, Athrun could see the pleased twinkle in his eyes.
"That's right. You have a good memory," answered the younger boy, smiling shyly now, as though bracing himself for a near impossible feat, "I…there are words to it too…do you want me to…"
"Sing, Niki. Will you?"
Nikol almost ducked his head blushingly, but complied, his hands steady on the keyboard, and soon, his voice rose above the notes, softer than the light filtering through the windows.
Through sun and rain, my heart does pine,
Through fog and mist, dear song, entwine
With Freedom's tune and memory,
Come back, dear love, and sing with me.
Through prejudice, a heart unfolds,
Of shining wings, of greens and golds,
Though spite and darkness intertwine,
They're drunk on Heaven's holy wine.
Nikol's voice faltered then, and his gaze met Athrun's for but a moment. Then he went on, closing his eyes against the words, the melody pouring from the grand piano; the river of the Muses, pouring sweet nectar into the grass.
Through valley thunder, pouring rain,
And rolling voices scream with pain,
Don't take my soul! I'll do without
The void of black, the sting of doubt.
Through years of song, your voice has led
From mine to yours. But Time is dead.
Come back, dear love, and sing the end,
And hearts apart shall never mend.
The last strains of melody were haunting, ringing through the room with some sort of treble that stirred something deep in Athrun's soul. He was still crumpled in the music room's couch, awed at the lingering bars that floated just on the edge of existence. And hearts apart shall never mend…
The tune faded, just as the last one had, and for a moment, the silence was unbearable. Athrun suddenly wanted to scream and curse, anything to fill the void of nothingness that had cut him off from the song that had scarred his heart until he bled tears.
"Niki…"
Nikol did not say anything. He stood slowly from the piano bench and circled the instrument, his steps making no sound on the carpeted floor. He did not look at Athrun as he sat himself down on the couch, just inches away. He was staring off into space, and the other could still see the words on his lips.
Gently, Athrun reached out and wrapped his arm around Nikol's waist, pulling him closer until their bodies touched. He did not protest. He allowed his head to lean on Athrun's shoulder, and Athrun allowed himself to encircle the younger boy further, placing his chin on top of Nikol's head, still hearing the music in his mind.
"I'm sick of the war, Athrun."
"So am I, Niki…"
"…so am I."
(A/N: It is finished. The poem/song is mine, so no stealing. Tell me what you think of it, please, and make me very happy. -smiles-
Carmen