Lelouch doesn't need to open his eyes to know where he is. He can feel the thorns, the blood, the agony. He decides to keep his eyes closed, keep lying on the ground; if he's lucky enough he can fall back into the blithesome benumbing that is unconsciousness. But when it becomes apparent that his dismal waking is not giving in to his calmness and fervid desire to fall asleep again, he pries his eyes open, holding back a groan that desperately wanted to crawl out of his mouth.

He almost jumps from surprise, having expected to be greeted by the same infinite blackness but to instead take in light. The light was faint, though, as if the source was a distant away. Hating every second of it, Lelouch sits up, the action taking much longer time and feeling much, much more painful than when he last remembers doing it. He looks down at his body and, to his mortification, notices that the vines make more loops around his body, though he can't tell whether more vines have grown or if the ones already present have become longer.

He doesn't dare to so much as shift in place as he turns to the source of light, finding the same luminous silhouette standing away from him. Lelouch had the eerie feeling that the silhouette was staring at him despite not even having eyes or any other facial feature, and an eerier feeling that he was staring back.

The silence doesn't live for long as Lelouch sighs in irritation and says, "Are you just going to stand there? Come free me already."

The silhouette tilts her head, as if she hadn't understood a single word Lelouch just said.

Lelouch grits his teeth. It was already intolerable that his only company can't even qualify to be a human, and now, adding that she doesn't understand him just fuels the fire. He lifts his arm, moving it around as much as he can without having the thorns cut into his skin. "This. Make it go away. Like you did with the one on my foot."

She teetered closer, looking almost nervous, but then hurriedly took a step backwards as the vines around Lelouch's legs spread out, getting a bit closer to her.

Lelouch scowls. There was nothing for her to be afraid of, not having the flesh that can be cut and the blood that can be spilled which he happens to very much have. But he doesn't remain annoyed for long as he stares at the vines in astonishment, at how they are growing before his very eyes. First they were the ones around his legs, then his abdomen, then—

He doesn't even have time to gasp before the vines on his shoulders wrap around his throat, tightening, cutting the air from his lungs.

He tries and tries and tries to lift his hands to his throat, wrestling against the stubborn vines. He finally manages to have his hands reach his throat but only at the sickening sound of his skin being cut very deeply, the sound of thick, huge drops of blood falling from his arms. The moment the tips of his fingers make contact with the vines he feels the vines wrap even tighter, and his entire body screams in pain.

He somehow manages to turn back to the silhouette, getting dizzy from the pain. He tries to make the words come out of his mouth: "Please," he chokes. "Please… free me."

She finally comes closer to Lelouch and kneels in front of him. She extends her arms, but instead of her hand going to his throat it goes to the back of his head, like she was pulling him for a kiss.

She indeed pulled him closer, and it felt like everything and nothing at the same time. There was almost no space between their faces. She didn't talk but Lelouch heard her, heard a voice sweet and serene, crystal and clear:

Soon.

Lelouch gasps so deeply he is surprised his airway remained intact. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, shaking off the agitation that lingered from his dream. He's been having that same petrifying dream over and over again: being stuck in an unnatural murkiness, thorny vines wrapped around him, making him unable to move, a weird presence with him, one that only seemed to be remotely human. Only this time the ending was different.

He could still hear the voice, clear-cut as if it were being spoken right next to his ear:

Soon.

Lelouch suspected that there was an underlying meaning to that word, but his head hurt too much to give him a chance to ponder on it for long. He looks at the clock and sighs when he realises that he has only an hour left to his doctor's appointment. He shakes off the sheets and braces himself for another painful day.

But even after he showered, got dressed, left his room to have breakfast and tend to his morning duties, the word still echoed in his mind.

"The roots are fixated on the diaphragm and happen to experience comparatively little growth as the disease develops, while the stems experience the biggest change in length and area. The roots cut through the inner pleura and the stems begin to grow in the free space between the bronchi until the space is rendered too small, in which the stems begin to wrap around the bronchioles. This is the first of the three primary stages of the Hanahaki Disease. In most cases, the growth of the stems is extremely quick, which is responsible for people showing symptoms short periods of times after developing feelings, as it takes little time—a minimum of a few hours and a maximum of a few days—for the stems to reach the primary bronchus on either sides of the lungs. However, due to the stems lacking sturdiness, recipients only feel minor changes in lungs and breathing until the flower begins to form. The flowers form at the main stem bronchus and as the petals fall off they climb up the trachea, inducing the coughs, which is the second stage of the disease."

Lelouch is surprised at his sincere intent as he listens to the doctor explaining to him the Hanahaki Disease in details, using a long stick to point at different parts of an elaborate diagram next to her showing a pair of lungs with flowers growing in them. The doctor hadn't hesitated to explain everything about the disease to the prince, strongly supporting the idea of him knowing very well the situation he is in before he can try to solve it.

"Petals, and, in some cases, whole flowers, begin to fall and get coughed up when passing through the small gap of the primary bronchus. The third and final stage of the disease begins when the stems manage to grow past the bronchus, which results in whole flowers growing in the trachea, which is fatal as it takes little time to render breathing impossible and the recipient must be tended to immediately. The time taken for the disease to develop varies with factors such as age, height and weight, as well as strength of feelings. Studies show that on average it takes up to two weeks for the stems to grow past the bronchus, and that recipients can only live approximately six days once flowers begin to grow in the trachea, nonetheless cases are subject to different time limits, depending on the aforementioned factors.

"The surgery works towards removing the flowers before they manage to grow in the trachea and suffocate the victims, and is often an option taken in the final stage of the disease. The only other known cure is for the feelings to be returned. This causes the stems to shrink, moving the flowers further away from the trachea and primary bronchus, and in some cases causes the petals to disintegrate. Symptoms fully recede three days after the feelings are returned and it has been shown that it takes roughly a week for the flower to be removed from the lungs and it is then when the patient is fully cured. Any prevailing doubts, Your Highness?"

Lelouch bites down on his tongue, feeling one disturbing question take over his thoughts and it makes him doubt if he is in his right mind. He takes a deep breath. "In the one week gap between the return of the feelings and the diminishing of the flowers… would the surgery be applicable?"

The widening of the doctor's eyes is the only indication that the question took her by surprise, though Lelouch certain she was much more shocked than that but didn't show it. She was silent for a moment before she slowly set the stick on the table next to her. "Well, speaking in theory, the surgery is an option that can be taken into consideration provided the flowers' presence, so it wouldn't be entirely impossible to have it after feelings are retuned. But that's not to say it is an option to be taken; in the majority of cases the recipients are either enthralled by the return of feelings or they are dead. It wouldn't make sense to dispose of both the flower and the feelings once there is a chance of a joyous relationship between the recipient and the person they developed feelings for."

"Of course," Lelouch says quickly, not wanting to let the doctor know he was not entirely speaking in theory. "Just a hypothesis…" he adds though his voice is lower than he expected.

"Hypothesis is the foundation of development," the doctor says, smiling at Lelouch. "According to the X-ray we took of your lungs you are still developing the second stage of the disease, so there is plenty of time for you to make your decision. I advise you to think with a clear mind, Your Highness. You would not want to be hasty on such a matter."

Lelouch smiles as well, getting up from his chair. "I understand that. Thank you for your time, Cecile," he says as he makes his way to the door, where Suzaku is waiting to retrieve him

"It is my pleasure, Your Highness."

The prince joins with his knight as they both make their way out of the hospital wing, and Lelouch exhales a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding in his lungs.

Just a hypothesis…

He hasn't though much of what he would do after the feelings are returned, provided that the premise in itself has very thin chances of occurring. But the fact remains that he wants the feelings to be returned because he is simply curious as to who he managed to develop feelings for and not much else. He definitely isn't driven by the desire to form a relationship or anything of the sort.

Still, would he really dispose of his feelings after his knowledge is satisfied? Would he really throw away the chances of forming something he would hardly ever be given a chance to once more in his life?

And would he leave this other person—whoever they may be—with such ease?

"Is something causing you trouble, Your Highness?"

Lelouch doesn't take notice of his own glower until he hears Suzaku speak. He quickly straightens himself and transforms his expression into nonchalance. "It's nothing, Suzaku. I'm just… thinking."

"It's okay to have your mind occupied in such a way," Suzaku says, and Lelouch is reminded of just how well his knight knows him, how easily he can know just what is on his mind and just how he feels. "You are not exactly in a situation where your mind is clear, and it's not something you should be worrying about, Your Highness."

Lelouch allows his shoulders to drop, allows a sigh to escape past his lips. Surely, Suzaku is the only one who can witness him in such a state. He drags his feet on the floor for a few paces before he grows weak and leans on the wall. His hand forms a fist that gently but repeatedly hits the wall. He doesn't need to look at Suzaku to acknowledge his knight's growing concern.

"What if it's someone I simply can't be with?" Lelouch murmurs. "What if there's something that keeps us apart? Don't you think it adds up, Suzaku?" he asks, his voice a bit louder. "My feelings not being returned are one more sign it's just not meant to be."

"Maybe you speak with certitude, Your Highness," Suzaku steps closer, and Lelouch looks up at him through his lashes. "But there's one fact you haven't taken into your dilemma, and that is you being Lelouch vi Britannia, a prince who knows nothing but determination and resilience, and last time I checked when the Dark Prince wants something he doesn't stop until he gets it, paying no heed to the cost at which it comes."

Lelouch feels the knots in his chest loosen at Suzaku's words. He takes a deep breath as he stands straight again, flashing a smile at his knight. "You're right, Suzaku." Suddenly he feels his blood rush a little faster in his veins, taken on by something akin to persistence.

He is determined and resilient.

He is the Dark Prince.

And in this ongoing battle with fate, he will emerge victorious.

An uncanny need for fresh air finds Lelouch out in the garden, the place he brings himself to more often than not these days. The cool, pure air, laden with the scent of greenery pleasures his lungs in a way he can't quite fathom. He's always been a fan of the outdoors but now it appears that he would go crazy if he spends several successive hours inside the palace, especially since he doesn't have much to do.

Suzaku, as well as several other guards stand a respectful distance away. The knight Lelouch is used to, but as the days passed and Lelouch grew weaker everyone insisted that the prince be surrounded by more than one figure of protection, especially given that the timings in which the disease strikes are rather haphazard. Sometimes he would simply be walking around and suddenly falls to the floor. He could be sitting with his brothers and sisters, talking normally, only to be interrupted by a series of violet coughs. He even once awoke in the dead of the night, screaming, his voice booming through the walls.

Lelouch stares at the afternoon sky, the serene blue stretching as far as his eyes can see. Has the sky always been this… captivating? Has it always made him want to stare endlessly? Now that Lelouch takes notice, everything around him has this new… feel to it and he can't figure out what it is, which is rather unexpected from him.

The sky, the flowers, the very grass he is standing on… have they always been so colourful? Lelouch has been to this garden more times than he can count, but he doesn't recall being so enraptured by it, at least not in a long, long time.

The prince closes his eyes, feeling unnaturally calmed and soothed, something he hasn't had the chance to experience since he's gotten the disease. When he opens his eyes again his feet are moving themselves, guiding him towards one of the large, lush bushes, bedecked with flowers. He runs his fingers across the blood-red petals.

Blood red petals…

Lelouch suddenly finds himself on his knees. At the back of his mind he registers the alarmed beckons of his name.

But he doesn't scream.

He doesn't writhe around.

He stays still, so still that takes note of Suzaku hesitating before approaching him. The knight, too, gets on his knees, and puts his hands on Lelouch's back. The prince remains as still as a statue.

Even though it hurts.

It hurts a lot.

In fact, it hurts much more than the previous times.

But pain has become a familiar thing to Lelouch. He welcomes the contractions in his chest, the feeling of knives and shards of glass scraping him inside out, like he would greet an old friend.

A few coughs escape Lelouch's mouth, the only reaction he offers to the attack of the disease. A weak smiles draws on his face as he feels the same crispness move up his chest, though now it doesn't feel like one or more petals are climbing up his throat; it's something rougher, something bigger. It is as the blood is dripping from his chin and onto the floor that Lelouch realises that even the taste of it in his mouth is also something he welcomes.

Lelouch coughs again and again, and, this time, a whole flower comes out of his mouth. When the pain subsides and his senses begin to return, Lelouch feels the weak smile still holding onto his lips, unwilling to let go.

"You've become quite the masochist, haven't you Lelouch?" Clovis says, eyeing his brother in disdain though the latter could detect the concern shielded in those blue eyes. "I wouldn't have believed you'd had the attack had I not seen the blood myself."

Lelouch holds back a sigh, unable to be taken aback from his own actions himself. It was indeed surprising that he hadn't screamed or caused a fit this time, and he'd yet to figure out if such should be a cause of relief or worry. He hadn't even lost consciousness; instead got up and resumed his day like nothing had happened. The disease was now a part of his life. A part of him.

He'd stayed in the garden some more time, the need of fresh air intensifying. Some servants had been called to clean up the blood and, seeing them rush around, Clovis betook himself to the scene. The third prince hadn't been half as horrified at the blood as much as he'd been about Lelouch. Lelouch who was standing perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened to him at all. Lelouch who had been smiling at the sight in front of him as if he'd been watching a butterfly break free from its cocoon and take its first flight.

Clovis had taken one of the servants aside, whispered something to her, before he'd walked Lelouch back to the palace, insisting Lelouch get some rest though the violet-eyed boy refused.

"How many times do I need to say it, I feel just fine," Lelouch reiterates, his irritation growing.

"You look pale."

"I'm always pale!"

"Well you still look like you will collapse at any given moment if you don't get that rest soon."

Soon. The word makes Lelouch's stomach lurch. He's dumbfounded for a moment, unable to remember why the word has a new feel to it that makes his heart twist in his chest. Then he remembers his perplexing dream, or rather, the end of it. He'd rendered poring over his dream unnecessary but that must have been his morning headache speaking, for now that his mind is clear, Lelouch wants to do nothing but to find out just what it meant.

He was about to turn to Clovis to let him know that he will be taking that rest but his brother was already talking to someone. Lelouch almost jumps from surprise, wondering how on Earth he didn't see the servant approaching. Said servant was clutching a small box, and when Lelouch tried to pay attention to the words she and Clovis were exchanging he understood nothing.

Clovis took the box into his hands and thanked her, examining the box with delight and a hint of triumph, before turning to Lelouch, a smile on his face.

Only to hand the box to Lelouch.

It is after eyeing his brother in suspicion that Lelouch takes the box, sliding his fingers across the smooth surface before slowly opening the flip lid. From Clovis's excitement, Lelouch guessed that whatever inside the box was going to be something joyful but he did not feel a single shred of joy when he looked inside the box, where a red rose laid, its red petals dark and shimmering.

Lelouch sets the box on the table next to him, next to a tall vase, and then takes the stem in his fingers and the flower out of the box in nonchalant manner. "I am flattered."

Clovis rolls his eyes. "It's not from me, you fool, neither is it for you. It's from you, to the girl you are in love with. A demonstration of gratitude, once you are apprised of her identity."

"And your idea of a show of gratitude is to for me to give her a mere rose?" Lelouch lifts an eyebrow, fondling with the petals with gentle fingers.

"Oh, Lelouch. This is not just any rose." Clovis leans closer. "This is the one you coughed up."

Lelouch's pupils dilate, his heart skipping a beat. He moves his fingers away from the petals as if they'd given him an electric shock, and vigorously runs his hands on his trousers. "Clovis that's disgusting!"

"It's been thoroughly cleansed and sterilised!" Clovis exclaims as if he'd been expecting such a reaction from Lelouch. "If you simmer down and think about it, this rose holds phenomenal symbolism."

"Just what is phenomenal about something that climbed up my oesophagus all covered in blood and saliva?"

Again Clovis rolls his eyes. "Well when you put it that way, it doesn't sound romantic at all!"

"There isn't a better way to put it!" Lelouch puts the rose back in the box, rubbing his hands together again, trying to remove the very memory of the feel of the flower. "Romance might be an area where I lack experience but I am pretty sure that giving a girl something I coughed up is not romantic."

The blue-eyed prince takes a deep breath. "This flower is symptomatic of not only the love you feel, but also the pain you are going through to make it possible. It's a hardship you tolerated all for the sake of one person who so happens to be the one person that can get you out of it."

Lelouch stays silent.

A thin smile draws on Clovis's lips. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Lelouch fills his lungs with as much air as they can take. "I think I'll go take a nap."

Clovis deadpans. "You are a hopeless romantic."

Lelouch smiles as if he's been complimented, and proceeds to stride off. "We can continue the love-talk this evening but I wouldn't get my hopes too high."

"I'm starting to feel bad for the poor soul that has gained your so-called affection."

Ignoring his brother, Lelouch makes his way to his chambers. He walks for a while, his ears betaking the sound of his footsteps and breaths that are worryingly akin to pants. He tries his best to rid his mind of all the love and pain and hardships and other stuff Clovis was talking about. Although a part of him couldn't deny that he is indeed a hopeless romantic.

He is already itching to lie on his bed and pay no heed to anything in his life.

The violet-eyed boy was halfway through to his chambers before he halted when he was about to take a turn, as he heard some voices and recognised some words. He discreetly takes a peek, and sees a few aristocrats gathered together, leaning into each other as if they were discussing something of secrecy.

But Lelouch already caught on.

"An ignominy they are, those children of Marianne," one says.

"The boy was always known to have commoners over all the time but now the girl modeling herself on him," says the other. "She's already invited the one from the royal ball—that Shirley Fenette—twice now, and I hear she's coming tonight as well. Just what is on their minds?"

"It must have not been enough of a chagrin that Lady Marianne herself used to be commoner. It's like they're asking people to think even lowlier of them."

Lelouch leisurely clears his throat and takes steps forward, walking straighter, all high and mighty as if to say it is I, the person you were just talking about thinking I couldn't hear.

The aristocrats quickly transform their poses and faces as if they are totally delighted by the company. They all bow and mutter Lelouch's title as if they were not trash talking the prince just a second ago. Admittedly, Lelouch was momentarily surprised at the change of behaviour but he quickly guessed that it's nothing these people have never done before.

He doesn't acknowledge them. Only lifts the corner of his lip in a haughty smirk and he continues his way to his chambers as if nothing had happened. And nothing did, anyway, when taking into account things he cares about.

He can feel his tiredness grow when he reaches his room, and he allows himself to sigh as he gets in and closes the door behind him. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way to his bed, and his eyebrows furrow when he spots something on it. He recognises it from a distance: the same box Clovis had given him earlier. It is accompanied by a small note in Clovis's elegant cursive, ever the artist that prince is:

Just in case you change your mind

Lelouch shakes his head but he feels a smile tug at his lips. If anything he's grateful of Clovis's support, accompanying absurdity and all. He takes the flower out of the box and twirls it in his fingers.

Pain and love, love and pain. The two were opposite sides of the same coin. Lelouch holds the flower to his chest.

Soon, the voice echoes in his mind.

I'll be waiting for you, Lelouch thinks, all to himself. You're the only one who can free me.

Shirley, it seems, needs to live the experience more than three times to not have every one of her organs contract upon entering the palace. It's not just the atmosphere of royalty or the several guards that surround her; the very steps she takes on the floor of the palace feel out of place. The ginger knows full well she does not bear the least particle of adherence to anything related to royalty, though Princess Nunnally emphasised time and again that it does not matter to her.

"It's not important at all, which class you belong into," the princess would say, smiling at Shirley. "You'd still be Shirley Fenette, and that's the only thing you need to be."

A small smile curves Shirley's lips and she is keenly aware of the cool glare the guard to her right gives her. She gulps. Every more second she spends inside the circle of guards around her her heart pounds more fiercely in her chest. She missteps and stumbles, but the one of the guards was quick to hold her upper arm and although the grip was rather tight it kept her from falling and for that she was grateful. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she plays with her hair, resenting the long walk that doesn't seem to have an end.

"My my, what do we have here?"

Shirley looks up to see someone approaching the circle of guards. She freezes when recognition hits her.

"Mrs. Fenette here is being taken to Her Highness Nunnally vi Britannia," one of the guards speaks.

"Well if it's my sister she's going to I'd only deem it appropriate that I would be the one escorting her. That is if you don't mind that, Mrs. Fenette?"

The guards step aside as he draws closer and it takes all of Shirley's might to meet those violet eyes.

The eyes that had once owned her heart.

Prince Lelouch had a smile on his lips and a hand outstretched in offering. Shirley hesitated but guessed that it would be rude of her to refuse, and slowly put a shaky hand in the prince's. He waited for her to take the first step and slowly ushered her along, as if he were afraid that she would run away in fear if he wasn't careful.

Once the guards were well away and Shirley and Lelouch were by themselves, the latter's smile fell from his lips, and he eyes Shirley in concern. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Shirley takes longer than required to register the question and to come up with an answer. "I-I'm fine," she says, her voice uncontrollably shaky.

"The guards can be rather tense, but they're just doing their job," Lelouch says, looking ahead again. "But I'm glad I was able to stumble upon you, I've been meaning to say something important to you, and I could only do it in person."

A shiver runs down Shirley's spine.

Lelouch takes a deep breath. "I wanted to thank you, for keeping Nunnally happy. She seems to be enthralled by your company, which is something she needed, especially under the current circumstances. My sister's happiness is my own happiness. Suffice to say, you've greatly helped us both in this rough time and really, I can't thank you enough."

Shirley's heart picks up speed. She'd heard lots and lots about Lelouch from Nunnally, mostly things that took her by surprise, if she were being honest. She knew for sure that the prince's own sister had the more solid information than other media sources but it was nonetheless hard to believe that the Dark Prince wasn't so… dark.

She suddenly realises she's been quiet for too long. "Ah—no—it's my pleasure, Your Highness. Your sister's company is a pleasure in itself." Shirley nervously laughs.

Lelouch hums in satisfaction and so the two continue walking in silence. Shirley suddenly realises how cold she feels. The weather is a bit chilly and, although her better judgment insisted otherwise, she thought that the sleeveless white dress she is wearing would be an excellent choice of clothing to visit the palace in, even though, for all she knew, she could have come in sweatpants and Nunnally would have showered her in compliments.

Shirley folds her arms on her chest, trying to suppress her shivers. Lelouch, who was still looking ahead, shrugs off his jacket and puts it on her shoulders. He could have placed a living crow on Shirley's shoulders and the ginger wouldn't have been less terrified. She stops walking, even stops breathing. Lelouch takes a few steps before turning back, flashing her a questioning look. Shirley doesn't need to look in a mirror to know her face is as red as a rose. She brings herself to continue walking, her eyes glued to the floor.

She doesn't put her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, instead lets it awkwardly hang on her shoulders. The jacket is warm, and smells faintly of flowers, and for some reason makes Shirley's skin tingle. With her head still lowered, she glances up at Lelouch through her eyelashes. The prince gives her a reassuring smile, a smile that makes Shirley melt.

And something hits Shirley with full force, making her feel as if the floor beneath her has tilted.

Lelouch is not the arrogant, tyrannical prince everyone perceives him to be, the one who pictures himself high and above everyone else. He's warm-hearted boy. He's a loving older brother. He's someone who only cares for the happiness of his loved one's. He's…

…everything Shirley ever fell in love with.

Everything Shirley is still in love with.

Said girl can feel her cheeks as well as her whole body become warmer. She inhales deeply as she feels the familiar contractions in her chest, the tickling sensation as the petals climb up her throat. At the back of her mind she acknowledges Lelouch worryingly asking if she's okay.

Before she knows it, Shirley coughs, and several petals fly into the air like confetti. She puts a hand over her mouth but Lelouch was already eying the petals with astonishment.

"You too?" the prince says, extending his hand in perfect timing for a petal to slowly fall into his palm.

Shirley waits for her shock to abide. It's been weeks since she'd coughed up petals. "Well—I… it's complicated." She fists the jacket tightly, lowering her head

"What do you mean it's complicated?" Lelouch turns to her, still clutching the petal in his hand. He sounded more concerned than curious.

There's no need to hide it now, a voice says in Shirley's head.

"I… I was in love," she starts. "But my feelings were for a person whom I knew for a fact I would never end up with. Someone… someone I just can't be with. So I… I discarded my feelings."

Lelouch's eyebrows knit. "Discarded you feelings?" he tilts his head.

Shirley doesn't dare to meet Lelouch's gaze. "I lay aside his perfections and only focused on his flaws. I told myself that he's not the person I believed him to be, that he's actually a deplorable person not worthy any of my love or my attention. I told myself—I convinced myself that I'm not in love and slowly… gradually…"

"Impossible," Lelouch whispers.

"The petals stopped coming." Shirley weakly smiles as she eyes the petals on the floor. "But I guess I can't even fool my own heart for long." When she dares to look up at Lelouch, she is greeted by wide violet eyes. Lelouch was looking like he was partly wondering why she would do such a thing and partly whether such a thing was scientifically possible in the first place.

Lelouch was quiet for a moment, but that moment matured into a minute and tat minute matured into more minutes and it was starting to get awkward. Shirley was about to speak when—

Lelouch fell to his knees, shooting an arm at the wall for support at the very last second.

"Y-Your Highness!" Shirley shrieks. She gets on her own knees and gets closer to Lelouch, but hesitates when she reaches for him. When Lelouch proceeds to cough she decides that putting a hand on the prince's back might not get her in trouble.

Lelouch's coughs get fiercer, his hands turning into a fist and pounding at his chest. Shirley gently claps on his back but the action doesn't seem to make him feel any better. Lelouch takes a deep breath in the midst of the coughs and—

Nothing happens.

He stays frozen for a moment, as if he's waiting for his body to jerk itself. He slowly runs his hand on his chest and when no coughs are induced he gets to a sitting position, doing so with great care, as if the world would implode if he moves a little too quickly.

"A-are you okay?" Shirley asks in a low voice, her hand still on his back.

"I'm… fine," Lelouch says, less of a statement and more of a question. He looked like he was wondering why he is fine, and Shirley wasn't any different.

Shirley exhales a sigh of relief and stands up again. She offers a hand to Lelouch, smiling, somewhat pleasured with the switching of roles. But when Lelouch looks up at her, he looks like he's seen as ghost. His orbs widen, and his jaw was practically on the floor.

"It's you," the prince gasps.

And before Shirley could inhale, Lelouch gets up and grabs her hand, holding it tightly as he sprints in the direction in which they came from, dragging the girl along with him.

"Your Highness, where are you taking me?" Shirley asks but doesn't even know if Lelouch heard her.

He runs like their lives were depending on it. He dashes along corridors and takes many turns. Indeed the majority of the palace was unknown to Shirley, but she still found the place Lelouch took her to strangely unfamiliar. She abruptly realises he's taken her to his private quarters, and her body almost jolts at the prospect.

Lelouch only lets go of her when they reach his chambers. He throws open the door and dashes inside the room, leaving Shirley to follow at a much more reasonable pace. A few moments pass by when she reaches the prince, and she is dumbfounded when she sees him take a bin and dump its contents over his bed.

Shirley watches, at a loss for words, as Lelouch searches through the mess, throwing aside whatever wasn't what he was looking for. Lelouch was so frantic Shirley was almost afraid to get any closer to him. She was about to ask again if the prince was okay when he reached as far as his arm could extend across his bed, for a rumpled paper that he hadn't yet examined. He feverishly opens the paper, almost tearing it in the process, and lays it on his bed, running a flat hand across it to straighten it.

Shirley's body turns into stone when she glances at the paper.

It was a sketch of her.

It lacked detail and looked like it was drawn in a rush, but it was, with no doubt, her.

Lelouch looks from the paper to Shirley and back again. Shirley was about question the reasons behind many, many things, when he suddenly got up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if she might disintegrate at any moment.

The green-eyed girl stays still, so still that Lelouch would've probably had more of a reaction if he had hugged a statue.

"It's you," Lelouch repeats the words he'd said earlier. "It's always been you." The way he whispers the words into her Shirley's ear makes a shiver run down her spine. Lelouch slowly puts space between them, little enough so he can still have his arms around her but large enough so their eyes can meet.

"I need to know, Shirley," the violet-eyed boy says quietly. "Who was the person you fell in love with."

Shirley bites down on her tongue to keep her from bursting the one word she was dying to say. She stays silent, but concedes when a low chuckle escapes her. She shakes her head and locks her gaze on Lelouch. "You're really not the intuitive prince everyone says you are if you haven't figured that out yet."

Violet orbs widen, and Lelouch makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "It all makes sense now," he runs a hand through his hair as he sits on his bed. "You got the disease before I had feelings for you, and by the time I did develop feelings you had discarded your own, so it practically meant you didn't return my feelings and that's how I ended up getting the disease. The pieces are aligning." When he notices Shirley still standing as the statue he pats on the spot next to him on the mattress, and the female hesitates before joining him.

Shirley's lips press into a tight line. If Lelouch figured out that all the things Shirley had said about focusing on flaws and being a deplorable person was actually about him then he didn't seem bothered about it.

"It can't be…" Shirley says, more to herself than Lelouch. It was justifiable she fell in love with a prince, but for the prince to love her back? That was just absurd. "There… There has to be a mistake…"

The joy fades from Lelouch's profile. "Fate can be mischievous, fate can be tyrannical, but it can never make mistakes."

"No…" Shirley fiddles with a few locks of her hair. "It can't be. You—you're a prince and I'm—" she isn't able to continue her sentence when Lelouch embraces her again.

Locked in those arms Shirley feels her agitation slowly melt away. Lelouch holds her tightly, with love, with certainty.

"I know this is a lot to take in at once," Lelouch says gently, as if he were speaking to a small child. "So how about this," he slowly breaks them apart, and locks their eyes together. "Right now, just go to Nunnally. She's still waiting for you. Go to her and don't think about anything else."

"And after that what do I do?" Shirley's voice is no louder than a whisper.

Lelouch takes a deep breath. "Three days. That's how long it takes for symptoms to vanish. I want you to come here again in three days. I'll send you an official invitation. But during that time, Shirley, I need you to embrace your feelings."

The words make Shirley's heart skip a beat.

"Don't discard anything. Accept whatever feelings you get, and I'll do the same. Whether or not you show symptoms I want you to come again to me. Three days. Is that okay, Shirley?"

Feeling her body grow numb, Shirley nods her head. She keeps her eyes locked with Lelouch's and the prince's words from earlier ring loudly in her mind, over and over again:

Fate can be mischievous, fate can be tyrannical, but it can never make mistakes.