Chapter VI
"Oh, shut up, Shirley!" The assassin straightened up with a look of blatant vexation on her face. Spinning on her heel, she advanced toward the ginger captive. "Do you know how frustrating it is to be with you? You're so vapid, so simplistic and ignorant. In fact, you can't even see the truth that's sitting right in front of you, you wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face."
"W-what are you—"
"Lelouch Lamperouge? Your Prince Charming? My God, Shirley, how dense can you be? Um, hello, anybody in that head of yours? Of course not. How can someone be so blind and so happy at the same time? Don't you get it? Lelouch and this woman over here, they used to—"
The door slammed open and Shirley jumped. Who—
Lelouch strode into the room, shooting Georgie before she had even turned around all the way. He quickly dispatched the rest of the bullets in his cartridge, and she watched with horrified eyes as scarlet blood splattered the mirrors and walls, painted the bathroom floor. What… What—
He turned to her, and she was about to fall into his arms, exhausted from the deadly situation she had been abruptly tossed into, when he raised the gun to her head. She stopped short, her eyes wide with confusion; what… What was happening? Why was— Why was he pointing the gun at her, why was Lelouch aiming straight for her?
He smiled cruelly as the click of the gun cocking echoed throughout the room. Nauseous with fear, she shut her eyes tightly. What… Why… Was this how her life was going to end? In the bathroom of a nightclub, standing in a pool of her best friend's blood?
"I had a nice time, Shirley, but unfortunately…. Unfortunately, I have no need nor want for you anymore. But you don't mind leaving, do you? No, of course you don't."
"Lelouch, wai—"
The gunshot reverberated off of the cold marble walls, muffled only by the sound of the raven-haired man's cold laughter.
Shirley bolted upright, screaming and shaking from her nightmare. Gasping for breath, she clutched at her throat. Oh God, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't… She couldn't breathe, her lungs were going to burst, oh God, oh God, oh God! Flicking the bedside lamp on with trembling hands, she wildly pulled the drawer of the table open before searching desperately for her inhaler. Oh God, where was her inhaler, where was it, she had put it in the drawer. It— The second her fingers wrapped around the familiar and cool plastic, she drove it into her mouth and inhaled.
When she found herself able to breathe again, she let the puffer fall into her lap before bursting into uncontrollable tears.
Where was he? What had happened to Lelouch? Was he alright? Was he even alive? What if… What if he was lying in some ditch somewhere, all alone and on the brink of death with no one to help him? To save him? What if he was already dead? Where could he be? She had found her inhaler, it had been right there in her drawer, so how come she couldn't find him? Where was he?
Burying her face into her hands, Shirley sobbed. She was all alone, all by herself in the dark apartment she had once shared with her best friend, her best friend who had been murdered by her boyfriend, the one she sought, the one who had vanished without a trace. She felt so lost and so lonely, had never felt this shaken, had never been this wracked with worry. Where could he be, the man she loved? And what was he doing… Ifhe were still alive?
. . .
He set her down on the bed, carefully laying her head down on the pillow. She had fallen asleep during the car ride to Avalon, her eyes having fluttered shut as she slowly succumbed to her exhaustion. And he had carried her from the car to the tiny apartment, not wanting to wake her. She had gone through so much in so little time… It worried him to no end. Not the Hóng Hè, not the war that his brotherhood was engaged in. Not even the fact that there was poison coursing through his veins hell-bent on claiming his last breath worried him as much as she did. She seemed so frail and delicate despite the strong front she put on, and it worried him that this was too much stress, too much burden for her to bear.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lelouch studied the way the early morning sun glinted off of her emerald hair and softly illuminated her peaceful expression. Tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, he gazed down at her as he carefully brushed her cheek with his hand. He memorized the contours of her face, tracing the edge of her jaw with the pad of his thumb before reaching for her slender hands.
Gently, he slid her golden and silver bands off one by one until there was nothing adorning her spidery fingers… Save for her extravagant wedding ring. He stared at the diamond quietly glittering in the early morning grey; it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, there was no denying that. And there was a good chance that it was worth a small nation, but… But – dare he say it? – even with the lavishness, did she wear it proudly? Was it a trophy, he wondered, or was it her punishment, was it something that chained her down, that held her captive?
Lelouch reached for the ring, to spirit it away from her hand, when he remembered. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten how this… This woman was off-limits, how she was forbidden? Yes, she might have been his at one point or other, but that didn't mean he could just pretend as if she hadn't wed another man. Even if his feelings for her had never changed, even if her wedding ring was a manacle, it didn't mean he could just do as he pleased.
So that was why, even though he loved her, even though he wanted to kiss her and tell her that she was safe, that he would readily give her his life, he set her hand down by her side. That was why he rose from the bed, slipping her shoes off before setting them on the ground and leaving, the love of his life none the wiser.
Because she was the Forbidden Fruit, the one and only in the Garden of Eden prohibited from him.
Because she was a bright flame that would burn him if he were to come close.
Because she was the Mona Lisa, someone he could always see but never touch, the man left the ring alone and stole away.
Because he loved her.
. . .
Surprised, C.C. blinked at the rich wallpaper looming over her. This was the wallpaper for one of the Schachmatt's numerous hallways. What was she doing at the Schachmatt? Bewildered, she looked all around her. True enough, the twin set of porcelain urns she had bid for at an art auction two years ago was sitting on their small mahogany table, a painting of a gloriously blossoming peach tree hanging just above it. And to her left was the ornately carved door she knew led to the Ivory Room, or the room where the custom-designed Steinway grand piano was kept.
From where she stood in the corridor, the emerald-haired woman could just barely make out the gentle notes of Beethoven. Leopold must be inside, she thought. With the realization, relief immediately washed over her; he was safe, he was alive, he hadn't been taken from her. With a smile, she opened the door, wondering if she should call out to him and interrupt the beautiful piece he was playing, or if she should keep quiet and allow him to notice her arrival on his own. Perhaps it would be better if she kept quiet and…
C.C. froze, her eyes wide with shock. The person sitting at the piano… That wasn't Leopold, that was… That was the young woman who had tried to kill her, Georgie Lee. That was a murderous sinner playing the piano, luring her in, not the innocent who was close to her heart, it… Where was Leopold? What had she done to him? But before she could extract the truth from her, the spirit dissipated with a cackle and her fearful gaze alighted upon blood. Bright crimson blood dyed on the snow-white carpeting of the room, blood that was creating an ominous trail up the leather seat of the piano bench, coloring the white keys of the elegant instrument, and onto the… Onto the lid where Leopold lay, his corpse drowning in a pool of his own blood, his violet eyes staring lifelessly at the glittering chande—
She woke with a start, surprised to hear screaming. Screaming? Who was screaming, who…
Her.
It was her, she was the one screaming. Those shrill shrieks of pure terror and despair were her own, she was the one screaming, she… It was her.
Frantic with panic and shivering from the sheen of cold sweat covering her, she gasped for breath, for control, when the door slammed open. C.C. flinched, waiting to be hit with a fatal blow, only to discover her intruder's identity to be her keeper, his hair damp from a shower and the gun in his hand pointed straight at her. It was only when he saw how the only occupants of the room were himself and her, with no sign of an assassin, did he lower the gun though his guard was not. Silence wormed its way in between them, until Lelouch, uneasy and unsure of how to navigate through a situation as the one currently at hand, hesitantly asked, "… Would you like a cup of tea?"
It took her a moment for his question to register, but even when it did, she didn't say anything. She was shaking too hard, and feared that answering would only betray her true emotions. When his question was met with a wall of silence, her guard furrowed his brows.
"Madame?"
"… Mister… Mr. Lamperouge."
"Yes, Madame?"
"I… I need to make a phone call. Do you have a cell-phone on you?"
"A… Cell-phone." She ignored the note of incredulity creeping into his voice and impatiently said, "To make a phone call, yes, I—"
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to place a phone call."
She looked up at him in disbelief upon hearing his words. Can't allow? What… What did he mean by 'can't allow'? How dare he… Can't allow?
"This isn't a matter of discretion, Mr. Lamperouge, this is an order from your superior. Hand over your cell-phone at once."
But the stubborn bastard stood his ground and shook his head. "The Weiss König specifically stated that we avoid making any unnecessary phone calls. I apologize, but I cannot condone a phone call. We can't afford the chance that the Hóng Hè locate us through triangulation of the sig—"
"You made several phone calls during the journey here, did you not?" she pointed out. "You can use the same method you used before."
"Those were essential, of utmost nece—"
"This is as important, if not more than—"
"My apologies, Madame. But I am going to have to deny your request."
He turned to leave when he heard a thin, "Please… Please, Lelouch, I ask for this one call. I won't ask for anything else, so please… Just this one phone call."
He paused, as if he were teetering on a precipice of whether or not he should give in to her pleas, and hope sparked. Would he… Was he going to…?
But then he walked away without so much as a backwards glance and her entire world turned dark. It collapsed with deafening silence as the door closed behind him and on any chance of being at peace. C.C. shook as desperate tears fell onto the back of her tightly clenched hand.
That… That was it? That was it. That was it, there was no other way she could reach Leopold, no possible way to find out whether he was dead or alive, if he could still smile, and laugh, and breathe, if his body was lying somewhere rotting and riddled with bullet holes. That was it. She tried to swallow but there was a lump in her throat and the thought of Leopold by himself, poor, sweet, bashful Leopold, all by himself, all alone with no one to hold him, to kiss him, to smooth his hair and distract him from his fears, tore at her and… And… Oh Leopold…
She fought for control, for apathy and indifference, but she couldn't stop crying, and the terror kept eating at her until she was nothing but an embodiment of frustration and agony, fretting and fearing for the life of the one she cherished…
. . .
Lelouch leaned against the door before heavily sliding down to the cold floor. Miserably burying his face into his hands, he closed his eyes. He had to wash it away. He had to wash it away, wash it all away, had to wash away the desire to go back inside and comfort her, had to wash away the desire to tell her that everything would be alright, that there was no need to be scared. He had to erase the longing to hold her to his chest and run his hand through her hair all the while consoling her with quiet murmurs and quelling her agitation.
It upset him to see her so affected and so scared, but what especially hurt was how difficult it had been to turn his back on her. He tried to forget it all, the want and the emotion, but the image of her wide tearful eyes drilling into him, desperate with pain and panic, was burned into the backs of his eyelids as her cris de coeur rang in his ears. He struggled. He couldn't rush back inside, he couldn't hand her his phone, he couldn't hug her and couldn't tell her that she would be safe for he would always be there for her, to protect her, to watch over her. Wouldn't do that.
He could brush it off. He could brush it off, just as he had brushed off everything else that had hurt him during the past four years. And even if he couldn't, he could always ignore it. After all, if he had learned anything from a life of crime, it was that ignorance was bliss, that being aloof would grant him reprieve.
That indifference was the key to his survival.
Wasn't that his axiom? His motto, his maxim, his way of living? To ignore everything from that previous life, to ignore anything and everything that reminded him of C.C., to just turn a blind eye to the fragments of his shattered heart and to move on. To focus only on himself and move on, to pretend as if nothing had happened, as if he had never been the happiest man in the world, as if he had never been broken very nearly beyond repair. He could do that, couldn't he? He had done it so well up until this moment. He had never shied from killing in cold blood, had never cried out when he had beaten within an inch of his life, had never let his mind stray on her during those four years. Never once had he let his emotions dictate his actions, his decisions. From the moment he had joined the Weiss Ritter, he had allowed grief to eat up his heart and spit it back out as an unfeeling killing machine… Hadn't he?
He could still do it. Of course he could. He had to. It was for his sake, for his survival, his own good. He had to do it, he couldn't… He couldn't just pretend as if nothing would happen if he were to go back inside, that it wouldn't change everything, that it wouldn't destroy…
But… But what if he didn't want to survive? What if he didn't want to, what if he didn't care enough to live on? What if all he cared about was her smile? What if all he cared about were her tears? What if… What if he didn't care what happened to himself so long as she didn't cry, wasn't hurt?
… What if he wanted to love her?
But he knew better. He knew that no matter what he thought, no matter what he cared about, what he wanted, it would only upset her more, would only serve to make her cry harder, would only hurt her. So Lelouch never went inside. Instead, he silently sat outside the room, leaning on the door, as every heart-wrenching sob he heard ripped and shred his heart and resolve apart.
And as he listened, he asked himself: he could take this, couldn't he? It was nothing compared to the trials and tribulations he had been put through, wasn't it?
He could turn his back on her one last time…
… Couldn't he?
. . .
Early morning evaporated from the autumn sun's bright rays which eventually gave way to a gloomy late afternoon, but the bereaved young woman budged not even an inch. Swathed in a warm blanket, she listlessly watched raindrops hesitantly creep down the windowpane with eyes as dead as those she had seen in her dream. All morning long and deep into the afternoon, she simply lay in bed, crestfallen and consumed with worry for the life of the mysterious and enigmatic Leopold. Even when there was a soft knock on the door and her visitor came to stand by her bed, there was no reaction from her she was so woebegone.
"… Madame."
Silence.
"… Madame Corabelle."
Silence.
"Ex—"
"I wish for solitude, Mr. Lamperouge. Unless, of course, I'm not permitted to privacy due to securi—"
"Madame Corabelle."
What was it? Why had he come inside? Was it to laugh over her grief-stricken state? Was it to mock her and her helplessness? What was it? Why had he come back, he who had denied her the most simplest of wishes? What could he possibly want from her, what else could he possibly want from h…
C.C. stared at the cell-phone in his outstretched hand before looking up at him, shocked, as he quietly said, "… Forgive me…"
She made no effort to reply and merely seized the device. As she hurriedly dialed the number, she could vaguely hear him tell her how there was a small window of time that she would need to make her call and that she couldn't go beyond the allotted period or else risk revealing their location. That he would like to know who it was that she wanted to contact. That he had already spoken to her husband and that he was alive and well, that he had to know who it was that she was calling since they could have switched their allegiance without her knowledge, that—
"Shut up," she snapped. Impatience radiating from her trembling frame, she pressed the phone to her ear as if doing so would prompt the other end to pick up. Blatantly making a show of ignoring the raven-haired man by turning her head away from him, she listened to each monotonous ring back tone restlessly. Why wasn't he answering the phone? Why, what had happened so that he wasn't answering her call, what could have possibly—
"Madame, with all due respect—"
"I couldn't care less what Schneizel is doing at the moment, nor could I care less for his life, so please, just shut—"
"What if it's an ally of the Hóng Hè that you're calling?" he interjected irritably.
"He's not," she growled. "I know he's not, I—"
"How can you be so sure of his loyalty?" he demanded. "When you have no idea what the Hóng Hè are capable of, how can you be so sure?"
That was it. That was the end, that was the very last of her patience; she had tried to ignore him, had told him to be quiet, but the persistent son of a bitch wouldn't leave her alone, wouldn't stop pestering her and annoying her and it— He wanted to know? Fine. Fine, then she'd tell him.
"Madame—"
"Because he's my son. How can I be so sure of his loyalty, you ask? Because he is my son, my child, my own flesh and blood. That's how I'm sure of his loyalty, because blood is thicker than water. Are you satisfied now, Mr. Lamperouge, now that you finally know everything there is to know?" she snarled. "Or is there something else you'd like for me to tell you?
There was no reply. He was silent, his tongue having most likely been rendered still by the blow she had just delivered. But of course he was dumbfounded; Schneizel had never informed anyone of the birth of Leopold. He had kept the news even from his right-hand man upon her request. No one knew of the child's existence save for very, very, very few people, which was what she desired, since if no one knew about him, then there wouldn't be any chance that him being dragged into a deadly world of Mafia politics and assassination attempts.
Not that the silence bothered her. Quite the contrary. Silence was perfect as she listened to the droning from the phone. Silence would allow her to concentrate, to focus, on not crying out of desperation, to stamp down the rising sense of alarm and nausea as Leopold continued to ignore her call.
Please pick up, she begged. Please, please, please, somebody, anybody, just answer the pho—
"Hello?"
"Sayoko!"
"Madame!"
"Sayoko, Leopold. Leopold, is he— How—" She couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts, much less sentences, but the maid understood well enough and replied in a kind voice: "The young master has been relocated. He is very well-protected from the enemy. Jeremiah and I guard him all hours of the day, along with Master Schneizel's personal detail. Young Master Leopold's health is also very good, although he does miss his mother very much. Would you like to speak to him?"
"Yes. Yes, please, I… Please, Leopold."
C.C. waited, as tense as a tightly coiled spring, until she heard a beautifully familiar voice say, "M… Maman?"
Nearly bursting into tears at the sound of his endearing voice, she cried, "Leopold! Oh Leopold my love… Leopold, how are you, sweetheart?"
"M… Maman, whe… Where are you? Where did you go? I waited for you but you didn't come h… Home."
"I'm sorry Leopold. Maman had to go on a little surprise trip, but I'll be coming home very soon. In the meanwhile, can I trust you to listen to Jeremiah and Sayoko?"
"Are you really going to come h… H..."
"Go on, sweetheart," she gently coaxed. Oh, he must be so frightened if his stuttering had gotten to be this severe… Oh Leopold…
He struggled. "Home soon?"
"I promise. I promise you, Maman will come back very soon."
"O-Okay, I b… Believe you. But come home really soon. Charlie w-wants to show you the n… New piece he's been practicing, o-okay?"
"Of course. Maman can't wait to hear what new surprises Charlie has in store. Give him a kiss for me."
"I w… W-Will, but—"
"Oh dear, Leopold, it looks like Maman has to go." She could hear the phone urgently beeping as it warned her that time was beginning to run short. "But I promise you that Maman will come back home soon, okay? I promise."
"Okay, I—"
"I love you, Leopold. I love you!"
"I l… Love y-you t—"
When the phone's screen darkened permanently, C.C. let it fall into her lap, feeling all the world as if a hole had been ripped into her heart. He was still alive, thank God, but he must be terrified… The thought of her three-year-old son all by himself, surrounded by no one but men with guns, bloodthirsty savages who would prefer to jeer at him than to show him kindness. If they even knew who it was that they were guarding…
Oh Leopold…
She handed the cell-phone over, careful to avoid any eye-contact with him, he who had yet to overcome his shock, and rose from the bed. She needed space, some quiet. She didn't want to be interrogated, nor did she want to be incessantly peppered with questions, questions she probably didn't have the answers to. She just wanted some time alone, to pray for her son, to pray that he would survive the way with his bright smile unscathed and unchanged by the maelstrom of violence he had been pitched into.
She was about to brush past him to leave the room, when he suddenly caught her wrist.
"… Why was I never told about Leopold?"
C.C. tried to shake him off but his grip only tightened as he asked her in a low voice, "Why was I never told that you and Schneizel have a son? Why did he never tell me about Leopold?"
"Release me, Mr. Lamperouge."
Turning back to look at her, he made sure that she was meeting his angry gaze before demanding, "Why was I never informed that there was an heir to the throne?"
"Because he's not the heir," she retorted. "He will never be the heir, will never be involved with the Weiss Ritter so long as I live. Why were you never informed? Because it was the one and only request I made to my husband, to keep Leopold's existence a secret from everyone so that he wouldn't become a target. So that he could lead as normal a life I can give him, so I won't have to witness the death of my child. That's why he never told you. Now let me go."
But he didn't and the questions began to rain down on her like the storm outside, pelting her like hail and burning her like acid rain. Maybe it was because he was trying to be insensitive, or maybe, probably, it was because he just didn't understand the love one had for one's child, but he began grilling her, asking questions of all kinds, of all manners, each one grating on her nerves until she couldn't take it anymore. She just couldn't take all of these questions anymore, why did he have so many questions, why couldn't he just act as if he didn't care, just as he had acted towards her before? Why couldn't he just let her go? Why did he have to hold onto her?
"What else is he hiding from m—"
"Leopold is all I have, Lelouch. He's all I have, he… He's the only reason why I'm still here. He's the only reason why I never ended my life all of those years ago, he is my one and only solace, and now… Now his life is in danger. Because of me. Me, his mother. My son, who has done no harm to anyone or anything his entire life, has his life threatened because of me. So that's why… That's why, I beg of you, just leave me alone. Please. I beg of you."
She looked up at him, beseeching him to let her go. Whether it be out of pity or respect, it didn't matter to her, she didn't care, so long as she was left alone so that she could think of her son, pray for her child, who had no fault and yet was being punished for her decisions, for her actions…
What kind of a mother was she, to endanger her progeny?
"… You're not happy with your life."
She stiffened at his suggestion. "I am quite at peace with—"
"It wasn't a question."
The silence that had seeped into the cold atmosphere shattered as his sigh twisted into a cruel bark of laughter.
"The least you could do, Cecaniah, after everything you did to me is pretend that you're happy with the life you chose. At least pretend that you enjoy your hair appointments and champagne in front of me. Because if you don't, what does that make me? What does that make me? Me, who had nothing but you and then was left with nothing in the end when you deserted me. With less than nothing, with a broken heart. What does that make me if you don't like the path you settled for?"
"Although I suppose I was the fool, since I had thought that we would be together until the very end. Since I hadn't known any better and had believed that my being penniless wouldn't matter to you. But then again, I suppose that's why you left me in the first place," he muttered bitterly.
"It's quite awe-inspiring, how blind I was back then. Wouldn't matter to you? Of course it would matter to you. After all, money was all you'd known in your life, with your private jets, your mansions, and your optimism. Whenever I look back at that time in my life, I often wonder why I never worked harder, why I never struggled more despite the fact that my efforts were futile and were unable to change my status in society. I wonder why I didn't try a little harder, why I didn't reach a little more than the limit, and what would have happened if I had."
"But then I realized that I didn't chase after money because I knew it wouldn't buy me happiness. At least, not true happiness. And how did I know this? Because I knew what happiness was. Because you were by my side."
C.C. was starting to find seeing increasingly difficult as tears began to well up.
"Because I had you… Because we were in love, I didn't care that I was impoverished. I didn't care that I went hungry more nights than not, I didn't care about any of that because you were enough for me. Because you were all I cared about."
"L… Lelou—" He flung her towards the bed, pinning her down painfully as he leaned over her. She looked up at him, the sharp, angry angles of his face blurring together from her tears and into a furious mess. "No. No, you just listen to me. I don't want to hear your excuses, I don't want to hear your stories, I just want you to listen to what I have to say for once."
"L… Lelouch… It hurts…" she mewled. "It hurts…"
He seemed to realize what he was doing to her, holding her down by her wrists in such a vice-like grip, it'd have been easy to think that he was trying to break her wrists, and then he finally noticed how her tears was from the pain and suffering he was causing her, and… And…
His hard mask suddenly shattered, his grip loosened, and his words and face no longer matched. His words had been rough, coarse with resentment, while his expression was one of heartbreak and sorrow, as if he was on the verge of crying just as she was.
Wrong.
He was crying, he wasn't on the verge, he actually was crying now, he…
Oh Lelouch…
His voice breaking, he asked hoarsely: "What was it, Ceci? What was it that you didn't like? What was it that repulsed you, that drove you away from me? Was it how poor I was? Or was it something more, was there something else? Why.. why did you leave, why… We… We had promised each other, hadn't we? We'd promised to be together, hadn't we? We loved each other, didn't we?"
She only closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, feeling his tears slide down her cheek and mingle with her own. She was afraid, afraid that, if she were to speak out, that if she were to answer, she would betray everything she had for. She wouldn't answer him. Couldn't answer him. Because as much as it killed her, even if her tears finally spilled over, telling him would only mean admitting to him how much she still loved him, and she couldn't let that happen, she… She just couldn't. Opening her eyes, she concentrated on a tear traveling down the edge of his jaw as she throatily said, "It… It was necessary, Lelouch, it—"
"But it's not what you wanted," he snapped. His voice softening, he repeated, "It's not what you wanted, is it, Ceci?"
Oh… She looked away, desperate for something to focus on, something to draw her attention away from him and the bleeding of her heart. She had to stop crying, she had to… She had to walk away from him just as she had walked away from him four years ago. She had done it before, she could do it again. She had to, it was for his own good, for his sake, it… It…
Oh God.
She couldn't do it. She just couldn't do it anymore, it was suddenly too much for her to handle as he leaned over her, looking at her with those eyes of his, begging her to let him understand why his heart had been ripped out, why she had smiled and laughed with him, had kissed him, had agreed to marry him and be with him forever, had promised to be with him forever, before abandoning him. She had born the weight of her decision, the guilt of her decision for all this time, and now, it was just too much for her to endure any longer. Just too much.
"Ceci, why—"
"He was going to kill you." Covering her eyes with trembling hands as if it would stop the tears rolling down her cheeks, she choked out, "He was going to kill you, Lelouch. What else was I supposed to do? What else could I have done? Let him kill you? Let you die?"
She couldn't even see anymore she was crying so hard, but she paid her tears no mind. She paid them no mind as she struggled to tell him through her sobbing how Schneizel had approached her, offering to forgive her father's debt to the Weiss Ritter if she married him, how she had declined his proposal, saying that she would rather be with him, Lelouch, even if it meant living the rest of her life carrying the burden of debt, and how the Mafioso had threatened to have him killed if she didn't agree, how she had given herself to Schneizel so that, he the love of her life, could live, and that was why they couldn't be together, so please, couldn't he just act as if nothing had happened and—
He kissed her.
C.C. tried to break away but it wasn't even much of a fight, what with how weak her knees and how soft his lips were.
"Please don't do this, Lelouch. Please don't. There's no possible way that this could end well, Schneizel, he… He'll…"
"I don't give a damn what Schneizel will do. I couldn't care less about him, all I care about is you, not him. It's always been that way, and it's never changed. Never."
"Lelou—"
"But… But if you love him… If you sincerely love him, then I'll forget. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me love you Schneizel, and that I don't matter to you anymore, then I'll forget everything. I'll walk away and I'll never bring it up again. If you truly love him."
That was the way it was supposed to be, with neither of them remembering that peaceful time, or, even if they did remember, they weren't supposed to bring it up in conversation or action. She knew it, and she knew that the right thing to do would be to look into his eyes and say that she loved Schneizel and that she no longer cared about him, but she was so tired of lying. She was so tired of lying about her feelings, tired of lying to him, of lying to herself, but more importantly… More importantly, she wanted to be with him. She didn't want to stand by and watch him be with other women, she wanted to be his woman. She wanted to love him, and she wanted to be loved by him. That was what she wanted, to not be without him, the love of her life.
She broke down completely. The last of her walls crumbled as she pulled him down, as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, she shed a tear for every time she had felt lonely, for every time she had missed him, had made a death wish upon herself. Had cursed herself. Had yearned for him. She cried, and cried, and cried, as he wrapped his arms around her tightly and said, "I'm not letting you go, Ceci. I've been through too much to let that happen. I love you too much to let that happen."
And then his lips were on hers again and wouldn't leave her, not that she minded because God, she wanted him so badly. She hadn't known she had, or perhaps she had always known but denied to herself that she wanted him this way, but whichever one was the truth, it all came down to how much she wanted to kiss him, which was simply overwhelming as he ardently kissed her. As he kissed her, and she kissed him back, C.C. finally gave in and allowed the longing she had caged up inside of her to be free, to be released as she was reborn as a new woman, as his woman.
It wasn't until she felt him lay her head down on a pillow when her eyes fluttered upon. She looked up at the raven-haired man leaning over her and into his eyes, meeting the gaze that was burning with nothing but love and hunger, a hunger, she realized, for her, a need to have her, and immediately, somewhere inside of her knew that he was but a simple reflection of her own emotions, of her own desires. She reached for him.
He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as he whispered her name, gently nipping her ear as he told her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. How much he loved her. And she drew him closer, winding her arms around his neck. Something scorching, searing lust, erupted in the pit of her stomach as she listened to his murmurs, as his hand drifted down to the button of her pants, and only grew hotter and hotter as he drugged her with slow, heavy kisses that left a buzzing in her ears and a pleasant blankness in her mind, a blankness that let her ignore everything, ignore the past, the future, and the pain that they held, and focus solely on the present and the pleasure it was offering her. On the pleasure he was offering her.
Her fingers fluttered to the hem of his dark jumper, fiddling with the soft fabric before slipping underneath. Her touch ghosting over his broad back, she felt his lips curl up into a smirk against her slender neck and knew that he understood what she was trying to tell him, what she wanted him to do. And before he could do anything, her hands returned to the hem of his sweater before tearing it off of him. Tossing it aside, her eyes ran up and down his bare chest. God, he had gotten so lean over the years, having packed on muscle… Seeing him like this, especially with his mouth on her neck and his hand up her sweater, made C.C. want more. She wanted more, she wanted to drive him crazy with desire for her, she wanted to completely devour him, wanted to keep him all to herself.
She wanted to mark him as her own, make him hers, and she was going to do just that.
Pushing him over until he was on his back and she was straddling him, she stripped herself of her sweater before bending down and pinning his wrists above his head. Tracing his jaw with her soft lips, she made her way down to his neck at a tantalizing pace. When she found his excited pulse, she suckled while listening to his moans. He was completely arrested by the ministrations of her roguish tongue, and it pleased her to discover that she hadn't yet forgotten his sweet spots, hadn't yet forgotten the body of Lelouch Lamperouge. He clenched his hands as he groaned, his fists tightening even more when her hand wandered down to the growing bulge in his crotch.
When she unzipped his pants and took hold of his shaft after kissing her way down his chest and stomach, his hands flew up to grip the iron headboard, his breathing become uneven and harsh as she played with him, teased him, pumped her hand up and down. The sound of his heightening arousal, the scent, the sight of his libido, of his pleasure, filled her with glee. Glee for the way his hips were bucking, for his moans. Glee for the way he seemed to melt at her slightest touch. It felt so thrilling, so powerful to have the upper hand. For once, she was in control. For once, she would pleasure him.
Lelouch dug his nails into his palm when he felt her moist tongue curiously nudge the head of his erection before taking him in. He nearly lost it; his breath hitched, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he closed his eyes as her throat constricted around his length, Ceci's warm tight throat, and fire erupted in the pit of his stomach. He grunted. He was going to pass out… He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this high, had felt this good, and it was driving him crazy, making his head spin as she took him in again, and again, and again, her tongue swirling around him, tormenting him with pleasure, her hand massaging the firm skin of his sac as she… Oh, fuck. Fuck, that felt good… She was clearly playing with him, leading him farther and farther away from sanity and closer and closer to the abyss of ecstasy, and he willingly followed, even going as far as chasing after her, as the want to feel more and more grew with each passing second, with each squeeze of the hand, with each flick of the tongue.
He watched her with hooded eyes, her hair swept over her bare back as she trailed her tongue up his length before sucking on the tip. God, she was so hot… He was panting now, his hips moving on their own accord, as his moans grew louder and louder until they could undoubtedly be heard from every room in the apartment. But what did he care? They were alone. And so what if someone heard him? What did he care, he was so close, so fucking close, the muscles in his stomach were contracting and relaxing in a frenzy as rapture and lust ravaged his head of every coherent thought, of the very ability to think, and cleared his head of everything and anything save for the singular word of more.
And then he arched his back, holding her head down and gasping his lover's name as he came within the snug cavities of her mouth. C.C., taken by surprise, swallowed, drinking in his bitterness. Pulling away, she coughed before crudely wiping her mouth. She was such a disgrace as his thick seed traveled down her throat, so vulgar and uncouth, absolutely nothing like the mirage of elegance she usually put on in front of others. But the dampness of her panties told her that she couldn't care less what she looked like at the moment, that this man in front of her could and probably was planning on making her look even more scandalous than now and that she was eager to see what he would do to her, how good he could make her feel…
"Ceci."
She looked up at the sound of his rough voice and glimpsed his flushed cheeks before he closed the space between their lips. He pulled her up, the hungry kiss never once breaking, and their tongues continued to dance, exploring each other as they both grappled for dominance. He flipped her over so that she was lying on her back, and he pinned her down. As he rubbed his knee against her panties, creating enough friction to turn her panties a complete sopping mess, the realization that the man could probably taste himself dawned on her. C.C. moaned into the steamy kiss. It was making her feel so hot, making her want him more, and oh God, how did he… She wound her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him in closer.
Their breathing was harsh when they broke apart, their passion harsher still as they studied each other. Lelouch could guess how disheveled he looked as he memorized her face, and she could probably feel how hard he was, and he wasn't thinking straight, but honestly? He just didn't fucking give a shit. All he cared about was right here, lying underneath him with her gloriously tousled hair and hooded eyes, and he refused to let anything else take priority over satisfying the hunger for her that was consuming him. No self-restraint, no moderation, no nothing. Just him, her, and their lust, their primitive desire for each other.
His lips brushed her collarbone before making his way south, his tongue sending shivers down her spine. C.C. tried her best to keep quiet, to bar her voice from speaking out, but when his teeth delicately clamped around her nipple, she lost all willpower. Slowly, she wove her fingers through his silky hair, gently tugging on the strands as she curved her chest into his warm mouth, as he made her breathless just as she had done to him.
"Oh, Lelouch…"
Without a doubt, he was enjoying himself as he took the reins, controlled the pace and made her the moaning mess. The daredevil even went as far as languidly running his tongue over the scar below her breast, sending a strange mixture of excitement and shock that left her feeling lightheaded. It was intoxicating the way he touched her. How long had it been since she had been pampered like this? Far too long, far, far, far too long for a married woman. Schneizel knew nothing about her, absolutely nothing about her body. He didn't care enough to learn and thus would never bother exploring and mapping out her body, but Lelouch… Oh, he had done that years ago, had memorized her body so well, he knew the exact thing to do at the exact time in order to elicit wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure with that sly, quick tongue of his, those cunning, lithe fingers. With Lelouch, it was pleasure. It was all about pleasure. It had never been like that with Schneizel; on the contrary, it had always been obligation and necessity with him, but with Lelouch… Oh, God, with Lelouch, it was a completely different world, a world of ecstasy and euphoria, a world that she never wanted to leave.
C.C. clenched the rumpled sheets underneath her in anticipation as he lowered himself so that he was kneeling in front of her tightly crossed legs. Gently prying them apart, he took her shorts off, and then her black pantyhose, and was about to take the last layer off, when he stopped. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she made to cover herself when he grabbed her wrists and pulled them away to drink in the full sight of her black lace thong.
"I see," he purred as he ran a finger down the fabric. "that someone has been up to no good and has turned considerably naughty…"
She averted his piercing gaze, her cheeks flushing an even deeper pink, and heard his low chuckles as he stepped out of his pants and briefs before the thong was thrown aside to join the rest of the clothing that had been haphazardly strewn all over the floor of the bedroom, leaving C.C. completely free of any covering. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest; oh God, this was so embarrassing… Her body was no longer the way it had once been and it would be foolish to say that he wouldn't notice. But he made no comment on the changes and merely crouched down in front of her spread open legs. She wondered what he thought of the changes of her body, of whether he had noticed or not, when all thoughts were chased away the second she felt him caressing her smooth, creamy thigh, running his hand up and down as he kissed a trail up the other. She sighed. His lips were so soft, his touch so gentle, and it was so—
She gasped as he suddenly slipped a finger within her folds.
Electricity shot through her as one, then two, more fingers joined the first. She threw her head back, crashing into the pillow as he stretched her before plunging his fingers into her. Oh God, that felt good… Oh God, that… Oh! Oh, he felt so good, he felt like heaven, oh God… Oh Lelouch… His mouth was back on her nipple, his fingers were hitting her G-spot with every flick, and he was rubbing her clitoris and—! Her entire frame was trembling with excitement and arousal as he fingered her, and— Oh God, she was so close to coming, just a little more and…
But then the rapturous sensation vanished, leaving her forlorn and panicked. What… Why…?
Her eyes widened when she saw what he was doing because what he was doing was licking and sucking his fingers. Fingers coated in her juice. Mesmerized, she couldn't tear her eyes off of him as she watched his tongue run up his middle finger, as he took extra care not to miss a single drop all the while making sure to keep his glimmering eyes locked with hers to tell her just how deliciously erotic she tasted. He smirked, catching sight of her startled expression. She had no clue, did she? She had no idea on how much he was going to mess her up, how much he was going to rattle her and turn her world upside down with lust, how he was going to make her go crazy for him. Oh, was he going to have fun with this…
"Lelou—" C.C. inhaled sharply when she felt his warm tongue run over her wet slit. Her eyes fluttered close as he pleasured her. How was she rendered so powerless, so weak at his touch? How, as he lapped at her glistening folds, did he make her head spin like this? As his lips closed around the swollen bud above her entrance, her hands flew to his head, telling him that she wanted him to keep going no matter what, but it wasn't until his tongue probed into her when the moans began. She could feel them, the whimpers, the sighs, traveling up her throat and this time, she made no effort to stop them. Let him hear, they whispered. Let him hear your satisfaction, your pleasure.
She let him hear.
But oh God, his tongue was moving so quickly now, darting inside and lapping at her with such urgency, and her hips were rocking in time with him, and his hands were lightly squeezing her breasts, toying with the nipples, and oh, she felt herself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, and he wasn't stopping, oh, he wasn't stopping and she was positively shuddering in pleasure, it—
C.C. let out a soft scream as she came. God, it felt so incredible, the ecstasy was almost unbearable, it— Oh, God! It was going to drive her insane this hazy cocoon of beautiful pleasure wrapping around her… She gasped for breath, her stomach convulsing in satisfaction, but he denied her any rest. There was no time to waste, he wouldn't endure any longer. Couldn't endure any longer.
"Ceci…" he murmured in between kisses up her abdomen. "Ceci, I want you… I need you, Ceci… So much…"
She wrapped her legs around his waist as if to say that she felt the same as he leaned over her. His warm breath tickling her, she kissed his cheek as she reached for his cock. Excitement pulsed through her as she wrapped her fingers around his hard length, reveling in the fact that she had made him this way, that she had made him want her this much, had turned him on like this, had made him this hot and bothered. It was throbbing, twitching in anticipation, and she gave it a slight squeeze, delighted to see him shudder. A solitary finger ran up the length of his erection and he hissed with impatience. She smiled and gave him another light kiss on the cheek as a reward for his restraint. His body hadn't really changed, had it? He might have become more fit but he was still as honest and as restless as he had always been… Maybe even more so today.
"C… Ceci… Ceci, I…"
"Sh…"
He scowled, frustrated with pent-up lust, and, feeling sorry for teasing him so aggressively, she nuzzled his neck, kissing his sharp jaw, before letting the head sink in past her flaring lips.
His eyes snapped shut as ecstasy possessed him. Fuck, it was only the tip but she was so wet, fucking soaked, and so tight, she was just so goddamn tight and it had been so long since he had done this, and it just…Fuck, that felt good…
He pushed his way in and groaned, nearly coming from the tight sheath. Oh fuck, that felt good… Fuck, that felt so good…
She buried her face into the crook of his neck, whimpering, as he began to move. He could feel her hot breath on his neck as she cried out with each thrust of his hips, crying out how aroused she was, how much she wanted him, how he was making her feel so good, and he wanted more. More, more, more, more, more, he wanted more of her screams, he wanted her to writhe underneath him in ecstasy, he wanted her to gasp his name every time he drove into her, he wanted more of her. And if he wanted more of her, he was going to get more of her. He refused to let anything get in his way, nothing was going to stop him. He refused to allow it.
Lacing their fingers together, Lelouch bent down and kissed her, swallowing her moans as he continued to indulge roughly in both his and her desires. She was so tight, so warm and moist, clenching around him and refusing to let him go… The only sounds were the sounds of their bodies moving in rhythm together, of their moans and sighs, and it pleased him. It pleased him immensely, beyond reason, because she felt so damngood, so fucking good…
C.C. shivered. His hips were moving so quickly, the pace was so fast, so urgent and intense, and she could feel herself tightening around him every time he pounded into her, could feel him growing harder and bigger, and she could hear his rasping breaths join her own uneven gasping, and oh God… Oh God!
"Oh, Lelouch…"
"You like that?" His voice was thick with passion and lust as he smirked. "You like that, don't you, Ceci? You like how I can make you feel this way, don't you?"
"Ahhhhh, Lelouch, I… Oooooh… Ooooh, you feel so good, you… You feel so… So… Good…"
Satisfied with her reply, he shifted his weight backwards, sitting down and pulling her up into his lap, apparently bored with the way their bodies had been tangled together. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shut her eyes tight as she sank down on him. Oh, God, he was so hard. He was so hard as their hips ground together, not to mention how he was throbbing, and… Oh God. Their lips crashed together in a hungry kiss, his fingers tangling themselves in her long hair. And then his hand was around her breast, toying with the erect nipple, his tongue trailing up her arching neck, and oh God, he wasn't close enough, was never close enough, it was never enough for her, never, ever, ever, she just wanted more. That was all that mattered. More, more pleasure, more sex, just more… More of everything, more of him…
She could hear his growls joining her keening moans as she dug her nails into his broad back before they were silenced as their lips met again. His hands were on her rocking hips, guiding her, holding her in a vice grip, as he told her how good he felt, how turned on he was because of her, how she was the one and only woman for him, and his gaze was unwavering, and it was—
"Oh! Oh, my… Mmmmm… My God, ohmyGod, Lelouch… Lelouch, I— Ooooh… Oh God, I'm… Lelouch, I…"
She tightly wound her arms and legs around him as she came, leaving red crescent marks on his shoulders while biting his earlobe just hard enough to draw a bead of blood. It felt so good, he felt so good, all she could see were a blinding white and all she could feel was him pouring himself into her. Oh God… Ooooh, that felt good… God, that felt good! She nearly passed out; she could feel his seed inside of her, burning hot, as he dug his nails into her hips and it was just so… Oh Lelouch… Lelouch, Lelouch, Lelouch!
Lelouch moaned, his face contorting as a long, drawn-out groan escaped him. Ng, she felt good… Her walls were squeezing him so much, as if they were trying to draw out every last drop, and God, she felt so good… So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so good… Oh God… So fucking good… So good!
When the last wave of pleasure ebbed away, the couple fell down, both limp with exhaustion and both covered in a light film of sweat and cum. Their chests heaved in synchronization, and they struggled to catch their breaths. Lelouch buried his face into the pillow, displeased with himself. It had been fast. Much too fast for his liking, but what could he do? He hadn't felt such euphoria since before they had been torn apart, and consequently, his tolerance for bliss was low, his sensitivity high. There was nothing he could do… Not now, at least. Maybe later. But not now.
As he resigned to the limitations of his body, he could feel her shift underneath him, her tongue quietly licking the blood from his ear before kissing his earlobe and quietly asking, "When was the last time you had sex?" It wasn't a question of ridicule but rather one of honest curiosity, of wonderment, because she knew; she knew that he wasn't one to finish this quickly, wasn't one to tire so easily. But he had today. So what had happened during those four years? What had caused this change, she was undoubtedly thinking.
Lelouch would have smiled if he weren't so exhausted. She had let him in, had re-opened herself to him. He buried his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling the smell of sweat and the musky scent of copulation that was in the air, that was everywhere, that was coming from him, from her, from the sheets, and simply lay still in her warm embrace with her hand running through his hair just as she had always done back then.
It was so peaceful here… As if they had never been split apart, as if tragedy had never struck them. In fact, it was almost… Almost as if they were in a bubble, protected from the world and its harsh reality. A bubble, huh? If only they could continue living on in this haven… If only there was some way they could go back to the way it had once been… But it couldn't, and he knew it, and so did she. So he answered her.
"The last time I slept with someone," he mumbled, "was that night… That was the last time."
Her fingers froze, and when he felt her tense beneath him, fear suddenly seized him. Was… Was she going to leave him now, just as she had done that night all of those years ago? Was he going to wake up again to find himself alone, was he going to find a letter and her engagement ring in the place where she should have been, with her beautiful smile and mischievous teasing? Was he going to have his heart broken all over again?
"… Why?" she whispered.
"Isn't the answer obvious?"
There was an unbearable silence, a silence that nurtured his fears, and he found an intolerable knot of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. Moving off of her, he lay down besides her and, before she could slip away from him again, wound his arms around her.
"… Lelouch, we—"
"Sh… Don't say anything…"
"Lelouch—"
"Please, Ceci. Please."
Laying gentle kisses on her shoulder, he pleaded with her. "Just this once… Just this once, can't we act as if nothing happened that night?"
Their fingers laced together gently, naturally, as if their hands were meant to clasp the others, and she pressed their intertwined hands to her beating heart, as if to answer him. Soon enough, she heard his breathing turn slow and steady, and knew that he had fallen asleep having received her reply. As C.C. tightly clasped his hand, her lips curled up into a wry smile of bittersweet sorrow. She smiled at how Lelouch Lamperouge was in bed besides her. She smiled at the way he was holding on to her as if he were afraid to let go, afraid that she would vanish when he woke up again. And she smiled at the continuation of their charade, at the continuation of the game of pretend they had been playing, the game in which they acted as if nothing was wrong when, in reality, everything was wrong. For though it was a lie, it was a lie that would save both him and herself, and for the time being, it would be enough.
It would be enough.
"Do you know what day it is today, Mr. Lamperouge?"
Her question was met with a wall of silence.
"It's the seventeen-year anniversary of the day we met."
"… Happy anniversary, Lelouch."
"Happy anniversary… My love."