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Fucking shit. It's been two weeks and I still can't stop BAWWW'ing after every piece of sad fanart I see. So, I kicked my mind in the ass and told it to help me grow a heart. This is what was spat out.

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This wasn't happening, no it wasn't. There was no way any human being could suffer this much. The human heart could not possibly feel this destroyed, this bloody, this broken.

He stumbled through the door, slamming it shut. He ripped the helmet off of his face. Threw it, angrily, into a corner. Then he cursed himself. That had been Lelouch's. Lelouch's helmet. Zero's helmet. He would wear it now, for the rest of his life. He was Zero now.

His legs did not want to move. The tears on his chin coursed warmly down his neck, sliding down his collarbone. What did he do to deserve this? What person, any person, could do something so horrible that earned them this grief, this anger, this hell? He had done everything he possibly could to atone for his sins. And what had that done for him? Every person he'd ever loved… His father, Euphie, Lelouch… All dead and gone.

Suzaku tried to get up. He really did. His arms reached out to grab at something, the couch, the end table, the lamp, anything. But when he moved, pain thundered through his chest. It held his heart in a crimson vice grip until he was curled on the ground, a ball of hurt, miserable sadness. He tried to move, but it hurt so fucking much. Sobs ripped through his lungs until they spilled from his mouth. His chest heaved. It was his own devastating voice that echoed against the walls. The walls of Zero's, Lelouch's room. His room.

"Lelouch!" he called, his voice cracked and mangled. "Why me, Lelouch?! Why…?" Why, why, why, why, WHY?!

Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be Lelouch, his strong, cold Lelouch? His best friend, his sworn enemy, his first love? How did this happen?

It couldn't have been any other way. He knew that. It was better this way. The whole world had been returned to itself. There would finally be peace. Even if it wouldn't last, there would be peace. Suzaku let out a strangled, pained cry. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't take the thought of the peace Lelouch fought so hard for to be in vain. The peace that he had died for. The peace Suzaku had killed him for.

He could still feel the blood on his hands. It made him sick. With a vicious yell, he yanked the gloves off of his hands with his teeth, but then held them to his heart, tears spotting the dark leather. These had been Lelouch's gloves. They had been on Lelouch's pretty, ivory hands. Zero had killed millions with these gloves. Lelouch had given them to Suzaku with that sad, melancholy smile on his pale lips.

Lelouch…

…Yes, Suzaku?

The suit. It… It still smells like you.

Ah… I see. Would you like me to wash it one last time before I hand it over to you for good?

N-no! It's… It's fine…

"Oh, god…"

The fucking suit still smelled like him. Suzaku clutched his knees, the pain in his heart starting to swell until he was convinced his organ had actually burst and was now bleeding freely in his chest. The scent of juniper and raspberries drowned his senses. Lelouch's scent. He felt the blistering hurt rise in his throat. He wrapped the cape around his shoulders, nose greedily inhaling the perfumed air. He didn't want to forget, no he never wanted to forget…

Those pretty, pretty violet eyes smiling at him against the sunlight. Those slender, pretty fingers on his face, running over his eyelids, his lips. That heavenly, silvery voice calling his name, laughing, singing to him when he thought Suzaku was asleep. The deep, sweet taste of those pale, barely chapped lips. He would literally give anything to see, hear, feel, or taste any of these things again. He'd go wherever, kill whoever, find whatever it took.

When he finally did get up, his body groaned in protest. He somehow made it to the bed at the other side, Zero's bed, Lelouch's bed. His whole body trembled as he slid the suit off of his body, over his arms and down his legs. It was carefully folded and lovingly placed atop the nightstand. He put the cape back on, though. It tore at the wound, ripping it anew and causing the blood to flow fresh, but he wanted whatever comfort he could access. And right now, it was the ghost of Lelouch's scents, raspberries and summer herbs. The fuchsia smells sent sobs down his spine, his ribcage spasming with his tears.

If there was a god, he wouldn't let Suzaku wake up the next morning. He would let him die like he was, wrapped up in the memory and love of someone he wouldn't live without. And in the morning, Nunnally would grieve, but he could care less at that point. He didn't want to wake up to sunlight and people smiling and the world rejoicing. He didn't want to see a new world. If it was a world without Lelouch, he didn't care to keep living.

In the midst of the night, Suzaku Kururugi fell asleep. The next morning, his heart died and withered away as he saw the faces of former Brittanians, laughing and celebrating the death of their emperor, and the birth of the new world.

Behind the mask, he wept.

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Fuck, I cried while writing this. That has never happened.

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