He heard the conditional, and he frowned. L.L. never said things without purpose--all of his words were picked out carefully, efficiently. Just like the rest of him--his flair for the dramatic aside.
The man modeled his outfit after a chess piece, after all. Suzaku had been in denial for a very long time.
In many ways, he still was. He was in denial about the mistake that led to the massacre. He was in denial about the damage that he caused to the people that he loved. He was in denial about the decisions that he'd made--each and every one of them, and the ramifications thereof.
L.L. knew this. They didn't have to talk to communicate it. They never had to talk to communicate. Even now.
L.L. faced away from him, and there was good reason for it. The two of them hadn't spoken for days. Not since the events at the Inn. Not since L.L. looked at him with fear in his eyes.
Not since the baggage Suzaku had been carrying mysteriously felt clear--since he'd killed the past. Since he'd faced down his darkness and killed it with his own, two hands.
He didn't blame L.L. for this. He didn't. But it wasn't like L.L. to run away from things--no, it was exactly like him, the more that Suzaku thought about it.
After all--they still hadn't talked about things that happened during the rebellion. The people that died. The people that they both killed.
The things that they said to each other.
["Your existence is a mistake!"]
"You...went away to process things for a year, L.L.." Suzaku finally said. "If...if we're going to be involved in each other's lives--as friends, or as more--then we have to talk about it. Everything that happened."
"I...forgive you. For her. You loved her, too. We can talk about it."