"the season's long passed for them, but you remember, right?" suzaku speaks a bundle of sunflowers in his hands, "when we were younger. there were a lot of these." it's a nervous laugh that finds itself on his breath, bashful as he glances away with color finding itself in his cheeks. "... happy birthday, lelouch."
…………………………
The emperor takes the flowers from Suzaku’s hands. The petals feel waxy and too real despite their faux yellow. He blinks at them as if blinded. “How long have you held onto these, Suzaku?” He asks, staring at the bundle of goldenrod between his fingers, “These only grow in the summer.”
( i know why you’re here )
The flowers wilt. ( there’s no beauty in death ; a fact lelouch has grown acquainted with, his lips reddened with the taste of his own ; how many years have passed? ) There’s a long shudder rippling through them and then their necks crack, stalks weeping low and heavy around Lelouch’s hands. One sheds a petal, then two, then all of them follow suit, crying brown fauna onto the grass.
Hands falling back to Lelouch’s side, he permits the stalks to tumble out of his fingers and fall to the ground. ( there’s no elegance in living off of borrowed time , suzaku ) They land unelegantly around him. Nothing but a bundle of grass.
Lelouch presses the tips of his fingers against Suzaku’s forehead. They rest gently as if to press through the illusion his friend ( is it still fair to call you that ) has generated; all drugged-up and foggy with the memory of who the king once was, “You know this isn’t who I am. Not really.”
Cape jaggedly blowing behind him, caught on a time gone by. Zero spreads his arms wide, baring teeth, a long and monstrous smile, the geass grinning down at Suzaku, “It’s not fair for you to remember me like this. I think I would prefer you see me as a monster———-,” if it meant you didn’t have to come back here, not like this, but he chokes on the words and swallows them down, opting instead to fixate callous eyes on the knight. How well he plays his part. It’s embedded into him, each cell rehearsing its movements with perfect timing.
even in the shadows of refrainlelouch vi britannia paints himself into the villainwilling hatred up from the world’s core
“Get out, Suzaku. I don’t want you here.”
For the fourth year in a row, Lelouch fastens his hands around Suzaku’s neck and squeezes.
you have to live.
