[Fanfiction] 'Absolute Black'

[lawlip0p.livejournal.com]

Title:  Absolute Black
Status: Complete

Pairing: SuzakuxKallen
Warning: Implied/Non graphic sex, implied shounen-ai/yaoi (SuzakuxLelouch), spoilers for R2 Turn 25!

Rating: T

 

Absolute Black

On the surface Lelouch’s grave was unmarked, just a plain slab of black granite unrecognizable to anyone not knowing what to look for. This was done for many reasons, the most obvious being to keep away potential defilers (because there had to be hundreds – probably even more – who would love nothing better than to desecrate the tomb of the notorious Black King of Britannia).

The only thing that differentiated Lelouch’s resting place from the dozens of other unmarked graves (unmarked, because so many of them were soldiers who died in the war, their bodies too damaged to identify) was the small flecks of color that formed a narrow streak across the center of stone, which changed from white to crimson to amethyst (all colors symbolic of Lelouch) depending on which angle the light struck it. It was almost impossible to see, but if one knew where to look it was unmistakable.

Suzaku had chosen the stone himself for that exact reason, wanting to be one of the only few who could visit the site. At first, he’d only told Nunnally about it, thinking she was the only person he could trust with such a precious secret. But there were others (very, very few) still loyal to Lelouch who wished to be able to mourn his death as well, so Suzaku told Jeremiah and trusted him to be able to guard the information from everyone except those whose loyalty to the crown could measure up to his own.

Suzaku visited the grave every day, sometimes twice a day if the need overpowered him (and it usually did). Dressed in the garb of Zero (that hateful cape and mask, both of which still held the distinct musk that could only be Lelouch’s), Suzaku would kneel before the tombstone, sometimes crying and pleading for Lelouch to miraculously rise from the dead (“You’re a miracle worker, aren’t you? Aren’t you?!”) and other times doing and feeling absolutely nothing at all.

Some days (like on this day) he would claw at the dirt, dig furiously with the desire to free Lelouch from the casket buried deep below the earth just to see him again. Because he’d never gotten a chance to see him after taking his life, and even when he was alive Suzaku had never gotten to hold him. And that was all he wanted. Just to hold Lelouch and never let him go – hold him and touch him even if he was rotting, because he’d still be beautiful and soft, he would always be even if he was juts a pile of bones and oh, God, Suzaku just wanted to see him one last time!

So he dug, and dug, and he knew it was useless because he’d never reach the coffin but he kept digging anyways. There were tears in his eyes but he wasn’t crying. Not yet.

Lelouch, Lelouch, Lelouch!

The only thought in his mind, the only thought that was ever in his mind. Even when they were enemies, even when Suzaku believed there was no-one in the world he could despise more, it was always Lelouch.

Lelouch, Lelouch, Lelouch!

“Lelouch...”

“So this is his grave?”

Suzaku’s mind reeled still, his heart leaping into his throat. His fingers twitched in the soil, the leather material stretched too tightly over them (but he couldn’t get new ones, he could never get rid of the ones that had belonged to Lelouch, even if they were meant to fit hands much more slender and delicate than his own).

The intruder showed herself, stepping out from behind a tall tree, and Suzaku didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened. Kallen Stadtfeld (Kōzuki, he reminded himself; she’s Japanese) was someone whose feelings towards Lelouch Suzaku could never determine. He knew she’d been in love with Zero, but Lelouch... He had no idea, and of course he could never ask her.

“I hope you don’t mind that I followed you... Zero.”

Her cool eyes were trained on him, and a small part of him felt embarassed to be seen (as Zero.) in such an undignified state; a much larger part of him was indifferent, fed up with having to always act so calm and collected when, in reality, all he wanted to do was scream at the top of his lungs, scream for Lelouch, scream for the days when they were children and things were simple.

Lelouch’s vision was of the future, but Lelouch was gone and now the only thing Suzaku craved was the past.

“Kallen,” he whispered, voice garbled by the mask.

Kallen moved several paces forwards, almost reaching his side but stopping before the threshold of the grave. “I always wondered where you would disappear to,” she said, more to herself than to him as her blue eyes scanned the tombstone, searching for something that wasn’t there. Finally after a moment, she admitted, “I’ve passed this grave so many times.” Of course she did. Her brother was buried not too far away from this spot. “And I never thought... I never thought...”

She looked so different from the Kallen Suzaku knew – the proud, fearless Kallen who never let emotions shine through even in the most dire of situations. Where had that Kallen gone?

Suzaku sat up as she came to stand directly beside him. He regarded her warily, uncertain of what she would do. Even if she didn’t know who he really was, she knew he’d killed Lelouch; what if she followed him to exact revenge?

The hand that fell against his shoulder wasn’t expected, and Suzaku jumped slightly, inhaling sharply through his nose as she trailed her hand to the side, gently threading her fingers around the curls of hair that escaped from under the mask at the base of his neck.

“Suzaku.”

She said the name so softly, hesitantly, as if speaking it any louder might make him vanish into the air like a dream that was too good to be true.

“It’s you... isn’t it?”

Suzaku didn’t respond – couldn’t respond. This girl, at one point, had idolized and gave her life to protect the very man he’d killed (the man he now impersonated). Even if he managed to find his voice, what could he possibly say to her? She already hated him, saw him as little more than a traitor, a man who betrayed his own people just to get ahead in the world. And he was, he was just that. He’d sold Japan to Britannia, sold Lelouch to his father the emperor; he was a traitor, a liar – perhaps even a better liar that Lelouch, who at least had good intentions, even if he did hide them.

“Isn’t it?” Kallen said again, and Suzaku closed his eyes, hanging his head. She was breathing heavily and Suzaku wished he had the courage to look up at her. “Let me see you.” Her hand moved to the front of the mask, blindly searching for a way to open it. “Please... Zero. Let me see your face.”

He couldn’t. Even though she’d correctly guessed his identity, Zero’s face was something that must always be kept hidden. He’d promised Lelouch... he’d promised.

(“You will continue to wear that mask...”)

“Please! Please let me, I... I need to...”

Need to what? Needed to put to rest the idea that her Zero no longer existed, that her Lelouch was indeed dead and gone forever, out of reach? What did this woman want from him; why were there tears in her voice?

Suzaku’s hand came to rest over Kallen’s, holding it in place for a short while as he debated his next actions before slowly guiding it to the hidden clasp that held the mask togetther. With Kallen’s hand still in his own, Suzaku removed Zero’s mask for the first time in front of another person.

Kallen made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob, jerking her hand out of Suzaku’s as if touching him brought her physical harm. The mask fell onto the dirt, rolling several inches to the side and tapping against Lelouch’s gravestone.

There he was, the pride-less man who without the mask had no real identity. The man who’d turned his back on his Japanese heritage, and then later turned his back on the Britannian one he’d embraced in its place. The man who was born Japanese but demoted to a mere number – Eleven – who later rose to a more respectable status of Honorary Britannian. The man who was the Knight of Seven, and then the Knight of Zero, and then finally Zero himself (and there was no-one else so sell out, no-one else to kill in order to achieve a higher position).

So many faces, none of which were real, none of which Suzaku had any respect for.

He deserved it when she slapped him, and welcomed it like Lelouch had welcomed death. She smacked both sides of his face, punched him in the jaw and then kicked him to the dirt, and this was all-too-familiar for the two of them; it brought back far too many memories – the Black Knights, the Rounds, Lelouch – so Kallen stopped there, collapsed beside him on Lelouch’s grave and placed both hands over her mouth.

“...Why?”

Suzaku purposefully avoided her gaze.

Her eyes hardened, lips curling in disgust.

(“I... hate you!”)

“Why?!”

She was crying openly now, her body shaking, and she seemed so much smaller than he remembered, so much more fragile – though she was just as feisty, her grief fueling her to aim one more punch in his direction. Suzaku caught it this time, reflexes sharp as ever, and she hissed as he twisted her wrist, tugging against his grip forcefully. In the off moment that she did not pull he released her, and she tumbled to the ground beside him.

Suzaku thought he heard thunder in the distance.

A drop of rain splashed onto Kallen’s cheek, getting lost among the tear tracks.

The kiss was an unexpected attack, most likely a last resort on Kallen’s part. And it was an attack, for it was rough and angry and messy – unlike any kiss Suzaku had ever received or given before (not that there had been many). Their lips mashed together in a way that was almost painful, and when Suzaku opened his mouth (more in reaction to Kallen biting down on his bottom lip than out of desire for things to progress) it became a fierce battle for dominance, complete with the clashing of teeth and tongues and the addition of hands that groped at each other’s bodies.

Kallen was quick to rid Suzaku of Zero’s clothing, practically ripping away the cape and the long, tight-fitting coat in a way that clearly showed how she hated seeing it on him and not Lelouch.

Lelouch...

Suzaku closed his eyes, trying not to think about what he was doing on Lelouch’s grave, of all places (and with Kallen, of all people, whose relationship with Lelouch he still didn’t know all the details about). If he dwelled on it, he knew he might just throw up.

So he tore at Kallen’s Black Knight uniform to distract himself, and it felt so good to listen to the stitching give away underneath his hands, brought him great satisfaction to destroy the clothing. Because it was their fault, he was telling himself; Kallen’s fault, as well as all of the other Black Knights, because they had followed Zero – given him the support he needed to start the rebellion. It was their fault he was gone!

It was over very quickly, not that Suzaku had been expecting it to last long. He was inexperienced when it came to sex, so his first time was bound to be short and uncomfortable. The only pleasure he’d gotten from the entire ordeal was the moment he came, because he’d closed his eyes and imagined it was Lelouch there beneath him.

And it was disturbing, the fact that they’d both done it.

And they had both done it, for at their peak they’d both screamed Lelouch’s name.

Suzaku laughed to himself.

(“It’s a way to protect your heart.”)

It was raining hard now, and the dirt of Lelouch’s grave stuck to their bodies. Slowly Suzaku turned onto his side, facing Kallen. She was staring at the grave behind his head, tears still in her eyes.

Her voice cracked when she asked again, “why, Suzaku?”

Back to that, was she?

They were exactly alike: Lelouch, Lelouch, Lelouch, the only thought in their minds.

Suzaku couldn’t look away now that they were so close (so close, in ways that were now far too complicated), couldn’t think of any lies – didn’t want to lie to her anymore, regardless. She’d already been lied to so much; she deserved to know the truth.

“He asked me to.”

Kallen’s eyes widened. “W-what?”

She didn’t believe him. Of course she didn’t believe him. The Zero she’d followed would have done anything to save his own life, even sacrifice those loyal to him.

“He asked me to,” Suzaku repeated, voice quieter this time, the reminder filling him with shame.

Kallen looked as though she was witnessing Lelouch’s death all over again. Suzaku’s heart went out for her – he too cared for Lelouch, loved him probably even more than Kallen did – but he didn’t dare offer any form of physical condolences, nor did he apologize (for he remembered the last time he’d apologized for something she’d beaten him up).

(“I... hate you!”)

That memory again?

Suzaku glared at the grave soil, his lips stretched into a firm, thin line. She didn’t ask for an explanation – didn’t even appear as though she wanted an explanation (afraid the truth might ruin the cold, strong persona she’d crafted for the ever-ambiguous man who had been Zero?) – but he felt the need to give one anyways, because he didn’t want to go on pretending that Lelouch had been nothing more than a heartless tyrant.

“Zero Requiem.” Kallen glanced at him, confused by the expression. So Suzaku elaborated; “it was our plan. To focus all the world’s hate on us – on Lelouch – and then... destroy it.”

(“Live the lie until the very end!”)

“Destroy the world... to create a new one in its place. A better one.”

(“I destroy worlds, and...I... create them.” Lelouch’s final words, or so Nunnally told him.)

“Stupid,” Kallen said, refusing to look Suzaku directly in the eye. “That’s so... stupid. Why would he—”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Suzaku cut her off, voice harsher than he meant for it to be. But he was angry that she would say such a thing about Lelouch’s vision, the thing he (the thing they both) sacrificed everything for. It was disrespectful, callous of her to call Zero Requiem stupid as she sat there upon Lelouch’s grave, wrapped up in Zero’s cloak.

But... maybe she was right. It was stupid, because all the people Lelouch wanted to give a better future to... could any of them say they were truly happy? There was no more war or discrimination, true. Japan was free, as well as every other country that had been torn apart by Britannia, yes. But Nunnally cried herself to sleep every night, and Suzaku wanted to die from the loneliness he felt from having to live this life not meant for him. And Kallen was not the Kallen of his memories, having lost the man she’d sworn to protect, the only thing she’d been living for since she’d avenged her brother’s death.

If only Lelouch could see how much they needed him, how much they loved him even when he’d done everything in his power to stop them from doing so.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

Kallen inhaled sharply, cheeks reddening, and Suzaku smiled, which only seemed to further embarrass her. She turned away from him, wrapping herself more tightly in the folds of Zero’s cape as if it would protect her. “So did you,” she pointed out, as though bringing up his emotions would pull focus away from her own.

Suzaku nodded once, his eyes trailing back to the black granite tombstone. “Yes,” he replied easily, and it was funny to him how he could admit it so freely now, when not even a year ago he would have rather killed himself than even think such a possibility. “I still love him. And you, Kallen?”

For a moment she looked hurt, stung by the accusation that she didn’t love Lelouch as much as she claimed to. After all, she’d joined forces with the masses who’d wished for Lelouch’s death – allowed herself to believe Lelouch felt nothing for her, for anyone.

She did not reply to Suzaku’s question, did not defend herself. Instead, she changed the subject. Asked, “what was he really like?” Because she’d only known Zero, and the only things about Lelouch she’d learned were only small fragments that were hardly enough to make an accurate assumption with.

Suzaku stared at the grave and thought of the Lelouch from his childhood, because he didn’t know about Zero, or the 99th Emperor of Britannia, or even the seventeen-year-old Ashford student who went by the name Lamperouge. All he knew was the little boy who had been the prisoner of the Kururugi family, the little boy who had grown to become his best friend only to be torn apart from him by war.

“He was stubborn. A real spoiled brat most of the time,” Suzaku answered. “He never used to let me help him with anything, thought he could do it all on his own.” That never changed. “He was weak... but, he was so... so strong, stronger than me.” Much stronger, in the end. “Clumsy, and elegant... serious, too serious for his age, but he could be fun when he let himself go. Quietly affectionate, loving... playful, sometimes. And loyal... and fiercely protective about the people he cared about, and...”

Suzaku’s voice trailed off, though there was so much more he could think of to say, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. His head whipped to the side, wide green eyes focusing on Kallen, whose lips were turned upwards in the tiniest, guiltiest of smiles.

“I think I would have liked him,” she said, surprising Suzaku as she leaned against him.

Suzaku laughed softly, his first real laugh since... well, he couldn’t even remember when. And for the next few hours as the storm cleared away, they sat side-by-side in front of Lelouch’s grave, sharing Zero’s cape, eyes glassy but expressions content for the first time in a very long time.

Comments

[stella-shuriken.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed reading it ^^ If you post any more I'll be sure to read it.

[amanuensis1.livejournal.com]

Whoa, I seriously melted all over this. Loved the angst of it and the sweetness and especially the grief Kallen and Suzaku share!

[lawlip0p.livejournal.com]

=] glad you liked it!

[tenshiyaki.livejournal.com]

Really great and well-written. I liked the way that the stripping of clothing symbolized things that were so different from what one would normally think. Well done! :) &hearts

[lil-missb.livejournal.com]

Oh, this hurt so good! Thank you.