leishe

Obsolte

Grey sky, and rain falling from it. The colony was engulfed in a black storm, where you could barely see anything. On the streets, motorists beeped their horns, and people rolled down the car windows to curse and yell at each other. The floating lights that were suspended over several buildings and intersections shone with a warm, white glow, gleaming through the wet curtain. Pedestrians passed each other by on the sidewalks, carrying umbrellas of all colors and sizes, and wearing raincoats and jackets. The storm hadn’t stopped in three days.

A young man looked out of the window of a cozy-looking coffee shop, and watched the people outside. The raindrops were dribbling off the glass and the soft orange lights from inside reflected off of them, making the droplets look like small round insects. He glanced at them momentarily, before pulling his gaze up to the sky. It was dark; darker than the clouds, which appeared starkly white against the endless grey. The young man sighed, and put his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His purple eyes looked down at the cup of hot coffee that was half-empty.

Ring.

Someone entered the coffee shop, and the person standing behind the counter greeted her warmly. A young woman with wet red hair nodded at him, before making her way to the ladies’ bathroom, apparently, to wring her locks dry. The man just smiled back, and asked her something.

“The usual, miss?”

The usual was black coffee. But on some occasions, she asked him to add half a cup of sugar.

Another nod. “With sugar.” The door to the bathroom opened, and then closed.

Ah. She must be feeling different today, the man thought, before reiterating the order to the coffeemakers. He entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. There were no other customers in the coffee shop; just the young man with purple eyes who was watching the rain, and the young woman with bright red hair, who almost always had her coffee black.

Ring.

She came out of the bathroom, hair now relatively dry, and took a seat a table away from him. She wasn’t interested today, and merely took out a piece of paper from her handbag, and a pen, scribbling something absently. Grey eyes looked out at the rain, and inwardly, felt relieved. She had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a while, to just come inside and watch, and not have to play a part in life’s great drama.

“A-achoo!”

Her gaze alighted on the young man for a moment. He was rubbing his nose and sniffing. She watched, as he took the white porcelain cup gingerly in his hands, and drank until it was empty. His hair was a messy brown, and there was this rumpled, comfortable feeling when one looked at him; as if he was a paper bag.

The young woman smiled at the back of his head. Her teeth shone in the warm, flickering, floating orange lights. There was something about him.

.o.

Lacus didn’t like looking at the rain too much. She’d rather sunshine, and blue sky. Weather where the birds could sing and be happy, while butterflies fluttered by in the warm afternoon breeze. The fair-skinned maiden looked down at the clear fish pond in her glass-domed greenhouse, stirring the water with her finger absently. The screaming fans were just outside the door of her mansion, as always, and her album sales were soaring to quadruple-platinum, only in one week. The servants were scurrying busily around her house, tending to simple errands, such as getting her paperwork done, and other small things.

It was the usual life in her mansion.

Lacus smiled, and ran her fingernails through the mass of pink hair hanging from her head. it was soft, the way she liked it. She blinked and listened as her Haros slowly appeared, one by one, from behind the bushes of her indoor garden, beeping mechanically. Green, purple, pink, blue, yellow. She liked the pink one best. It reminded her of her hair. The second best one was the purple one, because purple was the color of Kira’s eyes.

“Kira…when are you coming?” Lacus held the small machine in her delicate hands, wondering. But her mouth was smiling, always shaped in that half-mooned shape, as if it was cemented that way. But she never showed her teeth, though.

.o.

He opened the door, and left the shop. The rain fell harder, and the young man opened his blue umbrella, shading himself from the tumbling water. Sighing to no one in particular, he fixed his violet eyes on the horizon, on the white shape of what was a large house, and beside it, a glass dome. He walked, with footsteps splashing and making ripples in the sidewalk, just as the other people did. They were all milling, but the young man was going in only one direction: downwards, to where his princess waited.

.o.

The invisible doors opened, it seemed, for him only. Kira stepped in without making a noise, and the glass slid shut behind him, closing off the rain, the sky, the lights, and the rest of the world. The young man looked up, scanning the impressive lobby for any sign of life. There were speakers suspended from every corner of the room, and soft, soothing music emanated from them. He smiled as he listened to the music. The voice was very pleasing to the ears, most especially to his, because it was her voice, which, to him, was the most beautiful voice in the world.

Kira tapped his umbrella beside him, trying to shake the water off. It sprinkled onto the soft green carpet, making dark spots. They disappeared in a few seconds.

“Kira?”

A sweet voice echoed off the tall, tall walls, and he turned his head to the top of the gracefully winding staircase. There, she stood, perfect, poised. Her hand was raised delicately above the white ivory railing, curled slightly inside a small glove. She smiled at him, and Kira thought, for a moment, that he was in the presence of an angel. Lacus beamed at him as she glided down the steps, making no sound but the ruffling of her long, alabaster gown.

“Come,” she beckoned to him, coming to a stop in front of Kira, and looking into his eyes. “Let’s have some tea.”

.o.

“Mask,” someone said. “Just a mask.”

“Oh?” was the reply. “I doubt it. She looks thoroughly genuine to me.”

A snort, and muffled laughter. “You blind fool. Can’t you see right through her?”

“No. All I see is what she appears to be. There isn’t anything beyond, you know. She isn’t a two-faced liar with another self.”

A pause, as the other speaker stops to take a drink from a cup of water.

“Exactly. You’re correct.”

There is a moment of disbelief. “…what?”

“That’s all she is. A mask. There isn’t anything beyond her. Nothing at all.”

.o.

Kira and Lacus were facing each other, seated at a small table in the greenhouse. Outside, the rain fell and slid down the glass, but Kira didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at Lacus. She, noticing his gaze upon her, merely smiled and offered him some sugar for his tea, which, she pointed out, was a little bitter, and “no one likes bitter things, right, Kira?”

All he could do was nod dumbly, and Lacus would giggle cutely at his stupor.

A few minutes passed in that manner. Tea. Staring. Sugar. Giggles. The rain fell, and the storm raged, but nobody noticed. Inside Kira was burning up, itching to tell her something that he had been trying to tell her for the past few weeks. But it had to wait. She was still laughing, sipping tea, and asking him how his day was, and if anything nice happened. Sometimes, Lacus would break out into a soft chorus of one of her songs, and he would just sit there and listen as she sang, not saying anything.

Wait, Kira told himself. I can tell her I love her soon enough.

.o.

The young woman in the coffee shop drank the dark, bitter liquid, and added another half cup of sugar. She glanced at the sky, and wondered what was going on.

.o.

Lacus cocked her head to one side, looking at him. “Is there something you want to tell me, Kira?”

At the other side of the table, he stiffened, and an involuntary shade of pink appeared on his cheeks. Kira then realized that his knees were quivering awkwardly. He gripped the edge of the table to calm himself down, but she noticed it.

“Are you okay?”

“Im f-fine,” he reasurred her. Come on Yamato…you can pull this off… That small voice inside his head began encouraging him once more, and Kira cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure.

“Lacus—“

“Yes?”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time…”

“Yes?”

“I…”

“You…?”

“I-I-I…I love you.”

“You what?”

Kira cleared his throat once more, fidgeting with his index fingers. “I love you.”

Lacus didn’t reply immediately, looking at him with a strange expression on her face. She seemed to be summing him up, taking Kira in with silent, blank blue eyes. Her white fingers traced the edge of the glass table absently. The young man watched in baited, torturous silence, waiting for her to answer.

After a few minutes, Lacus broke out into giggles.

“Ahaha!” she exclaimed, her face creasing in places, and her eyes crinkling at the sides, “Hahahahahahahaha!” Her laughter was musical, melodious and enchanting…it was unlike any that Kira had heard before. Lacus doubled over in giggles, clutching her stomach and leaning over the table. As the young man stared at her in disbelief, he noticed, for the first time, her shiny white teeth gleaming in the light.

.o.

Athrun looked up.

Above him was a gigantic billboard, the size of three battleships laid out across a field from tip to tip. It stood out awkwardly, like a dinosaur in outer space, amongst the decent, clustered buildings of a small, underdeveloped colony. The young man sighed, and squinted as the sunlight played tricks on his sight.

Printed quite accurately on the canvas surface of the billboard was none other than the siren herself, Lacus Clyne. She was smiling in the picture, like she always did, and was holding a microphone in one hand, and reaching out to the people with the other. The Lacus on the billboard seemed to be standing on a stage of some sort, and was in the spotlight. Beside the picture, white, swirling text was laid out. Athrun read.

One Night Only! Forever: A concert by Ms. Lacus Clyne, to promote peace, love and happiness across the galaxies. August 17, at the Ashta Stadium. Tickets are now available at all Ticketworld outlets near you!

He pulled his eyes away from the gargantuan poster and rolled his eyes inwardly. Lacus would never change. Up to now, Athrun didn’t really understand just how she could promote love along with her other campaigns, if she herself did not know what it truly meant.

.o.

When Lacus had finished laughing, she simply folded her hands on top of one another, placing them on the table. She looked Kira in the eye, and cleared her throat daintily.

“Kira,” she began, “I am truly sorry, but please…be more specific.”

He didn’t shift his bewildered gaze from her pretty face. “…specific?”

“Yes.” She replied, “Specific. I don’t know what you mean, you see.”

“B-but I said—“

“You said ‘I love you’, Kira. But love is too general a term. In fact, it is so general that the word ‘love’ is obsolete. Meaningless.” Lacus smiled at him.

“I…I—“

“…so please. Could you be a little more specific?

Kira fell silent for a few moments, and he gazed at the beautiful creature before him with amazed, puzzled eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and nothing came out. Lacus cocked her head to one side, and he could see the pretty pink locks that dangled off her scalp. She bared her round white teeth, and giggled softly at his apparent confusion.

“Kira, I don’t understand you.” She explained.

He looked at her with a mystified, disappointed expression. “Neither do I.”

.o.

Grey sky, and rain falling from it. The colony was engulfed in a black storm, where you could barely see anything. On the streets, motorists beeped their horns, and people rolled down the car windows to curse and yell at each other. The floating lights that were suspended over several buildings and intersections shone with a warm, white glow, gleaming through the wet curtain. Pedestrians passed each other by on the sidewalks, carrying umbrellas of all colors and sizes, and wearing raincoats and jackets. The storm hadn’t stopped in three days.

Ring.

A young man entered a coffee shop, looking a little bit more ragged and tired than when he had left. The man who made the pleasing hot drinks wasn’t there, but the warmth and the lights and the dark cozy wood still were, along with the small round tables, soft, worn-out cushions and the young woman who hadn’t left yet. The white porcelain cup was at her mouth, and she drank deeply. He noticed that the ends of her red hair were already dry.

Wearily, he sat, and hung his drenched jacket on the chair. All the way down, through the rain, the city, and the grey, he had walked, only to be disappointed by a person he thought he loved. Or rather, a person he thought loved him back. Or at the very least, understood love itself was. Compassion, he realized. That was all that she felt, all that lived and circulated in her pretty little heart. Compassion, and sympathy. Love was nothing to her. Love had no meaning. Love was obsolete.

“A-choo!”

His gaze alighted on the young woman for a moment. young She was rubbing her nose and sniffing. He watched as she took the white porcelain cup gingerly in her hands and drank once more, until it was empty. Her hair was a strikingly red, and there was this different, human feeling when one looked at her; as if she was a wild butterfly.

The young woman smiled at him. Her teeth shone in the warm, flickering, floating orange lights. He realized that there was something about her—

.o.

Notes.

;P hello again. Vaguely vague story inspired by The Giver, by Lois Lowry. :-) Please don’t kill me, dear fans of Lacus.