reewind | how hype can one person BE

how hype can one person BE | IT'S THE OTP

[within the apartment, all is seemingly normal. light filters through the curtains, signalling the rise of the sun. coffee bubbles in its pots, scent wafting through the house. there's the patter of feet as a young blonde woman moves about the kitchen, preparing a pair of meals-- eggs, toast, sausage. the atmosphere is of a happy home, one that could be shared with another, or a set of people both large and small. it's peaceful, charming in it's normalcy, the quiet soothing to milly as she cooks, even as there's a thudcrashBOOM in her room. their room. hers, mostly, and sometimes his, but if it was always his, wouldn't he know all the good hiding spots by now?

noises find her through the walls, however muffled, and as she sets their plates, she smiles to herself, listening to his frustration and her apartment being torn apart, watching as he moves from room to room, focused on a single task. he could simply ask her where it is, but there's no guarantee she'd answer. (frankly, the guarantee is that she won't.) why should she when it's so entertaining to observe him? as he passes by, she takes a seat in front of her plate, smirking as she opens the newspaper in her hands.]

Suzaku, have breakfast with me, please. Whatever you're doing [like she doesn't know what he's doing.] can wait, can't it?

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Listen, [he's already raising his voice from down the hall where he's found himself charging, rummaging and rummaging to his heart's content, but not finding what his heart's so set upon--] I don't...

[what even. WHY. sure, he knows some hiding spots - where she usually throws it, and then when she changes it up and throws it somewhere else to throw him off-balance because she finds some sick, perverse amusement in this (he keeps telling himself that despite the fact that he finds it kind of endearing) - but it's not in the usual place (s). he's so confounded that he ends up letting out an aggravated sigh and giving one last, long, hard thump of something (probably an end table. don't judge his desperation) before giving up.

for the moment. just a moment because his stomach is growling and whatever she's cooked (?) smells good.

he comes down the hall and looks every inch as aggravated as he feels despite looking no better than a particularly ruffled cat as he stands there with a hard frown. his voice comes out plain, his tone dry:]

You know I'm not happy about this, right.

[it's so difficult to hold in a laugh, but if she laughs, she'll lose. and that can't happen. so she smiles as she turns a page of the paper, eyes skimming over words but not really registering them, sipping at her coffee with whatever grace and elegance she can muster up so early in the morning. and then she lowers the paper, showing eyes full of mischief, but an expression with innocence that doesn't match, inclining her head towards his plate-- warm, and with eggs just how he likes them.]

Absolutely. If lifting the couch without breaking a sweat and opening every cabinet in this place isn't a sign of unhappiness, I'm not sure what is. [her blithe smile turns into a cheshire grin as she takes another sip of her coffee, and she pats the chair next to her.]

Come on. You'll find it later.

Edited 2017-04-15 05:38 (UTC)

[ohhhhh there's an opening to be scathing and petty in there somewhere, but he (wisely) decides not to take it. instead he takes her invitation to sit down next to her with a last, sulky huff, proceeding to righteously over this eggs. (they look good, though, and she knows how he likes his eggs, which is a wonderful thing, but he really needed to find his [lelouch's] mask asap so he could go right back to nunnally and get this day done and over with.)

basically: life's never fair to him and this should be no exception.

it's the exact thought that runs through his head as he sits there sulking and frowning over his eggs, not wanting to do something he's bad at: thinking. suzaku has, and will always be, a doer. thinking's for someone more intelligent - someone like lelouch or schneizel - and not someone who just takes orders. damn.]

...thanks for the meal. [he manages to say this, not sounding happy, but at least managing to sound grateful because he's still grateful, despite milly's theft of the single thing lelouch entrusted him with.]

[for all he thinks that he's not intelligent, schneizel and lelouch would've made the stupid decision to get a jab in there, and ended up in a predicament neither of them could've escaped from unscathed-- a woman scorned, and prepared to prove their criticisms exceptionally right. suzaku might not know how to speak so elegantly, but at least he knows when to.

his huffing and puffing brings out even more of a smile, and after she folds up the newspaper, she places her elbow on the table, then her chin atop the heel of her palm as she gazes at him. he might be frustrated to hell with her, but she's going to use this opportunity to see his face in such novels ways. she's seen relief, ecstasy, joy, sombreness, regret, and exhaustion in one night-- lucky her. anger and irritation are rare to see, though. that mask of his-- that terrible, awful, life-ruining mask-- has hidden the emotions she wants to see. how can she love him if she doesn't see all that he can be?

if one didn't know better, they would think that she had done this on purpose, orchestrated this game to have that chance. but no. despite her teasing nature, and her mischievous games, that is a bit too cruel.]

You're very welcome, darling. [a pet name for him to soften him just a little.] I figured you'd need some energy for today.

[and soften him it does, even if it only makes his sharper edges a little fuzzy with fluff around the important parts. he keeps calming down a little more with every bite he takes, both wanting to breach the subject of his mask again and not wanting to in relief that it's gone. suzaku would regret them both, but at the very least he'd stop feeling so suffocated without it.

(with or without it, it's still a burden he keeps.)

her words bring him out of his thoughts, though he doesn't look at her yet. he realizes-- maybe he shouldn't be that hard on milly. he doesn't even know what she wants yet and while she can be cunning (not like lelouch, never like lelouch), he knows he can trust her. she's a reporter. if she hasn't taken zero down yet, she wouldn't now.

there's no fear. only a weirdly nostalgic sense of acceptance that suzaku can't seem to shake off.]

...yeah. I don't really get a chance to eat at the palace because there are eyes everywhere, [so he has to pick and choose his places to eat] so thanks. Again. Just...

If you wanted to have breakfast with me, you could've told me.

[i would've stayed. it might've only been to eat, but there's some truth in there that comes from a feeling suzaku isn't sure he really deserves to have.]

[even though his eyes don't come to hers, she never averts her gaze. when will she get a chance to enjoy him like this again? who knows. perhaps they'll both die today and she'll have wasted the opportunity to remember his every feature and expression because she doesn't want to unsettle him. (though, of all the things they've seen, of all the unsettling things they've witnessed, this scene doesn't even graze the top 100.)

she considers speaking before he finishes, to invite him back every day, even though, to her, he already lives with her. but she doesn't, listening carefully, then smiling a little brighter, a little more playful. she's been caught, hasn't she?

not exactly, but good guess, suzaku.]

Breakfast was the start. The hope was lunch and dinner too. [for today, and every day after.] Of course you have to go protect our empress, and the empire. So I just picked one. [she grins at him, eyes light with mischief, hand not holding her face moving to his shoulder to flick at it lightly, once.] Should I start packing sandwiches for you so you don't go hungry during the day?

Right, I-- [i'm sorry. instead, he chooses to bite his tongue and continue, eyes slanting towards her hand as it flickers in and out of view.] --right... If it wouldn't be any trouble, I'd appreciate it.

[suddenly - or not so suddenly, this an every day feeling - he feels like he's been ungrateful for all he's been given. it's a hollow, negative feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach, and before he knows it he's leaning back and regarding milly carefully. 'lunch and dinner,' huh?

how greedy was it to hope for something like that? but if that's what she wants--]

...Our schedule hasn't gotten any lighter, so I don't know about lunch and dinner today, but-- I'll see what I can do through out the week. There have to be holes somewhere, right?

[suzaku could at least try to provide.]

[she regard him for a moment, neutrality in her expression for the time, as she considers that he serves the empress, a woman who must have chefs and banquets and access to all the food she could want. (nunnally wouldn't ever overdo it, but she has the option to do it.) he can't eat in public, but here he is, choosing a homemade sandwich from milly ashford over the grandeur of the britannian empire. it might be out of necessity, but she still laughs at the idea, shaking her head as she gazes at him with fondness.] Write down your favourites, and if you swing by at some point in the day, they'll be waiting for you. Or I could just ask for an audience with you every day around noon...

[it's teasing-- she knows that could jeopardise his task, and her job, and possibly even their lives (more than usual) if she sees him too often, but the idea is cute. it's something she'll keep tucked away for a rainy day, to think about when the apartment is empty and the news has been bleak. it'll sit next to the memories of past visits and the excitement for future ones.

his offer makes he smile brighter, but that eager smile doesn't stay for too long.] Right. But someone has to do the afternoon and evening newscasts. You protect our empress' every move, and I tell the world about it. [there's a small shrug after that, accompanied by a strange smile-- it's almost bashful] I hope that the stars align and the holes in our schedules do too. I think they align for breakfasts and good night kisses often enough, though.

[don't worry about me, is what she means as she looks away from him, eyes staring into space in the direction of the window. you're off the hook.]

[suzaku’s slipping her a crooked little half-smile when she looks away, half-glad she doesn’t see it. he’s never been more grateful, more glad, for such a peacefully understanding girlfriend in his life— for a moment the negative thoughts quiet and in order to show his gratefulness, he’s leaning over while she’s showing him her vulnerable cheek and brushing his lips over it.

a chaste kiss. nothing more, nothing less, and he pulls away as quickly as he leaned in, that smile gone and replaced by a look far more nostalgic and soft.

(a knight’s kiss on the back of a princess’s hand, soft and sweet and fleeting, a dream of something that would and could never last.)]

You’re too good to me. I can’t make any promises, but— [he wouldn’t dare, not after he’s already broken so many] I’ll hope, too. Maybe I can slip a crane in with Nunnally’s, after all.

[his last words were small, but cheery, more of a wish than the crane itself. nunnally still liked to fold them in her spare time and she has so many— surely one more finding its way in her stock would go unnoticed. a small, golden crane with pretty blue sparkles.

a wish, rather than a hope.]

[for all she says, and all she does, it should not be so easy to embarrass her. but suzaku is an expert at it, even if he's not entirely aware of it. it's the sweet kisses, the gentle touches, the completely unassuming behaviour that she will never grow accustomed to. his kiss is enough to make her cheeks turn pink, and laugh softly. she can't look at him for a moment, flustered and giddy like a schoolgirl would be in front of her crush, but she returns to the present soon enough, still rosy cheeked and grinning.

if only every day could be like this...

her smile fades, though, matching his expression as she moves to put her hand over his, once again looking at nothing as she turns his hand over to lace their fingers together, sighing to herself.]

Never too good to you. [because if anyone deserves the best, it's you.] Besides, how can I compete with a man who will fold a crane for us? I've got to do better! Better than hiding a terrible, awful mask, for sure. [what a way to break the mood. she slyly glances over to him, rubbing her thumb over his, waiting to see what he'll do, to see if the magic of the morning is enough to keep him with her for just a moment longer.]

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how hype can one person BE | IT'S THE OTP

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