fanfic, five stages of loss. (o7)
title. five stages of loss
series. code geass/bleach
character/pairing. lloyd (lloyd > suzaku, grimmjow > lloyd)
rating. R/NC-17
summary. broken again (and again).
notes. toujours-verse. mentions of rape.
just say "i miss you every day, you know."
♫ cloud cult; dance for the dead
denial.
When Lloyd first sees Suzaku's name is missing from the roster he checks it, checks, and checks again. He just can't believe it - a few hours earlier he became aware of Gino's absence, and now his young subordinate too?
For a moment he tries to struggle upright (he knows the gadget is right, it always is, but a part of him can't accept what a tiny computerized screen tells him so easily). He has to find him - or rather, find that there is no trace of him - to prove that he's really gone, somehow (and it makes him remember absently something he heard once about lovebirds dying in the absence of their partner - he knows that's not the case, this is the hotel's doing, but it's in his mind anyway and for a moment, it makes him question his sanity).
He can't help but wonder if he'd be better off conceding to some sort of psychosis in this place when he's trying to move his injured body in order to go on some wild, fruitless search, when he can barely even stand.
So he leans back again, and lays down heavily, tired with pain.
He's impulsive, yes - he'll admit to that. Not delusional, though.
Most certainly not.
anger.
Lloyd will never get used to being angry at himself.
Self-loathing - That was Suzaku's stint, Gino's - It wasn't for him. He was self-assured. Confident. He did not hate himself (condemned himself for being weak at times, yes, but that had been pushed so far into the back of his mind for so long-).
But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had messed up again. Made another mistake.
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes - He made a lot of them at this stupid hotel. Even so much as waking up and leaving his room each morning was often an error, but this was different. He had told himself he would take advantage of the time he had, and what had he done? Wasted it. Ran away like the coward he knew he was.
He had run away again, from something he should've faced. He shouldn't have avoided the boy - avoided either of them - just because of one stupid mistake. And now he can't even make up for it.
He shifts restlessly, wincing, lips pressed into a scowl. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering when he was lying in bed like this. He can't stop from being angry at himself again and again and again-
So he prepares a solution.
bargaining.
When the world is spinning in dizzy circles and Grimmjow drops him onto his bed, he finds his mind wandering aimlessly through pastures of thought and trampling the panic he knew he should've been feeling. Suzaku, Gino... What was Cecile doing, right now? Who was working on the Lancelot-?
He finds himself arguing, albeit weakly, for a visit to the hospital. Grimmjow won't let him go, but he needs to, he needs to- and then he's being touched, kissed, and he finds himself pleading, both vocally and in his mind; why couldn't things be the way they had been in the beginning? Why did things have to change, why did things always have to change, why did he have to leave?
Why did he have to leave again?
He pleads and pleads and pleads until his mind is unhinged and his voice is hoarse and his face is wet and his body is sore, for the restoration of his happiness, which was once so concrete and has now become so fleeting.
He pleads and pleads and pleads until he comes and loses consciousness, and then he wakes up in the hospital.
depression.
After Nodoka leaves him, he crawls back inside the tub, turning on the shower again and curling up on the cool enamel. He never does this, acknowledging his sorrow (never ever), but what's the point in trying to pretend that everything is okay anymore? He's not fooling anyone. He can't even fool himself (and that's most important).
Instead, he'll drown his self in pessimism and in self-pity and in the cruelest truths that he can dig up from his bleary, sleep-deprived mind.
The water is hot, but he can't bring himself to care that he's uncomfortable. He can't bring himself to care about much of anything since the transpiration of the past few days. He wants Suzaku back, He wants Gino back, but no longer has the energy to even plead - to beg - to nothing for their return.
It was senseless and petty. It didn't even serve to make him feel any better.
The scientist whines softly, with the assurance that no one can hear him, and starts crying for his helplessness, for his desperation, and for his heavy, heavy loss. Even if Suzaku or Gino will come back, there are certain things that cannot be returned to him - that he could be taken apart so completely in the matter of just a number of hours was the most damning knowledge he was forced to face.
The awareness that he could not go back to what he had been, though, was perhaps the most terrifying.
acceptance.
When he realizes that he's been speaking of the boy in the past tense for the last day or so, he starts to wonder if he hasn't really decided to treat him as though he's actually dead.
That maybe he's actually reaching a point where he can say he'll be alright-
He curls his fingers tight, stretching the skin taunt over bone.
No.
No, that isn't right.
The scientist makes a note to himself, in his mind, to stop speaking about Suzaku as though he's gone for good.
He isn't dead (most certainly not), as long as he's in still stuck in Toujours Hotel.
He's just gone for a little while.
series. code geass/bleach
character/pairing. lloyd (lloyd > suzaku, grimmjow > lloyd)
rating. R/NC-17
summary. broken again (and again).
notes. toujours-verse. mentions of rape.
just say "i miss you every day, you know."
♫ cloud cult; dance for the dead
denial.
When Lloyd first sees Suzaku's name is missing from the roster he checks it, checks, and checks again. He just can't believe it - a few hours earlier he became aware of Gino's absence, and now his young subordinate too?
For a moment he tries to struggle upright (he knows the gadget is right, it always is, but a part of him can't accept what a tiny computerized screen tells him so easily). He has to find him - or rather, find that there is no trace of him - to prove that he's really gone, somehow (and it makes him remember absently something he heard once about lovebirds dying in the absence of their partner - he knows that's not the case, this is the hotel's doing, but it's in his mind anyway and for a moment, it makes him question his sanity).
He can't help but wonder if he'd be better off conceding to some sort of psychosis in this place when he's trying to move his injured body in order to go on some wild, fruitless search, when he can barely even stand.
So he leans back again, and lays down heavily, tired with pain.
He's impulsive, yes - he'll admit to that. Not delusional, though.
Most certainly not.
anger.
Lloyd will never get used to being angry at himself.
Self-loathing - That was Suzaku's stint, Gino's - It wasn't for him. He was self-assured. Confident. He did not hate himself (condemned himself for being weak at times, yes, but that had been pushed so far into the back of his mind for so long-).
But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had messed up again. Made another mistake.
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes - He made a lot of them at this stupid hotel. Even so much as waking up and leaving his room each morning was often an error, but this was different. He had told himself he would take advantage of the time he had, and what had he done? Wasted it. Ran away like the coward he knew he was.
He had run away again, from something he should've faced. He shouldn't have avoided the boy - avoided either of them - just because of one stupid mistake. And now he can't even make up for it.
He shifts restlessly, wincing, lips pressed into a scowl. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering when he was lying in bed like this. He can't stop from being angry at himself again and again and again-
So he prepares a solution.
bargaining.
When the world is spinning in dizzy circles and Grimmjow drops him onto his bed, he finds his mind wandering aimlessly through pastures of thought and trampling the panic he knew he should've been feeling. Suzaku, Gino... What was Cecile doing, right now? Who was working on the Lancelot-?
He finds himself arguing, albeit weakly, for a visit to the hospital. Grimmjow won't let him go, but he needs to, he needs to- and then he's being touched, kissed, and he finds himself pleading, both vocally and in his mind; why couldn't things be the way they had been in the beginning? Why did things have to change, why did things always have to change, why did he have to leave?
Why did he have to leave again?
He pleads and pleads and pleads until his mind is unhinged and his voice is hoarse and his face is wet and his body is sore, for the restoration of his happiness, which was once so concrete and has now become so fleeting.
He pleads and pleads and pleads until he comes and loses consciousness, and then he wakes up in the hospital.
depression.
After Nodoka leaves him, he crawls back inside the tub, turning on the shower again and curling up on the cool enamel. He never does this, acknowledging his sorrow (never ever), but what's the point in trying to pretend that everything is okay anymore? He's not fooling anyone. He can't even fool himself (and that's most important).
Instead, he'll drown his self in pessimism and in self-pity and in the cruelest truths that he can dig up from his bleary, sleep-deprived mind.
The water is hot, but he can't bring himself to care that he's uncomfortable. He can't bring himself to care about much of anything since the transpiration of the past few days. He wants Suzaku back, He wants Gino back, but no longer has the energy to even plead - to beg - to nothing for their return.
It was senseless and petty. It didn't even serve to make him feel any better.
The scientist whines softly, with the assurance that no one can hear him, and starts crying for his helplessness, for his desperation, and for his heavy, heavy loss. Even if Suzaku or Gino will come back, there are certain things that cannot be returned to him - that he could be taken apart so completely in the matter of just a number of hours was the most damning knowledge he was forced to face.
The awareness that he could not go back to what he had been, though, was perhaps the most terrifying.
acceptance.
When he realizes that he's been speaking of the boy in the past tense for the last day or so, he starts to wonder if he hasn't really decided to treat him as though he's actually dead.
That maybe he's actually reaching a point where he can say he'll be alright-
He curls his fingers tight, stretching the skin taunt over bone.
No.
No, that isn't right.
The scientist makes a note to himself, in his mind, to stop speaking about Suzaku as though he's gone for good.
He isn't dead (most certainly not), as long as he's in still stuck in Toujours Hotel.
He's just gone for a little while.