Does anyone care if I cannot say goodbye? I’ve lost my voice, all I can do is stand still All I can do is stand still…
She’s beautiful, she’s by herself, and she looks so very lost in thought, fingers not used to being idle clicking on her communicator unit absently.
Many offer to buy the attractive brunette a drink, but the one she already has is barely touched. When they walk away, disappointed, they still glance at the graceful legs stretching from beneath her hip hugging skirt. Her bosom is as generous as her hair, flowing loosely down her back. Every once in a while, she twirls a strand between her fingers as she waits.
When the young man slides onto the stool next to her at the bar, her eyes look down only momentarily at his greeting, before she flashes a smile.
“Kujo,” she acknowledges his presence, and he acts like they’ve seen each other only the day before.
~*~
The world is wide and uncertain when you’ve just stepped into your twenties. It’s also yours to dive into, but Billie Katagiri only wants one thing from this world. What she already has hasn’t come without effort, but capturing someone’s heart is a game of different mechanics altogether.
Alessandro Kujo is three years her junior. He already has everyone else’s hearts, but she still wants nothing else. It’s only with her that his loud, confident voice is lowered to a reverent whisper. He speaks of his dreams and the world offering itself to him, and every once in a while, a name that’s not hers filters into their conversations.
“She’s amazing,” Les hugs a knee to his chest, and Billie’s palms sink into the grass under them, “Kati is… Sometimes I wonder-No, I’m sure that’s what it’s like to be perfect.”
Les never comments on her oversized (“comfortable!”) sweaters or her mousy hair, perpetually pulled back in a ponytail. He doesn’t tease her about her delight in a published journal article rather than a date; but Billie knows that her name will never make his almond eyes light up like Kati’s does. She’s on her feet and a good distance away before she knows it. She’s always prided herself on being the rational one, but hurt is never rational.
Later that evening, she steps outside the engineering building and lifts an exasperated sigh at the pouring rain. Then there’s the bright purple umbrella (“Why purple…?”) waiting nearby. Les lifts his head and smiles sheepishly, hopefully, chestnut brown waves already heavy with moisture.
He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but she forgives him as they share the umbrella all the way back to the bus station. Maybe it’s better this way. For now.
When Billie sees one for the first time, the mobile suit descending onto the demonstration grounds in a flurry of noise and light, she feels like she’s finally been pushed face forward into the waiting world. Graham doesn’t shut up about the Gundam for days. Those stretch into weeks, then she recognizes the beginning of a lifelong obsession. When they race around the world for the first few weeks, looking for clues and battles and scraps they can salvage from these fallen angels, she feels like they’re a team for the first time. Graham doesn’t treat her as a woman (she pretends it hurts her feminine pride), and never as a subordinate. The others whisper behind their back, and it takes effort to ignore damaging gossip, the tool of the weak and envious; but when they’re together, they’re equal. When he demands too much of her time and sanity, she complies patiently, but reminds him how she has to take care of him, being the smarts of the team. He wants to possess that light from above, the whirlwind of fire that has lit everything around him. Billie wants to create what surpasses it.
Together, they’re fire and wind.
~*~ “The sky will be mine one day,” Graham is sprawled on his back out on the balcony, now that the others have left the party. He’s young and he’s loud, and Billie suspects he’s a little bit drunk. She doesn’t have the heart to kick him out of the apartment, and he doesn’t seem to understand the implications of staying over at her place.
It’s comfortable.
“If you keep piloting like a maniac, you’ll end up stuck up there permanently,” Billie retorts, walking into the chilly air outside with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand. She can barely remember whose birthday they’ve just celebrated, and the others love to drop in with the excuse of her place being much bigger than their cramped dorm. Somehow, they’ve become her circle, even if she doesn’t know a single engineer among the rowdy soldiers. They come with the package of knowing Graham.
“I can help you get there,” she tells herself moreso than Graham, leaning against the slide door as she looks up at whatever the blond is reaching for. The dreams of a boy who grew up with nothing, she knows, and wonders if that makes you reach even harder for everything.
“What do you want, Katagiri?” she can never tell when he’s drunk. Billie crouches on the floor beside him, cradling the cooling cup in her hands. She tells him everything. Why not? She’s had everything and nothing, and he’s telling the stars to watch out. Billie tells him about the boy with the laughing eyes, who’s raced to the peak before he crashed and burned. She tells him everything. This is one man (pleasantly drunk) who doesn’t begrudge her the ample name she’s born with, and doesn’t court her favor for the connections she can pull. He also doesn’t quite understand the longing for someone so unreliable, and from the story she’s telling, so very foolish.
She still has those photographs from their university days, stashed away in a shoebox somewhere. More often than not, she asks the empty place in her heart where Kujo can be.
Billie doesn’t expect the ghost of the boy; make that the man, when she finds out about Les. It’s a game of hide and seeks, tag and run, and the world mocks her as she races through it. The war is over, and people are calming their beating hearts, others are picking up the pieces. He’s pale and tired, and standing too close to the edge of the rooftop garden at the hotel where he’s been spending the past few days. There’s nothing left of the boy in that tall frame save for his uncertain, scared smile when he sees her.
“It’s good to see you again, Billie,” his voice sounds hoarse, and he doesn’t notice her shaking. The wind so high up ruffles his long hair, now teasing his shoulders.
“Graham is dead.” Billie’s usual composure evaporates when she hears her own voice, and the weakness she hides from the expecting world is back once more. Years of being perfect wear her down, and for the first time in her life, she’s broken and weary and scared all at once.
She doesn’t feel her tears until they stain Les’s shirt, and a moment later, his arms pull her close. They stay that way above the world for the longest time. Billie doesn’t leave the hotel alone that night.
~*~
“If you won’t return with me, then you leave me no choice,” the young man with the hard eyes reveals his second crushing surprise for that day, a small automatic whipped out swiftly and threateningly, “I can’t leave you alive, Sumeragi Li Noriega.”
Billie wants to scream and accuse and shout at the stranger, and Kujo who’s not moving away or pleading for his life. Her voice is not her own, and nothing comes out.
The shot happens too soon, but not too fast for her to see Kujo close his eyes with resignation. The cream white carpet drinks the blood in stretching stains, and when Kujo falls, she can’t see anything else.
They avoid her when she’s back at work (A lovers’ quarrel, some say it was), but she needs every chance of peace to be perfect, for her perfect revenge against a broken world.
I’ve lost my voice, all I can do is stand still
All I can do is stand still…
She’s beautiful, she’s by herself, and she looks so very lost in thought, fingers not used to being idle clicking on her communicator unit absently.
Many offer to buy the attractive brunette a drink, but the one she already has is barely touched. When they walk away, disappointed, they still glance at the graceful legs stretching from beneath her hip hugging skirt. Her bosom is as generous as her hair, flowing loosely down her back. Every once in a while, she twirls a strand between her fingers as she waits.
When the young man slides onto the stool next to her at the bar, her eyes look down only momentarily at his greeting, before she flashes a smile.
“Kujo,” she acknowledges his presence, and he acts like they’ve seen each other only the day before.
~*~
The world is wide and uncertain when you’ve just stepped into your twenties. It’s also yours to dive into, but Billie Katagiri only wants one thing from this world. What she already has hasn’t come without effort, but capturing someone’s heart is a game of different mechanics altogether.
Alessandro Kujo is three years her junior. He already has everyone else’s hearts, but she still wants nothing else. It’s only with her that his loud, confident voice is lowered to a reverent whisper. He speaks of his dreams and the world offering itself to him, and every once in a while, a name that’s not hers filters into their conversations.
“She’s amazing,” Les hugs a knee to his chest, and Billie’s palms sink into the grass under them, “Kati is… Sometimes I wonder-No, I’m sure that’s what it’s like to be perfect.”
Les never comments on her oversized (“comfortable!”) sweaters or her mousy hair, perpetually pulled back in a ponytail. He doesn’t tease her about her delight in a published journal article rather than a date; but Billie knows that her name will never make his almond eyes light up like Kati’s does.
She’s on her feet and a good distance away before she knows it. She’s always prided herself on being the rational one, but hurt is never rational.
Later that evening, she steps outside the engineering building and lifts an exasperated sigh at the pouring rain. Then there’s the bright purple umbrella (“Why purple…?”) waiting nearby. Les lifts his head and smiles sheepishly, hopefully, chestnut brown waves already heavy with moisture.
He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but she forgives him as they share the umbrella all the way back to the bus station. Maybe it’s better this way. For now.
~*~
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Together, they’re fire and wind.
~*~
“The sky will be mine one day,” Graham is sprawled on his back out on the balcony, now that the others have left the party. He’s young and he’s loud, and Billie suspects he’s a little bit drunk. She doesn’t have the heart to kick him out of the apartment, and he doesn’t seem to understand the implications of staying over at her place.
It’s comfortable.
“If you keep piloting like a maniac, you’ll end up stuck up there permanently,” Billie retorts, walking into the chilly air outside with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand. She can barely remember whose birthday they’ve just celebrated, and the others love to drop in with the excuse of her place being much bigger than their cramped dorm. Somehow, they’ve become her circle, even if she doesn’t know a single engineer among the rowdy soldiers. They come with the package of knowing Graham.
“I can help you get there,” she tells herself moreso than Graham, leaning against the slide door as she looks up at whatever the blond is reaching for. The dreams of a boy who grew up with nothing, she knows, and wonders if that makes you reach even harder for everything.
“What do you want, Katagiri?” she can never tell when he’s drunk. Billie crouches on the floor beside him, cradling the cooling cup in her hands. She tells him everything. Why not? She’s had everything and nothing, and he’s telling the stars to watch out. Billie tells him about the boy with the laughing eyes, who’s raced to the peak before he crashed and burned. She tells him everything. This is one man (pleasantly drunk) who doesn’t begrudge her the ample name she’s born with, and doesn’t court her favor for the connections she can pull. He also doesn’t quite understand the longing for someone so unreliable, and from the story she’s telling, so very foolish.
She still has those photographs from their university days, stashed away in a shoebox somewhere. More often than not, she asks the empty place in her heart where Kujo can be.
~*~
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“It’s good to see you again, Billie,” his voice sounds hoarse, and he doesn’t notice her shaking. The wind so high up ruffles his long hair, now teasing his shoulders.
“Graham is dead.” Billie’s usual composure evaporates when she hears her own voice, and the weakness she hides from the expecting world is back once more. Years of being perfect wear her down, and for the first time in her life, she’s broken and weary and scared all at once.
She doesn’t feel her tears until they stain Les’s shirt, and a moment later, his arms pull her close. They stay that way above the world for the longest time. Billie doesn’t leave the hotel alone that night.
~*~
“If you won’t return with me, then you leave me no choice,” the young man with the hard eyes reveals his second crushing surprise for that day, a small automatic whipped out swiftly and threateningly, “I can’t leave you alive, Sumeragi Li Noriega.”
Billie wants to scream and accuse and shout at the stranger, and Kujo who’s not moving away or pleading for his life. Her voice is not her own, and nothing comes out.
The shot happens too soon, but not too fast for her to see Kujo close his eyes with resignation. The cream white carpet drinks the blood in stretching stains, and when Kujo falls, she can’t see anything else.
They avoid her when she’s back at work (A lovers’ quarrel, some say it was), but she needs every chance of peace to be perfect, for her perfect revenge against a broken world.
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