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Summary
“It’s..”
Small. He wants to say. Too small to be the quarters meant to house Tokyo’s living legend, the magnum opus he created then abandoned in his past lifetime, to the man behind the mask. It’s quaint. A little too quaint for a boy of Lelouch’s tastes, the insatiable king with a flair for the dramatic and an appetite for silver linings and satin linens, jewels and gold and anything that could make a statement in bold, blazing letters.
But it’s nothing more and nothing less than what Lelouch would have imagined for him. For this boy, who comes and goes as he pleases, and has now decided he’d waltz back into Suzaku’s apartment.
Ten years later.
“Nice. It suits you.”
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dé·jà vu - tedious familiarity.