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Shaddiq thinks he’s always been fond of people. Perhaps it’s his upbringing, but something about connecting and bonding with people had always drawn him in. It’s a way to survive in the world, but it’s also a way to guarantee no social isolation.
He enjoys Asticassia for what it is. Even with classmates who don’t know as much of the world as he does, there’s something refreshing about their innocence that makes him thankful for the fleeting time they’ll have together.
As son of one of the top three branches, this means he’ll have to exchange pleasantries with all the others from different branches as well. It isn’t bad at all; Secelia and Ryouji are both people he could chat casually with, without any worries of slipping up and talking about Grassley and what have you.
Guel Jeturk is also an interesting person to talk to, with how dedicated he was to his resolve to impress his father. He was someone Shaddiq thought he could depend on, even as it proved to be unlikely. Regardless, Guel was someone that Shaddiq found easy to converse with; When the time comes, it would be easy to tear him apart too.
Elan Ceres was a different situation.
There’s a reason why he’s notorious for being the “Ice Prince”-- the way he carries himself, the way he tries to avoid everyone around him. Even in conversations where it’s just the two of them, Elan is curt, straight to the point with his words– once Shaddiq doesn’t mention business, he’s no longer interested in speaking.
He’s curious about the guy– Never often he encounters someone like this. Even when he takes part in business meetings with his father, as he keeps up proper decorum with the older people around him; They treat him with respect, of course, but they never expect anything out of him and never allow him the chance. They’re all adults in age, but when it comes to wisdom over the years– Shaddiq’s practically treated as a child, like a nuisance who knows nothing.
He thinks the feeling’s mutual. It’s not like he can voice it casually, much to his dismay.
Elan never allows him the chance to speak either, but it’s not the same. In the way he doesn’t allow Shaddiq to speak, he refuses to let himself speak. Where older adults around them are free to speak their minds in circles and expect those younger to remain obedient, Elan manages a distance where no one can get in–
And no one escapes.
It’s a nice contrast between all three of them; Guel wears his heart on his sleeve, Shaddiq conceals his, and Elan keeps his heart locked in a safe with a 4-digit code that may have been long forgotten by now.
And Shaddiq loves to crack things– no difference between code and people, after all.
The same results are guaranteed regardless.
“Elan?”
There’s pure silence in the Dueling Committee room. Preparations for a duel, rumors going around about someone wanting to challenge Guel.
He’s never one to back down from potential challenges, and as expected: he’s marching around campus with his little posse of younger brother and juniors in efforts to potentially intimidate the next victim of his Dilanza.
But this means Shaddiq is alone with Elan, however brief it will be.
When he calls his name, he watches from the corner of his eye. Elan is never one to make verbal responses– endearing as it comes to him refusing to look away from the books he busies himself with. Yet briefly–
Briefly, his eyes flash up to meet with the ones who are speaking to him.
He seizes the opportunity.
“Do you have a favorite novel?” He starts off slow. Something casual, a safe answer to never go wrong with– It’s nothing Elan could possibly be offended by.
Silence.
“...Not really.” Elan speaks. For once. It’s soft, quiet, airy– entirely suiting to the demeanor of someone who’s icy. How dangerous, Shaddiq feels himself being drawn in.
“Alright,” Shaddiq shrugs, pausing with how to continue. He continues to watch Elan, how the other’s shoulders start to slowly release tension, and then–
“Do you have a favorite genre then?” A page turns sharply, the sound of it scraping filling the room.
“...No,” Elan repeats his negative answer, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. It’s something that should come so easily to him, yet Shaddiq watches as he begins to fidget; quietly bouncing his foot, crossing one leg over the other.
Is he growing uncomfortable? At such mundane questions? Shaddiq finds himself drawn further and further in– this could end in many different ways now, he wonders if he can predict how things can sway in his favor.
“Do you have any preference for anything?” Shaddiq fakes his exasperation with a sigh. Elan’s grip on his book tightens, excellent. “A hobby you like to do? Favorite food to eat? Preferred drink?”
“No, no, and water,” The green haired guy closes his book shut, and finally– properly meets Shaddiq’s gaze. Shaddiq smiles brightly.
“...Do you like asking dumb questions?” Elan chooses to retort, no sort of emotion seeping through his words or expression.
“I do.” Shaddiq chooses to answer coolly, “may I offer you another one?”
“No. You’re acting far more irritating than usual today.”
“How about a serious question? Let’s talk about Peil!”
Elan narrows his eyes. Bingo.
“...What could you possibly ask about Peil that I could answer?”
“I don’t know!” Shaddiq shrugs, relaxing against the couch and kicking his legs up. “Do you have to use Peil Technologies? Aren’t there plenty of other technology brands to use?”
Dead silence.
“...Was that your attempt at a joke?” Elan finally asks, displaying the fine emotion of slight bewilderment.
“It was! Did you like it?” He definitely hated it. But if a bad joke means he gets to learn more about Elan, he’ll take the gamble to be known as unfunny.
“...It’s a waste of breath,” Elan frowns, and Shaddiq internally cheers. “You should focus more on preparing for your future, Shaddiq Zenelli.”
I’ll get him to work on using just my first name. Shaddiq leans his elbow against his knee, meeting Elan’s annoyed gaze with a smile. “Come on, shouldn’t we treasure our youth? These days won’t last forever!” A truth that has to be mentioned no matter what– now that they’re third years, days of peace and kindness are bound to end at any moment, no more comradery to be found between each other.
Only business and tearing each other down the moment they leave Asticassia– even if it’s only begun with this holder business. Shaddiq wishes the brief reprieve from reality can last for a bit longer, but he can’t even pretend nothing’s wrong with the world outside of them– not after all he’s been through as a child.
“...Yeah, they won’t last forever.” Elan loses all emotion in his voice again. “That just means it’s more of a waste to try and make the most of it.”
Shaddiq huffs. “Elan, have you ever considered making friends?”
“No time to make them.” Elan stands from the couch, tucking his book to his side. “I just have to focus on what’s asked of me. That’s all.” He moves to approach the elevator.
He’s speaking a lot more. He’s… well, he’s actually speaking.
“So what’s asked of you, then?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.” The elevator opens, and Elan walks in.
“...Not going to watch the duel?” Shaddiq turns away from watching him, baiting him to project his emotions if there were no eyes on him.
“Not at all.” A breathe. “My time here is too short to waste on something like that.”
The elevator moves.
“Did you ever feel like you were running out of time, Miorine?”
“Right now, actually.”
Shaddiq winces. Not the best way to start a conversation. He stands outside of the greenhouse– always outside, never allowed in, he found comfort in knowing that Miorine was like him.
“...You know what I mean,” He leans against the wall of the entrance. He hears the quiet snips from her small shears.
“...I feel like I’m running out of time because of this whole “holder” mess. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“No, but yes,” he sighs. “Sorry to bother you.” He walked away before he could hear her response. They still had plenty to talk about, but now wasn’t the time. It’s never been the time, recently, he thinks. Was this what Elan meant by running out of time, the other day?
He really, really wants to know. He’s never usually so worked up about people like Elan, but, ah–
He supposes he’s like Miorine in that way. But Elan isn’t supposed to be a bride robbed of his autonomy, so there must be more to it.
He makes his way back to the Committee lounge, Secelia messaging him about Guel overseeing a duel involving Elan.
He’s far more interested than he’d like to admit.
He strolls into the lounge, as Guel chants alea jacta est and claps his hands. The person dueling Elan lets out a heavy sigh, as Elan opts to stride back to the couch to continue reading his book.
“Where have you been?” Guel growls. “I shouldn’t have to waste my time observing his duels.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Shaddiq fakes being apologetic, moving to slap his hand on Guel’s shoulder– the act of mimicking friendship comes in handy. “I had to take care of a few tasks. I’ll make it up to you!”
He probably won’t, but it’s the thought that counts.
The guy wanting to duel Elan stands at the elevator, not before turning around to glare daggers at the quiet man.
“You!” He hisses, his rage becoming clear. “I’ll be sure to beat you, so don’t you dare underestimate me!”
“Fine by me,” Elan flips the page. “I’ll still crush you.”
“Excuse me?!” And the person comes charging back, ready to swing a fist. Guel starts speaking at the person to back up, because as much as he would like to see Elan get his ass kicked, it’s against rules for a fist fight to break out–
Shaddiq finds himself moving in front of the agitated duelist.
“The elevator’s here now,” he says quickly, spinning the person on their feet and pushing them back toward the exit, “see you at the training sector!”
He shoves him in without any grace. The dueler’s face is laced with confusion and borderline horror, Shaddiq wonders if he did too much in a brief amount of time–
But it doesn’t matter. By the time the dueler scrambles to his feet and tries to run back toward the Committee, the elevator’s doors close. All that’s left is the guy letting out a frustrated yell, echoing out.
Peace and quiet again.
Guel doesn’t say anything, as his phone starts to ring and he moves to a corner to take the call– his father calling again for sure. Which just leaves Shaddiq to entertain himself with his new fixation: Getting under Elan’s skin.
“...You didn’t have to do that,” Elan whispers as Shaddiq takes a seat beside him.
“Hm?” Fun. “I wanted to. Is that not enough?”
“...” Elan grimaces. “You’re strange.”
“You are too,” Shaddiq offers back. “Not everyday that you never see someone smile.”
“...Have no need to,” he flips another page, “nothing to smile about in the end.”
“Is that true?” Shaddiq wants to challenge his beliefs. “Is there no reason that exists, that you will allow yourself to smile?”
“None at all,” interesting, “stop bothering me.”
“Only if you say please!”
“...Do you get amusement from this?”
“Nope.” Yes. Absolutely. “I just think saying “please” suits you much more.”
Elan side-eyes him, and finally there’s some sort of emotion there.
He’s disgusted. Fantastic work.
“...You do get amusement from this,” Elan frowns, “you’re so strange.”
Shaddiq shrugs with a smile.
“... Please leave me alone.” Elan musters out. The way he says please is strained, like how his body tenses and shakes at complying to Shaddiq’s weird command.
Shaddiq wasn’t really going to force it, but he can’t help but mentally congratulate himself on a job well-done here. He’s gathered all he wanted to know about Elan really– the poor thing can’t bring himself to deny what people ask of him. How curious.
“Thank you,” Shaddiq takes his leave from the Committee lounge, leaving Elan and his book behind.
He has some research to do.
“Shaddiq.”
He turns the corner in the hallway. The sight of Elan, standing straight and firm like a soldier, is what greets him.
“Hey, Elan,” he gives him a small wave, “to what do I owe your pleasure?”
“Stop trying to pry into me.”
The world around them pauses.
“Hm?” Shaddiq feigns innocence, as most of his traps go.
“...Don’t play coy. Do you want me to say please here, too?” Elan raises his voice slightly, catching the attention of some girls passing by. They stare at the two of them for a few moments, before dashing off with blushes on their faces.
“Don’t phrase it like that,” Shaddiq chuckles, rubbing the back of his head, “it’ll make me sound weird.”
“...But you are weird.” Elan frowns. “You’re an anomaly, Shaddiq Zenelli.”
“Thank you,” he offers him a small bow, “good to know I’ll have a lasting impression in your mind.”
Elan shakes his head. “Whatever, just leave me alone. I have no need to deal with your games.” He turns to walk away.
“Are you trapped, Elan?”
He stops in his tracks and turns back to Shaddiq.
“... Excuse me?” His voice wavers.
Shaddiq walks up to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders, taking joy in how Elan tenses under his hold.
“Let’s chat, friend,” he sing-songs, seeing Elan’s eyes flicker between the various people passing them through the hall. The students pass them looking confused, but none daring to say anything. They must be shocked to see how close some of the three branches' sons could be.
If only they knew.
“We’re not friends.” Elan hisses hushed.
“Alright,” Shaddiq pays it no mind, “that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get to know you. Entertain my curiosity, won’t you?”
Elan looks at more of the students walking by, before heaving a sigh.
“...Fine. One question, then you let me go.”
“Thank you!” He leans in closer, next to Elan’s ear.
“Why are you running out of time?” He watches Elan’s head twitch away from his breath. “Is Peil threatening to take you out of the school?”
“That’s two questions, Shaddiq Ze-”
“Shaddiq Zenelli, yeah, yeah,” he moves his head to give Elan breathing room, but never relinquishes his hold around his shoulders. “Answer me, please?”
“...You wouldn’t get it,” Elan tries to navigate his way out of Shaddiq’s grip, but Shaddiq just tightens his arm in response.
“Elan.” Just this once, he’ll let himself drop his voice. “Elan, what are they planning to do to you?”
“It– It doesn’t matter,” Elan’s getting flustered, even if his face doesn’t show it, his voice becoming frantic makes it clear, “whatever they’ll do, it won’t matter.”
“What will they do to you, Elan?” Shaddiq feels his face harden. He hates it having to come to this, letting go of his easy-going nature just to pry and pry, but–
“Free me if I’m lucky.” Elan gasps, and Shaddiq’s hold loosens. The shorter of the two immediately takes a few steps forward, panting for air. Fuck, Shaddiq gazes at how Elan’s body trembles, as if it were about to collapse, he’s panicking.
Panic isn’t something that Elan Ceres should experience.
“...And if you’re not lucky?”
But Shaddiq Zenelli is one to press buttons.
Elan catches his breath, turning his head to Shaddiq. Despite the other’s current emotional turmoil, Shaddiq sees himself reflected in bright, dead green eyes.
“...I think you can figure it out for yourself.” And he takes off, far away from Shaddiq, far away from everyone.
Shaddiq just watches until his silhouette fades.
Elan hasn’t been on campus in the past few days. He’s usually called in for health check-ups back at Peil.
Shaddiq wonders if Elan’s health has something to do with running out of time.
When Elan returns, the Mercurian Miss makes her debut in Asticassia. She duels with grace, even after Miorine hijacks her mobile suit. She crushes Guel with ease, and captures everyone’s eyes.
Shaddiq watches Elan’s face light up with wonder at the sight. Closing his book, his eyes shining brightly, gazing at the screen from the Committee room in awe. He murmurs something about Gundam, and Shaddiq focuses back on the screen.
The lack of time, the health check-ups, the glimmer of hope that shows through Elan’s small actions.
Shaddiq feels something grow in his stomach. It’s been a while since he felt this way for someone.
How annoying.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling in love,” he grins, as he prepares to leave the terminal. Elan stands a few paces behind him, staring at the ground.
“I told myself I’d never fall in love,” he murmurs, before raising his head. “Not ever.”
We’ll see about that. Shaddiq waves.
“Have you ever heard about caged birds, Elan?”
Filling the silence during another duel. Shaddiq watches from the couch, as Elan sits on the center chair, gaze directed at the screen. The Mercurian Miss and Guel are dueling again, after the witch trial and revoked results.
“...No,” Elan answers. He’s certain that Elan wanted to tell him to not talk to him again, but there’s certain protocols that have to be maintained in the end. Secelia pays neither of them any mind, as she paints her nails and quietly speaks to Ryouji.
“They often chirp in the hopes of being freed,” Shaddiq explains, “experiencing and feeling the sky. But, recently I’ve been reading up on canaries.”
“Is that so.”
“Mhm, did you know they used them in mines on Earth?”
“...Is that so.” He’s definitely not listening, huh?
“Yeah. They used them to test for poisonous gas in the mines.” And slightly, Elan’s hands tense against his lap.
“Is… that so.” He keeps repeating.
“If the canaries die, it warns the miners that they have to evacuate immediately.” Shaddiq explains, knowing that Elan won’t turn his head– but he has to wonder what sort of expression he has.
“...What pitiful lives,” Elan murmurs. The other two with them still aren’t paying attention, so Shaddiq takes the opportunity to briefly walk to Elan.
“Are you a canary, Elan?” He whispers. Something flashes in Elan’s eyes, but whatever emotion it was, Elan doesn’t act on it.
“...And if I am?” Elan answers quietly, and Shaddiq suppresses a grin.
“You think Suletta’s one too, don’t you?”
“...I hope she is.”
That sinking feeling is back in Shaddiq’s stomach, but he says nothing else. He chooses to sit back on the couch, watching the back of Elan’s head.
Canaries are known for their singing; He wonders if Elan could sing as sweetly.
“I offered to Suletta Mercury to join Peil House.”
“Hmm?” Weird. Elan is never one to make such bold advances, Shaddiq could almost congratulate him.
“...She declined.”
“You sound sad about that,” Shaddiq lets himself look at Elan’s face; it’s been a few days since they’ve last seen each other, he wonders if any sort of expression has taken root.
Still nothing, pity.
“...Well, it was her bride who declined.” Elan explains. “Suletta Mercury tried to defend my character to her.”
Shaddiq forces a laugh. “I think I would’ve liked to see it!” I really wouldn’t have.
“It doesn’t matter, anyways,” Elan shrugs, “I have to fill out paperwork for a new mobile suit.”
Oh?
“You know where the paperwork is–” Shaddiq starts, but Elan is quick to find the forms in the Committee room and get to work. Shaddiq opts to pace around the room, before leaning over the couch behind Elan.
“The Pharact, huh,” he whistles, tucking in the back of his mind how Elan’s body slightly jumps at the sound of his voice. Maybe it was how sudden it was, or how close they are once more–
“...Yes,” Elan answers, scribbling signatures and writing quickly, “it won’t be for my upcoming duel, but whatever ones I have left after that–”
“...That you have left?” Shaddiq props his arm against the back of the couch. Elan goes quiet. It’s suddenly so suffocating in there, but Shaddiq has to continue. Things are lining up too well.
“...Pharact’s a Gundam, isn’t it?” He can’t hide the sadness in his voice, as pathetic as he knows it is.
“Will you report me, if it is?” Elan answers with another question, facing him properly.
Shaddiq should say yes, and immediately report back to his father about this new finding. Reporting Elan would mean to report Peil and have their company brought down, giving Grassley more of a push to reach the top, and surely–
Surely, things could be right.
But Elan gazes into his eyes– they have such a lovely glow, yet the way things are now, they’re rather ephemeral– like the rest of Elan. The way he refuses to take up attention in the room, to how he manages to pass by crowds without garnering curious eyes. The way he always reads about some sort of philosophy, how he remains loyal to his duties until the very end.
They’re small things about him, but Shaddiq can’t help but notice and adore those parts of him– he wants him to be that way forever. If he were to report Elan, there would be no guarantee for them to see each other ever again. Of course, his life remains at risk regardless of choice, but at least one of them guarantees they can have time together, if for a bit longer. And to maintain status quo–
“I won’t report you,” he tells him with a wave of his hand. Elan’s face contorts to confusion– Shaddiq mentally etches it to his brain. “I think you could keep your secret much more easily than the Mercurian Miss, yeah?”
Elan’s face drops to a frown, albeit in Shaddiq’s eyes, it’s akin to an animal pouting. Cute. “...Of course, what do you take me for, Shaddiq Zenelli?”
“Who knows? Someone who just wants to do their job?” You’re someone who deserves far better in this life. “What do you take me for, Elan?”
Elan pauses, before turning his attention back to his paperwork.
“...A really,” he breathes, and Shaddiq takes notice of how pink slightly colors the tips of his ears, “ really, odd man.”
Elan is irritated.
It’s the first time Shaddiq sees him that way. Something must have occurred with Suletta, as it led to Guel having to intervene, and now it’s led to a duel where the winner has thoroughly tortured the loser.
The Pharact truly was a killing machine. However, Shaddiq pays no mind to the victim and his tattered, destroyed suit– of course, he has to find the culprit.
The culprit being the angry Ice Prince, of course, nearly walking back into Peil.
“Leave me alone,” Elan doesn’t turn back to know Shaddiq is near. It could make Shaddiq’s heart race, if it wasn’t for how Elan appears. He’s panting, bracing his arm against the doorframe of the entrance to the dormitory. Sweat drips from his head, and he could collapse at any moment.
“...How much longer do you have?” Shaddiq chooses to approach him, offering a steady hand against his back. Elan’s body trembles just from him letting out a heavy sigh, and he makes no effort to fight. They make their way through the hallways of Peil slowly. Luckily, there seems to be no other students coming through, so no one else can see Elan like this.
“I don’t know,” he answers the question, leaning more of his body weight against Shaddiq. “I get a checkup tomorrow morning.”
“You sure you can’t get one tonight?” For his sake, Shaddiq doesn’t mention their sudden closeness. “You’re going to collapse, Elan.”
“I’ll be fine,” Elan moves to pull the handbook from his pocket as they come near the end of the hall. “It’s my first time piloting Pharact, I just need to get used to it.” He gestures to the door with his head, and Shaddiq wordlessly guides him. The door unlocks easily, and he’s finally able to have a personal glance at Elan Ceres.
…There’s nothing in the room.
There’s only a bed in the corner and a desk at the opposite wall, both of which are provided by the school. Now isn’t the time to berate him about interior design, but Shaddiq makes a mental note to get him a gift to put some life into the space. He walks him to the bed.
Elan collapses onto it.
“...Thank you.” His voice is small.
“No problem.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Seriously. I’ll kill you, Shaddiq Zenelli.”
“I know, Elan Ceres.”
He exits the room and the dorm.
He returns to Grassley and dreams of what it could be like to provide warmth to someone.
“His walls are even higher than usual. Did you do something to him?”
Shaddiq’s well aware that Suletta caused something. The next day, Elan marches out of the committee room after meeting to settle details about their duel. It’s as if his body wasn’t about to shut down last night.
Suletta’s unnaturally quiet as well, with a sad gaze following after Elan.
“You mean it’s my fault?” She asks. Yes, because I need someone to blame.
“Who knows.” Shaddiq says out loud instead. “But since you arrived, both Guel and Elan haven’t been themselves. Even I want to know more about you now.”
It’s not entirely a lie. Suletta’s shrouded in mystery, with how she manages to draw people into her. It’s only a matter of time until Shaddiq gets on that path too, but until then–
“Mercurian Miss.”
He hopes she misses the venom in his voice.
He takes off from the room as well, down the elevator, exiting the building, walking the pathways throughout the campus.
“Can we talk?” He stands outside of the greenhouse.
“Nothing to talk about,” Miorine calls back to him, tending to her vegetables. “I can’t believe you’re letting Elan duel Suletta.”
You don’t get it, there’s a lot more on the line than you think.
“It’s protocol,” he shrugs. “I take it you’ll be helping Suletta prepare?”
“Of course,” Miorine scoffs. But, she pauses in her movements, setting clippers aside to approach the entrance. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you so… invested in a duel.”
“I’m not–”
“Don’t lie.” Miorine glares. “Are you looking to gain something out of this? Do you want Elan to beat Suletta, is that it?” She’d snarl and bare her teeth if she could, and all Shaddiq could do is look down at her.
“It’s not like that,” he protests, and crosses his arms. “Do you worry for Suletta?”
Miorine drops her anger.
“Huh? Of course I do, especially since someone is allowing this duel–”
“Not just for this duel. The Gundam.”
Miorine pauses.
“...Aerial’s not a Gundam,” she turns back to her sanctuary, “and even if it were, Suletta– Suletta’s… she’s capable, she can handle it no problem,” picking up her clippers and picking at tomatoes, “Aerial’s her family.”
If Aerial is Suletta’s family, then Pharact must be Elan’s demise.
“I see. Thanks.” He finds himself turning away again like always.
Miorine doesn’t chase after him. He doesn’t expect her to. His feet drag him to a store on campus, and then all the way to the Peil building.
Elan left his door unlocked, but Shaddiq isn’t one to question such lucky coincidences. The room is empty as always, but Elan rests on the bed.
He’s asleep. Appearing as though he were in deep slumber, fated to sleep for hundreds of years unless they were to receive a true love’s kiss– or something like that. In this moment, where his guard is lowered and relaxed– Elan is in his most fragile state.
This should tell Shaddiq to leave, but he doesn’t. He approaches closer, beginning to pull out flowers from the bouquet to lay them next to Elan’s sleeping face. Red flowers look prettiest, but something about the small white and pink flowers especially suit him–
He stirs from his rest, and green eyes unveil themselves once more.
“What are you doing?” Elan mumbles, sleep thick through his voice. Shaddiq hums, as he places more flowers around his friend’s head.
“Picking out flowers for your funeral,” he says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Any preference?”
Elan gazes blearily at the flowers. He slowly raises his hand up, attempting to feel the petals between his fingers. He looks at them all with such indifference, Shaddiq hopes he can voice some of his thoughts on them.
“...I don’t care,” Elan finally decides, moving his head to properly close his eyes. Despite his words, a flower still remains in his hands, he still rubs it against his fingers–
“Then let go of the rose,” he teases, ignoring how his grip tightens on the bouquet he carries. “Don’t tell me it reminds you of her?”
Elan’s eyes snap open at the question, as he gazes at the flower from the corner of his eyes. Shaddiq can see him process his words in real time, as if gears are audibly clicking and turning as the half-awake man below him thinks of a response.
“...It’s not like that,” Elan whispers.
“Sorry,” Shaddiq sing-songs, “maybe I shouldn’t ask a dying man about his love life–”
“Shaddiq.”
He feels his breath catch in his throat. Elan’s fully awake now, as he makes direct eye contact with Shaddiq. Such bright green eyes are piercing, yet cold– so cold, Shaddiq could feel chills running through his body and–
“It’s not… like that,” Elan repeats himself, more hesitant with his answer. “Don’t bring her up like this.”
“...I’m sorry.”
Elan nods his head. The silence is almost peaceful, but something runs hot through Shaddiq’s veins. He can’t even recognize what he’s feeling– something about Suletta, something about Elan, something about death looming over someone who should be– no, is his equal.
He thought Elan had a morbid sense of humor, he truly, truly did. Speaking about losing as if it would be a death sentence to him. “Wouldn’t it be a death sentence for all of us?” Shaddiq would– should tease, because to him, being disowned is death. For a father to be angry and berate his child, that’s death to Guel and he’s practically in his own grave now.
They should be all the same, carrying the weight of their parent’s burdens and marching through the future with them all– so why does Elan have more to lose? He shouldn’t, so why–
“Shaddiq?”
His voice is so, so gentle. He hums in response, not realizing how some flowers fall from the bouquet.
“Do you have a preference?” Emotionless as Elan is, he tries to hide it through questions. He always asks them bluntly, no interest present in his face or words. It makes people wonder if he actually is human.
Yet, why is it now, his eyes seem sad to Shaddiq?
“...What do you mean?” Shaddiq dumbly asks. He knows what Elan means, but he just needs to hear him say it.
“Preference in flower,” Elan sighs. Maybe he’s annoyed with how Shaddiq is acting, but Shaddiq feels greedy, with how he’s coaxing out emotions through Elan’s behavior, he doesn’t feel bad at all.
Shaddiq crouches down to the side of his bed, picking up one of the flowers that lay on the mattress.
“I personally like azaleas,” he explains, as he brings it close to Elan’s face. “Their meaning, the way they bloom, how they compliment your complexion.”
Elan ignores the compliment.
“What do they mean?” He sounds like he’s about to drift to sleep again.
“Let’s see… something to do with beauty and passion,” Shaddiq tries to think of them all from the top of his head, “wealth and elegance, and abundance…ah, remembering home too–”
He gazes at Elan’s face again; He’s already back asleep. Shaddiq forces a smile on his face, as if Elan would somehow awaken to it. He collects the flowers in his hands to arrange them back in the bouquet and takes his leave.
He lays the azalea closer to his face, of course.
After he leaves the room, he finds himself running back to Grassley, running until he reaches his room and he can slide down against the back of his door.
It’s not like that, he would always offer that as his explanation to Miorine as she cursed the world, how he has no interest in dueling for her hand. It goes far more beyond dueling, and more so about himself, but how could he let someone into his heart now?
It’s not like that, he tells Miorine, because he can’t outright say how Elan could die and he would have no one to blame. A part of him wonders if she would ever come to defend Suletta like that– that would put her at the deep end, surely.
It’s not like that, Elan affirms that his heart doesn’t belong to another, but it means that the Mercurian Miss still does something to bewitch him and–
Shaddiq can’t take it anymore.
He puts his head in his hands. It’s not like that. This can’t be like that. Not again.
The night before the duel, Elan shows up to the entrance of Grassley’s dorm. Sabina leads him to where Shaddiq’s room is, of course. At the time he showed up, Shaddiq settled to just zoning out and laying against the covers of his bed. He makes no moves to lift his head, just patting the empty space next to him on the bed.
Minutes pass. It seems Elan is debating what to do. He reaches an answer, however, in the form of opting to lay next to Shaddiq on his bed– a comfortable distance between them to prevent the atmosphere from becoming intimate.
“...Suletta Mercury tried to speak to me today.” Like always, his voice is quiet. His hands are clasped over his stomach, staring at the ceiling as well.
“Huh. Did she ask you about the duel?” I wonder what he could be thinking of, in place of a white ceiling.
“She wanted to know what she did wrong. She then sang Happy Birthday.”
Shaddiq snorts.
“...Sorry, sorry. It’s kinda funny.” He can tell Elan isn’t amused, from the way he softly groans. They still don’t face each other, but he feels Elan shifting his body on the bed– maybe to be comfortable? It’s almost funny to imagine, considering how stiff Elan functions.
“...Shaddiq Zenelli.”
“Mhm?”
“...Face me, please.”
So he turned on his side? He turns to meet his gaze.
Elan’s gaze burns into him, imprinting as if this will be the last sight of him Shaddiq could ever witness. Void of expression, yet green eyes glow brilliantly; emotion locked behind colored glass. Rage roars its flames behind it, but as they spend the next few moments gazing at each other’s eyes, his expression softens into something foreign, unrecognizable in his face.
Maybe it’s sadness. Shaddiq prays for it to be yearning.
“I never had a birthday,” Elan’s voice is light, gentle, as if he were to drift off into a dream again.
“Really now?”
“No memory of it, or my past,” he reaches to grab– no, feel Shaddiq’s hand, “I never had anything. They never allowed it.”
Shaddiq squeezes his hand, just to test his reaction. Elan doesn’t react.
“No family, no friends.”
“Mhm.”
“No past, and…” He bites his lip. “Certainly no future after tomorrow.”
“And you’re so sure because…?” Maybe it’s all wrong. Maybe you can still have more time. Maybe–
“I’m sure if I lose I’ll be discarded, and if I win, my body still pays the price,” something mimicking a smile creeps onto Elan’s face, unsettling in all ways. “Your worries weren’t for nothing, I’m afraid.”
Shaddiq doesn’t think twice about how his grip on Elan’s hand tightens– he almost misses how the other lets out a small shocked noise.
“...What exactly happens to you if you lose?” The question he didn’t want to think about. Elan’s expression drops as he gazes at their hands, red swelling at the fingertips of his own.
“...I don’t know, but,” he meets Shaddiq’s eyes, affirming dreaded words, “the next time you see me… won’t be me.”
“...Will they take your memories again?”
“...That’s certainly one way of interpreting it,” a bitter laugh follows it, “but maybe it’s better that you think it’s like that.”
What? Shaddiq feels himself frowning. “Elan, what do you mean by that–”
“Shaddiq Zenelli.”
He cuts him off, making Shaddiq loosen his hold. Elan slowly, delicately, places his other hand on top of Shaddiq’s; both of his hands cradling a stronger one as if it could break at any second.
It shouldn’t be like this. Shaddiq should be holding Elan’s hands, keeping him from harm’s way. Away from prying eyes of the world, away from those who seek to tear the foundations of his character and make it so that he’ll be nothing.
What if he could keep Elan? Hiding him from those who wish to find him– plenty of issues with it, surely, but there could– there could be a way.
Would Elan be happier with Shaddiq? He wants him to answer that. He could say yes, devote himself wholly and then–
“Shaddiq.”
Elan calls his name so sweetly. He drops referring to him with his last name, and Shaddiq becomes aware of how Elan’s hands cupping his face now. He raises his hands to place over Elan’s– to keep them in place, to keep him in place.
“Shaddiq,” Elan surely has his attention now, “let me kiss you.”
And he leans in without an answer.
Kisses are supposed to bring happiness. To affirm love– people are supposed to feel sparks flying as if fireworks go off in their head. The moment where the world is suddenly just the two kissing, and the tender love they share for one another.
This isn’t that. It’s anything but that. The kisses Shaddiq exchanges with Elan are quick and messy. As if there was lost time to make up for with each one, they extend beyond just their lips. Shaddiq kisses the corner of his mouth, his jawline– trailing them down until he’s forced to unzip the jacket of Elan’s uniform just to press more against his neck.
Elan remains pliant through it all– serene, at ease, yes, this is how he should always be. Shaddiq can’t shake the thought of how Elan is willingly laying himself bare to him through this all. This is how love should be for the two of them.
But he can’t kid himself.
Elan clings to his back like his life depends on it, he makes no noises through each of the kisses. There’s a glassy look to his eyes– as if he wasn’t there at the moment; Shaddiq has to wonder what he would be picturing. Is he thinking of his demise? Is he trying to picture what life would be beyond death.
He feels his hair being tugged, so he pulls up from Elan’s neck.
Elan drags his head down just to clumsily press his mouth against his neck. Pain immediately goes through Shaddiq’s body. Did Elan just bite me? Flashes through his mind, despite the answer being quite obvious.
Elan pulls back, gazing at the mark that’s sure to bloom red in the next few minutes. Shaddiq wants to ask him what gives, but notices his expression.
He seems content. Elan seems satisfied, to be more specific. He stares straight at the area of flesh he bit into, and the glassy look in his eyes is no longer there. Neither was the burning rage from earlier, instead a pleasant warmth began to radiate from him.
“Can I ask why you did that?” He becomes aware of just how caught in the moment they were– he gazes up at Elan’s figure, who straddles across Shaddiq’s waist. Their eyes meet, as Elan raises one of his hands to lace with Shaddiq’s.
“...I wanted to leave something.”
And in that moment, Elan Ceres smiles. Not one that he struggles with, not one that’s painfully forced, but something that finally allows for Shaddiq to see how he truly feels. “I thought… maybe you could be the only one who’d understand that.”
A guy who’s in the world without anything he could call his own. A man hopelessly in love with the blank canvas, being asked to never forget it.
Elan was far crueler to Shaddiq than either of them could have realized. Maybe that’s why Shaddiq has fallen so deeply for him.
“You’re really convinced you’ll die after tomorrow, huh,” Shaddiq tries to tease, but the threat of reality remains present in his tone. He raises a hand to cup Elan’s cheek– out of need to comfort him? Wanting to feel as much of his skin as he could? Perhaps out of greed, he wants to take as many opportunities as possible to see Elan in ways people never would be able to.
“I know I will,” He leans into his hand, and his loving expression drops to one familiar; lacking emotion, passion reflected through eyes and never acted upon. “You know too. Consider this my final act of mercy, Shaddiq Zenelli.”
His walls are raised again. He refers to him with his full name. Elan was aware of just how much attention Shaddiq gave to him, and for him to respond to his love as an act of mercy–
This is his song from the cage. To become sweetly pliant and take whatever Shaddiq gives him, not because Elan was in love, but because he was desperate and looking for a way out, a means of distraction from reality.
Maybe Shaddiq should have reported him.
Maybe Shaddiq should have been stronger with his advances.
Maybe there could still be time to prevent Elan’s demise. To maybe devise a plan that would fake Elan’s death, just to keep him safe and protected at Grassley–
It all goes unacted on. He chooses to drag Elan down, kissing him on the lips while moving to switch their positions. Elan deserves to be comfortable, he deserves to look beautiful until the end, to sing sweet songs that Shaddiq could only hear but can’t do anything to change them.
He can’t take that step forward.
“...Let me take care of everything,” he looks down at Elan, how his shadow engulfs his whole torso. Elan blinks owlishly at him, before relaxing, raising his arms as if welcoming him.
A welcoming gesture with an expression that screams he could care less.
Too cruel, too cruel.
“Be my guest.”
Probably the worst thing someone could say in a situation like this, but Shaddiq doesn’t care. He drags his hand up Elan’s stomach, drifting it to reach his chest, then neck. He doesn’t react.
Distantly, briefly– Shaddiq wonders what sort of expression Elan would make if he were to wrap his hand around his throat. To crush and watch it give in under his hand– would Elan be scared? Would he try to fight it? Would he be grateful that Shaddiq has taken the honor of killing him with grace, and not to let his body rot in a Gundam?
He doesn’t act on it. He trails his hand until it cups under Elan’s jaw, and lifts his head. His body moves as though he were a lifeless doll.
Yet bright eyes gaze back into him, waiting for his next move. He leans in; Elan shuts his eyes and allows him to take and take and take, until there’s nothing left of him–
He almost wishes Elan died before this could happen. Now he has to live with this night, while Elan can die and fantasize it while he’s at death’s door.
Some act of mercy this was.
“Elan… I’ve never seen you this worked up.”
Shaddiq watches a canary release itself from its cage, fighting desperately for it's own free will, and knowing it’ll end up in the mouth of a falcon.