Chapter Text
It started because Lelouch was too damn perceptive.
“We can reschedule dinner,” he offered, something hidden bubbling under the surface.
For once, Suzaku didn’t understand. That in itself was unsettling. “Why?”
Lelouch glanced out the window of the Student Council room. His tone was a little too calculated. “The rain always gets to you.”
Suzaku hid a flinch, following Lelouch’s gaze to the steady downpour lashing against the glass. “It’s fine—”
“It’s not,” Lelouch interrupted, a worried look overtaking his sharp features. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Nodding, Suzaku bowed his head in deference to Lelouch’s authority. “Okay.”
Lelouch narrowed his eyes, irritation etched in the lines of his face. “That.”
“That what?” Suzaku asked, tugging at his collar nervously. The room suddenly felt too small.
Lelouch frowned harder. “You didn’t used to be like this. When we first met.”
Suzaku swallowed, staring hard into the pouring rain. “Everyone changes, Lelouch. Even you.”
“Yes, but—” Lelouch gestured helplessly. He broke off, looking lost. It wasn’t like him to search for words.
Suzaku couldn’t give him time to find the right ones, to dig too deep and discover his buried sins. “What’s the problem?” Suzaku asked, maybe a little more sharply than he’d intended. “You suddenly don’t like it when I agree with you?”
“I don’t like it when you give in like a doormat,” Lelouch snapped, his gaze boring into Suzaku’s with purple fire. “You’re worth more than this. Suzaku, what do you want?”
Turning away, Suzaku looked down and clasped his shaking hands under the table. He wanted— It didn’t matter what he wanted; his past made sure of that. The wooden table wavered out of focus, his vision blurring and his breaths uneven, and soon enough Suzaku was back in that damn study rushing his father with a focused blade and an overblown sense of self-righteousness. In the ever-present past, the blade sank not only into his father, but also his own soul. It cut him anew daily, slashing his heart from the inside out. But he’d perfected the art and science of containing his inner turmoil. Of keeping a lid on his violent mess.
It was just that, sometimes, the damage leaked out unbidden through the cracks in Suzaku’s armor.
“Suzaku?” Lelouch’s voice cleaved through the haunting echoes of trauma, providing an anchoring point of safety. It always had, even in those early summer days.
Forcing a grin, Suzaku miraculously managed to regain control of himself. It was habit. He had become an expert at going through the motions. He recognized Lelouch doing the same, and he knew Lelouch saw it in him, too. He knew Lelouch was worried. As much as he wanted to reassure Lelouch, Suzaku couldn’t yet manage that lie.
But he also couldn’t manage the truth.
And he didn’t feel ready for Lelouch’s.
That left him limited options: Distraction. Deflection. Denial.
“I want to reschedule our date,” Suzaku said, circling back to Lelouch’s earlier suggestion. Allowing himself to share something small for the sake of connection, he added, “You’re right. I don’t like the rain.”
Lelouch nodded, recognizing Suzaku’s simple confession with gracious aplomb. “Then, raincheck?”
Suzaku agreed, pecking Lelouch good-bye and stealing away for some personal quiet time. His insides roared with agony as his dark secret continued to fester. Nothing but poison. The pounding rain struck the roof, precise like a dagger strike, and bile surged up Suzaku’s throat as he escaped the warm safety of the school—of Lelouch’s presence—and ventured alone into the stormy madness outside.
As a child, the steady rain That Night hadn’t washed the blood off his hands.
In seven years, despite how he’d tried to move forward, not much had changed. Even now, his fingers yanking at his hair beneath the icy torrent and his injured screams whipping in the wind, Suzaku was nothing but a blood-stained, tear-stained death machine.
-+-
Sometimes Suzaku wanted to tell Lelouch. Sometimes he wanted to be done hiding. Living a lie was utterly exhausting. Having the ugly truth in the open surely had to be better than carrying the weight of his secret each day…
But, he was never quite brave enough to get the words out. There was always some reason—some excuse—he couldn’t tell Lelouch what really happened. Especially as their relationship deepened, as their romance thrived, Suzaku couldn’t risk it.
Lelouch meant too much to him.
Some days, Suzaku almost wanted Lelouch to read his mind.
In the end, it wasn’t Lelouch who plucked the truth out of his brain—but Lelouch was there to witness such a devastating moment. It was the next best thing.
On his hands and knees, in misery, Suzaku barely noticed Lelouch swing a punch at the criminal. Awareness of reality came in sporadic bursts. One moment, the maniac was there; the next, he wasn’t. Suzaku didn’t give a damn about what happened to him, not when he was breaking down, as long as Nunnally and Lelouch were safe.
Then Lelouch’s calm voice was threading through Suzaku’s hysteria, bringing him back to the present moment. “The story was a necessary one, for Japan and Britannia.”
Suzaku nodded, reaching for his inner strength. It had been tested almost to the limit. “Thank you for that.” He should have known Lelouch would react with pragmatic support, but—
He hung his head. He lived in an inner world of constant fear.
Then Lelouch was holding him, kissing him, guiding him home.
Suzaku could barely process what was happening. In that state of reopened trauma, he fell back on going through the motions. He stood to the side as Lelouch checked on Nunnally, and numbly followed his boyfriend’s lead in the aftermath of their latest crisis. Then Sayoko was whisking Nunnally off to her team of doctors for good measure after what she'd suffered, and Suzaku stared after their departure with muted interest. He was mostly empty inside, but an undeniable spark nestled in his core when Lelouch kissed him again after learning the truth.
There was nothing deceptive in Lelouch’s kiss.
There never was.
If Lelouch was upset about something—like Suzaku’s ideology—then he simply wouldn’t entertain physical contact. Not until they’d talked through their latest issue, at least to some extent.
Lelouch always kissed Suzaku like he meant it, which he did.
That, Suzaku fully believed.
And Lelouch was kissing him now, as if nothing had changed—except, perhaps, that he was extra enthusiastic. His hands were soft but unyielding as he touched Suzaku all over, more daring than he’d been in the past when he’d been unsure of Suzaku’s specific minefield. “I’m here.”
At those two words, Suzaku broke down again and clung to Lelouch in unrestrained desperation.
“I love you,” Lelouch said, supporting Suzaku with his entire self. “Come. Rest.” He led Suzaku to his bedroom couch, always keeping them tethered. “Talk to me, Suzaku—if you’re ready.”
Suzaku was not ready.
But, he was tired of not being ready.
And the worst part had already been revealed.
So, leaning on Lelouch’s shoulder, Suzaku caught his boyfriend’s eye—and talked. In a low, ragged voice, even as his stomach dropped and his head throbbed, he spun the narrative and provided the details Lelouch needed.
Lelouch nodded along, his face betraying nothing. He simply listened.
Once Suzaku got talking, he was grateful at not being interrupted. The words he’d held back for seven years flowed through him—some effortlessly, some not—and Lelouch was there for all of it. Holding him. It was more than Suzaku had ever dared hope for—though that familiar, nasty voice in the back of his head claimed Lelouch’s goodwill wouldn’t last. Those were the times Suzaku would gasp the approximations of words as he choked on self-doubt, and Lelouch would be there, pressing tender kisses into his clammy skin as reassuring comfort. Suzaku slumped against Lelouch with a shudder, too weak to fight against his boyfriend’s love.
Finally, all the words Suzaku could muster hung in the air around them. For a shining moment, he felt lighter. It was—dare he think it—cathartic. The burden of his father’s death was no longer his alone to carry. Kirihara and Tohdoh-sensei had not been there for him for seven years, but now, for better or for worse, he had Lelouch.
And Lelouch was remarkably blasé about learning Suzaku’s deepest, darkest secret.
“I’m here,” Lelouch repeated, stroking Suzaku’s hair. “I’m glad to know. I’ve been going crazy all this time, wondering what was going on with you.”
Suzaku ducked his head, then nuzzled into the safety of Lelouch’s neck. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“It’s okay,” Lelouch said quickly, burying his face in Suzaku’s hair and inhaling deeply. “I know now. And we can move forward, together.”
At his heavy promise, more weight lifted from Suzaku’s shoulders. It was enough so he could bravely ask, “How can you be okay with this? Your boyfriend being a father-killer.”
Lelouch shrugged, the movement jostling Suzaku’s head. “Because I know you, and I know what happened now. Sometimes you have to commit evil to destroy the greater evil.”
Suzaku jerked free, shaking his head wildly. “Lelouch,” he croaked, his throat tight once more. He could barely get an argument past his chapped lips. “You’re trying to justify something unjustifiable.”
Lelouch frowned, tugging Suzaku back into a loose embrace, testing the waters, and then tightening his grip into something secure and stable when Suzaku allowed his touch. “No,” Lelouch disagreed softly, trailing his fingertips down Suzaku’s jaw. “If the overall outcome is worth it, then anything can be justified.”
Trembling, Suzaku shook his head. “That’s just a blanket statement condoning evil acts.”
“Because sometimes it’s necessary to dirty your hands,” Lelouch insisted, now rubbing his free hand slowly and soothingly down the curve of Suzaku’s spine. “You did it for Japan. You did it for Nunnally. You did it to save innocent people, and that’s beyond admirable.”
Suzaku pressed his teary face into Lelouch’s neck, hiding—not from the truth this time, but from his boyfriend’s kindness. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“I do,” Lelouch promised, sounding ready to repeat himself as many times as necessary, his voice hushed and warmly reassuring in Suzaku’s ear. “You made an impossible choice. You sacrificed your soul for the greater good. How could I ever fault you for that?”
Suzaku inhaled with a wet gasp, the tears falling faster at Lelouch’s unconditional acceptance. “I should have found another way—”
“We all make mistakes,” Lelouch said, pressing a lingering kiss into Suzaku’s hair. Then another. And another, before kissing Suzaku everywhere he could reach. Grounding Suzaku with his touch. “You can’t let this hold you back.”
Heart pounding, Suzaku cried harder at the support and sympathy—he knew he didn’t deserve it—and without meaning to, he came apart at the seams in Lelouch’s arms worse than before. With every tear came a rush of memory: his father’s harsh tones as he described his despicable plans, his father refusing to listen to reason, his father flinging him backwards that first time, his father’s scream as he collapsed when the blade struck home, the firelight flickering on his corpse, the crimson blood staining the wooden floorboards, his father’s empty desk in the background… Itchy heat prickled along Suzaku's veins, blazing hot and suffocating him from the inside-out. Wordless pain ballooned in Suzaku’s tight chest until it was too much to bear, and it grated against his throat and slipped through his clenched teeth until it emerged free, for the first time in the presence of another, first as a low and broken wail, then rising in a cracked crescendo until Suzaku was sobbing and screaming raw and bloody murder into his boyfriend’s chest instead of the open sky.
And Lelouch held him close, seven years too late.