Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Spring Haze ❯ Spring Haze ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

===================================
Fanfic: SPRING HAZE

Author: Roxanne de Winter

Warnings: shonen-ai, angst,
figurative language,
death

Pairings: 13+6+13

rating: PG-13
===================================



>Finall y! A new fanfic by yours truly. "Spring Haze" was made
because I'm sick of typical love stories that are black and white. I've
been very interested in Treize lately (I always liked him, just now I'm
more interested than usual.) Too few people really bother to think
about his character when writing about him. He's almost always
portrayed as the bad guy (sadist, rapist, power-hungry hypocrite) or as
some misunderstood angel (well-meaning, protective lover, nice guy with
a few flaws), when in truth he's a shade of gray. He's not bad or good,
he's just a stubborn guy who want to achieve his ideals at all costs.
He might be ruthless, but he's not a bad man. He doesn't do what he
does for self-gain, he just doesn't play by the rules. Because he
cannot be classified so easily, people tend to mold him into old
cliches or avoid writing about him all together. Well, I'm not afraid.
I wrote "Spring Haze" as an answer to most lovey-dovey Gundam Wing
fanfics and Treize cliche fics. Treize is too smart to just leap into
love. True, he might be irresponsible and pleasure-oriented, but he
doesn't throw feelings and caution to the wind. He gives careful
thought and analysis to every step he takes, because he knows people
are watching him. Every misstep is scrutinously covered, so that his
record looks flwless. I could go one forever, but I guess you already
want to get to the fanfic. I spent quite some time wroking on this one,
I hope it does him justice.<


XOXOXO,
Roxanne

~~~

~SPRING HAZE~
by "mailto:roxusan@sbcglobal.net"



=========================
Well I know
It's just a spring
Haze
=========================

It happened so fast I can't really remember it.
I know it's just a spring haze. A spring love, nothing special.
Just one of those sudden and stupid infatuations.
I don't think he knows, though. Or maybe he does. But I don't think he
does. He's so quiet, and the saying goes that quiet waters are deep.
Whenever I think I know what he's thinking, it turns out he wasn't
thinking at all.
I wonder what he thinks of this.

=========================
But I don't much like
The look of it
=========================

We made love under a cloudy sky. The moment passed. Moments always
pass, they're like clouds.
Now all that's left is to sit and think.
I don't know what to think.
I guess the only good thing here in this very welcome breeze.
I like breezes most when they're on Wednesdays. I don't like
Wednesdays. I don't like spring hazes, either.
Like on Wednesdays, you can't see what you're doing or where you're
going. You're lost, and you don't think before you act. My decision was
rushed, and I don't like rushed decisions.

=========================
And if omens are a
God send
Like men
Breezing in
=========================

It's beautiful here, on the top of this grassy hill, looking down on
the quiet valley.
This place will now be scarred in my memory. I don't like to remember
exact places or happenings in spring hazes. But everywhere I go, every-
thing I do, always reminds me.
....You really can't forget a view like this....
I think I should say something. Sitting a few feet away from him and
not talking is very awkward. I wonder when we'll start talking again?
But I guess if we did it would be just as awkward. What can either of
us say?

=========================
Certain these clouds
Go somewhere
Billowing
Out to somewhere
=========================

I know from experience that whenever the haze clears, you wake up
trying to sort of fiction from fact, myth from reality. It's a very odd
feeling. I don't think I'm awake yet, otherwise I would be feeling very
differently...
The sigh of an engine awakes me from my thoughts.
I turn to him, to my lietenant. His name is Milliardo, but he wishes to
be addressed as Zechs for personal reasons.
He has a very strange face. As soon as you see it, you feel so awkward
you feel you have to blurt something out. You just can't relax around
him.
Most of the time, he hides it behind a mask. He has a fear of removing
it... there's a long story behind that. But now, he seems to have cast
it unceremoniously aside, as it presently rests at my feet.
Which reminds me that I've finally thought of something to say.
"Is the engine fixed yet?"
The left corner of his mouth twists, and he shakes his head.
"No."
"I wish I could help, but I know nothing of mechanics. Nothing." I
thought of a second thing to say, but it seems my friend is still in a
bit of a trance.
So I turn my attention back to the horizon.

=========================
In a single engine
Cessna
You say
We'll never make it
There
So all we do
Is circle it
=========================

I hear the engine sigh again.
"We won't make it there."
I look up at him.
"What do you mean?"
"We won't make it back.... today. The motor is broken, and will take a
few days to fix. I'm sorry."
He bows.
It's too formal. He's too formal. Almost as if nothing has happened...
I want it to be this way. But I know that he hasn't forgotten, and
neither have I. We're still in the quagmire this haze made us fall
into. Getting out is not a matter of forgetting, as much as I wish it
was.
I nod,"It's.... all right. We will.... both of us will make due with
what we have."
He's averting my gaze, and I manage to avoid his as well. The silence
becomes awkward and unfashionable.
"I will continue trying to fix the motor." he announces, hiding his
head under the car hood.
I turn to look at the sky,"Fine."

=========================
Uh oh
Let go
Off on my way
Unseen this
Eternal wanting
=========================

I'm a Catholic. Not many people know this, but I do try to stay firm to
this faith's guidelines. Yes, as a war general I'm rutheless and the
definition of immoral. But I'm like this to achieve something,
something that will benfit people on the long run. I'm offering my soul
in exchange for this, which you will agree is a noble sacrafice.
I may be scathed with blood and sin, but it's so that others will be
spared. This, as odd as it sounds, makes me a martyr. What's one more
sin added to this?
When I told Zechs he was my only friend, I wasn't lying. I tend to be
very distant with my true friends. I don't want to ruin the friendship
I have with them. That's a curse I seem to have, I can't get close to
anyone without it ending badly and us never speaking again. You see, I
never was good at resisting tempation. I guess we all want a friend,
something to have and to hold. I just don't know how to do that without
getting creamed.

=========================
Uh oh
Let go
Off on my way
Unseen this
Eternal wanting
=========================

I didn't see it coming. He didn't, either.
I got distracted, what can I say? I should know better. This isn't my
first spring haze. I've had so many of them that I lost count.
That's why I surround myself with boring and unintriguing people. It's
easy to be good when there's no temptation. But I guess I tempted him.
It's funny, I didn't bother to consider what tempts him when I made him
my friend.

=========================
Uh oh
Way to go
So I get creamed
=========================

I beieve that it's dreary to move in paths predesigned for you. It's so
dull being human, so we all focus on what we call emotions to detatch
us from science.
But science always catches up with us. Human nature is always on our
tail, even in this pretty glass world of mine.

=========================
Uh oh
Way to go
=========================

I hear a quiet sigh and turn around.
"I'm sorry."
I eye Zechs sympathetically, quietly asking,"Sorry for what?"
He looks up, his eyes large, then going back to their normal size,"I'm
sorry for the... car... it won't start."
"Hn. So what do we do?"
He blinks,"I thought you knew, Your Excellency."
I'm sure he's looking at me as if I'm weak. I am weak. I just don't
like to be seen as such. Nobody does.
I look back at him, and I feel for a moment as if we're both just
human. Equal on the earth on which we stand. I don't have the answer
to everything. I just like to pretend I do.
"We will..." a dreary smile touches my lips and I give a small shrug,
neither oging unnoticed by Zechs,"I guess we will be staying here for
the night."
He continues to stand, looking down at me,"I will try to fix the car."
I shake my head,"You know it won't be fixed. Let it be."
It's no use, he won't listen. He's stubborn as Hell. He wants to buy
time away from me, to think this through. I understand, though it
wouldn't have hurt him to say it directly to my face.
I look back at the sky.
We drove far out, away form the rest of the word, lest they judge us.
They will look, and point, and laugh if they ever knew. They'll do any-
thing to distract people from their own problems.
We drove so far out... and now we can't get back.
We can't back to where we were.
We can't back to the world, and look them in the eyes.
Heck, we can't even look each other in the eyes.

=========================
Waiting on Sunday
To drown
Uh oh
=========================

I once saw a rosebush, with all its leaves and flowers cut off. It
looked so naked with all its thorns exposed... instead of being hidden
by perfume, blooms, and luscious green leaves.
It looked no different from a cactus.... but people thought it ugly. No
one's accustomed to seeing such a rosebush. Everyone wants to see some-
thing they're used to, and expect. Even I asked for it to be removed.
Cacti are loved because of their spines. Roses are loved because of
their blooms. Without blooms, they'd be no more than a spiny weed.

=========================
Way to go
Waiting on Sunday
=========================

It's so dry, being a rose. People think they know who you are, and they
love what you feed them with.
Hide bitterness behind grace and charm... people would think you ugly
if they really knew you. So I charm them. And I'm ashamed at how I
always pull it off.
I long to be a cactus like Zechs.... a bad actor. Almost nobody likes
him, and he has nothing to lose. Those who like him also accept his
thornes.
Those who like me like the lies I feed them with... I cannot disappoint
them by flashing a thorn. So I show off a scent, and flowers... but
it's more shine than true material.
Zechs figured it out, the mystique is gone. He knows I fake it... I
wonder if he's in awe at how I got away with it all these years?
I might just get my acclaim and some honestly earned recognition.
But, from the looks of it, he still hasn't yet dealt with it just who I
am and what he wants to do with me. So he keeps me occupied by
performing his actions on auto-pilot and buying time away from me while
he thinks this over, trying to analyze just how this happened.
But the fact remains: I fooled him.

=========================
Waiting on Sunday
To land
=========================

I fooled him.
I'm both proud and ashamed of this.
I, Treize Khushrenada, fooled Zechs Marquise, into loving a rose, and
that's the cruelest thing I could have done to him. Roses know roses,
we can't surprise each other, and we never lose ourselves because we
never love each other. But when we fall in love, in such a spring haze
... such a vulgar, full-blown fit of bare neccesity...
our real self emerges, and we're quickly discarded.
We have nothing to gain, but everything to lose.
Zechs sighs loudly as engine smoke blows in his face. He can't fix the
engine if he doesn't know what's wrong with it, I think he'll only end
up breaking it further.
"Can't see a damned thing...." he mutters, angrily, slamming down the
hood.
I turn back to the horizon. I wish I could help him, but I can't.
I know nothing on mechanics, much less the mechanics of a working
relationship.
I will feel the real impact of this once my feet touch the ground, once
I land. I still cannot believe what has happened. Zechs isn't such an
easy person to fool.

=========================
Uh oh
Way to go
Waiting on Sunday
Waiting on Sunday
To drown
=========================

Sitting back and staring out to the horizon littered with hues of pink,
red and violet.
.... That's how I spend the day.
Day turns to dusk, and dusk to nightfall.
Zechs sits down just a little bit behind me, watching the stars come
out. It dawns on me that I haven't eaten the whole day. Doesn't matter.
I don't feel hungry. I'm too tired to.
I lay down, on the soft grass and close my eyes. By morning, I want no
memory of this.
I'll wait for Sunday[1] to sort this out. By then, I will have landed.
Then I can let myself drown in my conscience.
Then the real impact of what has happened will hit me.
I'm waiting for Sunday, and pray it comes soon.

=========================
Uh oh
Way to go
Waiting on Sunday
Waiting on Sunday to
Drown
=========================

The night was cold and dry. It was one of those nights where you feel
perpetually tired, but cannot fall asleep.
The morning wasn't much different. I began to wonder if I was awake or
asleep, but the frost that ate away at my lips and twisted my hands
confirmed that I was awake.
The morning sky is cloudless. All the clouds seem to have wandered into
my eyes, and there they rest[2].
By Sunday, I'll be ready to handle this.

=========================
So I know
It's just a spring
Haze
But I don't
Much like the look
Of it
=========================

I'm still in love. No, make that lust. I used to love Zechs. Now I
can't remember why. I'll remember by Sunday. Or maybe not. I don't
really know for sure. I'm past the point of fear, and now I just want
this disaster to be over. Everything's over some time or other.
It's pesky, though, that I can't focus on anything but him. It's not
love.
It should be, but, to tell the truth, I simply want to forget about
this notion, "love", because it never is what I want it to be. It
begins to get dry after a while, until you can predict it and it all
seems superfluous and badly acted... a farce.
But, luckily, I don't need true love. I can't afford it, not in the
midst of war. I don't want to hurt anyone if I have to leave. And I
will leave. If not naturally, then I'll stage it to look natural. I
cannot tell this to anybody, because most people are too ignorant to
see the beauty and neccesity of my plans. I want my ideals to stay
alive, and people need a hero. I'll be that hero, no matter what the
cost. I can bring my ideals farther in death than I ever can in life.
I've planned it all since I took up the quest to make my ideals
reality.
So, as you can see, I cannot afford love, only simulations like typical
spring hazes.
But despite all my careful planning, this spring haze has changed into
something deeper, darker, making Zechs and I realize more about
ourselves and each other than either of us ever wanted to.

=========================
But all we do
Is circle it
=========================

I turn around and notice him gawking at me before he quickly buries his
face behind his hair and the carhood like some frightened ostrich.
I shake my head. This is so stupid. It's not as if I am going to scold
him. I'm not any more well off than he is.
We're somewhere in the middle of love and friendship, but we can't
reach either side. It all depends on where he clouds lead us, where the
wind blows us to. There's no wind, because we don't want to confirm or
dicuss anything.
We both seem content to just leave this big mess alone, till it eats us
up. That might sound frightening, but not as frightening as the
potential to reveal more of ourselves and our pathetic weaknesses. But
we need this wind at any cost.
I will not leave this world leaving him to wonder what this was.
So, fine, I'll take the first turn. I'll make a fine gust. What can I
lose? Pride?

=========================
And I found out where
My edge is
And it bleeds
Into where you resist
=========================

"Zechs?"
"What is it, Your Excellency?"
"You don't have to call me that." I state,"No one's around to notice or
care."
Zechs hopes that by staying formal I won't come any closer. I ignore
his signs. I don't want us to run away from this any longer.
Running away like this isn't doing any of us any good.
If we keep running the way we do, we'll only trip and have to face
this anyway. Sooner or later our past catches up with you... no matter
how fast you run.
Zechs seems lost for a moment.
The only sound I hear is the wind blowing through through the sparse
trees in the area, the rustling of the leaves forming a dreary lullaby.
"Any luck with the motor?" I ask him, looking up at his standing form
from my spot on the grass.
"No."
"Do you want to sit down?"
He doesn't answer me, he just takes the question as an order and sits
beside me. The tension between us is thick and suffocating.
"You do know that just because we go around being formal doesn't mean
this will disappear."
He eyes me,"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb," I tell him,"it doesn't suite you."
Zechs shrugs and looks away.
"Zechs, look at me. I'd at least like to hear your view on this."
He turns to me,"There isn't much to say about this."
I eye him. I know that if I look at him long enough, he can't ignore
me.
After some time, he sighs and looks at me.
"Have you thought of something to say?" I ask him.
He places a well-timed kiss on my lips, thinking it will silence me.
"I wasn't lying when I said I loved you." he says, smiling.
I look away, pretending to be shy. I like this game. Then I turn back
to him, my lips curled in what must be a nasty smirk.... a smirk that I
perfected after many a haze.
"Oh really? Love?"
He's still in a bit of a haze, and I'm ready to pounce.
I feel like breaking that stupid auto-pilot and letting him crash down.
I hate it when people use words like "love" in vain.
Especially when Zechs does it. I don't want him to become a rose like
me. I'm sick of roses who tell everyone that they love them when they
don't and never will. Why can't anyone tell me the truth.... that they
are disgusted with me?
"Yes, love."
I snort,"That's beautiful. Really. Love. Love for what?"
He blinks, sensing I'm seeing through his auto-pilot.
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that there is nothing lovable about me." I give half a
smile,"I say this not in regret, but in acceptance of just what I am.
If I'm not lovely, I don't want to be told I am. You know very well I
can't stand lies."
Zechs is silent and unmoving. I wonder if he really understands what I
mean?
"I think you're lovely," he says, his hand reaching out to me as he
tries once more to kiss me. He tries, but I roughly push him away. I
am smothered and choking on the sweetness of the scene. Its sweetness
and fake quality ruin its potential beauty.

=========================
And my only way
Out
Is to go
So far in
=========================

I don't want a spring haze. I want a life, and I want to be true. I
don't want to be a rose. I'm sick of roses, truth be told, I want to
kill them all, and I don't care if its disgraceful and unfashionable.
"I'm sick of the beautiful people and their problems. I'm sick of
beautiful people loving other beautiful people while trying to stay
beautiful for the rest of their lives. I don't want to be told about
being lovely, and I don't want to be lovely to anyone."
"Then...." Zechs pauses,"What do you want?"
"Reality.... even if just for today. I want reality, with all its
ugliness in tact."

=========================
Billowing
Out
To somewhere
=========================

Zechs turns away, processing the conversation that just took place.
This moment of passion went by a little too fast. I kind of hoped it
would linger, but I seem to have lost something in the lines of
delivery. I will regret this later, I'm sure. But, either way, a little
bit of summer lightning can't hurt us anymore than we already are.
"I don't understand you." he finally says, standing up,"This is
reality."
"Please...." I eye him with a look of desparation that I didn't intend
to come forward. I have nothing good to say. It's a waste putting what
I feel into words if he can't understand me anyway. But I try anyway.
"Don't complicate this. Don't call this love if you don't know what
love is. And *please* don't call *this* reality."

=========================
Billowing
Out
Luna riviera
=========================

I'm wet.
I'm sitting at the edge of this miserable little pond, the water
brushing softly against my knees, trying to pull me into its murky
depths. Maybe I should have been softer with Zechs, since he doesn't
understand what I'm talking about anyway.
The water rises, beginning to carry small fish bones with it.
Did I drown yet?
No. I'm saving that for Sunday.
Why am I here? To get away from Zechs. I can't act in front of him any-
more. Once an actor has been hit by reality, the grandest of plays seem
nothing to him when compared to the lush ground and potential of
reality. I don't want to go back to my play. What's the use of living
if I'm living an illusion?
....Come to think of it, the answer is simple....
Some people live off this illusion. They need it to continue living.
They are my fanclub. No. I can't stop this act. I can't put an end to
this deplorable folly, not now anyway. It's not fashionable. But I will
end it sometime. My act's already falling apart. It's just a matter of
time before it's gone. But I'll be dead by then, and people will be too
busy mourning my ego to really look into how I fooled them. Yes, I
shall die gracefully. I shall please my fans. I'll die on a Sunday.
....I will pull off my best act yet, a disappearing act....

=========================
Billowing
Out to
Somewhere
=========================

"Treize?"
I turn around and look up at Zechs, who is standing a few feet behind
me. It doesn't matter what he says or I say to him anymore. I'm tired.
Too tired to act.
"You shouldn't swim at this time of night." he states, in perfect
monotone, careful not to reveal any emotion. Or maybe he really didn't
feel anything.
I eye him,"And why is that?"
"Silent waters are deep." he answers, solemly,"Currents are strong. You
might drown."
"I have no intention of doing so."
He shrugs and sits down at the edge,"Fine. I just wanted to say I
thought about what you said."
"This should be interesting." The tide is rising.
Zechs glares at me,"I don't know why you're being so acidic all of a
sudden. Please don't give me that look. I know you think I'm stupid and
ignorant."
He pauses.
"I might be that," he adds quietly,"but you don't have to look down on
me. At least I'm trying to figure this out, which is something you
don't seem to *want* to do. I'll tell you what I think, and it may not
be anything that you'll care about, but I at least want you to know
that I do try to care for what you say. Please listen to me."

=========================
Uh oh
Let go
Off on my way
=========================

"I'm not happy about what happened and I doubt you are. But now that it
happened, I can't see how we'll get back to normal. One of us will
probably slip up, and I don't want to sour our relations."

=========================
Unseen this
Eternal wanting
=========================

"I don't know if I can honestly say I love you. I can't see why we
engaged in this stupid romp, and I think we can forgive each other, if
not even ourselves.... If we could only admit that we enjoyed our-
selves. We have nothing to prove to anyone. If we could only let them
talk..."
I snort,"Wishfull thinking."
His mouthline tightens,"I know that."
I straight at him,"Hm?"
"I can't deprive you of what took you so long to build up. I guess you
care more about people than I do. I know how hard you worked to fit
into people's narrow minds as someone they adore. I don't know if you
hate what you've built up or love it, but I know you can't part with
it. I don't belong in its plan."
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask him, fearing the answer that I
can already predict, hoping it will not be spoken.
"I want you to let me go. Forget about me. I don't want to see you ever
again in my life."
I open my mouth to say something, but Zechs continues talking.
"That's the only way to put an end to this. You'll find a suitable
replacement for me, I'm sure of it."
I look away. There will be no replacement.

=========================
Let go
So far
Really getting creamed
=========================

Do I really want to accept this offer?
Well....
He's right. I couldn't expect any less of him.
At least he's honest.
But.... I don't really want to leave him. Not for something petty and
stupid like this.
He's looking at me now.
What can I tell him?
I can't just meekly agree with what he says, especially when all this
is out of proportion and unfair to us. This isn't that important, is
it? Do we really have to part ways?
Of course we do, in society's terms.
But....

=========================
Waiting on Sunday to land
=========================

"Make up your mind."
My eyes burn as the salt from the lake is absorbed by them.
I eye him,"How can I make up my mind on your destiny? You have my
blessing to do whatever you want."

=========================
Why does it always
End up like this
=========================

No sooner had the words left me mouth, he abrubtly stood up and went
back to fixing the car, no announcement deemed neccesary.
It had to end sooner or later. Always does.
No one knows why, but that's how it is with roses.
I'm not at all surprised. I actually feel strangely unrestrained.

=========================
Waiting on Sunday
So I get creamed
=========================

It was a failure. A glorious failure. It's good to know.
A smile tears at my dry lips at the thought of this hellride coming to
an end.
The clouds are gone, and the sky is a lovely, clear shade of gray,
ready for the sun rise.

=========================
Waiting for
Sunday to drown
Uh oh
Let go
Off on my way
=========================

The scream of the motor jolted me up, shouting me down to earth. I feel
so heavy. The car is running. Everything's over.

=========================
Unseen
This eternal wanting
Let go
So far
Really getting creamed
Waiting on Sunday
To land
=========================

I roughly pull the dew from my hair and rub it from my lashes as I
climb into the auto. The car begins slowly. I breath in the cool
morning air, ignoring how its tartness stings my lungs. The world is a
tchnicolor masterpiece of strong pinks, blues, and various shades of
green before my watery eyes. It melts before my eyes, forming one
single drop of fragmented color.
It was a tear falling from my eyes. Followed by another, until I lost
track.
Tears... these tiny reflections of memory, were carving a path of water
on my face. Water can wear even the strongest stone.
I rest my head on my forhead, I feel so light-headed.
It dawns on me that I'll never see Zechs again. I guess it's better
this way. It's so convinient he departed just before Sunday.

=========================
Why does it always
End up like this
=========================

I fall asleep just a few minutes after departure, the soft, content hum
of the engine becoming a hypnotic lullaby. It's a pity Zechs and I
departed like this.
I left him because I'm afraid of displeasing society, which is never
pleased to begin with. It is only pleased if you wind up dead.
I wish we wouldn't have ended like this, but at least I understand why.

=========================
Waiting on Sunday
So I get creamed
=========================

The drive was too short. I simply climbed out of the car a wished him
goodby and good luck.
He eyed me for an extra minute, cocked his head critically, as if
suddenly realizing just what I meant with goodbye. He warily bid me the
same, then drove off.
The night is hazy in my memory. All and all, it was a pretty nice
rondavue. It was OK, and I didn't feel as empty as I usual would. I
think that's good.
The day that follows, I see him again, mask in place. But we avoid each
other most of the time. It came as little surprise to me when he left a
few days later and I never saw him again. Not personally, anyway.
He apologized for leaving, almost as if he knows what I'm up to.
Maybe he does.

=========================
Waiting for Sunday
To drown
=========================

It's a Sunday now. Many months have past, my plan is kicking into gear.
I have a dual to fight, I won the last time. This time, I want to lose.
Even if I win the battle, I lose the war. But my cause MUST go on. To
have any hope for victory, I must lose. I must leave a legacy. I'm glad
Milliardo or no one else is here to plead with me, no one who I'll feel
sorry to leave behind. I must pull of this disappearing act.
This battle will be fought not by the sword but by the machine.
The idea, though, is the same. I have erased most evidence of the sins
of my past, and my ego will have a bright future. Death and rebirth.
A rose can be beautiful forever when you take a picture of its prime.
My prime will be all that's left, and my hard work will finally have
paid off. I'll become legendary.
I'm ready to drown, so push me in the water.
I'm sitting in my suite, ready for my close-up.
I tempt this mere boy, with eyes winder than the ocean. Kill me, I dare
you.
-I can't swim, but it's all right.-
He's enthralled with my ego, he views me as invincible. He attacks
without thinking he will succeed. One swift, effortless blow that was
made for a martyr. Beautiful. The flash... like a camera... goes off
behind my eyes.
Moments always pass, they're like clouds.
But a legend is the sky itself, unmoving and devout.



~THE END~


====

[1] Sunday is a day of ponderence in the Christian
and Jewish reigions. This is ususally a day
where people pull away from life, and ponder
over what happened in their lives. That's why
Treize is waiting for Sunday. The more he analyzes
what has happened, the more frightened he becomes.
So on Sunday, he will "drown".

[2] I got that from listening to a Moonshine Blue song.
I love that band!