ć25 lives in which iāll find youć
šļø general with a sprinkle of romance?
šļø based off a comic titled ā25 livesā by tongari!
ao3 link to this fic here
"ah, but I donāt blame you; iāll never burn as brilliantly as you. itās only fair that i should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes until i find the one where youāll return to me."
alternatively, something like a short overview of luke's emotions over the course of the time he knew rosa ?? but in pretty words.
The very first time I remember you, you are blonde, and you donāt love me back.
He felt a gust of wind past his shoulder, and something in him told him to look back. A familiar silhouette- he could recognise it even with his eyes closed. He knew exactly who it was, then he remembered that he shouldnāt run to it. He really shouldnāt- run and what heās been planning for the past three years would all be in vain.
As much as he couldnāt bear to take a second look, he knew something felt different.
The next time you are brunette, and you do.
He woke up, startled by the faint buzzing he felt on his sheets. 4:02 a.m., the time reads. Through blurred eyes he could see that there was an incoming message- grabbing a handful of water from the glass by his mattress, he rubbed his eyes vigorously with his wet knuckles to wake his mind up a little more.
The phone reads: Luke, what are your training plans for the team today? Is it possible for you to clear out the afternoon for a group training session?
After scanning the message a few times, he shakes off the dizziness in his head as he lets out a soft sigh. It wasnāt her. But why would he want her to text him when heās been forcing himself to ignore her texts for the past six months?
I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, I wish that I could kiss you every morning, that I could give you the warmest hugs that are enough to melt the snow away. But I know this is for the better of our relationship; the better of you, he thinks to himself.
He tried going back to sleep, but with every turn and flip of the blanket was his head telling him time and time again that she could be his first and last sight of his day. Frustrated, he throws the blanket aside and took a cold shower.
After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything. Because even when you donāt exist, Iām always in love with you.
Luke doesnāt dream often, but when he does, it feels real. In the dream, a woman was sitting on his lap, warm breath dancing across his face delicately as she looked at his lips in a half-lidded gaze. He doesnāt know who the woman is, but he does find it strange that he remembers every single detail about the woman. The way the corners of her emerald eyes crinkled when he brushed his thumb across his cheek to the way his name rolled off her tongue in a barely audible whisper.
He didnāt find it hard to say it back. Sheās so near yet so far; so familiar yet so foreign, as if the lingering warmth of her hand on his chest was real; so real that itās tangible. How does one remember every single detail about a person theyāve never met in their entire life?
Their foreheads parted, so did their hands. And he felt like he was drowning; sinking into the depths of her eyes, until the world around him was pitch black without a sliver of light.
I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,
He fondly remembers a brunette haired girl through the glass panelled windows of their neighbouring houses. The weather was always pretty; the curtains were always pulled to the sides. It wasnāt uncommon for her to see an orange haired boy with his elbows against the table; face against palm as he pursed his lips to hold a pencil between, eyes gazing into the distance.
Sheās known that his name is Luke for the longest time ever. So did he know hers
when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.
I love how you play along with my bad ideas, before you grow up and realise they are bad ideas.
The thought that these years spent in the NSB would be lonely has never crossed his mind before he left. He had a hard time growing close to people, because the girl next door has always been his muse since young. Itās almost like his world was a secret that only the two of them knew; no one knew him the way she did, nor did anyone know her the way he did.
āCompanionship is something we really take for granted, huh,ā he muttered under his breath, amber eyes fixated on the screen that displayed the last picture the both of them had taken together. Her eyes were like crescent moons, delicate edges pushed upwards from the ear to ear smile on her face, while his hand was gently placed on top of hers that was wrapped around his shoulder. āBecause I shouldāve told you that I appreciated your companionshipā¦ that I likedā¦ā¦ā
He paused. All of a sudden itās like his hazy thoughts had been fathomed into constellations he could see; it was her all along. The word āyouā never left his mouth.
āBut was it really a bad idea to not tell you? Itād be so stupid and selfish of me to tell you this right before Iām supposed to leave to study abroadā¦ā
(And in those times together I have many many bad ideas.)
Some things are better left unsaid, after all.
When we meet as adults youāre always much more discerning. I donāt blame you.
Itās only fair for you to distrust me because I was the one who walked out of your life without an explanation. But Iām cursed with the knowledge that if I ever attempted to say anything to you, I wouldnāt be able to hold back; itās as if the weight of the past 8 years and of the times we couldāve spent together would come raining down on my shoulders; my weight crushed beneath it. No matter how thoroughly I was trained for my missions, nothing prepared me to bear the weight of all the guilt and shame and all the other emotions that come with it the second I look into those pretty emerald eyes that I fell in love with a decade ago.
Yet always, you forgive me.
She doesnāt respond. She looks at him pensively, eyes scanning his face several times over as if to confirm that it is indeed the same boy who she once loved many, many years ago.
And yet, once again, he couldnāt bring himself to say anything to her. It felt as if she cast a spell that twisted his tongue and trapped all the words he wouldāve said inside his chest.
As if you understand whatās going on, and youāre making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesnāt exist,
So instead, he takes a step closer to her. And another step, and another, until he can feel her warm, tangible breath on his face. And he holds her arm with the gentleness of a warm sun on a rainy day, and he saw her eyelids flutter shut gently with every millimetre he closed the gap between them.
Wait, no. Wasnāt he supposed to stay away from her at all costs? But their lips touched, and he anticipated the soul-crushing weight.
Instead, it felt like they were standing, embracing each other amidst a rain of a thousand feathers- everything felt so fleeting; so ephemeral. His heartbeat never felt more real.
and the ones where we just, barely never meet.
Through tears, she pleaded, āNever leave me again?ā
The answer he wanted to give was a firm, solid no. But he couldnāt bear to tell it to her, not when his emotions had the better of him, not when he knew he wanted this just as much as she did.
For once, he felt like he was selfish. He nodded slightly, his eyes wavering.
(iām sorry that iām making promises i know i canāt keep.)
I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.
But even after all the times we talked and we dated and we kissed and we spilled our hearts out, and even after you knew the truth, you still loved me all the same.
Every now and then I still have those self-dejecting thoughts- that you shouldnāt be with me. I think you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who will be with you through all the walks of your life.
Time and time again, you choose me.
I may never believe you when you say that youāll never love someone else like you did me, but the truth is that I feel the same way. Iāve felt love once, and I donāt think I can go back to a life without you in it.
But when all is said and done, Iād rather surrender to you in other ways.
Even though each time, I know Iāll see you again, I always wonder
I hope that this engagement ring is a stamp that seals our promise; that fate will never separate us again, and even if it does, itāll reunite us time and time again. Youāre the one I love in every lifetime and in every universe; not even death can do us part.
Is this the last time? Is that really you?
Itās always been you. Iām sure of that.
And what if youāre already perfectly happy without me?
Iād rather not think about it.
Ah, but I donāt blame you; Iāll never burn as brilliantly as you. Itās only fair that I should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes
Heās running, and it feels like his legs are burning. Itās like Icarus had legs for wings.
Where to? Her heart, of course. And heād do it a thousand times over.
until I find the one where youāll return to me.
