look-alike

[nightburst]

TITLE: look-alike
FANDOM: Gundam 00
CHARACTERS: Lyle Dylandy, Tieria Erde
WARNINGS: Binge-drinking, allusion to suicide.
WORD COUNT: 1,020
CHAPTERS: 1/1
SUMMARY: Soon after Anew's death, Tieria finds that Lyle isn't coping well.

Drinking yourself sick is one way to deal with grief, though Tieria would never argue it’s a good one. Judging by the amount of alcohol Lyle appears to have consumed tonight, it’s fair to say he disagrees. Tieria isn’t keen on the thought of interrupting him -- hasn’t been since he first found him in the mess hall two or so hours ago and silently passed him by -- but at this point Lyle’s attempt at self-soothing is shaping up to be hazardous to his health.

 

“Lockon Stratos,” Tieria says. “I believe you’ve had enough.”

 

He doesn’t sound judgmental; he’s merely stating a fact. Lyle, head in one hand, booze in the other, laughs.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” he replies, taking another swig from the bottle.

 

As Lyle sets it back down, Tieria steps forward and grabs it, though Lyle hasn’t actually let go. Tieria doesn’t try to yank it from him just yet, instead allowing him a chance to release it.

 

“At best, your inevitable hangover tomorrow morning is already likely to impair you if we should find ourselves in combat,” Tieria states. “At worst, you’re going to end up with alcohol poisoning should you keep this up.”

 

“Oh? Wouldn’t that be nice,” says Lyle. His words are slightly slurred, face flushed red.

 

Tieria frowns.

 

You can’t join Anew in the afterlife so soon, he wants to say, but saying her name might be a mistake.

 

He pulls the bottle from Lyle’s hand and, unexpectedly, receives no resistance. Lyle doesn’t look at him; just keeps on staring at nothing. He looks like he’s aged a few years in only the past few days.

 

He thinks offhandedly that though he did enjoy a glass from time to time, he never saw Lockon -- Neil -- drink himself into a stupor like this. Perhaps Neil felt the need to set an example for the younger crew members.

 

The two men bearing the codename ‘Lockon’ are as different as they are similar.

 

“There are painkillers in the cabinet. Grab two pills for tomorrow morning and then go to sleep.”

 

“You ought to be a mother,” Lyle says with amusement. “You nag like one.”

 

“Go,” Tieria says, not harshly.

 

The smile slips from Lyle’s face as easily as it found itself there. He leans back in the chair, shutting his eyes and groaning.

 

“...Turns out no matter how much I drink, I can’t convince myself it didn’t happen. But at the same time, I know I’m going to walk into that room and expect to see her there.”

 

So Lyle is the type of drunk who spills his sorrows unprovoked.

 

Tieria decides this conversation needs to end before Lyle bares too much of his soul and finds himself regretting it later on. If sober Lyle should decide he wants to confide in Tieria, that’s another story altogether.

 

“I understand,” Tieria says, and he does. “But we cannot afford to have you both hungover and sleep deprived.”

 

Lyle opens his eyes and tilts his head, staring at Tieria with glassy eyes. This goes on for just long enough to become uncomfortable, but Lyle speaks before Tieria can say anything.

 

“You know, you look like her,” he says, and through the slurring, Tieria thinks he sounds wistful. “Purple hair, red eyes. Pretty face.”

 

Tieria does suppose he can see the resemblance, and reasons that it may be a product of them both being Innovators, even if she’s not the one he shares a DNA sequence with.

 

He wonders if Lyle is hitting on him. Drunkenly. Misguidedly.

 

It’s startling for a man with Lockon’s face say Tieria’s own is pretty.

 

Because it’s almost like Lockon himself is --

 

Tieria will not indulge this thought any more than he will allow Lyle to indulge whatever’s going on in his inebriated head.

 

“Lockon --”

 

“Doesn’t that bed of yours get awfully cold without anyone to share it with?”

 

There’s a clear invitation in those words.

 

Lyle shouldn’t be saying things like this. If he remembers it tomorrow, he’ll be drinking more than he did tonight.

 

Sober Lyle would probably consider it a disgrace to Anew’s memory to proposition someone this soon after her death, based solely on their appearance no less.

 

As if you can just replace a person with a look-alike and it’s all the same.

 

And even though Tieria thinks and believes this, something inside of him aches and wants as the image of Lockon Stratos utters these words to him right before his eyes.

 

But Lyle is not Neil, and Tieria is not Anew.

 

“It doesn’t,” Tieria says firmly.

 

Lyle blinks slowly, as if it’s taking a while for the message to reach his brain and be processed.

 

“That so,” he says, dropping his gaze.

 

To Tieria’s relief, that ends the conversation. He then proceeds to pick up the rest of the empty bottles surrounding Lyle so that he can dispose of them. Given the state Lyle’s in, it’s unlikely it would occur to him to do it himself.

 

This task is quickly completed, and there is little else to do here now besides continuing to badger Lyle into leaving the mess hall -- and he wonders if he should bother. Lyle is drunk and Lyle is grieving, but he is an adult. That said, the thought of Lyle proceeding to drink himself to death is, at present, a potential risk. Tieria makes a mental note that the cabinets containing all the alcohol should be locked from here on out.

 

Lyle makes things easier for Tieria by getting to his feet at last. He’s unsteady, but he waves Tieria away when he steps forward in a wordless offer to help him.

 

“You’re right. I should sleep,” Lyle says, and makes his way to the door, pausing momentarily as he gets there.

 

“…I really loved her,” he adds.

 

“I know,” answers Tieria quietly.

 

Lyle, satisfied with this acknowledgment, wanders back to his room. He forgets to grab the painkillers, and Tieria forgets to remind him.

 

As Tieria lies in bed that night, Lyle’s words play on repeat in his head, and he wonders how “I love you” sounds coming from Lockon Stratos.