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CT - Kiss Me Goodbye

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She was going to be a bridesmaid.

It was going to be the biggest, most celebrated wedding since the turn of the millennium, and that meant it was going to be packed with well-to-do's and royalty--neither of which the bride nor groom cared for, but for Guardia's sake they had to do everything they could to "keep up appearances." Whatever that meant. It wasn't every day that a kingdom's princess married a commoner, after all--even if this commoner and his friends saved the world.

All Lucca cared to know was that it was a huge, protracted, terrible chore that required wearing a dress. Sure, the castle was brimming with maids, clerks and servants willing to do all the legwork, but any part of the preparations that required a decision--any decision at all, from "where does this bouquet go?" to "should we invite the family that owns that casino?"--required pestering Her Highness to the utmost degree. If Marle weren't so excited about the affair (absolutely glowing, really) she would have thrown a fit and told the chancellor or--heavens forbid, her father--to take care of it, himself. Since she was so happily invested in it all, however, that meant no escape for Lucca, who was practically dragged by the arm every step of the princess's way.

Including to the royal tailor's, to try on dresses. Not that Lucca had anything in particular against the frilly, fluffy things--Marle's wedding dress was a gorgeous ensemble decked in pearls and lace--but dresses really didn't become Lucca, in her personal opinion. She could look like a perfect lady without one, thanks very much. Marle tried to pacify her with a simple yet elegant piece that was light blue, swearing it was her color. Lucca smartly retorted that being an ice princess should make blue her color, instead, yet that didn't save her from having to wear the dress. Crono liked it, at any rate--if his near-incessant laughter was any indication.

The day before the big event was the worst, however, because it was time for the rehearsal, and trying to convince over fifty castle staff members (as well as a rambunctious princess) to do absolutely anything in tandem was a hair-tearing process. After watching the chancellor rip out a fist-sized chunk of his own beard and toss it into the wind (which then scattered little white, ugly hairs over the banquet table), Lucca determined that, should she ever marry, it would be with only a fraction of the pomp and ceremony.

She finally got away from the exhausting formalities late that afternoon, and Lucca decided to check in on her other hapless, soon-to-be-wed friend on the way home. It just happened that she walked into Crono's house right behind a pack of his buddies--all old pals and classmates--who insisted with no finesse that they were going to "abduct" him and carry him off to his bachelor party. Lucca immediately turned a heel and said nevermind, but Crono must have misinterpreted her look of disappointment, because the next thing she knew, she was being swept along the bawdy crowd. The first objection that she was female and thus could not participate in their macho-fest was quashed by Crono, of all people, who planted a sports cap on her head and declared her an honorary "one of the guys." The boys played along, if only because they thought it was hysterical.

Lucca didn't mind too much. She had always been morbidly curious about bachelor parties, and this would be the best (and probably only) opportunity for a girl like herself to see what all the fuss was about. Their first stop was nowhere special or even remotely creative: a tavern on the east side of Truce, where the sailors and ferry crews liked to trade raunchy tales of womanizing over ugly booze. There they spent a few hours in a noxious cloud of smoke, playing card games and telling jokes about "balls and chains" imbued with as much sexual innuendo as possible.

The guys moved on to a very large and nice house that belonged to the family one of Crono's good friends, a lawyer's son named Ryan. It was there that--void of parental, municipal, public or any other kind of supervision--the small party of eight settled in for some serious drinking and merrymaking, tearing through the expensive halls and making a mess fit for a rodeo. They played "kitchen bowling," "indoor darts" and some nameless brand of couch-wrestling that Lucca refrained from before she got snapped in two. They also drank enough cola and rum altogether to knock out a horse, inspiring the toast, "To our brain cells! Some of them will be missed."

So it was inching towards midnight, with most of the house's occupants passed out in nearly every corner, when Lucca staggered into the study and found her best friend dozing in an armchair comfortable enough for two. She grinned deviously and approached him, intending to surprise, but she wasn't coordinated enough under the influence to remember how or why, much less pull it off gracefully. She flopped over the armrest and Crono started awake with a grunt, not quite knocked into submission by his liquor.

Lucca started giggling in a low key. "Yoooou're drunk," she drawled. Crono squinted and muttered back, "So're you."

"Drunk like a fox." Lucca reconsidered the simile. "Fish. Fox. One of those animals. A fish drinking is absurd, which makes it funny. That's the joke."

Crono uttered a soft chuckle and relaxed again, stretching and yawning like a hibernating bear. A bear in funny clothes, with silly red hair. Like a circus bear. That's a funny image. "Hey, hey, hey... hey," Lucca repeatedly nudged him, not so much to keep him awake as to stall while she rallied her disjointed thoughts. "Hehe, you remember that bear? That bear cub we found and you tried to pick up?"

He remembered with a jolt of indignation. "That was you! You walked up to that cub, not me!"

"Ahahaha, noooo! Why would I do something that stupid? It had to be you. You remember how the mother showed up right when we were trying to pet it?"

"Uh-huh. I remember running for our lives all the way back to my house."

She cackled, perversely delighted by the memory. "Ahaha, and your mom, she had this priceless look on her face, like--like we ran in so fast, the papers blew off the refrigerator."

"You were screaming like a little girl," Crono didn't fail to note.

"Maybe that's because I was a little girl, dummy."

"Were you? It's hard to tell, since--ow!" He took a swift fist to the arm.

"Har har, very funny, mister."

Crono frowned and rubbed the spawning bruise. "You get so 'gressive when you're drunk."

"Whaaat?" Lucca took umbrage at that. "How can you say that? When have you ever seen me drunk? 'sides now."

"Ayla's party..."

"Oh!" she whooped, grinning in high dudgeon. "Do not even go there..."

"You hit me in the stomach so hard I threw up..."

"You shouldn't have been drinking so much, yourself."

"And almost pushed Marle into a bonfire."

"What? Hey, I didn't do that on purpose, okay? I tripped."

"And tonight you punched Gary in the face."

"Hey, hey--hold it," Lucca objected. She straddled the armrest and sat up straight as she pointedly recounted, "He said with this hat on I look like a dyke that creepily watches kids at the park! Sonuvabitch had it coming."

Crono snickered. "You swear a lot, too. It's cute."

"N-No it's not..." she stammered, disarmed by the flush of heat to her face. Crono never called her cute, and she definitely wasn't blushing--must've been the alcohol.

Speaking of Gary, another rogue memory struck Lucca. "Oh! Remember that Pumpkinfest where we snuck over to Gary's house and wrote 'YOU SUCK' in flaming letters on his lawn?"

Crono shared her conspiratorial grin while holding up a finger. "Shh, he still doesn't know that was us."

"Hehe. He was pissed," she whispered crudely. "Didn't his dad make him replant all that grass? We were so bad. And a little pyromaniacal."

Crono yawned again, slipping back into drowsing. He had reached that lazily inebriated stage where he no longer cared how his words came out. "...'s all you, wi' the fires."

"Whatever, you encouraged it. You damn enabler."

"...n't we argue 'bout... I or you? 'n th' letters."

A hiccup interrupted her scoff. "Hrk--yes! I still say it should've said 'I SUCK.' The owner of the lawn is denoted as the speaker, so the phrase, 'YOU SUCK' is directed at onlookers, and that would defeat the purpose of... Hey! Don't nod off on me!"

She shook him again and Crono reopened his eyes, training a dopey, half-lidded smile on her. "...'s not."

It was an infectious smile. "Were too." Lucca sighed, suddenly remembering what they were doing in Ryan's house in the first place. Crono was getting married tomorrow. She had been trying to forget for a reason. "You know... I'm really gonna miss you."

Crono shrugged, catching her drift but missing her point. "We'll still see each other."

Lucca's pout might have been more effective if she weren't smirking through it. "You know what I mean. It won't be the same. You're going to run off and have a happy ending with a princess, in a castle and everything, and I don't even get a kiss goodbye."

"Well..." Crono tipped her a sidelong look and mused, "It'd be pretty weird, kissing a guy..."

"Oh, you...!" She took off the "guy hat" and fitfully threw it into the corner. "There. Not a stupid guy anymore."

Crono nodded some hazy approval. "Nice. But now you have stupid guy hat hair."

"Hehe! You, you jerk..." Her next punch slipped, and she nearly took a dive off the side of the chair. Crono reflexively reached over and reeled her in as she laughed like a loon. "Ahah, I'm so drunk I can't even sit straight."

"...c'n see that..." he said, steadying a hand on her hip--it felt warm and heavy. She kind of liked it, being touched... Maybe being held? It would feel nice. Nobody ever held her--her father's bear-hugs didn't count. Heh. Bears again. A second before running in terror, Crono tried to brandish his wooden practice sword against that bear. She remembered thinking that was brave--and stupid. But brave. She settled for screaming, "Run, stupid!" rather than complimenting him. It was a prudent choice, at the time.

Lucca squirmed closer, drawing an odd, muffled complaint from her friend. He studied her with soft, ginger bemusement as she lamented out loud, "Oh, why can't I find a nice, big oaf like you?"

"Hmm?" Crono hummed, stunted by the query. He shuffled to find a comfortable way to sit with a girl in his lap, and then replied, his tone quiet and heavy--nearly sober again, "You'll find somebody."

"No I won't..." Lucca groaned, rolling her eyes and being dramatic--she didn't care. She was drunk and allowed to be dramatic. "I'm too much of a self-absorbed outcast to find anybody. My name around town is synonymous with 'crazy robots' and 'collateral damage.' You're the only one in this century who puts up with me."

"Gary likes you."

She sat up straight again, jabbed his shoulder and laughed. "Oh shut the hell up! You're terrible."

His expression was smeared with a wicked, teasing grin. "What's wrong? Getting cold feet about wearing that frilly little bridesmaid dress?"

Lucca scoffed. "Psh, yeah right. Stupid dresses... Stupid bridesmaids... Stupid, pompous ceremony..." Her grumbling tapered off once Crono's left hand started drawing idle, soothing circles through her shirt and over her hipbone. "Mmnrh, no offense..." she purred, sedated by the petting. It was random, and good, and she could totally get used to such casual affection. She was getting to like rum--it blurred a lot of… intimate boundaries. Everything felt okay. Simple.

‘Simple’ was when she and Crono used to have sleepovers at each other’s houses, and spend the night making up childish plots to debunk ghost stories before passing out in a pillow fort. Then he’d be right next to her when she woke up with a nightmare about those ghosts she had previously asserted, ‘couldn’t scientifically exist,’ and he would tell her she was being silly and tickle her until she laughed back to sleep.

Crono never lost his simple logic. "Heh. I could get you out of it, if you want. The bridesmaid thing. I'll tell Marle you're sick."

"Oh sh-shush, I probably will be sick after tonight, hahaha." She reared away with a dizzy start, catching herself. "...Oh, no, no! What kind of juh-hrk..." Another damn hiccup. "What kind of jerk would I be to skip out on my best friend's wedding? Forget it, mister, I'm going whether you want me there or not."

Crono gave a mollifying chuckle. "Heheh, okay. Your funeral."

Funerals... Funerals were funny. Not like that, but... They signified death, and in some old cultures, death merely signified change--a transition from one stage of life to another. Crono was about to get married, but in that respect the wedding was just as much a funeral--a change in his life--a change in their lives. Even though Marle would always be her friend and comrade, Lucca had been dreading this day ever since Crono met the princess--dreading the day she would have to let him go. No matter how Crono sliced it with all those carefree shrugs and kind words, their precious childhood was going to die, and there was nothing Lucca could do.

Except... No, telling him was a stupid idea. Stupid idiot idea. She had convinced herself years ago that it was better not to speak and just hold on to what they had, but with even that thread about to slip through her fingers, what more did she have to lose? It was already a grand night of stupid idiot ideas, so what difference would fulfilling one more make? She's drunk--they're both drunk, and they know it, and by her drunken reasoning it was better to say her piece now, rather than make a scene in the morrow. Holding it in any longer wasn't an option.

Lucca sniffed, clearing her composure, and began, "Listen, I... I gotta say this." He turned clear, cool eyes up to her, quiet and patient. Always understanding, never condemning, damn him. She would always say Crono drove her crazy, in a pejorative sense--usually at the end of a string of expletives--but if only he knew the ways he made her heart stir when he wasn't acting up and making havoc of her inventions--when he looked at her just like that with true blue eyes that saw through her like a sheet a glass. And she couldn't even look at him straight.

...She was drunk; it was okay. He could forgive her later. "I... I'm crazy about you. I always have been. I thought I might've gotten over it after like, ten years or so, but it looks like it's not happening, so I'll just have to live with it. It doesn't even matter anymore--I just want you to be happy, but I... A-And I... I wish it was different, so it was just you and me again, but I don't regret anything that's happened. Does that...? I know I'm not making any sense, I'm just... I'm just scared."

There was no reproach--Crono just looked shocked, confused and... concerned. Why? "Why?"

It was getting hard to breathe; she wasn't sure if she was going to throw up or cry. "Because..."

Because I need you. I want to be close to you always. Because the sound of your voice gives me chills, and the look in your eyes makes me smile, and your stupid bravado infuriates me, and I can't live without any of it. Because we're a team, and we've done everything together since we were little kids, and I've risked my life and more for you, just as you have for me. Because I know that the closer you get to her, the further away you get from me, and before long you won't hang out with me anymore; you'll be 'just visiting.' And those days out in the woods playing 'cops and robbers,' or up in the canyon exploring secret hideouts, or in the junkyard outside of town shooting bottles for target practice--all those days with just you and me would become just memories, nostalgia.

Because I'm scared of you growing up and leaving me behind.


Lucca couldn't say any of those things--she couldn't even finish her sentence. She had to push her glasses up out of her face to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. Stupid, stupid idiot idea. She regretted it already, because now she looked like a blubbering fool on top of a drunken sap. "Sorry," she recanted, her voice hoarse. "I'm being stupid. Just strike all that from the record, will you?"

The bleary-looking boy beneath her shifted, sitting up in the chair, and for a second she feared Crono would push her off. Instead he pulled her in, one hand cupping her cheek and wiping a tear away with his thumb. "Lucca..." he breathed, flustered and frustrated, quiet and conciliatory--meaning to tell her not to cry. "You will always..."

Apparently he couldn't finish his sentence, either. That was simply, perfectly Crono, though--his actions always spoke louder than his words. He could talk nonsense all day long, but whenever he needed to say something important, he let his hands and feet and heart do the talking.

Lucca's first and last thought as he leaned in and kissed her was that she couldn't even taste the rum.

--- --- ---

Because goodbyes aren't always about leaving over great distances.

Lately I've been putting most of my energy into finishing Dr. LEA's Diary, the first part of my Phoenix stories, which is good and productive of me (for a change), but... I keep getting fresh ideas. Thus, this angstfest. Hah, the LAST thing I need is to start another fic, much less a CT one.
Sorry to anyone waiting for more FF9 stuff, including Chimera Quest. I got a Pigeon on my shoulder these days, and Zidane can't stand her. For some reason. Or so it seems--they won't share a room. I think Pigeon and Griever might get along, though...? Nah, Griever don't get along with anyone.

(ahaha, thrilling insight into my psychosis, here.)

Anyway, channeling Lucca has been bloody depressing, for a score of reasons--I've only illustrated one of them, here. I feel like I'll never get her voice right, to boot--curse me for deciding to write that thing in first person. ...Perhaps I'm writing a little too close to home.

(phbt, I only WISH I was that smart.)

Don't worry about me, though; it's all a fun kind of devastated. I think.


Chrono Trigger (c) Square
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© 2009 - 2024 MiyaYoshi
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PrincessNadia78's avatar
OMG I almost started crying at the end of this, it made me so sad for Lucca and the situation she was most likely in after the events of Chrono Trigger. I love the picture too, it's so beautiful!