A Smile from the Sun

'I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi or even smile at me because I know, even if it's just for a second, that I've crossed your mind.'

She was a goddess.

Venus, Aphrodite, and Turan- the reincarnation of the three goddesses of distant past, three magnificent souls embodied into one. Frankly, he didn't believe in myths or legends, assuming their origins from people who once lived and their admirers, tales of them exaggerated as time flew by, and people began to claim their status as deities.

But how can he maintain his belief when a breathing goddess enters his life?

"Can you move a little to the right?" he asked, emerging from the safety of the back of hic camera. The golden-haired woman nodded, moving to the indicated position.

He watched as she breathed deeply and perched herself on the crimson sofa, draping her long legs over the arm of the furniture. She leaned forward, her golden hair flowing on her shoulders. Her eyes, they were smouldering of longing and secrecy. What is she thinking, he wondered as he took a photo of her. She was hugged by a light cerise robe, artistically arranged to tastily reveal parts of her body. In his eyes, she symbolised innocence and maturity, first loves and sexual attractions, warmness and coldness… and beauty.

The soft golden glow around her was perfect, he was sure of it. He peeked at her as he took another photo. They were in his studio, his home where he created magic. Dark and gloomy, just the way he wants it to be. The background behind her was in a dark scarlet, interrupted by a darker hue.

Perfect for a picture of a goddess.

Except that he wasn't going to take a picture of Venus.

Instead, he was going to breathe life back into Helen, the Queen of Sparta. The one who launched a thousand ships and thousands more deaths.

Snap

He shifted to his left, finding the perfect corner.

Snap

He wondered why she looked unhappy when she first came in.

Snap

Maybe she didn't like her job?

Snap

It can't be because of him, can it?

Snap

Since they had never met before this.

Snap

Still, he wondered.

Snap

If he could heal her pain?

Snap

He chuckled.

Snap

He barely knew her!

"Is it over yet?"

She looked tired. Athrun smiled. She had a lot of patience to be able to go through seven hours of photo shoot. He glanced at his watch and nodded.

"It's all wrapped up."

He was sure one of the photos would be perfect, but he was reluctant for her to leave. Hence the long hours. Somehow, he wanted to know something, anything about her. Other than the fact that she was a model. He didn't know why, but he had to know more.

She smiled at him, shouldering her handbag. Her hair was a bit tousled, let loose on her thin shoulders. He tilted his head to his left. She looked no different from earlier. Still beautiful. Tall, as tall as him. Of course, he thought, she's a model. Her movements are never graceful, he stated firmly. Far from graceful.

Maybe that's why he was more attracted to her.

She walked away from him, towards the exit. He hesitated.

Should he call her or should he let her go?

"Wait!" she turned around. Athrun scratched his navy hair, not knowing what to say.

"Yeah?" she waited. Her impatience was as clear as the sun, he smiled. He slid his hands into his pockets.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

There. At least he said something. He ruffled his hair, hiding his embarrassment.

"Oh," she looked around the studio, hesitating. "But… aren't you busy? I mean, with the editing and all…"

She's stalling, he realised. He grinned, still ruffling his navy hair.

"Yeah, I guess. Well, some other time, I guess."

Athrun turned his back on her. After a while, he became conscious of her presence behind him. There wasn't any trace of perfume and that befuddled him. She tapped his shoulders a couple of times.

"How about tomorrow?"

He grinned, triumphant.

"So I'm Dutch by my mum's side," she said, sipping her latte. "God, this tastes terrible." Her face twisted in a mock-vomiting way. "I'd give anything for a cuppa of my dad's coffee. Ugh, I hate this little cafes. They're so not…" she brushed a finger through the dust, disgusted. "Clean. You can't think of a better place, huh?"

He grinned. "I bet you say that to all men."

She paused, contemplating him.

He stared back calmly.

Then, her face broke into a grin.

"I guess so," her golden eyes gleamed.

He waited for her to continue.

She hesitated, but continued smoothly.

"Men go after my look," she said. "So I always have a bit of a trouble when they woke up after a night of making love."

She laughed gaily.

Athrun sensed resentment in her voice.

"So you try to scare us off?"

Her smile widened.

"It works a lot. The only thing I have learned from modelling is men don't like whiners."

She sipped her latte without complaining.

Athrun watched her as she talked. He did notice the glances she had gotten when she walked into the café. But they are not of the sort supermodels like her receives on the red carpet. Cagalli Yula Attha (he found out her name from his fellow photographers, who was surprised because he never talks to them and regard him as someone to hate and admire) was a wise woman, abandoning her make-up to cloak her status. Gone were the smoky eye-shadow models often don in front of the camera, gone were the red blusher that gives women unnatural shade of cherry, gone were the daringly red lip stick.

Now, she was just a girl-next-door.

He thought she looked far more beautiful than any other woman could ever be.

He adored the way her golden hair rested on her shoulders, the way she walked carelessly and bumped into people, not bothering to apologise as they gawp in awe, the way she smiled that goofy grin of hers. He noticed the way her rows of teeth shone when she smiled, and he liked her more.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she toyed with her cup.

Their eyes met.

Straight to the point. He liked that.

Athrun smiled calmly.

He told her the truth:

"You're beautiful."

She blushed.

Her fingers fiddled with her hair.

"So," she licked her lower lip. "Enough about me. What about you?"

He tilted his head to his left, contemplating the question.

"Well… I'm a photographer."

She laughed.

"I'm aware of that."

He grinned.

"What you don't know is I'm also a single photographer."

Her smile was amused.

"Straight?"

He looked at her in the eye.

"If I'm not, I wouldn't be here with you."

She raised her eyebrows.

"If I say I'm not?" she played. "If I say I'm only attracted to women, and I only date men for their money or fame?"

"Then I'll say you're lying. Because then you'll not be here. With me."

He was confident of it.

"If I say I'm only here because a love-struck fool is going to treat me to free lattes?"

"Then I would say 'I'm broke. Can you lend me some?'" he leaned forward, smiling. "But I wouldn't call myself love-struck."

Silence.

"Oh," she stood up suddenly. "Then I better get going."

She drank her latte, putting the empty cup on its saucer. Cagalli threw him an amused smile.

"Thanks for the coffee."

She walked away, leaving him to watch as she made her way to the door. A few guys whistled.

The bell chimed as it closed.

Athrun blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. He stared at the seat she had vacated and smirked.

Her way.

"Um, excuse me, sir?"

Athrun looked up to the petite waitress hovering nervously by, her long cerise hair flowing on her back. He had no respect for people who dye their hair. Especially in such a strange colour.

He noted her violet eyes disinterestedly, his raised eyebrow urging her to carry on.

"The lady … left a message for you."

She handed him a piece of paper.

He took it, scrutinizing the handwriting. It was childish, not at all like the flourished handwriting he would expect from a supermodel.

Maybe that's what made her unique.

Hey mister thought this may come in handy sometimes. We can discuss your sexuality then.

Underneath it, she'd scribbled her address and cell phone number.

Athrun gripped the paper, smirking.

There were movements in her apartment.

Athrun watched with his eyebrows furrowed.

The lights were on and he could see two figures near the floor-length windows. One was feminine, while the other was what he could only hope as a male friend.

The street was busy, and noisy. People passing by chattered in his ears, carrying their groceries. Cars and motorcycles sped along to their destinations. The street below her apartment was lively with its light display.

The feminine figure was angry at her friend.

She was pointing at her friend, gushing out (Athrun assumed) insults.

The male friend was calm, but a fool. He kept trying to hold her shoulders even though she had shaken him off a lot of times.

Athrun was amused.

In the end, the male figure went away.

Athrun watched as he bounded his way down the stairs, pulling up a taxi. Athrun caught a glimpse of him. He was tall and broad, his messy blonde hair out of place in the decent crowd. Then he was gone.

His olive eyes travelled upwards, to her apartment.

She was looking out of her window.

She was clad in a simple orange sweater and a pair of worn-out jeans.

Her golden eyes were scrutinizing him.

Athrun smirked.

He was safe in the shadow of the telephone booth.

She bit her lower lip and gave up, pulling the curtains.

Only her silhouette was visible now.

Athrun had a sudden urge to go to her, to hold her in his arms, to comfort her and…

To love her.

But he quenched the urge, forced his legs to walk to a restaurant nearby and had his dinner.

She was home.

There was no risk of discovery now. Athrun was in a café near her apartment, where he can easily spy on her life without being called a creep. He folded the paper he was reading and watched as the tall woman with a basket of big roses bounded up the steps to her apartment. The lights were on.

He had been watching her for seven days now.

She always came back in the late evening, or even late at night.

Sometimes she didn't return at all.

Athrun could see her moving around her apartment. She was in a better mood than ever. He watched as she placed the basket of roses near the window, grinning to herself.

Her golden eyes suddenly travelled outwards, to the street.

Athrun smirked, content with the knowledge that he wasn't going to be discovered.

She sighed, biting her lower lip. Her golden eyes brightened once more when they spotted the roses.

For the rest of the day, he could tell she was happy.

He smiled.

He was grateful.

Grateful that he'd followed the florist's advice.

"What would you do if I were to give you these?"

Athrun waved the notes at the ten-year-old boy.

"Anything! Just name it!"

His eyes were bright with enthusiasm and, as he reflected, greed.

Athrun smirked, patting the boy's dark hair.

"Now go and get ten friends."

He ran off.

As Athrun waited for his return, he spread out 100 different photos of her. They were candid, but each one beautiful and unique.

There was of her laughing with scribbled words at the back:

'Your smile, your laughter and your happiness are what I cherish the most…'

Of her crying:

'Don't cry, for I would want to die when you do…'

Of her smiling:

'There's nothing more in the world that can make me happier than your smile…'

Of her frowning:

'You frown on the world but I pray and pray that you would not frown on me…'

Of her walking:

'You are a goddess, with the world under your feet, worshipping you…'

Of her face:

'Helen would scorn, Venus would frown, and Iris would scowl… to find a woman far more beautiful than them…'

Of her talking:

'There's nothing more captivating and important than hearing you speak…'

The boy came back, with a dozen of ten-year-olds.

"Take this key (he'd ask from the building owner. "She's a friend, you see." he'd said, smiling")," Athrun instructed. "Go up to the apartment and plastered these photos to the walls artistically."

The enthusiastic children nodded, carefully picking up the photos and scurried away.

An hour had passed and the leader came back.

Athrun gave him a fistful of money, telling him to share them.

And when twilight was born, she came back.

One day, exactly a month after they had met and after a dozen of flower baskets, he began to write her a note everyday.

'I just close my eyes because I might see your face. I just close my mouth because I might hear your voice. I just close my ears because I might hear of you, but I could not close my heart because I love you…'

'The spaces between your fingers are created so that another's can fill them in…'

'We come to love not by finding a prefect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly…'

'A man's love cannot be satisfied by beauty alone; you're more than beautiful and that's why I love you…'

'I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi or even smile at me because I know, even if it's just for a second, that I've crossed your mind…'

He knew she was smiling when she looked out of her window every night, forever searching for him.

The photos of Helen were finished.

Athrun had gone through them carefully, searching for invisible flaws. One day, a note from Cagalli came:

Are my photos ready? I was wondering if you can send me some.

Love, Cagalli.

She'd signed it with love.

He worked hard on the photos, days spent in the dark room and nights spent near her apartment. He was barely getting any sleep, but rest worth nothing in his life.

One day, the photos were ready.

She brought Helen back to life, and he brought out the majestic idealism, the shadowy mysticism and the dark passion.

Off copies of the photos went, with a scribbled note from him.

If I am honest (and I truly am), I would say these photos are more about you than Helen.

For you're far more beautiful and far more desired than Helen.

Love, Athrun.

She replied to his note.

Thank you.

Love, Cagalli.

They finally met, 46 days since their first meeting.

He'd hauled a taxi.

When it stopped, Cagalli stepped out of it.

She was worn out. Her hair was undone, her make up simple and her clothes unfashionable.

Yet he loves her more and more.

Her beautiful golden eyes widened, her movements temporarily frozen at the sight of him. Slowly, a smile crept to her face and her golden eyes relaxed. There was happiness in her eyes and a certain festivity in her smile.

"So," she said by the road. Cars horned past her, motorcycles zoomed but it was a world of two.

Of him and her.

The lights from the shops smiled in her beautiful eyes as she stepped off the taxi. The taxi drove away, but Athrun didn't care.

The noise people made as they went to their destinations accompanied the tranquil silence shared by the two. Athrun hear girls giggling, hawkers shouting and women talking.

But all he can hear was her voice.

Her slightly coarse, but tinged with gaiety voice.

Mellifluous to his ears.

Like the voice of Helen.

No, the voice of a goddess.

The voice of Cagalli Yula Atha.

"So," she repeated, her lips tilting upwards.

She was happy; truly, honestly and sincerely happy at the sight of him.

She was smiling not to a friend, but to a person who was more than a friend.

Athrun hoped.

"So," he said, grasping for words.

For he was speechless.

And so was she, he realised when she played with her feet.

"It's been a long time, huh?" she said, looking up at him.

"Yeah," he smiled, playing for time.

Would she give him a chance to love her?

He wondered and hoped…

He prayed.

"I was waiting for you to come up to me," she said, her voice cheerful.

"For what?" he said quietly.

"I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi or even smile at me because I know, even if it's just for a second, that I've crossed your mind." She chuckled. "I love that one. I love the way you spend those days looking for me, for thoughts of me have crossed your mind…"

He can't take his eyes off of her.

"Love is a madness, isn't it?" She reached out for his hand.

A/N: Thank you! For reaching this far, you deserve an award. A cookie, then! And yes, my hobby is to revise everything within my reach. A Goddess' Smile is a victim of the said hobby. Hope you like this more. :)