I do not own these puppets.
I thought there was, perhaps, a small chance that he might feel the same way. I annoyed him. I brought him out of his shell, I messed up his narrow sense of black and white and right and wrong. I was red with blood, and determined to paint my portrait over his plain color vision.
I thought that meant that he cared for me that way. I guess I was reading into it too much, but when you're in a war, you cling to whatever brings you a moment's happiness, and he was it. He made me happy, plain and simple. I liked touching him. I liked it when he gave me that confused look; I knew that on any other person it would have been a smile. It pleased me to know what his expressions of joy looked like.
So when we were just sitting around in the hangar, taking a break from upgrading our Gundams, and he just happened to sit next to me, I... I don't know what I thought. That maybe it was his way of telling me he wanted to be near me? I could only hope.
"Heero," I said, a little breathlessly, I think. My heart was pounding faster than a rabbit's, and I felt twitchy, like any movement on his part would set me off.
He looked at me, patiently. I mistook that patience for love and the rest is history. Me being the braided baka he calls me, almost affectionately, I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, using his surprise to my advantage.
But I was wrong.
It's not like those sappy romances, or those old Technicolor films where both parties have mistaken ideas that the other doesn't love them. I know he doesn't. I felt it in the way he stiffened and never relaxed in my arms. Maybe he didn't want to hurt my feelings. Maybe he wanted to try to love someone attainable.
He doesn't love me.
We had been sharing a room; I was moving out when he came in and asked what I was doing. "Giving up," I said, shoving the last of my meager possessions into my backpack. He reached out a hand, then stopped, as if unsure of its welcome.
I knew it wasn't a gesture borne of fear of losing my love, but my friendship. So I told myself to be content with that, and threw my bag back onto the bed.
It's like surrendering a candle's flame for the ocean. Something intense and breath-taking for something that I know will never die. There are days when I wish for the old dreams, but I know entertaining them would only hurt both of us. I have his friendship now, something that he will never betray.
After all, who wouldn't trade a moment's bliss for an eternity of unconditional friendly love?
And the sad thing is, I know of a certain baka, sitting in his Gundam at this very instant, fiddling with his screen captures of a Japanese soldier, hiding from that soldier, who would gladly take the flame over the ocean any day.
Ariana
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