Duo didn't cry. Shit, he sure as hell felt like crying, but was no fighting something that was eating away at Heero from the inside. He walked around the dorm for a while, even smiling cheerily at Quatre, but the dorm felt too confining, Heero's room was too close to his. So he took a long walk, the cold, crisp air burning his cheeks red.
*I didn't mean to lie to you.*
Then what had he meant to do, put off telling him until he died? What a way to find out your love interest was a terminal case. Beneath the anger and the self-righteousness was a terrible, sharp fear, honed to a point called "afraid of being left alone". His best friend was dying. He had a tumor growing in his brain, in a place too dangerous to operate on, or even probe. Time to face facts, he told himself, and headed back for the dorm. There was really no where to hide from himself.
The dorm had been stricken at the news, Quatre and Zechs even shedding a few tears for the inescapable loss they would soon face. Duo, thoughts of his classes and basketball far away in some deep recess of his mind, visited Heero every day after school, textbooks and even some notes in hand. It wouldn't be long.
They talked a lot, about love and their hopes and dreams. Heero wanted to see Europe, maybe go on a back-packing trip or something. "What's 'or something'?" Duo asked, poking his arm. He was shocked to see a black bruise sprout there, ugly, a discolored flower.
"Maybe sailing around the Mediterranean. They say those are the bluest waters. In a little ship," he sighed, whimsically. "You could be my First Mate." He looked at the American speculatively, then gave a tense smile as his best offering.
"I went sailing in the Pacific once, when I was little, with Uncle Otto."
"Did you like it?" Heero inquired, his voice husky. Duo nodded, and grinned as the Japanese boy fell asleep, still listening to the sound of Duo's heartbeat against his ear. Soon he would lose this too.
They were just sitting there, letting the silence eat away at them. It seemed ridiculous to Duo; he should have been doing something, making a memory to carry with him. Taking some part of Heero to keep when his body was empty.
So he did, leaning forward and kissing the mouth that he had thought of in his most private considerations. Heero gave a little moan and opened his mouth, letting Duo's tongue slide neatly inside. As the necessity of air made itself known, Duo could feel his skin crawling. He was close to Death.
"Thank you," Heero said, reaching out and plucking the words straight from the braided man's mouth. Duo laughed; there was no need to thank him, and he said so. They talked for hours, until the moon peeked out from behind the campus tower.
"I'm sleepy," confessed the pale Japanese boy, eyes sliding shut.
Duo's hands were trembling. "Then go to sleep, love," he replied, stroking the softness of his hair out of his face. "Just fall asleep here." Heero nodded drowsily, and for a moment, Duo believed that the Japanese boy didn't know what was happening.
After a few minutes, Heero said quietly, "I never got to sail the Mediterranean."
A tear was falling from Duo's dry eyes. It didn't belong there; he wiped it onto his sleeve. "I'll do it for you," he promised. "I'll look out onto the shining water and I'll think of you." Then they both slept against the softness of the other's body. When Duo woke, he knew Heero was gone.
It seemed there was no mercy for even the most innocent of God's children.
End Parts Six and Seven
Ariana
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