Teaser: 11-Nov-2000
Revised: 31-Mar-2001
I'm not sure why I'm posting this. It's been a long night.
First, I should probably say hello to all the new people on the list. I suppose I qualify as new, since I doubt anyone remembers me other than Tyr-sama, but Tyr knows all (or close to it ^_~).
I went to a Sharon Olds poetry reading, required by my boarding school, and I hated it.
Or so I thought, until I started walking out of the auditorium and I discovered I was crying and I didn't even realize it.
I wrote a poem for my mother, which I won't share, but I did feel lonely, and I am missing my other 1/2, which is why I wanted to share this with you. I won't even pretend that it's mine, because it's not. It's hers, but she's gone. I miss her.
-Bianca
Stuff I'd like to say ^_^: I think this will be my first real yuri lemon, other than Burning Out which was, er... Anyway, *cough* it's kind of based on a real life experience. O_O Too much information, I know. Feedback, as always, welcome but not necessary. I never have time to do my schoolwork, let alone hunt for replies... That is not to say that feedback is not appreciated; the next time I delurk I'll go on a quick hunt, but other than that... And I'm rambling...
Ana
The room was cool, despite the overwhelming heat outside the small hostel, a gentle breeze that seemed to have rolled straight off the ocean's undulating belly and around their intertwined bodies. Staring at the ceiling, she called upon all eighteen years of knowledge within her possession and still came up grasping for words, gasping for air.
Her legs were slightly wet with her own sweat and moisture. Dread was slowly building in her stomach, curling in a circle. "Hilde," she whispered, voice near hoarse, vocal cords straining in her throat. A smooth row of knuckles brushed against her face in response.
Still basking in the afterglow, feeling blood rush to all parts of her body, creating a pleasurable sensation in her thighs, Relena wrapped her slender arms around the dark-haired girl, stroking the velvety line of her back, comforting her as best as she could.
//What a pair,// she thought, trying desperately not to be bitter, not to be angry at Duo, who was curled up in his bed with Heero. In a way, it should have been pathetic; two women, relieved of their disillusioned dreams, finding solace in another. And tomorrow, they would both dress hurriedly, arms covering their breasts as they tried not to look at each other. And then, when there were hundreds of miles and even more red tape between them, she could dissect what had happened, break it down into thousands of little boxes, all containing reasons why it didn't matter.
"We're so pathetic," whispered Hilde.
Relena smiled in agreement.
It had been building for weeks upon weeks, as much as both of them liked to pretend that it was really the clothes that caused it. Every day, she looked at him and wondered what was wrong with both of them. He wasn't happy; he looked like a songless songbird, too melancholy to even whisper its sorrow away. Yet there was a part of her that refused to part with, to her mind, a perfectly blissful ending. Even if neither of the players were even close to joyful.
She hadn't known they were going to do it; if she had, Relena had told herself, day after day, then she would have done something, would have stopped them. But one afternoon, she came back to their home from work to find Heero standing naked in the living room, waiting for her.
She had felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her eyes strayed low to the dark curly hair, the soft member, belying the slender thighs. Any thoughts of her boyfriend's femininity were swept away. They hadn't done more than kiss, grope, although the groping was more on her part than his, and she had never seen him clad only in his skin.
"Relena," he said in that slightly nasal voice, "what is this?" Their eyes locked as he picked up the top item of the mound on the couch. Heero held up his jacket, pointing to a thin red satin strip stitched on near the cuff of the left sleeve. The instant she began drowning in those blue pools, she knew that he understand exactly what it was.
"Heero, you know it doesn't mean anything--"
He raised a single eyebrow.
Relena cut the bullshit.
"It marks you as my consort. My mate. To some foreign dignitaries--" she began, then just as abruptly stopped. It had to run its course.
"Did you know?" he asked, even as he showed her another item where a small piece of red satin ribbon had been stitched on seamlessly.
"I did not," she said, and he nodded. He believed her, but that was no guarantee of anything. "I would have stopped it."
"And you can't undo it?" He watched her expressionlessly, watched her gasp for air as a dream cracked open, sending her tumbling to the rocky shoreline.
"Public image," she whispered, hating her job at that moment. "People would think that our relationship was a front." Heero nodded; he was not a stupid man. *Man.* The slender boy she had cradled in her arms on the Peacemillion had grown up, and away from her bosom. "Is there--" Relena choked, her voice dying. All falling apart.
"Is there someone else?" He crossed his arms uncomfortably; there was. She would not press. She would not press. As if sensing her inner battle, the strange man before her smiled, not cruelly. "We fought in the war together." Violet eyes, a cute little smirk, a long braid, images flashed in her mind.
"Duo."
She hadn't realized she had spoken until Heero paled.
"I won't do anything to him. I'm h-happy for you, Heero." She took a step forward, her face falling as Heero moved back. "Can I hold you...?" He considered, then shook his head sadly. Relena was surprised to see tears in the softly Oriental corners of his eyes. "So sad..." //You're crying...You're sad...//
"I thought I was done making people cry." He blinked rapidly, trying to push his uncooperative face into an expressionless mask.
Summoning all the strength her father had given her, Relena smiled bravely and pointed at the door. "Put on your clothes and go to him, H--" Her strength deserted her and she began to cry, her rib cage tightening painfully. She heard him walk by, the sound of cloth on skin, and then the door.
//Did he look behind him...?// She needed to know. She wanted to know. Yet by the time she did look, the door was already closed and Heero was gone, leaving a scent that would have dissipated in five minutes and clothing with a red ribbon as conspicuous as a gold star.
End Part One
Ariana & Bianca
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