Draft: Final
Posted: 11/12/00
Author: Jay / carboxylated@yahoo.com
Archive: Gundam Wing Addiction (Tyr), Desolation Angels (Ashura, if she wants it)
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Disclaimer: Scroll down (invariably at the bottom)
Title: Stay [1/2]
Category: Sap, Angst
Timeline: Post-EW
Pairings: 1x2
Rating/Warning: PG-13. This first part is so sugary, diabetics should step back. The end is angsty (Pko, don't lynch me!) but it's supposed to a be a cliffhanger, so torture is necessary. ^^;;
Feedback: Craved, desired, wanted, coveted, yearned for, wished for, and longed for. C&C will be repaid with dancing G-boys, my endless adoration, as well as a nice slice of karma.
Note: For Pko-chan!! Here's your 1x2, for the glorious piccie you drew for me. ::beams:: It's Part 1-- I think the next will come soon enough. it'll hopefully be my first lemon. Ack! I'm getting the jitters thinking about it. Also, I'm just experimenting with styles here, which is why it's so. well, you'll see.
/... .../ = thoughts
The world was dreary and monotonous, autumn dragging by, and I was fatigued in ways I could barely comprehend. Energy was draining from my listless hands into the very earth I stood upon, seeping through the already stained carpet and through layers of cement. I was dimly aware of a certain slickness over my hands-- a slow, inquisitive tongue (my own) swiped across the surface of my palms and my face twisted in a grimace.
Vodka. Cheap vodka slid down my raw throat like tonic; a sort of firewater to dull the senses and drown my sorrows. The war was over. The war had been over for some time, and the orbit of space had settled down gingerly into a tentative peace. What had first seemed like a blithe reverie had quickly descended into a nightmare-- or rather, the bleak reality of listlessness and despair. There were no missions to be completed. There was no peace to be won.
So I waged my own war and watched as my mind and body slowly burned away, the sole casualty of a pointless battle.
The door swung open, squeaking uncertainly. Squinting, I could see the black outline of a slender form. I blinked, and the world disappeared into darkness...
"Duo?"
...To remerge in blinding light.
Dove hands cupped my face, drawing my eyes up. My vision swam, the air stinking of alcohol, and a voice replied, slurring. I realized that it was my own, drawling out with uncertain syllables and choked sobs. It finally caught in my throat, even as he pried open my eyes, fingers scraping along my cheek, intense gaze drawing me in.
I felt like I was drowning.
My shoulders slumped in defeat and my head lolled to one side. He repeated my name again, forcing my head up again.
"Heero." His name fell from my lips as clear as those eyes of his and I slumped against him, arms wrapped around his neck for support, relishing the feeling of skin against skin. I hadn't seen him since the war and my mind wrestled over this curious fact.
"Tell me why," he commanded, one arm delicately woven around my waist. I realized that I was weeping, crying softly, sobbing like an infant in his arms. When I didn't offer any answers, he sighed and patiently hoisted me up.
"Stay with me, then," he whispered, voice guileless and soft; and we're both drawn into the waiting shade.
There were mornings then, after I'd stayed with Heero for a few months, that I would wake early and creep out of my bedroom. We slept in adjoining rooms, uncannily positioned so that if all the walls had evaporated and the space between had disappeared, we would have fit together-- intrinsically filling the other's empty spaces. In the grey dawn, I would slip into his room and watch him slumber fitfully, before sliding out again to lie awake and ponder all these things in the world: the rising sun, the dip of clouds over the canopy of metallic sky, the song of birds and smell of sandalwood and ginger-- and above all else, Heero. He remained in my thoughts as the hours slipped by and the misty daybreak dissolved into the fair morning.
On one occasion, I'd ventured to smooth one errant strand of hair from his face. He stirred, twisting in the thin cotton sheets, eyes fluttering and rapidly descending from the vertigo of sleep and consciousness. I stole from his room back into mine, to the awaiting mattress that both beckoned and mocked.
A few scant minutes later, he emerged, hair rumpled from sleep, clad in a simple, creased t-shirt and plaid boxers, and leaned against the doorframe.
"Awake yet?" The furtive whisper escaped his lips, nonchalant.
I rolled over to face him. The light of morning streamed through the windows, but seemed to stop short of his body. I caught the tiny shiver that shook his frame, trembling fingers hooked on his own sleeves, and I wanted so badly to rise from my bed, walk across the few feet between us, and hold him. I wanted to cradle him, capture some of him-- some elusive spirit-- or just the smell or taste of him, clean herbal soap and fresh linen. I wanted everything, or anything trapped in his eyes or innately held within his bones.
In my mind, we kissed: chastely, harshly, soft, and bruising.
And there, we stared at each other over the expanse of those few feet, the distance indomitable.
"Yeah," I finally said, voice faint.
He nodded and shrugged, turning to leave with just one enthralling glimpse of the curve of his calves. All this hurt in a way that continues to defy description, and I was left with nothing but the dull beat of my heart clattering in my ribcage-- a now familiar ache.
The world was black and white and snowy; mid-December and the stars were coming out. And there they were: spread across that dark dome, spanning across the horizon. We were staring at the sky, catching snowflakes on our tongues and laughing at the icy chill that dissolved in our mouths. His face was a picture; warmed by the light of a nearby streetlamp, eyes glittering, pale skin against the dark streets and white snow. He had snowflakes caught in his eyelashes, and he laughed-- something I nearly never heard-- voice ringing up clearly to the heavens. This moment was separate from anything and everything-- a single piece of space and time, as clear and crisp as the air that night.
"Duo?" The way he said my name was like a consideration of the person I was. He stared at me from out of those dark blue eyes that could tell me the weight and worth of my soul. I paused, mouth still agape, snowflakes still disappearing on my tongue.
"Yes?"
We stood in the glow of the lights, frozen on the sidewalk, the indigo sky stretching over our heads as the snow fell.
Heero looked a little uncertain, drawing one delicate hand up to smooth the unruly mop of dark hair back from his eyes. Then he smiled, and the world began to move again, alive.
"Nothing."
We stared at each other for another moment before returning to the building and disappearing into our respective rooms, alone for the night again.
He was twirling a lock of hair, absentmindedly-- this was one of the idiosyncrasies I'd grown to love about him. Heero was sprawled on his bed, legs up, head propped up with one hand, and the other entangled in his own dark brown hair. He gazed at me with a lazy grace, just slightly gnawing on his lower lip. We sat in companionable silence until he spoke.
"Duo." Here he paused, looked at me awkwardly, and continued. "Are you a virgin?"
And there it was, posed in his typically blunt way. There were levels on which I wasn't surprised, but the entire concept of this was startlingly amusing. Heero Yuy, who had killed thousands and saved millions, who had been trained from his waking breath as a living machine, who had been reminded of his expendability as a weapon countless times, asking me, equally dangerous in my own right, if I was a virgin. It was spring, now; maybe it was in the air, tiny bits of pollen drifting from his nose to his brain.
"Well?" He arched an eyebrow.
"No," I admitted. We both lapsed into silence, a note of conclusion drawn. He shifted slightly, and I finally offered a few more words. I stared straight into his azure eyes and said, evenly, "It's overrated."
"Aa."
I got up to leave, and he watched me, silently ushering me out with his eyes.
I walked into my room to be plunged into the scent of flowers.
Irises, bouquets of blooms of irises, covered my bed-- violet petals were strewn across the floor.
And he sat perched on a chair, one leg slung over the arm, like a nymph.
"Haru no umi," he said succinctly.
"They're beautiful," I murmured, overwhelmed to the point of distraction. My eyes traveled to him, unfocused. "Where. why.?"
"They're Japanese flowers," he said. "They reminded me of your eyes."
My throat constricted. He got up and walked over, offering a single flower to me. "Smell," Heero commanded. I stared at him, uncertain and unbelieving, before inhaling a little of the proffered bloom.
"It's nice," I replied, unable to keep the husky tones out of my voice.
He smiled. He smiled and it was an epiphany, a revelation, like the world changed in some profound way. "I'm glad you like them," he said, quietly. Heero began to walk past me, just brushing my shoulder-- the barest contact, the smallest friction.
I spun and put out a single imploring hand, blindly. "Heero."
He turned and stared at me with luminous, questioning eyes. "Yes?"
/Nothing./ I almost said it, regressing back into old patterns. /Nothing./ And he would have left. Instead, I stared at the blaze of violet around me, gesturing helplessly. My hands caught his wrist, pulling him towards me. He was surprisingly pliant and calm, waiting for me to continue.
"Stay," I said desperately.
The sun was just setting.
I looked into those eyes again. "Please. Stay."
The last rays of light filtered through the open windows, breeze rustling the petals that adorned the sheets and the floor. My heart ached, blood pounding through my veins, and all I could think, all I could hope to articulate in the convoluted nerves of my mind was the sudden revelation: this was beauty. This, before me, was all the beauty the world could offer; the beauty that memory could never fade. This scene, with its sharp violet, blue, and black like bruises on skin, was true beauty. All else-- the bustle and rumble of the outside world-- paled in comparison.
He looked at me with those eyes, those clear blue eyes like the darkening sky or the horizon fading into space, and stared curiously at me.
Heero finally, eyes shifting away, replied. "Why?"
My mind spun with the possibilities. "Because..." My voice quivered and faltered, before piping up in childish tones. "Because I love you."
That face, with its lines and slants and curves, looked at me calmly, clarity skimming over the surface of his eyes.
"Because there's no one but you..." I clasped his hands and words began to spill of their own volition. "Because the world is grey without you, and because you could save me, Heero. Because-- because I know you, because I've memorized every line and angle of your body so I could still see you when I close my eyes. Because I go to sleep dreaming of you and wake thinking of you. I love you-- I want to live in your heart forever, Heero, because I'll die one day and I'll disappear from a world that won't miss me. But because I loved you, I'll exist in the little sanctums of your memory. I love you, Heero. I'll love you even if you leave." I knelt, staring up on bended knee, still holding his hands, my fingers curled around his palms.
"Heero... stay."
The world ceased in my mind, as if this was the beginning of all time and of all things. This might have been the first confession of love or the first adoration and boundless infatuation. Life paused for a single, painstaking second that seemed to go on for an eternity as Heero looked down, a wistful expression passing through his eyes. Finally, he offered an answer.
"No," he said hollowly.
And the world exploded again.
End Part 1
Obligatory Disclaimer: The Gundam Universe of Mobile Suit Gundam Wing is © Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, ANB, and Bandai America, Inc. Characters, places, timeline and other elements of the Gundam Wing series are used without permission (under title 17, section 102, U.S. Copyright Code; fair use for nonprofit purposes). The original material herein is © the author and not considered public domain. Please don't sue. I'm in a perpetually non-prosperous state and all spare change usually goes into coffee or Diet Coke. ^^;;
Pko: Jay no baka! I WANTED A HAPPY STORY!!! [whaps] Jay: But Duo is so cute when he's sad!!! [Both 'Awww!' at sniffling Duo]
Ehehehe. ^^
1x2 Fans: [getting the tar and feathers]
o_O;;
Eep.
C&C should be sent to me. ::nervous laugh:: Please put down the pitchforks, though....
Jay
Please send comments to: carboxylated@yahoo.com