28-May-2004
Title: Poster Child
Author: Kimmie (JaenKaeGW@hotmail.com)
Archive: GW Addiction
Category: sap, light angst, POV
Pairings: 1+3
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: I wrote this in less than an hour when I should have been sleeping as I had to get up early to get ready for an anime convention. ^_^ "Moments of After War: Soldiers" universe, after "Games Children Play". Enjoy! Trowa POV.
Don't ask me where this is all coming from. I'm just glad it is. Nothing more until Sunday at least, though. I'll be at Animazement until then. I cosplay, so if you're going, feel free to look for me.
Friday: Aoi from Ai Yori Aoshi
Saturday: Anna from Shaman King
Sunday: Yahiko from Rurouni Kenshin
I'll also have some art up in the art show/auction, including some Gundam Wing pieces.
There's a room in our apartment that we rarely step into. It is there, in the back, at the end of the hallway. The open doorway to the left leads to the kitchen. Just before that is the bathroom, and across the hall from the bathroom door is the bedroom door. Oddly enough, the door to the bedroom is the one closest to the pool table. But, that is, perhaps, for the best.
In the beginning, this room was Heero's bedroom. It was barely large enough for the bed he had in there. But, that bed is gone. Now, he shares mine.
That room is usually never opened, and when it is, its only barely so. Heero keeps his sweaters in here, and since he rarely gets cold, they're hardly needed. The rest of the room, however, is storage: it's full of memories.
There's a shelf of mine, and one of Heero's, and one of ours -- where we keep seperate the times we've been like this, and the times where we haven't.
On my shelf are pictures of the people who mean things to me. I have the remote detonator to my Gundam, still marked with the dirt from my hands when I used it to kill my killing machine. I have my mask from the circus, and various and sundry other things, and I'm suddenlt curious. Heero is still at work filing reports and doing technical support, and I have the day off from research. So, I'm going to go comb through some memories.
I look at my shelf and notice that except for my few items from the circus, everything is war-related. But, perhaps that makes sense. I ignore the further questions that come to mind just as I notice that there seems to be something missing from my shelf. I can't quite place what, so I'll move on to Heero's shelf.
Heero's possessions are more varied than my own, yet they all pertain to war even moreso than my own. He has his old, broken laptop from mission reports and the few ripped pieces that he could find of the first birthday party invitation he'd ever received while posing as a student at a school near an OZ base. (To this day, he's never told who invited him, and the crucial pieces are missing from the invitation.) He has his own remote detonator, but it is in far worse shape than my own. Perhaps that is from overuse. He has his first firearm and his first military-grade grenade pin. Attached to it is a wilted buttercup. This is a story he has told me, and it's the very reason I won't get Heero a pet. Personal loss for him, even in rememberance, is far worse than death. I don't want us to get a puppy, have it die, and see that utterly heart-wrenching look on his face. But, we go to the pet stores and he visits my lab at work, and that seems to make him happy enough, and happy is a much better look for him.
Also on his shelf are his sweaters. They are all dark and made of cashmere, and Relena bought him every single one. I might admit to jealously of a sort, but I'm glad. It's fun to cuddle in cashmere.
Our shelf is a bit more exciting. Somehow, Heero held onto some of the bandages from years ago when he attempted to self-destruct his Gundam and I helped him back to good health. They are simple support bandages from around the time I took him to the families of the peace ambassadors he'd accidentally killed to offer them his life. I'm glad no one ever agreed.
There are the tichets to the football game that we went to where we decided to move in together. The dissassembled oars of the raft Heero took me out on to help me relax during those early days are wrapped within the raft and tucked in the back of the shelf. The first flowerpot from the black orchids he gave me, and the box from the special breakfast of doughnuts are there: side-by-side. There's a piece of the gazedo we were married by, and the complimentary lube from our honeymoon. (Well, the empty bottle is there, at least.) There are pictures here as well, and I suddenly realize what is missing from my shelf.
"Trowa?" I hear from outside the storage room. Heero's home from work now. Good. I have a question for him. I leave the room and walk towar him and give him the usual hug and kiss.
He looks at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing in there?"
I look him in the eyes. "Remembering. Where's my poster?"
He smiles. "In my office at work. You have affectionate animals to get you through the day. I have your circus poster from the end of the war where you aren't wearing a shirt. It reminds me that I always have something special to come home to, no matter what."
I lean against his shoulder and pull him closer to me. "I don't suppose it matters. It's an old memory. And I'm much more concerned with making new ones."
He smiles and it's in the kiss he gives me as well. "Don't worry. They'll come. And we'll have more shelves for those than we have memories of war."
I almost resolve to buy him a puppy just for that. But, from the looks of things, we have penty of time for puppies. Until we can take care of ourselves and each other, completely, we won't worry about anyone else.
For me, just us is okay. In fact, it's the best thing of all.
Owari. ^_~
(:./jennykim/moments18)
