12-Jul-2000
Ano... hi, everyone! Just when you think it's safe to go back to
your inbox, I have another fic to torture you with. ^_^v Please feel
free to rip, shred, fold, spindle, mutilate... heck, just don't feel
like you have to pull any punches if you want to C&C this, Ok? <:)
I'd be grateful for your honest opinions.
I guess I should warn that there's bad language and a sort-of implied lime-ish scene... <:) I hope nobody will be offended.
Well I've spent all my life just carrying on
And for every right thing I've done ten have been wrong
It's not that I'm bragging for the sake of a song
But life looks much better in perspective.
I stare up at the ceiling, breathing in the humid, musky scent of the room, my body still sheened in sweat. There's a watermark in the plaster overhead, a vague splotch that might be a tree, or an arrow... or a crucifix, if one looked at it just the right way. The silence of pre-dawn is broken only by the sound of your breathing, slow and even. I turn to look at you - so much prettier than a shadowy watermark - and marvel again at how sweet you look, your fingers uncurling against the pillow as dreams scuttle behind your eyelids. You've surrendered to sleep, as easily as you surrendered to me... as you surrender to everything. Is life so simple for you? You seem to see it as a series of inevitabilities... I know better, and the knowledge is bitter to me. Life isn't something that just... happens. Life is the endless possibility to fuck up even worse.
Would you be surprised that I think that way? That in the depth of the night, I look into the mirror of what passes for my soul, and find it lacking? It shouldn't be a surprise, really... not to anyone who knows me. If anyone knew me... but they don't, nobody really does. It's probably better that way.
You turn and throw your arm across my chest, and I feel a smile tickling at the corners of my mouth in spite of myself. Part of me is surprised, I suppose, to find that you're a cuddler... but in a way, it makes perfect sense. You're reaching for something you could never have...
It's too stuffy and humid for cuddling. I move your arm gently, careful not to wake you.
Your eyes look at me from near and from far
Ten thousand miles and you're still where you are
Another brass rail in another old bar
I'm better at dreaming than living.
You mumble something, and reach out again, and I turn on my side away from you, breathing the slightly-cooler air wafting in from the open window. I, too, always reach for something I can never have... And much as I long for security, my restless heart starts yearning to move on every time my feet stop. Maybe it's something wrong with me, that I can't settle down. That I can't settle.
I don't know, and the thought frustrates me. A neon sign flashes across the street, the gaudy pink glare lighting the filmy curtains as they wave ever-so-slightly in the almost nonexistent breeze. On. Off. On. Off...
You mumble my name, and the mattress shifts as you snuggle up behind me, one arm wrapping around my middle with a death grip. How can you stand to be so close, when it's so hot? I sigh deeply in the stifling heat, and try without success to quiet my racing mind.
And for every hello there's a thousand good byes
And leaving is harder when I look in your eyes
You've got to believe me, I'm not telling lies
That for every hello there's a thousand good byes.
The endless possibility to fuck up. When did I first realize... that life wasn't a story written by a capricious God? That I alone was responsible for the suffering in my life? I suppose I was three... maybe four. Not surprising, I don't think. I mean, you don't watch your parents die without getting a little bit of insight into the dark side of life.
It was my fault, the death of my parents. The soldiers would never have found us if I hadn't gotten so restless... if only my whispering complaint hadn't been voiced just as a sharp-eared soldier walked past the hiding place... I'll never forget the horrified look in my mother's eyes, even though I don't remember now the shape of those eyes, or what their color was.
So my parents died, betrayed by my own stupid childishness. I grew up fast, after that.
The years slip away like the spring melts the snow
And I'm older and wiser than you'll ever know
And if you believe that it's time I should go
Cause I'm just as confused and more twisted.
I've been told - often - that I'm supposed to be thankful in all circumstances. Thankful for what, though? I mean, God never did me any favors. God sure as hell wasn't there to save my parents, right? God didn't feed me or find me a place to sleep, either - that was Solo. And while I was grateful to Solo for sharing a moldy crust of bread and a spot on the filthy floor of a condemned building... that was nothing to be grateful to God for, was it? And it wasn't long before Solo was dead from the Plague. His eyes were just as terrified, just as achingly sorrowful as my mother's had been, when he realized that he was dying. So what was there to be grateful for?
I guess God only helps the good people... which explains why God never really does much, because everywhere I go I see people fucking up, just like me.
Even Father Maxwell and Sister Helen... they were good, but they were stupid enough to take me in and love me. I never brought them anything but grief... and in the end, I brought them death, just as surely as I brought it to my parents. I should never have left the orphanage that day. Why did I think stealing a Mobile Suit would save their lives? What kind of moron was I? You can't bargain with the enemy, any more than you can bargain with God. Must be a cushy job, being God. Sit back, look down your nose at everyone, and laugh when they cry to you for help.
And things keep on changing for better or worse
And rhymes just get harder with every new verse
And to say that I love you sounds way too perverse
Cause I'm getting on that bus in the morning.
You're probably the only person I know who still tries to do the right thing, you know. Then again, you must be evil like me, deep down inside... otherwise, God wouldn't have left you here for me to ruin. I wonder where the evil is, though... I turn to face you, and I melt. So sweet, your sleeping face, all the cares and trials wiped away with the luxurious comfort of pleasant dreams. You're smiling in your sleep - so rare, that smile - and I wonder what you're dreaming. I wonder what it's like to dream pleasant things.
I wonder where the evil in you is hiding, because I don't see it.
And for every hello there's a thousand goodbyes
And leaving is harder when I look in your eyes
You've got to believe me I'm not telling lies
That for every hello there's a thousand goodbyes.
It's past time for me to be moving on. My heart stutters a little at the thought, but I slowly creep out of your embrace, stealthily slipping into my clothes and cramming my things into the tattered duffle bag that holds all my worldly possessions. I try to tell myself I'm just being quiet because I don't want to disturb your sleep... but I know it's not the truth. I never was any good at lying, not even to myself.
So I admit it to myself, in the stillness of the early morning, as I pack by the flashing light of a tacky pink neon sign. It's true, I'm hoping to get away without having to face you... I don't want to hurt you. I fucked up by coming here, by letting you see my need, by losing myself in you... I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have done this. Life is the endless possibility to fuck up worse - and I don't want to hurt you. God help me, but I've done it again.
I could give it all to you
But I can't control the things that I do
And I don't know what to say
Cause the sun's coming up and I know I can't stay.
"Duo?" The soft whisper might as well be a thunderclap, the report of a pistol in the cramped room. I spin about violently, meeting your gaze in the flashing neon light. Your eyes... I had hoped to get away without having to see your eyes again... without having to see those beautiful eyes looking at me with that wounded expression - so like the eyes of Father Maxwell, of Solo... so like Sister Helen's eyes... my mother's eyes... In spite of a still, small voice that tells me I'm fucking up again, I finish shoving the last of my clothing into the bag and zip it shut, ducking my head to hide behind long bangs. My heart is hammering in the achingly silent room as I toss the bag over my shoulder and head for the door.
For every hello there's a thousand goodbyes
And leaving is harder when I look in your eyes
You've got to believe me I'm not telling lies
That for every hello there's a thousand goodbyes.
I stop at the door, turn and look back... you're curled up on the bed, looking for all the world like a lost little child, and the sight makes my heart ache. If only... if only I could be what you needed, for more than just one night. But you need better - you deserve better - than me. You don't realize it yet, but you're lucky to be getting rid of me.
I turn and walk out the door, closing it softly. The open road beckons... and I don't look back.
so goodbye
yeah goodbye
Goodbye, Heero.
OWARI
story by Yoiko
"1,000 Goodbyes"
words and music by Captain Tractor (Scott Peters, Brock Skywalker,
Jules Mounteer, Jeff Smook and Chrys Wynters)
From the album "Bought the Farm" released August 97. Copyrighted to
Captain Tractor and Lugan Records, and published by Lugan Music.
Gundam Wing situations and characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. I do not make any claim to ownership of these situations or characters, nor do I mean any disrespect in any form to the creators and rightful owners of this wonderful series. Also, I will not make so much as one dime of profit from this work, and suing me would be pretty pointless, as there'd be nothing whatsoever to gain by it. ^_~
(:./yoiko/goodbyes)
