23-Feb-2000
Standard Gundam Wing fan fic disclaimers apply. C&C welcomed. Subject matter relates to M/M relationships. If that freaks you out, go away.
~~ooO@Ooo~~HEERO~~ooO@Ooo~~
Don't think. Just walk. Walk away. You can do it. One step at a time. Just one more step. And another. Don't think. Don't feel. Push the feelings deep down... so very far down until they are numbed out of existence... Walk away. One deliberate step at a time... The hurt and pain... deep down... until they become ice... shards of ice buried in the depths of my soul...
I hear him... running up behind me. He doesn't try to catch at my arm, instead he overtakes me, placing himself defiantly in front of me, daring me to push him aside and keep walking.
I call his dare, and he stumbles back slightly, staring at me in incredulous disbelief as I push past him. He is so close, I can feel the heat from his bare skin - still flushed with passion. *Trowa's* passion... I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from hitting him - to hurt him the way he has hurt me.
He's faster, but I'm stronger. A fight would be too close, but the anger, hurt and pain would give me impetus to win.
And he would lose. If Duo feels for me even a *fraction* of what I feel for him, the sheer *guilt* would cause him to lose.
He's beautiful up close, his long hair loose about him, framing those huge violet eyes, the silky tips brushing against his thighs. So hard to remember that I'm angry with him when all I want to do is reach out and pull him into my arms... tear away the sheet and pin him down... drive him wild with pleasure till he screams my name in the throes of ecstasy.
Burn the memory of Trowa from every cell in his traitorous body.
How could he do this to me? Doesn't he know what he means to me?
'You never told him,' my conscience - blast it all to hell, my conscience has *Duo's* voice - tells me.
What's there to tell when I have declared it with my whole life. When have I ever loved anyone enough to give of my body?
"Heero, please," Duo pleads with me, walking alongside me, keeping step with my unrelenting stride. "Trowa just needed someone... "
To hell with Trowa; Trowa has Quatre. *I'm* the one who needs you - like a drowning man needs air.
Heero Yuy, the perfect soldier, reduced to needing the companionship and love of his stupid, loudmouthed, braided partner. The very thought of it is ridiculous, and I might have laughed if I didn't think I would also start crying. You bastard... you've reduced me to needing you... needing your voice and your laughter and your presence in my life. Did it even occur to you how *I* might feel, you stupid baka?! Is this just one big game to you, something you do to entertain yourself?
"After the mission, Trowa needed someone with him, and -"
"And?" I spin on him, the single word a curse, dripping with hatred.
The sudden flare of pain in the violet eyes pierces my heart like a stake. Damn. I have to stop *feeling* for this idiot. It's perfectly clear now that I mean *nothing* to him. How could I if he would just throw himself into bed with Trowa? Cold fury simmers, festering like an infected wound... I may not physically strike out at Duo, but by hell, Trowa will *pay* for taking Duo from me.
"And he needed comfort?" I continue with slow, deliberate cruelty. Hurt Duo. Hurt myself. It's the only way to kill the love I feel for him, the love that has made a fool of me. "If he needed comfort, you could have bought him a *puppy*. You didn't have to let your hair down and spread your legs for him." I flick my hand out at the chestnut locks, loose about his face - so soft and silky.
I remember the first time he wore it loose around me, the first time we made love. Softly shimmering, like rare silk against our skin, a gauzy veil that gave the illusion of separating us, yet only heightened the sensations, the passion. He came to me that night offering a massage - reduce the stress, he'd said - but we landed up claiming each other's virginity. Is this what he does for all the others? Offer his body as 'stress reduction'?
He should asked me for a referral then, I've had the benefit of 'stress reduction' for the past three months now. I can't help the bitter curve of the smirk on my lips. So I'm nothing but a good cause to him - do it for the sake of the war and the victory we seek? I should have known better... How could Death come to care for *anything*?
He sees the smirk and he understands, almost as if reading my thoughts. The stupid boy was always so good at seeing through me. Funny though how he only seems to see what he wants to see. It's just as well though. He doesn't see - and I don't want him to see - the love, I can't afford to give him any more power over me.
His anger flares, and for a moment, I forget my own hurt, caught up in admiration of his stunning beauty - the way violet fire sears his eyes, his spirit so strong and so alive, shimmering with barely leashed energy. Everything I love about him... The relationship was always more equal than our friends would probably have believed; long hair does not a submissive lover make. My Duo does not stand for physical or verbal abuse; he is strong and spirited - I could not have loved him otherwise.
"You think I'm a slut?!" the words are torn from him, angry and low. An undercurrent of pain in that lovely tenor, but I harden my heart - the humanity he so cruelly restored to me over the past three months starts to rip away again.
I think I shall never trust again in the frailty of love.
He stares at me, silently. Those elegant, graceful hands curl into fists, the pale blue veins standing out sharply, taut with building tension. We know each other too well... He aches to do it, but he won't hit me either.
And if we will not hit each other, then there's only one thing left to do.
Walk away.
He turns and walks away, head held high, his face deliberately impassive - a reflection of my own. I hear his light, steady footsteps fade away behind me.
It's funny how true knowledge comes in moments like these. When I saw him with Trowa, when I first turned and walked away... it was then that I realized I loved him...
And now, when he turns and walks away from me, that I realize that the love I feel for him... it is still there. Just pointless now. Unwanted and unneeded...
~~ooO@Ooo~~DUO~~ooO@Ooo~~
Curse words fail me at this point. There's nothing left to say, just the deep well of endless, inexpressible pain. My nails dig deeply into my palm, scoring marks in the tender flesh. Heero always said my hands were too smooth, too un-callused to be the hands of a warrior. I always laughed when he said it. It was just loving teasing, wasn't it?
Or were those damned remarks calculated to hurt and I was always just too stupid, too blind with love for that insensitive man to see it?
He thinks I'm a slut.
The word rips like a thousand blades through me, and I think I would die if I were not already starting to grow numb to all the pain. He thinks me so cheap... the bastard tossed away the love and the body I offered like they were so much trash. So that was all it ever was to him... just some warm body, a good lay.
The bastard could at least have *lied* to me... the goddamned truth hurts so much...
I feel myself growing tense again and grit my teeth so hard my jaw begins to ache. I won't let you do it, Heero. I won't let you... won't let this... tear me apart. I'm stronger than that, Heero, do you hear? My love for you won't be my undoing, it won't destroy me.
What hurts most is that you wouldn't even listen... wouldn't let me explain... Wouldn't you have done the same for Trowa too? He was torn and hurting... he needed someone but was too ashamed to let Quatre see him that way. If you had seen him you would have understood too...
Or maybe you wouldn't have... Heero Yuy. The Perfect Soldier. What the hell would you have known of friendship... or compassion... or love? What a fool I was... thinking that I was good enough to convince you otherwise... good enough to make you feel something... anything... again. The damned I-can-do-anything ego will be the death of me one day.
It... *You* screwed me over badly today.
I tell myself that the slight tremor in my body is from the chill of the air against my bare skin, still slick with water from the bath. It's not anger, or shock, or pain. Heero isn't worth that kind of reaction. Not any more, I tell myself, the words striking like the tolling of a heavy bell against my heart.
At least I never told him I loved him. It would just have been something else Heero would have used against me, twisting it like a sword in my body. My hands are trembling so hard - in anger or pain, doesn't matter which, they are one and the same - that it's hard to rebraid my hair. I haven't done it in so long now either, I'm almost surprised the act of braiding hair still comes naturally. Heero was fascinated with my hair; he liked to play with it, sometimes messing with it until I threatened playfully to smack him. He'd insist on helping me wash it and dry it, then would comb it and braid it for me.
I miss the feel of his strong, graceful hands in my hair. I miss him. The bastard thinks I'm a slut and I *miss* him. Damn you, Heero. Damn you for your cruelty. Damn you to whatever hell will have you...
You didn't have to hurt me like this. You could have told me it was over, and I would have accepted it. Eventually, at least. Reluctantly. I would have kept loving you... I would have lived with the physical distance between us if that was what you wanted... It would have saved the friendship, at least.
You didn't have to do it this way... You didn't have to cheapen what I feel for you because I *know* it's love, and it's worth something.
If you don't want me... oh God, no... not tears running down my cheeks... I won't let the worthless bastard drive me to tears...
I swipe them away quickly, as I grind my teeth together, trying to summon the anger that gives me strength through the pain... You don't want me... don't want my love... It doesn't matter, Heero Yuy. You're not my whole world.
Not any more...
End Part 2
(:./danyale/tangled2)
