07-Jul-2000
Title: Perfect Dream of Love
Author: Traed (Rayjahr@hotmail.com)
Warnings: None really.
Archive: If anyone wants it sure, just let me know
Pairing: 1+2, 3+4 implied
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em more's pity...but boy don't I wish
Note: I'm on a binge, that might just run out tomorrow (god I hope not). This was little piece of a bigger fic
that my hard drive destroyed this afternoon and rather than try to rewrite from memory (help!) I'm sending what
I managed to save....it's just a little introspective piece.
Feedback: appreciated thanks much
P.S. this is dedicated to everyone that sent me feedback on my last piece that gave me the confidence to try for another
thank you all...especially Meph whose response to the last I didn't see until I went to the archive to check what I'd missed
during my brief period of having no harddrive and no mail. Thank you all.
"I am having the perfect dream of love" (*)
Maxwell snores, I'm not surprised, even at a time meant for rest he is ever in motion twitching about and kicking his pillows off the bed, so why should I be surprised that even without consciousness he can't be quiet. He also sleeps upside down. This is a rare opportunity for me as I usually do not share a room with any of the others. When we are together they have their little clique duets that I do not, cannot share.
It is not my nature to form bonds easily, so here I am up at some ungodly hour of the night watching Maxwell fight his demons in unconsciousness. I do not dream, or if I do I don't remember and it's a blessing I am thankful for, but it is fascinating to observe how others face sleep, and for a moment Yuy's face crosses my mind. It was infinitesimal, that pause between him and Maxwell, as he was taking his leave, their way of reassuring the other that everything was ok. Both couples have their own particular language of love, and I must admit it took me quite a while to decipher the code.
I've never really had friends in my life, my family didn't encourage exposure to others beyond what they deemed necessary for me to perform my duties optimally. It's a strange and wonderful phenomenon, letting others in, even if they are not aware that they are in. I remember the first time I consciously realized that these four were not simply comrades in arms, but a firm and essential reason of why I fight. It's not simply for the colonies, nor my justice. No, it was for the feeling of warmth and belonging that encompassed me whenever we all happened to be stationed at the same safe house and we have a free day when we are simply nobodies.
Just five boys secure in who and what we were to each other. I would come in from morning meditation to find Maxwell halfway through the third bowl of sugar that he laughingly calls cereal, with Yuy trying unobtrusively to act like he wasn't inhaling the sight of a truly happy and content Duo free of his masks. I have all their mannerisms memorized, something to hope for. Something for me to dream of, as I too wish to find someone who looks at me as if my smile was the real reason for living.
It makes me feel good to watch them and cheer as Yuy successfully navigates the minefields that are his emotions, and every time we have one of these days I alternate my time between one couple and the next, supporting silently each pair as they grow comfortable in the skin of their love.
You wouldn't think it with Yuy being as he is, but their relationship is actually the most stable and relaxed of the two. Duo and Heero understand each other, perfect complements, they fit as perfectly together as two pieces of a very complicated puzzle. They are both dark, two shadows that band together to carve their own niche in the light. Their language is of intense heat and passionate gazes.
Winner and Barton are the exact opposite. Barton has this fear inside him, that while he is fairly adept at hiding it if you spend enough time in his company you cannot help but to notice. He says just as much with his silence as Duo does with his non-stop chatter. When I first met him, I had compared him to Yuy, but as time has gone on I have revised my judgement.
Heero is a warrior, a fighter in the truest sense of the word. He has a cause, a reason and goal. Heero is the stuff of legends, a slayer of Dragons, and if he could stand Queen Relena, he would rescue Damsels. Heero was born to be a hero. Barton on the other hand, would be whispered of with fear colored words. Whereas Heero is a soldier, I think Barton would be more an assassin. Swift, silent, and ruthless in the kill. Barton has facets that I'll never be able to decipher, but that I think he is quite aware of and it is this self-awareness that gives him his fear. He knows what he's capable of and he is highly proficient at controlling his actions. But this fear is also what hinders his relationship with Quatre.
He has this false view of his 'angel' and he won't allow himself to truly see that while Quatre is by far the most light of us five, he too also inhabits the shadow land. How could he not? He is also an integral part of this war with the rest of us. No 'angel' could fully do what we do, and not be stained by the blood. Luckily Quatre can read his love like a cheap book, and takes steps to ensure that slowly but surely Trowa comes around to his way of thinking. Persistent is what he is. And over time, that persistence has paid off. Their language is that of quiet moments and loving glances.
I should sleep, tomorrow is too soon. For the first time in a long time I wish to dream... I want my own language...
The end
note:
(*) quote from another of my poems.
(:./traed/dream)
