24 Sep 2000
Category: Angst
Pairing: 1x2/2x1; discussion of 1+R
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own, neither do I intend to infringe.
Warnings: Angst; shounen-ai; lime (I think). I don't find this OOC; others may. No spoilers--it's set vaguely after the war(s). Notes: This is the last addition to the 'Complicated' arc (though it can certainly stand here on its own little printed feet, so you needn't go looking for other parts if you'd rather not), and goes right before 'It Would Be Life'. Or after it--doesn't really matter, since the two go together.
For some reason I'm especially nervous about this one--so be gentle, minna, if you would. Why do I torture Duo like this? I've no idea! ^_^ (Thanks to Q-sama for all her help and support--ni zui hao, xiaomeimei!)
/ denotes thoughts
There may come a time when I will lose you;
Lose you as I lose my sight,
Days falling backward into velvet night
---Paul Simon, "Further to Fly"
He only saw it by accident. He turned incidentally, as he had turned a thousand times before with some comment on the crowd, the lack of breeze, or any of a thousand other inconsequential things. If Duo hadn't, he never would have seen it--and Heero never would have said anything, so he might never have known for sure.
As revelations went, this one took the prize for sheer scale. There was a three-story vidscreen mounted over the square, usually split to show stock prices at the top, sports in the middle, and some sort of cartoon at the bottom. Today, out of some well-intentioned spirit of celebration, the screen was showing one unified image: Vice-Foreign Minister Relena Peacecraft, icon of the post-war world. A Day in the Life, Echoes from the Past, some kind of tribute. The screen lingered lovingly over the images, slowing down a normal newsclip until Relena looked like a movie star, all swirling hair and huge eyes.
Duo snorted, and was about to elbow his companion with a sarcastic comment about the reliable stupidity of the media, when he saw the look on Heero's face. He had already seen the screen, obviously--had already seen her, and hadn't yet managed to look away. There weren't words for that expression, really. Not quite joy. Pain, perhaps. Desperation? Exaltation? That was it: exaltation. As if a saint were reaching down to him from its plaster base to issue benediction. And it was only there for a moment.
It was gone so quickly from the guarded eyes that Duo wasn't sure he had seen it at all--but the flash of tension when Heero noticed him watching was enough to prove that his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him. That second tense look went through Duo like a bullet, in one side and out the other. The pain was so visceral that he almost checked for an exit wound.
So it was still like that, was it?
Duo had known there was something else, something in the way, but had almost convinced himself it was just a post-traumatic stress thing. You didn't just take the soldiers out of uniform and drop them into everyday life without a few frayed wires, a few missed connections, and Heero's occasional retreats made perfect sense if you looked at them as residual battle fatigue. Both of them needed time to figure this 'peace' thing out, after all; even roommate relationships weren't built in a day, and this was supposed to be rather more than that. A lot more. It all made perfect sense.
/He still loves her./
That made perfect sense, too.
/Here we go again. Damn it all./
/Please, not now./ Not when he almost had this figured out. He kicked absently at a defenseless twist of newspaper on the sidewalk, earning a questioning glance from Heero. Duo shook his head and smiled back--a reassuring smile, and entirely without baggage. At least, he hoped so.
/Nothing to see here, buddy. Move along, move along; we have about six more errands to do in town before we can go home. Hah. Home--we're the only ones still hanging around that house, now that the others have moved on. Not that I'm complaining--it's been great. Beyond great--by a couple thousand miles, at least. I have a funny feeling those days are numbered, though, and counting down fast./
He made sure not to kick the next wad of newspaper; it wouldn't have helped all that much, anyway.
/You're obsessing, Maxwell. So he looked at her. You were looking at her. Half the city was looking at her--the screen was thirty feet high, for pete's sake. Let it go./ But it wouldn't go away, and he couldn't make his mind stop going back to that expression again and again, until he was sure he'd go crazy. Crazier.
It shouldn't have been a surprise--Duo kept telling himself that, all the way home. No surprise at all. He had watched their shy, evasive dance from its beginning, hadn't he? He ought to have come to terms with this by now. It was just that he had thought it was over, that it had ended with the war. Had hoped so, anyway. /Wrong again, huh? Surprise, surprise. Ever consider using those eyes, Maxwell?/
Somehow, he made it through the rest of an uneventful afternoon without saying anything--made it most of the way through dinner, too. But even Duo's consummate cool was starting to show signs of wear, and something had to give.
Enough of this. He hadn't forgotten how to dive headlong into a firefight, no matter how bad his odds. Still, he chose his words carefully.
"Hey, did you see her highness on the megavid? Some slow-mo, huh?"
The almost-grey eyes flicked up, then went back to his plate. "Aa."
"She always did photograph well, I guess."
"I guess so."
"So, you heard from her lately?" The tone was innocently curious, but Heero wasn't buying it. He shot Duo a searching look, but got only the side view of a carefully-averted face. Not quite sure what land mines might be just ahead of his feet, he stepped cautiously. At least, he tried to.
"Not likely. She's got better things to do."
It was not the right answer, although the only indication of his misstep was an almost invisible setting of Duo's shoulders, a minute release of breath as if an anticipated shoe had finally dropped. But Duo recovered quickly, all that training paying off: roll with the impact, find your feet, return fire.
"Well, maybe her schedule will clear up one of these days, and you'll finally get pencilled in." Duo was smiling, delivering the one-liner like it was part of his usual banter. It almost was, and the whole performance was a dead-on imitation of himself.
Heero couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong, that the whole room had tilted sideways and he was in danger of smashing into the opposite wall. What the--? What exactly did Duo think he had seen? It had just been such a shock, seeing her like that. The cameras had backed off for the last few months, so there had been fewer and fewer glossies plastering the newsstands and vidscreens. And then today--he'd only seen that particular smile once, way back before she knew what she was getting into. Before she even knew who he was. It had just been a surprise, nothing more. Certainly nothing for Duo to get this upset about.
If, in fact, he was upset--it was irritatingly hard to tell. Heero narrowed his eyes at his sort-of-roommate, who was stacking plates in the sink. /What's going on in there, Duo? You're slamming doors in my face again./
He pushed his chair back and went to stand behind Duo, reaching around him to run water over the stacked dishes. "You never remember to rinse them."
"I remember, all right. It's just more fun to make you help with the dishes." Duo leaned back, just a little, into the reassuring warmth of that familiar chest. /Normal, normal. Let things be normal. Please./ "Hey, watch it with the splashing!"
Reassured by Duo's predictable spluttering, meeting his glare with a half-smile, Heero turned off the tap and dried his hands. "The movie starts in half an hour."
Well, that much was normal--Heero approached their entertainment schedule as if it were a top-priority mission, and T-minus thirty minutes meant 'hurry up and get your shoes on.' So Duo did what he was learning to do best--don't look it in the eye, put it away, wait it out. Tonight, that meant sitting through the world's stupidest action movie, staring out of the corner of his eye at the world's most impassive profile.
It only looked impassive, and Duo knew it; Heero simply didn't waste energy maintaining a pleasant public face, preferring instead to save up his expressions for a more select audience. All of his expressions. Including that naked almost-adoration he'd been wearing that afternoon.
/Do you ever shut up? Guess not./ Duo tried to force his attention to the mayhem on screen, but kept having to fight the urge to bolt. /This is hopeless. I think I'm going to be sick./
Beside him, Heero felt more and more uneasy as he watched Duo unconsciously tear the rim of a popcorn carton into a neat fringe, as he felt the restless shifting of the boot closest to his foot. Half the time, those dark eyes were fixed on the seat in front of him, not even making it to the screen. This was not good. But every time he tried to catch Duo's attention, he got only the same "all-okay" smile.
/You are not okay, Duo. And you're not fooling me, either. If I have to, I'll--well, we'll see what I can do about it when I get you home./ Heero folded his arms resolutely, taking the opportunity to get a grip on several inches of Duo's sleeve.
The evening air was still and slightly humid as the moviegoers filed back out onto the street--it was rather warm, at least for September, but welcome after the chill of the cinema.
They walked to the tram in something like their usual companionable silence, used to matching their steps so that Heero's quicker pace was cancelled out by Duo's longer legs. Glad to be in motion at last, Duo tried to remember what a light mood felt like, so as to counterfeit it more convincingly if that turned out to be necessary.
He let their fingers brush past each other twice before giving in and taking Heero's silently-offered hand. /Peace? Okay, then. But don't go holding on like that unless you mean it. Give me half a chance and I'll fasten on to you like a mountain climber clings to his piton, my friend. You sure you want that kind of death grip? As if I didn't know the answer to that one--you're already half a mile away from me, and you don't even know it yet./
There weren't enough seats, as usual, and so they had to stand. This was familiar, too--swaying to accommodate the rocking of the tram, knees flexed against sudden jolts, the accidental contact absolutely maddening. More people boarded, and now he was pressed so close to Heero that the contact was almost continuous--so close that the slightest jostling meant meltdown, nowhere to look but into his eyes. It was enough to make you cry. /There ought to be a law, Heero. You ought to be taken off the streets and locked in a box. God, I wish--/
Duo started to close his eyes, but an insistent jerk of their clasped hands made him look up again. Heero was not quite smiling, but the intent on his face was unmistakable. /That's better. I need to see your eyes, Duo. Don't hide in there--not from me./
Someone behind Duo tapped him on the shoulder, needing to pass to the door--he obediently took a half-step forward to make room, Heero's free arm going around his waist to steady him. No space at all between them, now. Duo heard himself gasp--it seemed he wasn't the only one going up in flames here. /Oh, sweet Jesus. You, too? Of all the times to go combustible on me--as if I weren't already enough of a mess tonight./
Heero was definitely smiling now, his eyes deep and dangerous. He didn't let go when the doors closed again, but maintained the embrace. Swallowing hard, Duo tightened his grip on the cool metal of the nearest handhold, willing himself not to collapse. /Was I born wanting you like this? I must have been--I don't really remember living before, so..../
Ten more stops. There were advantages to living at the very end of the line, but just then Duo would have given anything for an apartment a block away from the damn theater. And then Heero started to talk to him, the low voice a rumble just by his ear.
"You think I don't know something's wrong, Duo? I'm not going to let you do it--wall yourself off like this. I can get over anything you can build, every time." Heero felt weightless, held to earth only by the fascinating hitches in Duo's otherwise controlled breathing, by the heat of his flushed face. So close--much more of this, and Heero knew he'd have no choice but to turn and take that mouth, commuters be damned. "Watch me, Duo. I can take that wall apart faster than you can stack the bricks."
Torture, that's what this was. Illegal under every international treaty ever drafted. /I hate it when he decides to get all articulate in public./ Duo held on to the pole as if that could keep his knees from buckling, and tried to think pure thoughts. It was hard, very hard. That hand on his back wouldn't let him step away, and every curve in the tracks brought sensations that should have been setting off the fire alarms. The other hand hadn't let go of his, and its palm moved against his own in slow, spine-melting circles. And that rough, resonant voice coiling around him, pulling at him.
"You've been running from me all night. Can't run now, though, can you?"
Duo shook his head, eyes mercifully closed.
"Didn't think so. You don't want to run any more, do you? No hiding?"
He shook his head again, setting his jaw against the need to make some sort of sound.
"Duo. Look at me."
He looked up, finally, and Heero moved back just enough to be able to see his face. If Heero had ever thought he held the advantage, his smugness didn't last long.
/God, Duo. How do you fit so much into those eyes? It's not fair. Everything I can do to get to you, everything I try--it's nothing compared to the places you take me just by opening your eyes. I'm always having to run just to keep up./ He drew an unsteady breath, tightening his hold on Duo's hand.
The tram lights flashed off, then back on: end of the line. They waited politely for the car to clear, making their escape only when most of the other passengers were far enough down the platform that they could avoid open embarrassment.
/Getting home would be easier if my knees didn't feel like boiled spaghetti, and if my sense of balance didn't seem to have gone out the window, and if--/ Thinking along these lines was not making it easier to walk, let alone match Heero's quick strides, so Duo gave up trying to concentrate and broke into a run.
He wasn't trying to run away, not really. It just looked that way, as he bolted across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot and down the road that led to the cottage. He was just running, trees and buildings whipping past him until he was passing only trees. Feeling the cooling air on his face, through his hair--and only partly listening for the pounding feet behind him. Not running away at all.
But he wasn't surprised when Heero tackled him into the tall grass beside the lane, sending both of them rolling through the leaves and weed-stems. They ended up a tangle of arms and legs at the edge of the undergrowth, breathless from more than the impact.
It wasn't a sight most people ever got to see: Heero Yuy laughing, the tumbled hair falling into eyes lit with desire. So bright he was like a flame in the semi-darkness. Duo wanted so badly to give in to him that it was like a pain in his chest, but his mind was already completing the roster of other people who could make Heero light up like that. It wasn't a long list: Relena. Just Relena.
Duo rolled out from under Heero in one quick motion, or almost did--he was brought up short, cursing as his hair caught on the thorny twigs of some sort of low-growing bush. Heero held him still with one hand on his shoulder, patiently coaxing the brambles out of the long plait.
"You ought to either cut this thing off or wrap it around your head, if you're going to get back to nature like this." /Don't re-braid it,/ he wanted to say. /Leave it down, and let me--just let me. I want to make it right, whatever it is. Here and now, Duo. Please./
But even his conservative attempt at connection didn't work--Duo was building that damn wall again, and didn't even crack a smile. Heero handed him the half-unraveled braid, and then waited while he re-wove the last foot or so and snapped the band back into place.
Silence, broken only by the sound of cars passing on the main road, and a few slightly-chilled crickets attempting to chirp. This was going to require more direct action.
"I thought you weren't going to run any more."
"Don't--just don't. This isn't some kind of game, Heero. And I'm not a light switch you can just turn on whenever you're feeling especially dark." /Except that you can--oh, can you ever./
"What can I do if you won't talk to me?" /Come on, Duo. Let me in there with you./
But he was already standing up, shaking bits of crushed grass off his clothes. "The ground's totally soggy, and it's getting cold. I'm going home."
Heero dragged an exasperated hand through his hair before rising to follow.
The kitchen light was only one bulb, but it was painfully bright after the soft darkness of the lane. Duo caught sight of his own pale, pinched-looking reflection in the window and determinedly squared his shoulders, standing up straighter while he ran water into a glass.
The screen door opened again, and fell shut with a rattle of the latch. Heero hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter next to the sink and sat looking at him. "Talk, Duo. Please."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Whatever you need me to hear. Whatever you've been trying to say all day. I need words on this one, Duo."
"Fine. I saw how you looked at her. I know why. And I'm trying to figure out what to do about it."
Heero didn't have to ask for particulars--he should have seen this coming, and now he cursed himself for not heading it off sooner. "I don't know what you thought you saw, but this is ridiculous. How long were you planning to rip yourself up about this before you would talk?"
"Heero. I've been living with this one for years--I didn't figure another couple of hours would make all that much difference."
"You're not making sense." Heero felt shaken, and annoyed by his increasing sense of helplessness. Where was all this coming from?
"I'm not making sense? You're too much, Yuy. I may be a deluded idiot, but at least I'm not cutting off half of myself--maybe more--out of some misguided sense of propriety, or just plain fear. Tell me just how much sense that makes, would you?"
"Just what is it you think I'm scared of?" He knew it was a deflection even as he asked the idiotic question; why couldn't he seem to form some sort of reassurance, instead?
"That she'd say no. That she'd say yes. That you might find out what happens when the princess finally gets around to kissing that frog. She's going to change you, Yuy--she already has, and you know it. No matter how long you hide out here with another soldier boy, pretending nothing's changed, you know she's gotten inside your head. And I think that scares you silly." He felt light-headed, almost giddy with the relief of putting all of it into words.
"Duo--" Heero broke off, then tried again. "I haven't even seen her in over a year."
It wasn't good enough. "Not in person, maybe. But you know, this ménage à trois might be easier to take if she were actually here, and not just presiding over your fantasy life." It was well over the line, and Duo knew it. But he couldn't stop. "She's on the pedestal, and I'm--well, I'm nowhere near that untouchable, am I? You never even had to ask. Too easy. I made it too easy."
Heero considered a number of possible responses, most of them angry, but words had never seemed more futile. It was as if this conversation had happened already, its end settled in advance. Inevitable, unbearable, but hypnotic--like watching an accident, only from inside the car going over the guardrail. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because it's so damn much fun, Heero, why else? Because I'm having the best time making you look yourself in the eye for once." /Because I love you, and you don't even know what that means. I hope she can teach you, since I seem to have dropped the ball on that one. You deserve to know./ "I won't be anybody's contingency plan, Heero. Find another stand-in."
He thought he was setting the glass down reasonably gently, at least until it shattered on the counter. It took at least two heartbeats before Duo realized he had cut his hand on the broken pieces.
Before Duo could stop him, Heero had slid off the counter and was fishing in a drawer for a dish towel. Twice around the palm, direct pressure for five minutes: basic field dressing, page six-A of the training manual.
It was a very long five minutes, half a lifetime of staring at their hands on the countertop.
/Mine, and yours--you and me, Heero. This wasn't ever supposed to be a forever thing, not really. But I went and got used to it, and now walking away is going to feel like lopping off a leg. Or two. Because this is over, isn't it? Something has died, and it's here in this room with us waiting for a decent shroud. Pitiful. I should have walked away years ago--developed a nice impossible crush on Wufei, instead. Or put the moves on Quatre--now there's a giving soul. Something tells me I'd have been lion chow a long time ago, if I'd so much as tried--but anything would be better than having to stand here like the colossal idiot I am, having to realize that there's no way to go forward from this. Not together, anyway./
Heero tried to look at him, but couldn't. /I'm doing it again--I'm killing you, all over again. This has to stop./ He concentrated on the pale wrist in his hands, waiting for its tracing of veins to become characters that might tell him what to do next. /I've died before--I can do it again, for you. How many times do I have to self-destruct before I'm allowed to stay alive? Until I get it right, I guess--and I definitely don't deserve it yet. I'll go. In just a minute, I will./
Wishing he could stop himself, knowing this would only make it worse, Heero moved closer. Arms fiercely tight around the tense shoulders, he laid his face against the gathered brown hair. It was home--and he couldn't stay. The pain went too deep for tears; he had taken a beautiful thing, something he never should have been trusted with, and broken it.
"Gomen, Duo. Gomen nasai." /Noventa's granddaughter was right: I am a coward. Taking refuge in a language you barely speak./ "You know that I--"
But Duo understood the words, at least. "I know. And I'm sorry, too."
He was still standing at the kitchen window when Heero came back downstairs with his bag, still standing there when the slow footsteps paused behind him. No point in looking up to meet those reflected eyes in the darkened glass.
Then the door swung shut, so carefully that this time it didn't clatter against the doorframe.
Three days later. It felt like years; it felt like seconds.
Duo stared out the shuttle window as if there were anything to see besides his own reflection. They'd be docking in a few minutes, and he would need that time to get his act ready--Hilde had been delighted to get his call, and soon he'd have a whole new kind of normal to bury himself in. Buried as surely and completely as any other dead thing--if only he could be as invisible, as decently shielded from the eyes of the living.
An arrival chime sounded, and he gathered up his duffel. /Here we go again./
The End
(:./lilias/daysfall)
