14 Aug 2002
Title: Breaking the Silence
Author: Yoiko
Warnings: yaoi, light lemon
He's a man of few words. That's what they say about him, and in a way it's true. More often than not, he doesn't speak unless spoken to. He doesn't hum or mutter to himself; unless there is a reason for it, he doesn't break the silence. Since I, too, am a man of few words, there is often silence between us, but we've always understood one another in a way that didn't require words. He didn't have to explain what was on his mind; I knew. I like to think that he understood me, too.
It took almost two years before I heard from him, after Dekim's last takeover attempt had been finally, permanently ended. He disappeared, and not even Duo could find him.
Two years of silence, and then I received an email. "I'd like to see you again," it said. "If you want to. These are my coordinates."
And that was all. He'd broken the silence, so that was reason enough to go. I found him living a hermit's existence, in a small cabin with two huge dogs.
"I like dogs," he said; further explanation wasn't necessary. I guessed that he'd built the house himself; it was sturdy and secure, and a day's walk from the nearest town. I noticed that there was no sign of technology; the cabin didn't even have electricity or running water. It was clear that he'd had enough of technology, and being a slave to computers.
He'd had to walk to town to send me an email.
He made dinner from garden vegetables and the fish he'd caught that afternoon; the dogs had leftover venison stew. As we ate, I watched him. Still the same shadowy blue eyes, same ragged mop of hair, same work-roughened hands. He'd grown a little, filled out a little, but he was still the same Heero.
He was nervous about something, too, but I knew. I understood. And as his eyes met mine, he knew, too. He didn't have to say it. He'd worked for two years wrestling with his demons, struggling to define himself.
And now...
He broke the silence.
"Trowa," he said.
"I know," I told him, and opened my arms to him. Holding him felt as free and natural as coming home after a long day. Words weren't necessary. My heart matched his, beat for beat. I kissed his lips, his cheeks, his closed eyelids, drowning in the silence, understanding, knowing what he felt.
The silence was near-perfect as I drew him to the bed, pulled clothing out of the way, plunged into him, lost myself in him again and again. I pressed my cheek against his sweat-dewed skin as we waited for the world to catch up, and the silence was a comfortable one; so much didn't need to be said to be understood.
In the morning, he smiled, and the sweet ache of it made tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I wanted him to know, to understand, how rare and precious and treasured he is...
So I told him. He smiled, and hugged me tightly.
Our understanding is beyond words... but sometimes silence is meant to be broken.
-owari-
(:./yoiko/break)
