05-May-2000
Warnings: language, death (sort of), really mean Wufei
Feedback: PLEASE!!!!
Disclaimers: The G-boys are not mine. If they were mine, I wouldn't really
do such not-nice things to them like putting them in alternate universes
without cool mechs and suchforth. Please to not sue.
~TB
Heero glanced at his watch. "Late," he grunted.
Wufei absently snagged one of Heero's fries. "You're surprised?"
"Well--no, but--I told him I wouldn't be able to wait for him today." Heero scowled and slapped Wufei's hand as the Chinese boy reached for another potato. "Get your own food!"
"Look, you want me to give him a message or something? I've got time to wait for him."
Heero glanced at his watch again. *Damnit, Duo,* he muttered to himself. *Now I'M late, too.* "Shit," he grumbled, and stood. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "I have to go, or my teacher'll flay me alive. Tell Duo that he needs to call me tonight, okay? After eight. And to look in his locker."
Wufei nodded. "You gonna eat those?"
The other boy was disgusted. "Take them," he snapped, and left. Wufei shrugged, and pulled the plate toward him across the cafeteria table.
Predictably, Duo arrived not a minute after Heero's departure. Panting and grinning widely, he slid onto the bench beside Wufei, and immediately stuffed a handful of the fries into his mouth. "Did I miss Heero?" he asked, around the huge mouthful.
"Yeah."
"Oh." Duo seemed disappointed; he chewed slowly, and washed down his swallow with a gulp from Wufei's cola. "He say anything?" he asked.
Wufei smiled. "Nope."
"Oh." Duo crammed another handful in, attempting to eat and open his history notebook at the same time. Several papers fell out, much to the braided boy's annoyance. "Get those for me?" He took another sip of Wufei's drink. "I have a make-up test next bell. Walk me to it?"
Wufei nodded. Under the guise of bending to pick up the spilled papers, he managed a quick caress against Duo's bare ankle, prompting a furious blush from the other boy, and a muffled noise that Wufei took as affectionate gratitude. "And what are you doing after school?" he asked, straightening.
"Me'n Heero are studying for Physics. Yeah, put them in the pocket. What was the lasting affect to Germany of the Thirty Year's War?"
"You might want to ask someone who actually attends class, Duo." Just as they finished reorganising Duo's notebook, the bell rang--Duo groaned, not having gotten any worthwhile studying in--and Wufei laughed as Duo, exaggerating wildly, bemoaned his duty to education.
"I wish you'd come to class," the braided boy interrupted himself, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and standing. "I'd get to see you more."
"You could come with me."
"Skip, you mean?" Duo shook his head, prompting a sweep of bangs to fall into his eyes. "No way. I want to pass the year."
"I'm not completely failing," Wufei objected, laughing. Obligingly he took the books out of his friend's arms as they began to head for the exit. "I'll still graduate--sometime this century."
"Well... I guess maybe I could skip just this once--"
"Better not, on second thought. You made me promise not to entice you with Un-Duo-Like Behaviour, if I remember correctly--and I do. If *I* bend the rules, then you might, too, and *your* promise concerns the most important thing in my life."
Duo stopped dead, eyes wide, the hand that was caught in Wufei's suddenly squeezing hard. "You mean--"
Wufei turned to face him fully. He considered the American teenager critically, a little astonished by the strange way he always seemed to act around this boy... Did he mean that? Honestly?
The bell rang.
Duo cursed. "I have to go," he said, but he didn't move; his eyes were locked on Wufei's face, searching, almost afraid to hope.
Wufei forced a smile. "I'm catching a ride out to the city with some friends. Leaving now. I'll catch you tomorrow, Duo."
Was that disappointment? Maybe not. Duo grinned in return, and skipped off without another word. He did not look back.
Wufei stood in the rapidly emptying hallway, indulging in a rare moment of introspection. When had Duo started changing him, anyway? He was going to be ruined by that straight-laced preppie.
But oddly enough, he couldn't really bring himself to care.
Slowly he walked through the hallways of the large Catholic school. Duo's locker appeared as if by magic in front of him. Mechanically, using the combination he had memorised ages ago, he opened it.
A folded note decorated an ancient and decaying lunch bag. Wrinkling his nose slightly, Wufei reached in and withdrew the paper.
It was from Heero, of course. Wufei knew that without even glancing at the familiar handwriting that had scrawled the address on the front fold. Briefly he flirted with the idea of simply throwing it out, unopened--but he didn't have the constitution to do that. He shut the locker and unfolded the note right there, scanning the contents through narrowed eyes.
"Isn't this interesting," he whispered. A sneer twisted his mouth as he read. "I knew you would try something like this, Yuy. Well, guess what--he promised me. You're out of the picture. And I know for a fact that he'll keep that promise."
The sneer became a grin as he extracted his lighter from his pocket, and clinked it into a tiny flame. The briefest touch of the fire to the corner of the paper produced a happy little blaze; Wufei dropped it and watched the note burn itself to ashes, the grin never leaving his eyes, though the smile fell away from his mouth. When it was over, he scattered the ashes with the toe of his shoe.
"Sayonara, Yuy."
Heero stared at the telephone.
The phone just sat there. Phones were like that sometimes.
Heero transferred his stare to the clock. "It's after nine-thirty," he said.
The clock didn't reply. Clocks so rarely did.
Heero pummeled his pillow into a lumpy comfortable shape and lay down dispiritedly. "Did he get my note?" he demanded of the ceiling. "I mean, how could he get my note and not call me? Or come over? I'd like it if he came over."
The ceiling didn't seem to care too much, one way or the other.
Heero sighed.
He'd worked so hard composing that letter--pouring out his heart in the bluntest possible terms, just so there'd be no mistakes made. And Duo hadn't called.
"You don't think he's with Chang? You don't think maybe Chang didn't give him my message? But he still would have seen the note, as soon as he went to his locker. Or maybe he just put it in a pocket and forgot he had it? He'll find it soon, then. And then he'll call. Or meet me tomorrow morning, maybe."
Wouldn't he?
Duo wouldn't just ignore... everything. Well, so far he had, but Heero had been ignoring it too, and maybe Duo had just taken his cue from the other boy. Maybe Duo thought that Heero was embarrassed, and was trying to be respectful. Duo occasionally surprised him with his sensitivity to little things like that.
"But I'm *not* embarrassed. I guess I should be, but I'm not. I--I'm *glad* it happened. Is he scared? Why should he be? It's so simple. He likes me. I--I like--I like him. What's so hard about that?"
Duo wouldn't have kissed him back if he hadn't liked it, right?
The arguments were circular. He'd been over them before, extensively, exhaustively. He'd already resolved them all, damn it, already written one disgustingly sappy note, and damned if he'd write another one! He wasn't good with words the way Duo was. But he'd say what he needed to, when Duo called.
*If* Duo called.
Duo *would* call, right?
Heero fell asleep with one hand lightly touching the telephone, ready to rip the receiver from the cradle the moment it rang.
///"Heero! Stop!"
"I've told you once to back off. Don't interfere."
Duo clung to his arm--if Duo could ever be thought weak enough to cling to anything. "I'm begging you, Heero. Look, I'm getting down on my knees, God damn it, look, Heero! I'm *begging* you to just let this go!"
Wufei was groggily regaining his feet. Heero stared down the barrel of the gun at him, his hand steady, his mind made up.
"Duo," he said, not even glancing down at the bowed, bloodied chestnut head. "Duo, I'm sorry. Please believe me. But this is for the mission." He fired.
The phone rang.
Wufei sprawled in a spray of crimson, and Duo flinched back, hitting Heero's legs and knocking him off balance. He stumbled and threw an arm out, trying to steady himself--he squeezed the trigger again.
Plaster scattered like snow onto the sweat-streaked chestnut hair, and horrified blue-violet eyes stared at him.
The telephone rang.
Heero shook his head to clear it. "Duo?"
"But--love? Loyalty? Heero, what about those... "
And rang.
"Hee--"///
With a gasp, Heero sat up, flinging sleep off like a blanket and grabbing the receiver with a shaking hand. "Duo!"
/"Ah--Are you Mr. Odin L. Yuy?"/
It was anticlimactic. Heero couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Dumbly he repeated the question.
/"Uh, sir? Is this a bad time?/
Reaction began to set in. His chest constricted, and his eyes burned hatefully. "It's two in the fucking morning," he snarled. "Yes, it's a bad time!" He hurled the receiver into a wall, and followed it with the rest of the contents of his bedside table.
And then he lay down in the dark and let the tears come.
End Part 12
(:./erin/rising12)
