"Things I Forgot"

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing Boys.

Rating: PG for very mild language

Warnings: mild angst, a little depressing, weird, or I think so.

Notes: Resurfacing, now that I've got a laptop again. Working on some things that have been abandoned for a long time now, but had to get this off my chest. Dedicated to two friends, who should know who they are when they read it. Mostly, this is my take on what would realistically happen if Duo and Heero tried a relationship.

"Things I Forgot"

"So, please, tell me about it. I can tell it weighs on your mind."

"Ah, hell, Quat, that's a story in and of itself. A story of how stupid and forgetful I am. You really don't want to hear about it."

"What you mean by that is, you really don't want to talk about it."

"Well, yes, if you must know."

"Duo, it's been over a year. Don't you think it's time?"

"I guess so. Okay. Here it is, the truth, as I know it: . . . "

"Duo? Now's the time when you go back into your memory and tell me what happened, from the beginning."

"Well, that's what I was thinking about. The war was the beginning, and you know that story. I guess I'll start from the first time we talked after that. It was over the Internet. We both happened to be online at the same time, and I decided to say `hi'. I don't
know how long it had been since we'd seen each other, and I don't remember what we talked about that day. It's just one of so many things I forgot."

After that, we met online more and more. I knew he would be there, and I did my best, killed myself, to get home every night before he logged off. He waited for me. Somehow, I know he did. I know now, I mean. Then, I didn't have a clue. I hoped, I wanted, but I told myself I was being delusional.

Why, though? Why was it so important that I talk to him every night? Because with him, for the first time in my life, I didn't have to hide. In seemingly no time, every thought that came through my head flowed through my fingers, and he knew it. He knew it, and he examined it and challenged it and made me qualify it, and that made me a better person.

Well, maybe not actually. But I felt like a better person, and in some ways, that's more important than the reality.

We talked that way, about everything and nothing, for months, five, six, seven, maybe more, maybe less. More details that escape me.

Then, when the date that is generally acknowledged as my birthday was coming up, I told him that I was taking some time off in honor of the occasion, and said that I'd like to go somewhere, but I couldn't really afford a hotel. He took the bait, like all he'd been waiting for was the thinnest excuse, and invited me to stay with him.

I should have known then, and I guess I did, but I told myself that I was still delusional. This was Heero, after all, and I had seen my share of luck, but I didn't get that lucky, ever. Besides which, I was still coming to terms with the fact that I liked him. I mean, I'd almost always liked him, but I was beginning to think that I really, really liked him.

Which I never did quite get around to admitting to myself in the month I had to plan my trip. Oh, I was excited to be going to see him, but he was my best friend, a real kindred spirit in a world full of fake friends, so of course I would be. Besides, I'd never given serious thought to a relationship with a guy before, though you can rest assured that he knew well before I got there that I was open to the idea.

He met me at the spaceport, and it was like we'd never been apart. He was so comfortable with me, and I was so, so happy to be with him. If we'd had every one of those instant-message conversations face-to-face, it wouldn't have been any better.

And it was good. Despite my misgivings about where I stood with Heero, I was glad to just be sharing space with him. I was, if not perfectly happy, at least content to be Heero's friend and temporary houseguest. The signs of something more were there, but I was still laboring under the illusion of delusion, because it was safe, and comfortable, and I'd grown to like those things in the time since the war had ended.

It took Heero five days of the seven we had together to work up the courage to say what was on both our minds. It wasn't fear of rejection that had kept me quiet for that long; it was a fear of a different kind.

But he said it, when I didn't. He tried to soften the blow by making the reality seem like only a possibility, but deep down, we both knew better.

And when he asked what I was thinking, I couldn't lie. God help me, I could not lie. Not to him, not after trusting him with every other truth I had.

Still, I didn't move. If I didn't move, I didn't influence him, and it wasn't my fault, right? Maybe that's why our first kiss was so chaste, and short, and shy, and beautifully, wonderfully human. So strange, then, that within minutes I was sitting on his couch
with his ass under my hands and my tongue in his mouth.

That's a bit private, though, so suffice it to say that, under all of his masks, there lurks a passionate man.

And before you ask, because I can see you're going to, it never even went below the belt. That was my fault. He was ready and willing. I had issues, lots and lots of issues, not the least of which was the loss of the most wonderful friend I'd ever had if things went south between us. Oh, we promised that we would always be friends first and foremost. I haven't forgotten that, but I think maybe he has.

Our last two days were good, even if the sexual tension was thick enough to pour over pancakes. I was still a little skittish about some areas of the relationship, but I thought he was content as it was.

I went home, and for a month afterward, the word `love' was tossed around quite a bit. It wasn't untrue, at least not in my case, and I don't think it was in his. I believe that `in love' was also used, though less frequently, and if I wasn't in love, I was the closest I've ever been, close enough that I didn't know the difference.

Then, one day, it was as if we were trying to prove how different we were. We talked about what we wanted out of life. I wanted a house in the suburbs, kids, dogs, cats, rabbits, a gerbil and a canary, and he wanted a tiny apartment in the city, and was apparently mortally afraid of every thing from the kids onward. I exaggerate, of course, but the point is, he wasn't sure he wanted those things, or even that he could handle them.

That might have been the death knell of our relationship, though I don't think he heard it. I want to raise at least one child more than I want to breathe. He had already told me, long before, that he couldn't understand that. I'd thought he meant he didn't
understand what sentiment I was trying to portray, but it suddenly became clear that he meant he couldn't understand the sentiment itself.

Still, I knew I could change his mind. There was time. We were young. He was just unsure of himself, and with time, he'd see how important it was to me and give in. And once the children were there, he wouldn't be able to help loving them, just like he'd love the dogs and the cats and everything else right down to the little yellow canary. And even if he didn't, I could live without the rest as long as I had my babies. The delusion was back, and with so much force that I never once remembered that every bit of advice I ever got about relationships began with, "Don't expect your partner to change."

Though, in all fairness, maybe he would have. I don't know. `Maybe' is just a waste of time, anyway. All it'll ever do for you is drive you crazy, and not the good kind. I'm getting off track.

Not a full month after my visit with Heero, I got shot at work. It required surgery, and I couldn't work while I was recovering. So
when my laptop had a meltdown, I couldn't afford to fix it. I talked to Heero on the phone for a while, but I got my bill and then I
couldn't afford that, either.

I did manage to arrange for us to get together, briefly, but between my wound and our cumulative issues, nothing came of it.

Despite the fact that I was poorer than dirt, I did try to call Heero at least once a week, at least for a few minutes. Then, one week, I was miserable and depressed and healing far too slowly from my second surgery, and I just forgot. It was a big thing to forget, but not the last. There was one more.

I woke up one morning to the realization that it had been nearly two weeks since I had talked to Heero. I felt guilty about it for a few minutes, but then I started thinking. He hadn't called me, either.

I was sure that, within a few days, he would call. I just knew he would. So, I didn't, and he didn't, either, and next thing I knew, it
had been six weeks since I'd heard his voice, and I was back in the stage of not knowing where I stood with him. Would he be mad at me? Would he tell me not to call him again?

Now, Quat, don't give me that look. I did call him, once. I left a message for him and asked him to call me back. He never did.

Once I went back to work, a month or so later, I tried contacting him over the internet to get his help with work-related issues, as I always had before I got shot. He did send a reply to that, at least. It was something to the effect of `I'm really busy, but you're so good at your job, you never needed my help'.

Well, I got that message loud a clear. No need to paint me a picture. I've seen the kiss-off enough times to know when it's headed my direction. I backed off and didn't try again.

And that was my most crucial mistake. That was the biggest thing I forgot. I forgot that Heero was Heero. He's certainly warned me enough times that I suppose I don't have an excuse, except maybe that I was emotional, not to mention feeling very unworthy after all of that medical leave.

After that, there's not much more to tell. I heard that he asked after my general wellness a few months ago, and I still think about him from time to time with a sense of regret. I miss my friend, mostly.

No, Quatre. I see that scheming little light and your eyes, and you can forget it. This isn't an invitation for you to throw us together
like some eccentric billionaire benefactor on a cheesy made-for-TV movie and watch us kiss and make up on the beach at sunset while the surf crashes and the music crescendos. I've put that ghost to rest.

You'll probably laugh at me, but I'm- I'm praying again. I'm praying to the God I met as a child, and I'm asking him to send a suitable woman my way. Yes, a woman. There'll never be another man like him."

"Duo, let me ask you something, not to disrespect your beliefs in any way, but merely as a curiosity. Do you ever wonder `Why did God allow this to happen if it wasn't meant to be?' "

"I don't have to wonder, Quatre. The answer to that question is this: Someday, someone, maybe my kid or one of my kids' friends, is going to come to me, and they're going to take me into their confidence. They're going to tell me about how they really like another boy, or another girl, and they are going to expect condemnation. Instead, I'll be able to give them understanding.

I'll be able to sit down with them and tell them about Heero. And I'll look back and say `God, he was beautiful,' and they'll know by the look on my face and the tone of my voice that I'm sincere. I couldn't be so sincere without the pain."

"That's…abnormally wise of you, Duo."

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of time to think. Over a year, as you pointed out, and I've just reached that conclusion maybe two days ago."

"Well, as you pointed out, it is Heero. Are you sure you don't want to keep trying? Maybe he will come around, eventually."

"No, Quatre. Even if he did, I won't. I love Heero, always will, even if he never speaks to me again, but I think we were both looking for someone to save us, emotionally. The blind can't lead the blind. I've since learned that that's not what love is for, and I
can't go back. I miss my friend, more than I can say. I want the serious discussions and the sense of being connected to someone, but now, I don't even know if that was really as good as I remember it being. I'm not sure anything can really be that good.

Well, I think it can. I even think that it was, maybe just because I loved him so much. But even then, there is no guarantee that it would be again. Would it be better to have a hollow imitation, do you think, or nothing at all? "

"I don't know, Duo. There's only one way to find that out. You could always agree to part amicably if being friends hurt too much."

"I just don't want to make an ass of myself. Not any more than I already have. And I really don't want to push where I'm not
wanted. It's hard, to open up enough to just lay it on the line like that."

"You just have to ask yourself if he's worth the possibility of rejection."

"There's no question there. Of course he is."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"I'm guess I'm not. I have message to compose. I'll see you later, Quat."

"Bye, Duo."

"Oh, and Quatre? Whatever happens, thank you."

fin

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