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"Gomez "Written By: Presser Pairings : 1x2 Disclaimer : Gundam Wing characters aren't mine Rating : NC 17 Warnings : This will involve graphic sex, though
not gratuitous sex. /thoughts, italics/ <alternate voice>
"Gomez" Chapter 3 DECEMBER 12, A.C. 199 I cannot stop staring at him. It is as if, by looking away, I will lose him again. How many times have I lost him? How many found? Have I found him again this time? For real? ~ ~ ~ Thunder rumbles quietly in the distance, riding the passing storm over the horizon. I stir, and think to put on tea. In the kitchen Felix the Cat tells me it's three o'clock, and through the window I see the pale rays of the old sun glide between ragged clouds in a sky of eggshell and virgin grey. I decide to open the window, and cold, moist air hits my face. The fresh breeze feels good on my skin, but I worry. /Should I put another comforter on him? This can't be good for him, the way he is now, but the apartment is so stuffy --/ The apartment is stuffy because Duo has been gone, I realize. I stand at the sink, kettle in one hand, the other on the windowsill, water gurgling into the drain. His wet cough moves me to action. I set the kettle in the sink and close the window, then realize I now have to dry the kettle off before turning on the gas. I fill it, wipe it, put it on and leave. In the living room again I see that Duo has turned. Now he faces into the couch, arms crossed and folded against his chest, knees drawn up to elbows. The fetal position. /Well,/ I think, /he deserves to cocoon for now. There will be time enough to --/ To what? Reacquaint? Rebuild? Re-grow, perhaps, what we once had? /Not possible,/ I say /sotto voce./ /We can plant a new seed, but what we had is gone./ As I think this, the kettle sings. In my heart, a glimmering hope sings faintly, too, also sotto voce, as I return to the kitchen and the tea. ~ ~ ~ JULY 4, A.C. 198
As I thought about this, the bedroom door opened again, and Duo marched back to the table, steadfastly not looking at me. He picked up his dinner, and, with a snide remark, returned to the bedroom. I didn't move; couldn't shut my mouth. Finally I stirred. /I should try to repair the damage./ I went to the bedroom. At the door, I put my hand on the knob, started to call his name, but stopped when I heard -- thought I heard -- a soft sob. Finally I called him. "Duo?" "Go away!" I paused. "Duo, listen, I -- I didn't mean to upset you. If we could just talk about --" "I /said,/ go AWAY!" The last word was punctuated with the crash of his dinner plate against the door. I recoiled as though the plate had hit me square in the face. He had never acted like this before. Something was wrong, more wrong than anything had ever been before. I noticed my heartbeat: faster, louder. My palms -- sweaty, even after my shower. I blinked rapidly a few times. I looked down at my feet, thought hard, furiously. Suddenly I looked up, right at the door, as if I could see Duo on the other side of it. "I'm going out." I made sure I spoke loudly enough for Duo to hear me. I turned and walked to my knapsack, sitting on the floor by my books. As I reached for my keys, I realized that Duo had neatly stacked my books and legal pads, had carefully marked my place in each text. The thought that he could be that considerate jarred against the reality of what he had just done. /Or is it what/ I /had just done?/ I shook my head quickly, just a turn to each side; sniffed, and there were the pungent odors of our dinner. I looked at the food Duo had prepared, then at the bedroom door. /He needs time./ I left the apartment, quietly shutting the door. In the lobby, I looked back over my shoulder, up the stairs that led toward our apartment. /He...he'll be all right. He just needs some time alone, that's all./ I pushed through the door, into the heat. TBC |
