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"A Reason For Me"Written By: Prynesque Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they
are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission
and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if
you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get
your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and
if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down
and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid). Rating: R Warnings: Yaoi/slash, romance, angst, AU, Potential
(though unintended) OOC, some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV,
possible Australian-isms. Pairings: 1x2 Summary: On his last night in Chicago, Heero meets
a young man with violet eyes and a braid. Instantly drawn to him,
Heero initiates a meeting but things aren't often that simple. Notes: This story is AU. It's set in modern-day
Chicago and I think it's safe to say that that means there will be
no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical
science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi
or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that…
well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is
that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even
care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just
so long as I get to hear from you. " A Reason For Me"
Heero I’ve never really thought much of Christmas… I guess I never really understood it before. Raised in a fairly traditional Japanese family, the notion of a holiday that is half religious and half commercial, that manages to combine the birth of Jesus and a reindeer with a red nose, was completely foreign to me. When I was in high school I always dreaded this time of year… the shiny plastic nativity scene that sat in the front office, Mary and Joseph and a collection of shepherds greeting visitors with their wooden smiles; the gauzy fake holly branches that festooned the hallways; the cheerfully corny jingles that played endlessly over the loud speakers during break, crooning about bob tails, bright spirits and one horse open sleighs; and everywhere, the excited voices that asked that most vital of vital questions: what are you getting for Christmas? No one ever asked me; it was common knowledge that my family didn’t hang silly, twinkly lights on our roof, that we didn’t attend the midnight mass on Christmas Eve; that we simply didn’t celebrate the season like everyone else did. I wasn’t the only one from a non-Christian background, Quatre being the most obvious example. But even though his family didn’t celebrate Christmas, he still seemed to understand what it was all about; he could still engage in the childish thrill the other students felt. Besides, he was popular and that made all the difference; he was unusual but accepted, whereas I was just a pariah. My little brother felt it more keenly than I did. He was always devastated by my father’s hard ‘we-don’t-celebrate-Christmas’ line. Every year, he would plead and beg for hours, his tiny childish voice asking over and over again why we couldn’t be normal like everyone else. I can’t even remember my father’s answer now, just that plaintive little voice. My mother never stepped in on his behalf, though I often thought she wanted to; she had learned early on in her marriage that what my father said went, without question, and that keeping her head down was the best course of action. However, one year my father was away for Christmas, in Tokyo on Business. In his absence, my mother relented to Shinji’s pleas and bought a tiny plastic Christmas tree, pre-decorated with tiny glassy red and gold balls. It sat on our mantle piece for a week looking ridiculous and then it mysteriously disappeared. My mother didn’t try again after that and the following year, Shinji’s entreaties were curiously absent; from then on, he escaped to any number of friends’ houses where they celebrated Christmas properly, complete with lights and home-decorated Trees and Christmas pudding. No, Christmas never really meant anything to me. Even the years I’ve spent with Quatre and Wufei, and later Sally and Trowa as well, were little more to me that a nice dinner with good company and the odd simple gift. Trowa has called me a Scrooge on more than one occasion and I always replied with a “Bah humbug!” But now, all that has changed, just as like everything else in my life that has come into contact with Duo. Now when I think of Christmas, I remember a wonky-looking tree, unevenly decorated with silver baubles and red tinsel and I feel a sense of pride because uneven or not, it still looks ten times better than the pitiful plastic version that my mother bought; I remember the glow of the fire warming the room while the snow fell outside; I remember a tiny, bundle of fur devouring a bowl of milk, curling around my legs, purring in my ear; and most of all, I remember Duo… cheeks flushed from the cold, slipping his arm through mine… lit up by the Christmas tree lights, laughing and draping tinsel around my neck… so close that I could almost feel his lips against mine… his arms wrapped around me, his voice’s soft and choked, whispering “Thank you” in my ear. That’s what I’ll always remember and you know, I think I’m beginning to re-evaluate my anti-Christmas policy. I’ve brought the wisp of tinsel that Duo hung around my neck to work with me; it’s stuck to the edge of my computer, a red border around a black and white screen. Actually, it is the only splash of colour in this dull off-white room. Everyone else’s offices are decorated with plants and photos and strange, messy pictures their children have drawn. But mine has always been completely blank… until now. And every time I look up and see that flash of red, I stop and smile. In fact, that’s what I’m doing right now. It’s little wonder that I’ve managed to review barely half a report this morning. But it’s Friday and I tell myself I’ll work late to make up for it. My fingers tap away at the keyboard half-heartedly. I stop when I realize that Duo’s name is dotted at regular intervals throughout my document. I’ve always prided myself on being completely dedicated to my work, on my ability to tune everything else out. It’s a little unsettling to realize that Duo has managed to invade every single crevice of my mind. I set about removing all the added ‘Duo’s from my word document; there are more than I thought there were. For every time I’ve thought about him this morning, his name is recorded there in front of me in black and white. Within minutes, my mind has wandered again. Relena catches me daydreaming. She doesn’t knock on my door any more; she just walks straight in as though that’s her right. I scramble hurriedly to look like I’m working. Leaning in the doorway, she raises one eyebrow, unconvinced. I refuse to blush and my hands find the keyboard again, resuming their typing. She eyes the tinsel curiously. “Did you have a nice Christmas?” she purrs, sashaying across the room to stand beside me. I nod perfunctorily as she peers over my shoulder at the computer screen; I’m relived that my work is no longer peppered with Duo’s name. She straightens up, momentarily satisfied. “Good, I’m glad. So did I. My father bought me the new Mercedes-Benz model sports car. It’s divine!” She twitters for several minutes longer, but I confess I’m not listening. I have little interest in flashy sports cars, especially pink ones with personalized ‘Relena’ license plates. “I’ll have to take you for a drive some time,” she concludes, moving back around my desk to seat herself in front of me. “Are you doing anything over New Years?” she inquires. “I have friends flying in from New York,” I reply, not looking up from the computer. “Oh, really?” She seems a little surprised, whether it’s because I have plans or because I have friends, I don’t know. Surprise gives way to displeasure and she settles back into the chair looking a little put-out. “Well, maybe some other time…” “Is there something you wanted, Relena?” I interrupt before she can make herself comfortable. “There’s no need to be snappy, Heero,” she chides, crossing her legs demurely and folding her hands in her lap. I must look particularly unimpressed because she hurriedly continues. “As you no doubt know, I’ve been horrendously busy lately; however I did manage to find the time to look up your file…” She pauses for effect and my head snaps up and suddenly her presence is a little more welcome. “And?” I ask impatiently. She casts me a warning look but carries on. “Well, your current contract with Tanaki Industries will take you through to until the end of next year at which point you will probably be promoted and your contract renewed.” Relena’s voice is strong and business-like. I rarely get to see her in work-mode and it’s quite refreshing; she probably makes a very formidable lawyer. “Yes, I already know that. What about my time in Chicago?” I press. “Ah, well that’s where things get a little more complicated.” She shifts gracefully in her chair, sweeping a long strand of blonde hair off her face. “Your time at this office is scheduled to finish on the 6th of March when the current project ends. After that you’ll either return to New York or be offered an assignment at another office.” “But I can’t stay in Chicago?” I clarify. My hands have left the keyboard and I’m vaguely aware that they are tightening into angry fists. “No, not unless there is a project here that requires your level of expertise, and as far as I know, there won’t be. I’m sorry, Heero,” she concludes, actually sounding sincere. I pause and think for a moment. “Is there any way I can break my contract?” She looks surprised but covers it well. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone doing that. I suppose it’s possible, but I have to warn you, the contracts here are very tight; I write them myself, after all.” “So there’s nothing I can do?” Now I am angry; I can feel my heart rate starting to rise and my fist bangs down on the desk with a loud, heavy thud of frustration. Relena shrinks back in her chair, slightly alarmed. “Calm down, Heero,” she warns. “I never said ‘nothing’. Look, your best bet is to talk to Dorothy. If you can’t suspend the contract perhaps you might be able to get yourself demoted to a position that they do have available here…. perhaps,” she stresses. “It’s a long shot, but you’re obviously very worked up about this, so it’s worth a try.” I nod, taking a deep breath. My hands slowly unclench as I try to sooth my temper. I am just wondering how I’m going to be able to persuade or threaten Dorothy into letting me stay when Relena speaks again. “Why are you so desperate to stay in Chicago anyway? New York is vastly superior city.” The question catches me by surprise and I almost answer, just managing to stop myself in time. But Relena manages to catch my initial reaction and her eyes glint dangerously. “What’s her name?” Relena asks, sensing my moment of weakness and diving after it. “What?” I respond, my head jerking up to stare at her. “It has to be a girl. Why else would you want to stay here? So, who is it?” She looks smug, so certain that she’s right… I almost want to tell her about Duo, just to prove her wrong. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I state blankly, moving my hands back to the keyboard. My fingers start tapping of their own accord. “There is no girl,” I say truthfully. My sincerity floors her momentarily; her smile falters and her shoulders sag, perplexed and a little annoyed. “Oh fine, don’t tell me,” she says eventually, crossing her arms huffily. She watches me intently for several minutes while I type away, trying to ignore her. She has just opened her mouth to ask me something when a loud beeping noise fills the room. Relena clicks her tongue irritably, glancing down at the pager fixed to her belt. “I have to go. I have a phone conference with our Seattle offices,” she says, halfway to the door. She turns back as she crosses the threshold. “I’ll talk to you later,” she promises. She clatters away down the corridor and I resolve to leave early. The door bangs shut behind her and my fingers slide from the keyboard. My gaze finds the tinsel again and I smile quietly to myself. I don’t end up leaving early; I work late into the night but thankfully Relena’s call from Seattle keeps her busy enough that she forgets about me. The cleaners are just finishing up by the time I leave and we take the elevator down together in a jumble of vacuum cleaners and mops. They congregate in the lobby, chattering away in Spanish, nodding to me as I skirt around them on my way to the door. The night is cool and crisp. The snow has taken a brief hiatus, leaving behind a glittering icy city. I decide to walk home, and although it takes me a good hour and I’m significantly frozen by the time I arrive at my apartment, I don’t regret the decision. I stumble into the flat, still shivering. The heat is on and it washes over me, instantly seeping into my bones, driving away the chill. I clatter around in the darkness, kicking off my shoes, settling my briefcase down and removing layers of slightly soggy clothing. It’s only when I reach for the lamp and light floods the room that I see Duo. He is curled up on the far couch, watching me. A tiny clump of tabby fur is just visible in his lap. He shies away from the light, blinking at the brightness. Our eyes lock and for several moments I can’t move. I haven’t seen him for several days and I am instantly taken back to Christmas Eve. Eventually I clear my throat. “I wasn’t expecting you until later,” I manage to croak, even though I wasn’t really expecting him at all. He shrugs and breaks eye contract. Leaving my discarded jumper over the back of a chair, I cross the room to where he is huddled, crouching down in front of him. He looks slightly shaken and there is a small cut above his left eyebrow. My hand reaches up instinctively to cup his face and he leans into my touch. “What happened?” I ask quietly. “I walked into a door,” he lies, chewing his lip morosely. “Why would someone walk into a door?” I reply, stroking his cheek gently with the pad of my thumb. “Because they want to? Because they can?” he mumbles. “That doesn’t make it right.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. Duo smiles faintly, closing his eyes and nuzzling my hand slightly. It takes all my strength not to gather him into my arms. My breath catches and I think he notices because he pulls away reluctantly. “You go and have a shower and then I’ll fix that cut,” I tell him, clearing my throat in an attempt to stay the butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach. He nods sleepily and hands me a bundle of fur. The kitten mews noisily as Duo retreats to the bathroom. I look down into those deep green eyes, knowing exactly how he feels. After a moment, the sound of steadily drumming water can be heard. I set the cat down and he follows me into the kitchen. Winding around my legs, he begs for his dinner. I lift him up to the bench and he greedily consumes the food I put before him. I notice, with some satisfaction, that he has grown slightly in the few days since Christmas Eve. He is still tiny and thin, but he has filled out a little. His fur is glossier and he has lost that painfully scrawny look. I took him to the vet yesterday and was told that he was suffering from malnutrition but was otherwise fine and that I should feed him well and keep him warm and he’d be right as rain. And so far it’s working, but I probably could have worked that out without paying 100. It’s strange how quickly I’ve adapted to becoming a pet owner. Christmas Day and Boxing Day, the first days without Duo, were a little rough; scratches appeared on most of my wooden furniture, black clothes laid out on my bed to be worn were covered in white and grey hairs within minutes, persistent purring kept me awake at night, and everywhere, everywhere, I walked there was a lithe little body waiting to get under my feet. But even as little as a day later and I think I’ve adapted to his presence; we’ve settled into some kind of rhythm and, to tell the truth, I think I’d probably miss him if he suddenly left; like Duo, he has found a place in my heart, in my life. He has a name now. Well, something that passes for a name anyway. Duo was supposed to take charge of that; I have no difficulty with the feeding and petting and taking to the vet aspects of the pet-owner deal, but something as creative as naming shouldn’t be left to me. Duo had said he’d think of something later… but it never really happened. A few names were bandied around but Duo could never settle on exactly the right one. In his absence, I had to call the cat something and unfortunately, that was really all I could think of… ‘Cat’. Sadly, Cat didn’t seem to understand the temporary nature of that title and now he won’t answer to anything else. He doesn’t seem to mind and I certainly don’t care, but I’m slightly nervous about telling Duo… although, he did say “something appropriate.” Leaning against the kitchen bench, I stroke Cat absent-mindedly while I wait for Duo to finish; he purrs contentedly, completely oblivious to any consternation his name might be causing. The green lights of the microwave clock flash 12:06am and I’m surprised by how late it has suddenly gotten. Eventually the shower stops running and I scoop my new flat mate up and we return to the living room. Duo emerges several moments later, dressed in my clothes and trailing a waft of steam. He seats himself comfortably and I deposit Cat back into his lap. Duo tickles him under the chin, cooing. He circles Duo’s lap twice, sits down, reconsiders, circles again and then seats himself in exactly the same place. Duo watches in amusement but I’ve long since grown tired of that once endearing restlessness. I think Cat has picked up on that; whenever he moves to sit of my lap, he seats himself quickly and efficiently before I have a chance to get irritated and turf him off. I seat myself on the coffee table facing them and tentatively inspect Duo’s wound. It’s not very deep, I conclude, relieved. Since Duo came back into my life, there have been very few occasions where he’s needed patching up; he’s very competent at looking after himself and I desperately try not think what things might be like if he weren’t. But as I reach for the first-aid kit, I am instantly reminded of the last time I was in this position. The hotel room seems to materialise around me and the Duo before me is five years younger, less jaded and still retaining some aspect of hope. I tended his wounds nervously that night; I could barely keep my hands from shaking. I can’t even remember why I was nervous… maybe it was because I didn’t really know what I was doing, or maybe it was just the mere proximity of that exotic, waif-like creature. I’m more confident this time but when my fingers brush against his cheek I am still overcome by that familiar fluttering in my stomach. How is it that so much and so little change can have changed during those five years? “This is just like that first night,” he says out of the blue. His blue-violet eyes bore into me and I can almost feel him reading my mind. “I like it…” He trails off but his gaze remains locked with mine. He swallows heavily and a brief flicker of realisation sweeps across his face and then is gone. He looks away and then speaks again. “I like it when you take care of me.” It sounds more like he’s admitting to himself than to me. I want to tell him that I’ll always take care of him, but I can’t; Relena’s words are still fresh in my mind and it’s tearing me up inside. I return the first-aid kit to kitchen and the padding of tiny paws on lino indicates that I’ve been followed. Seconds later, a meow is heard and I look down at a little face that looks rather interested in some more food. “I’ve already fed you!” I tell him sternly. He cries pitifully and I almost relent. I force myself to look away; last night I fed him a total of three times because he kept turning on those pleading eyes. How is it that I can have so much control and yet lose myself in an instant in those eyes? I stride back into the living room. “Don’t even think about it, Cat!” I warn as he surveys me from the doorway. He follows a moment later and when I seat myself on the sofa, he joins me, perching on my knee looking regal. “Cat?” Duo asks and I find myself flushing. “You named the cat, Cat?” “Well… you said it should be something appropriate and… I was expecting you to give him a name but you didn’t and I had to call him something in the mean time…” “But Cat?” Duo laughs, leaning across the space between us to stroke the creature in question. “It was supposed to be temporary,” I say defensively. Duo laughs again and lifts said Cat up to stare into his wide shining eyes. Duo cocks his head to the right and then cuddles him to his chest. Cat struggles briefly and then accepts his embrace with resignation. “I think I like it,” Duo concludes, looking up at me. “Appropriate.” We share a smile; one of those smiles that seems to say far more than words ever could. My stomach chooses that exact inappropriate moment to rumble loudly, breaking whatever mood was developing. Cat pricks up his ears at the sound and Duo laughs. I glare at them both, pulling myself to my feet again. “Have you eaten?” I call to Duo over my shoulder as turn back into the kitchen. “Not really,” Duo replies. He speaks again but his words are lost as I rustle around in the fridge. “What?” I murmur, straightening up again and closing the fridge. “Didn’t really feel like it,” Duo repeats from the doorway. I hold up the container in my hands. “Would you like some?” Cat leans forwards in Duo’s arms, indicating that he would rather like some. “What is it?” Duo asks suspiciously as I deposit the Tupperware in the microwave. “Miso soup.” Duo still looks unconvinced. “It’s Japanese,” I elaborate. Duo pauses to think, and then, “Yeah, alright. I’ll give it a go.” I smile. “You’ll like it,” I tell him. “And none for you,” I add, giving Cat a fierce look. Evidently, the patented Heero Death Glare doesn’t work on animals; Cat merely bats one eye sleepily and twitches his nose. Duo laughs at me; if it were anyone else I’d probably be tempted to hit them, but when Duo laughs, even at my expense… it’s like everything stands still and all thoughts of anger simply evaporate. We sit at the dining room table to eat, something we rarely do. It feels strangely formal and our conversation is stilted, until Cat leaps up onto the table and seats himself at the far end, watching us imperiously. Duo and I both laugh and this breaks the awkwardness. “I like it,” Duo says, lifting the bowl to his lips and draining the last drops. “It’s weird at first, but it kinda grows on you.” “Next time, I’ll try you out on something a little more adventurous,” I suggest. Duo raises one eyebrow. “I ain’t eating no raw fish,” he tells me in no uncertain terms. I laugh. “You make it sounds like they just haul it out of the ocean and slap it down on your plate, still wriggling.” Duo wrinkles his nose up. “It’s still raw,” he says stubbornly. “Whatever you say,” I say loftily. Duo looks distinctly like he wants to stick his tongue out at me. He catches himself just in time, casting me a look that says, ‘piss off’ instead. We do the washing up together and as we fall into a comfortable rhythm, I broach a subject that I’ve been meaning to for a while. “Quatre and Wufei are flying in from New York on Sunday. Trowa and Sally are coming as well.” Duo freezes, halfway through accepting a soapy plate from me. His fingers slip and the plate drops back into the sink with a clatter and a splash. Duo’s hand is still frozen in mid-air and he swallows heavily. “Oh… right,” is all he says. There is a long awkward pause where neither of us really knows how to continue. Finally, it is Duo who breaks the silence. “S’pose you don’t want me hanging around anymore, hey?” He sounds likes he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice wavers slightly at the end, betraying an emotion that goes straight to my heart. “No, no… that’s not what I meant,” I say hastily, turning to face him. He refuses to meet my gaze. I tuck my fingers under his chin, guiding his eyes up to meet mine. Soap suds trickle down his neck from my soapy fingers. I let my hand drop back to the water but Duo’s gaze remains locked with mine. “You’re always welcome here…” I tell him, searching the depths of those haunting eyes, willing him to believe me. A very faint, almost imperceptible blush blossoms on Duo’s cheekbones but still he doesn’t look away. I take a deep breath. “And I want them to meet you,” I tell him truthfully, trying to pour every ounce of reassurance that I possess into those words. There is more to that sentence, really. Something about wanting my best friends to know the man that I… but I don’t go there. I’m not ready for that yet. Duo smiles hesitantly and breaks his gaze away from mine for the first time in several long minutes. “Are they… um… gonna stay here?” he asks me, a moment later, reaching for the elusive plate again, wrapping his tea towel firmly around it. We fall back into our previous rhythm as I answer. “No, they’re staying at a hotel. There’s just not enough room here.” “And how long are they… y’know… staying?” Duo’s fingers slide across mine as I hand him another plate. “Just four nights. They leave on Thursday… the 4th.” Duo nods in silence and I’m afraid that this means I won’t see him for the next week; that he’ll simply disappear out of my life until it’s just the two of us again. The sink gurgles as I drain the water. Duo moves away, back to the living room but I catch his arm. “You’re always welcome here,” I repeat. His skin is warm beneath my fingers. “I know, Heero,” he says quietly. We don’t discuss it anymore, instead I move through my nightly routine, locking the door and turning off the lights and then, in silence, we retire to bed… it’s so domestic, so comfortable that I can almost pretend that this is our normal life together, just like I’ve always imagined Quatre and Trowa are together. I try not think what I’ll do if I have to leave Chicago and I never get to experience this again. I drag the covers wearily over my tired body, my arm extending to the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I feel the bed dip as Duo slides in beside me. Usually Duo stays resolutely on his side of the bed, and even when he unconsciously moves closer to me during the night, there is still at least an inch gap between us, an invisible barrier. But tonight, he hovers on his side for several moments and then shuffles closer, resting his cheek against my bare shoulder. It’s almost more than I can bear and I will my body to behave as I gently fold my arm around him, pulling him against my side. “Thanks.” I almost miss his whisper in the darkness. I don’t know what the thanks are for and he falls asleep before I have a chance to ask. I find myself unable to sleep and so I lie wide awake in the darkness, relishing the feel of Duo’s body against mine, his breath skimming across my skin. It’s 4am by the time oblivion finally claims me. Duo is gone when I wake up in the morning and it’s only then that I start to feel slightly nervous. I know I want Duo to meet the others, it seems only right that the most important people in my life should all know each other, but some tiny part of me is still hesitant and, frustratingly, I cannot seem to work out why. It’s only after my first cup of coffee, taken out on the balcony in the freezing morning air, overlooking the sleepy city, that I understand my uncertainty. It’s not that I’m ashamed of Duo; I could never be ashamed of Duo or of the way he has become such a central point in my life… but I don’t how the others will react and I find that unsettling. Their reactions are something I have no control over, it’s out of my hands… I’m afraid that Wufei will be overly negative while Quatre will be overly understanding, but more than anything I’m just afraid that Duo will get hurt. And I’m not sure I could bear that. The possible ways that meeting could go plague my thoughts for the rest of the weekend. It’s almost a relief when Sunday afternoon arrives and it’s too late to change anything. Standing in the bustling airport, relief is the first thing I feel when I see those four familiar faces emerging through the Arrivals Gate, closely followed a swell of contentment in my chest. And I suddenly realise just how much I’ve missed all of them. Quatre catches me in a fierce embrace. He has always been a very tactile person, Quatre. When we first became friends, it unnerved me; I wasn’t used to being touched, to the friendly gestures that I now take for granted… a comforting hand on my shoulder, a playful nudge of my elbow, an unexpected hug of delight. I bend instinctively and my arms automatically fold around him, returning the embrace that I once had so much difficult with. “It’s so good to see you again, Heero. I’ve missed you dreadfully,” Quatre informs me and I feel a warm glow in the pit of my stomach at his words and sincerity. Quatre has this unique ability to make you feel needed and loved, and perhaps more importantly, worthy of that love. I’ve missed that. He pulls back slightly, inspecting me, his arms still around my neck. Once satisfied that I have managed to take care of myself in his absence, he pulls away completely and allows me to greet the others. Wufei and I grasp hands and pull into a fierce one-armed embrace; Wufei isn’t the type to do the full bear-hug thing but our brief, manly gesture is tinged with affection. “You look good, Yuy!” he exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder and squeezing ever so slightly. “You needn’t sound so surprised,” I retort. “I am capable of living without you.” Wufei’s face contorts in mock outrage and then he laughs. Sally looks up at me, eyes slightly narrowed. “You look different, Heero,” she whispers to me as she leans up kiss me. “More open somehow.” Her lips graze across my cheek and she squeezes my hand. “Enough of that, woman!” Wufei blusters from the side, partly in jest and partly serious. “Oh, don’t you ‘woman’ me,” Sally responds sharply, casting him a warning glance. Wufei has the decency to look abashed and then, laughing at himself and at her, he plants an apology kiss on her temple. She melts into his embrace but gives him a swift elbow in the stomach to prove her point. I can’t help but smile. I squeeze Sally’s hand in return and nudge Wufei companionably with my shoulder. I missed this… the rapport between the two of them, and between the three of us as we tried to share that tiny flat in Manhattan. I wish I could find the words to tell them this. They move away to claim their luggage and I find myself face to face with Trowa, strong, serene, silent Trowa, a kindred spirit in many ways. We hug warmly and his green eyes twinkle in the airport lights. “I’m glad to see you’re well. That will save me from having to convince Quatre not to move to Chicago to look after you,” is all he says, in that familiar, calm, steady voice. Beside him, Quatre blushes but Trowa and I share a meaningful smile. We go straight to the hotel to drop of the luggage; we have to take two taxis and there is much debate at the rank over who should ride with who. The cab drivers watch us grumpily, shivering as they load the bags into the trunks; I don’t feel guilty… it’s their job and besides, I know Quatre will tip them more than enough to make our hassle worthwhile. In the end, Sally and Wufei take one cab and Quatre and Trowa and I ride together in the second. I feel a nasty jolt of recognition as the cab pulls up to the hotel; it’s the same place the three of us stayed five years ago… the place where Duo and I first spent the night together. I freeze on the pavement, staring up at the building; it is just as I remembered it. When I finally move to enter, I find Quatre standing just inside the door watching me thoughtfully. I’m grateful when he doesn’t say anything. “Heero and Wufei and I stayed here five years ago,” Quatre tells Trowa conversationally. “We had only just come back when I met you,” he continues. Trowa steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. “And I for one am very glad you did come back, little one,” Trowa murmurs, dropping a kiss on the top of Quatre’s head. Quatre swivels in his arms and they share a brief tender moment, completely unaware of anything but each other. I’ve always envied how secure they are in their relationship that they can do that. I’d like that one day… with, well, anyone but I think we all know who in particular. The clerk at the front desk casts the oblivious Trowa and Quatre a dirty look, full of ill-disguised revulsion. I am jolted out of my dreams by the grumble of disgust that gurgles in his throat and I’m just about to lean across the desk to hit him when I feel Sally’s hand on my arm. On her other side, Wufei’s face is as thunderous as mine and he too is being held back solely by Sally’s influence. The three of us settle for casting fierce glares across the desk, piercing those hate-filled dull brown eyes. The clerk shrinks back, all too aware of his precarious position. He wisely refrains from comment, sliding the keys across the desk to Wufei and then hurrying away to serve someone else. Quatre and Trowa break away from each other’s gaze in time to catch our derisive glares and the clerk’s subsequent retreat. They don’t comment but I can see a twinge of pain mixed with gratitude in Quatre’s round aqua eyes. Homophobia is not something I’ve ever encountered personally but I’m no stranger to discrimination; I remember well the racist whispers that often drifted down the corridor of my prestigious high school when I passed. I’m not sure how my thoughts managed to drift from racial intolerance to Duo, but they do. That’s just the way it is with me. One moment I have one thought in my head and then suddenly all I can think about is Duo. These moments are becoming more and more frequent in my life and if I wasn’t busy contemplating Duo’s smile, his voice, I’m sure I’d be worried… even I, emotionally retarded as I am, can see where this single-mindedness is heading. I’m in deeper than I thought was possible. God knows what I’ll do when March 6th rolls around… I vaguely register moving across the lobby to the elevator, waiting for it to arrive, but that moment the other night, Duo’s cheek against my bare shoulder, his breath ghosting across my chest… suddenly it’s all I can think about. I don’t even remember making the decision but suddenly I’m walking, moving away to start up the stairs. I can feel the others staring after me but it just feels like something I have to do. Wufei instructs the bellboy up to their rooms and they all huff up the stairs after me. My hand glides up the smooth mahogany banister as I ascend. Beneath my feet, the carpet is the same it was five years ago; plush, red, velveteen curling upwards like a giant scarlet snake. I don’t need to bend down to remember the feel of it. Behind me I hear Sally ask something; her breath is uneven as she struggles to maintain the pace I’ve set. I think it’s Quatre who answers her but I don’t catch his words either. I stop abruptly as I emerge onto the fourth floor landing and Wufei almost collides with me. He mutters something under his breath as he clutches the banister to steady himself. I ignore him, staring down the long stretch of corridor before me. Suddenly I’m transported back five years and I can almost see Duo emerging from that room, halfway down… I can almost see that familiar face looking up, those eyes locking with mine… In one swift moment, all breath leaves my lungs and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time again. Those eyes that I see on a regular basis… I think I’d forgotten just how incredible they are. That mesmerizing colour draws you in, hypnotizing you completely and utterly; one minute they are completely blank, like shutters blocking a whir of mysterious activity, but the next moment they are so expressive that you feel like you’re drowning in blue-violet emotion; and that sparkle… I thought it had been lost, but it still twinkles at odd moments and still causes my pulse to race. But slowly the mirage is fading… a persistent voice invades my thoughts, pressing, dragging me back to reality. “Heero? Heero!” In the end it’s Quatre’s sharp shake that snaps me out of my daze. His gaze follows mine down the corridor and when I turn to study him, I can see a faint tinge of recognition, of remembrance, shimmering behind his eyes. But he doesn’t remember, not quite yet. And neither does Wufei. They just stare at me, confused, questioning. “Are you alright, Heero?” Quatre asks after a minute, his hand still resting on my arm. And that’s when I realize that this is it… this is the right moment, the appropriate moment, to tell them all about Duo, about everything that happen that night, that has continued since I came back to Chicago. I open my mouth and I can feel the words lingering on my tongue, waiting to spill forth… but they don’t, and I find myself standing gormlessly on the stairs with my mouth hanging open. “I’m fine,” is all I manage to croak, wincing internally as I do so. I don’t know why I can’t tell them. I want to, I really do, and for the life of me I can’t work out what is preventing me. I feel suddenly guilty and ashamed, as though my inability to talk is somehow a betrayal. “Are you sure, Heero?” This time it’s Sally who asks. “You look like a stunned mullet.” Her tone is half amused, half worried. A stunned mullet… I’ve heard that phrase before; Sally uses it to describe Wufei whenever Quatre embarrasses him into silence. “Hai, fine,” I repeat, nodding my head for added emphasis. And then I turn away and continue on up the stairs. I don’t need to look back to know that the others are sharing a look at my expense. The bellboy is waiting in the corridor when we finally arrive on the seventh floor. He is young, probably all of seventeen, and wearing a bored look. He straightens up automatically as we approach, smoothing his mauve and gold jacket with the air of one who has been told off many times by his boss. Wufei and Sally disappear into the first room, followed by Quatre. From the corridor, I can hear them commenting on the furnishing. Quatre’s gentle laugh drifts out through the door and beside me, I just know Trowa is smiling. He gazes evenly at me when I turn to him and then pushes past me to let himself into the room next door. I am just about to follow when Quatre re-emerges, closing the door gently behind him. He slides his arm through mine and I’m instantly reminded of the sensation of walking like this with Duo. Quatre looks up at me, one delicate blonde eyebrow raised. He doesn’t need to ask the question he’s thinking. “Really, I’m fine,” I tell him, honestly. He smiles that brilliant, toothy smile I remember so well and I allow him to guide me into the second room. Trowa is stretched out across the double bed, one arm over his eyes. He sighs dramatically when he hears us enter. Quatre laughs and moves across the room to perch on the side of the bed, allowing himself to be pulled back into an embrace. I hover in the doorway watching as their lips slowly come together in a gentle kiss. I’m used to their open displays of affection and it’s never made me uncomfortable before, but tonight my insides twist and I feel awkward and alone. I wonder what it would be like to do that with Duo, not so much the kissing, although just thinking about that makes me burn with need, but what it would be like to share that simple gesture of love, companionship, possession with him. I’m not a romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but I think I could manage that… I think I’d do anything to be able to have that. Trowa and Quatre break apart and Quatre is slightly pink. I cast them a look and the blush deepens. My moment of awkwardness has passed but the desire to share such an intimate relationship with Duo remains. I realise my mind has drifted again and Quatre and Trowa are watching me curiously. I resolve not to think about Duo for the rest of the night. But even as I tell myself this, I know I have about as much chance of succeeding in this as a snowflake has of surviving in Hell. The others settle into their respective rooms, unpacking and bickering affectionately as couples in love are want to do. I stand on Quatre and Trowa’s balcony slightly removed, gazing out across the streets of Chicago as the day slowly draws to a close, the sun sinking low in the sky. I’m just starting to admit to myself that I’m chilled to the bone when Wufei finally announces that he’s done. It seems to have been decided in my absence that we’ll go back to my place to see in the New Year. Quatre informs that it’ll be more comfortable that way. Personally, I think he just wants to make sure that I’m looking after myself. I roll my eyes at him but insides I’m rather pleased that he cares so much. The new doorman, Earl’s replacement, waves us in with a crooked, twinkling smile. I hurry the others across the lobby before he can ask about Duo. Cat totters out of my bedroom to greet us and I stoop down to stroke him gently. He winds his way through my legs and then through the others’, searching; he’s looking for Duo. Quatre scoops him up as he passes, cuddling him up in his arms. “A cat, Heero?” he asks, surprised. “I didn’t think you liked animals?” He tickles Cat beneath his grey, whiskered chin and Cat purrs in approval. “I don’t, really,” I mumble, ushering the others in and closing the front door. Quatre raises one eyebrow but doesn’t ask the obvious. “Where did you find him?” Trowa asks instead. “He found me,” I respond, a partial-truth. “His name is Cat,” I tell them before anyone can ask. Sally giggles and Wufei snickers. Trowa looks serene but the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly. “Cat? Oh, Heero, that’s so like you,” Quatre laughs. He sets Cat down again and slowly, my guests tour the apartment, settling down for the night, making themselves comfortable. Their presence makes the flat feel alive, full of warmth and vitality but there is still something missing and I know that it’s because Duo isn’t here. See? Snow flakes chance in Hell… the truth is, no matter what I do, Duo is always lingering in my thoughts. The evening unfolds before us. Minutes and then hours drifting leisurely by as we sit in my living room talking and laughing and drinking red wine. After several glasses, it almost feels like I’d never left New York at all. We fit together, the five of us, just like we always did. They tell me all about their lives, about everything that I’ve missed… Quatre’s sister, Mayada, is in the process of divorcing her husband and has descended on Quatre and Trowa, seamlessly slotting herself into their lives and their house, Trowa’s new boss is still painful but he’s tolerating it stoically (according to Quatre), Wufei and Sally are looking for a new appartment as the landlord (with whom I had many dealings, one involving fists) is being an “arrogant arsehole” in Wufei’s words… I soak up all these details, filing them away in my mind, glad to be part of the circle again. But I must confess, really I’m only half participating in the conversation. Unconsciously, I know I’m listening out for the door, waiting to hear the sound of the key in the lock; waiting for Duo to come home. Deep down, I know that he won’t. I’m not even sure if he’ll come at all while the others here, but I still can’t help holding on to some semblance of hope… it’s New Years Eve and although I’m surrounded by people that I love, I feel alone because the one person I want to see the New Year in with is missing. Midnight approaches and Quatre flicks on the TV to watch the countdown and the fireworks broadcast live across the country from New York. Normally, we’d be there, standing the crowd, just another one of the expectant faces looking up at the night sky, or watching from the towering roof of the Winner Enterprises building, champagne in hand, the glowing city stretched out before us. But tonight, we cuddle together around the TV, swapping memories, sharing resolutions and dreams. Trowa is stretched along the sofa closest to me, Quatre sitting in the V made by his open legs, and it strikes me, as it often does, that they are perfect together. Sally and Wufei occupy a similar position on the other couch, curled up in a tangle of limbs, Sally’s head tucked under Wufei’s chin. Whenever she shifts restlessly or laughs vigorously, he ends up getting a mouthful of hair, but he bears it with good humour, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her closer. Sitting on the rug, I look up at four happy, smiling faces, two happy, smiling couples and suddenly I feel overwhelmingly lonely. Surrounded by people, I am alone and the adage of the fifth wheel has never been more apt. The countdown begins, and our voices mingle with the excited cries of the crowd on the TV… 3-2-1… the fireworks erupt in a blaze of light and the sound of New York celebrating fuses with the sound outside of Chicago rejoicing. In my little apartment, black and white with just a touch of colour from the Christmas tree, two happy, smiling couples embrace, lips finding each other, kisses of passion and love. And I’m all alone… it’s so glaringly obvious. I have to get out. I rise abruptly, opening the French doors and moving out onto my beloved balcony. Caught in their kisses, the others don’t notice my disappearance. The air is cold and wet but it’s not snowing yet. In the distance I can hear the sounds of music and merriment. Car horns blare, voices call “Happy New Year” to friends and strangers alike and all around the strains of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ can be heard, drifting across the city on the wind. I search the darkness for Duo, knowing that I won’t find him. Suddenly everything feels so very hopeless. I’m not a natural pessimist, just a realist, and right now, reality seems to be hitting me straight in the face. In just over two months I will have to leave and perhaps I won’t ever find Duo in the darkness again. For the first time in years, I find myself close to tears. I don’t cry; I have far too much self-control for that, but the heavens open and the snows starts to fall again, snowflakes kissing my cheeks as though the sky is crying for me. A tiny meow interrupts my misery and I turn to see Cat padding towards me, his fur ruffled in the wind. I gather him in my arms, holding him close, pressing my cold nose against his warm fur. His rhythmic purring rumbles in my chest. I close my eyes tight, leaning against the balcony rail and clutching Cat to me, pretending he’s Duo. I only open them again when I realise I’m not alone. I don’t have to look to my right to know it’s Quatre. “Are you alright?” he asks. I can feel his gaze on me, probing, searching. I don’t bother lying to him; he knows me too well. Instead I say nothing, but when his arm snakes up over my shoulder, I let him pull me down towards him, soaking up his warmth. We stay like that for several minutes. In the background, the voices of Wufei and Sally and Trowa rumble gently, carried through the open doorway to where we stand. Without warning, the door bangs shut in the wind; the voices are lost and it’s just me and Quatre alone together in the darkness. And as if that was the cue, suddenly the dam breaks and in a low, desperate voice I tell him what I couldn’t at the hotel. I couldn’t hold back if I wanted to; I tell him everything… everything except for one fundamental part, something I’m not ready to discuss yet… and three little words that I’m not ready to admit to myself let alone to Quatre. He listens in silence, absorbing everything I say in that calm, steady way of his, waiting patiently for me to finish pouring my heart out. He doesn’t say anything when I’m done; he just pulls me closer, resting his head on my shoulder. His accepting silence is welcome but deep down inside me I wish he’d tell me that it’s going to be OK; that everything will work out. Eventually, Cat mews again from my arms and I suddenly realise how cold I am. Beside me, Quatre’s lips have gone blue. He smiles up at me and I instantly feel guilty. “Thanks,” I tell him. “That’s what friends are for, Heero,” he says with a smile. I move away to open the doors again when Quatre catches my arm. He stares intensely at me, that look of his that always makes me feel like he’s reading my mind, my thoughts, my emotions. Pale face framed by damp blonde hair and by the bright lights of the Chicago skyline, he seems omniscient. “It’ll be OK,” he tells me. And because it’s Quatre, reliable, loving, honest Quatre, I believe him. They end up staying the night, all of them. Wufei and Sally quickly lay claim to my bedroom, crawling into bed before anyone can stop them. The rest of us curl up in the living room, Trowa and Quatre, a tangle of limbs on one couch, and me wrapped in a blanket on the other, Cat tucked neatly under my chin. Sleep finds us all quickly and we sleep the sleep of the untroubled. In fact, our thoughts remain largely untroubled for the whole of the following day as well. I wake early and listening to the soothing sounds of the others sleeping. Trowa is the next to surface and for the first time in months we salute the sun together, our bodies moving with perfect synchronicity through the various poses. Later, in the kitchen Wufei and Sally and I squeeze around each other, making lunch, brewing steaming mugs of hot coffee. And as the afternoon draws to a close, Quatre and I sit on the balcony once more, sometimes in silence, sometimes in comfortable conversation. It’s a day of memories revisited and it leaves me warm and content. It’s nearly midnight by the time coats are fetched and goodbyes are said. Quatre is just securing a scarf around his neck when the door rattles and the familiar sound of the lock turning is heard. My heart suddenly starts pounding in my chest and all the opportunities I had to tell the others about Duo, last night and today, come rushing back to me; I curse myself for not taking at least one of them. I can feel Quatre’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet his gaze, instead I face the door waiting for it to open. Duo looks up as the door swings open and freezes. The look on his face is reminiscent of a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car and I immediately feel guilty… this is exactly what I had wanted to spare him. There is a long tense silence in which no one moves. Looking at Duo, I see him as the others must; the clothes, the hair, the make-up, the world-weary stance. I risk a glance around the room. Quatre is watching Duo closely, searching for something; he looks vaguely worried but I’m not sure why. Sally looks confused, I can tell what she’s thinking but her thoughts don’t seem to make sense to her just yet. Beside her Wufei is shocked, he remembers now and the old prejudices kick in. Trowa is calm but ever so slightly puzzled; he is the only one who meets my gaze. And finally there is Duo. His eyes call out to me, desperate and embarrassed, and then drop to the floor as though begging it to swallow him up. It’s only when he turns on his heel, twisting away, retreating in shame, that I am spurred into action. “No, wait!” I leap forwards, catching his hand in mine. Duo’s gaze shifts from the floor to our entwined fingers and then up to my face. I am painfully aware of the others watching us. “Stay.” My voice is barely above a whisper. Duo’s eyes flicker past me to our audience and then back to me. He shakes his head but something in his eyes says yes. I tug gently on his hand, pulling him towards me. He resists momentarily and then allows me to usher him into the room. The door swings shut behind him. His hand drops from mine, reaching instead for the end of his braid. He twirls it around his fingers, a motion he does when he’s nervous. “Duo Maxwell…” My mother’s etiquette lessons are dimly recalled as I struggle my way through this introduction. “Quatre Winner, Trowa Barton, Wufei Chang and Sally Po.” I indicated them each in turn and finally Duo’s head rises to meet their gazes. His jaw is set determinedly and his eyes are shuttered; not even I can tell what is going on inside his mind. I expect my expression is rather similar. I wait for their reactions, like a man on death row, waiting for the executioner’s blow… Quatre’s eyes are the only ones I have the strength to meet. He looks from me to Duo and then back again and his face is uncharacteristically hard to read. But Quatre, gracious as ever, makes the first move, polite and welcoming. “It’s nice to meet you, Duo,” he says, stepping forwards and taking Duo’s hand in his. The shake is brief but when he retreats Duo looks down at his own hand in wonder and then up at me. Trowa follows suit, a tiny half-smile on his lips, and then Sally. Wufei hesitates, torn, and when he looks at me, I try to pour every ounce of feeling into my pleading expression. Something seems to click in Wufei’s mind and, although I suspect it’s for my sake only, he steps up to Duo and nods politely. Duo returns the nod but remains where he is, lingering just behind me, still unsure, still unbelieving. “I’ll just… um…” he gestures towards the bathroom and then looks up at me. I nod automatically. “Yeah, of course.” Duo passes behind me and then skirts around the others. He doesn’t look back as he disappears. Unconsciously the rest of us wait and it is only when the sound of running water greets our ears that we all turn back to each other. “Heero?” It’s Wufei who speaks, his voice slightly clipped. I take a deep breath. “I met Duo five years ago when Wufei and Quatre and I came to Chicago,” I say for Trowa and Sally’s benefit. “We spent the night together…” Sally’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline and I hastily add, “It wasn’t like that… I just wanted to help him. “When I came back here I found him again. I needed to make sure he was OK and we… sort of fell into this rhythm. He comes here to retreat from the only world he knows…” My hands stretch across the space between us, willing them to understand. There is silence again. “He’s a good man,” I tell them. “Please, just give him a chance.” Trowa nods immediately. He has been watching me with interest, a smiling playing on his face. Sally looks slightly skeptical but she nods as well and then adds, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Heero.” But it’s Wufei I’m most worried about. When he finally looks up, he seems to have reached a decision. “If you believe in him, then there must be some honour in him. I am willing to trust your judgment,” he says evenly. I know how much it must have cost him to say that and I want to hug him for his trust in me. I don’t, of course, but I think he understands my sentiments. Finally, Quatre speaks. “I think we should go,” he says. “But hopefully we will get a chance to meet this Duo again and get to know him better.” As they move to leave, I try to find the words to thank them all. But my limited vocabulary fails me and I can’t seem to say what I’m feeling. Quatre squeezes my hand, though, and his words on the balcony come back to me and I believe again that it’s all going to be OK. Trowa, Wufei and Sally move out into the corridor and Quatre is just about to follow them when he draws back. He shuts the door and turns back to me. He looks hesitant; like there is something he is burning to know but is not sure if he should ask. Finally his desire for confirmation wins out. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” he says, direct and to the point revealing the one thing I failed to tell him last night on the balcony. He sounds vaguely disappointed in my omission. I don’t have the strength to lie, to him or to myself, and nod dumbly, finally admitting it for the first time. Quatre stares at me intently but doesn’t comment and then he smiles. “Goodnight, Heero. I’ll see you tomorrow,” is all he says and then he hugs me in one of those sudden, impetuous, enthusiastic hugs of his. And then he is gone and the door is banging shut and I’m alone in the living room, with the sound of the shower drumming in the background. I slowly sink down onto the nearest couch. I’m in love with him… I still can’t say it out loud but that doesn’t make it any less true. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to admit it aloud. I wonder if Duo will ever know… ~ * ~
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