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"Brothers"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Get together fic, sap, angst, fluff,
citrus Pairings: 2x1 Summary: After the death of his mother, Duo is forced to live with his estranged father. The new family seems perfect at first, but the truth is entirely different and will be revealed as Duo starts to get feelings for his "brother".
"Brothers " Chapter Three It was seven thirty and I had no intention, whatsoever, to depart from the warmth of my sheets and the comfort of my pillow that I hugged to my chest. The sun was already bright, but my curtains were dense and allowed for only a single slither of light to run across the opposite wall, like a scar bursting with life and light. I had been staring at it, watching it as it moved agonizingly slow. I had been awake for a while, but like I said, not nearly ready to get up and face the day. I had been elongating the nights and subsequently shortening the days ever since I arrived at my veritable prison, nearly three weeks ago. I was sick and tired with sleep, my back was sore from staying in bed well past noon each day, but it was better that joining 'the family' downstairs. It was seven thirty and I had no intention to get up, however, after a persistent knock on the door, the knob turned and the door was pushed open. My heart pounded at the confrontation with the novel and unexpected event. Cameron appeared in the doorway, looking disturbingly perfect. Not a single blonde hair out of place. Not a single crease is his grey suit, nor the white shirt. The black shoes shone in the limited lighting and his pink tie looked unrealistic. Meanwhile, in the bed, I knew myself to be a disastrous mess. Come morning, the sheets would always be wrapped around my legs and my hair would be everywhere. The elastic band that had held the braid would probably be found somewhere under my pillow or it would fall out of my shirt once I would get dressed. I was not ashamed though. I owed this man nothing, let alone making myself presentable at an ungodly hour. "It's time to get up," Cameron said, his deep, baritone voice commanding and authoritarian. If there is one thing in the world I do not respond positively to, it is anything to do with authority. So I challenged: "Why?" "We are having breakfast. In this family, we eat as many meals a day as possible together. I figured since dinner had been going well lately, it is time you joined us for breakfast." I was completely perplexed, dumbstruck and silent as I tried to figure out what distorted definition of "well" could possibly have led him to this questionable conclusion. Dinner was the most excruciating time of the day, sitting at a table with people who all seemed to be equally oblivious to my existence. Cameron and Tabytha talked about the most unimportant and benign things, mostly revolving around the household or gossip Tabytha had picked up. Heero had changed his strategy from refusing to eat, to eating as quickly as humanly possible to be excused and head back up to his room, as far away from me as possible. We were living in the same house, but I hardly saw any of them, Cameron worked seven days a week, six at the office and one in his home office. Tabytha made herself busy with unimportant charity work - she was currently in the process of getting funding for a recreational wing at the hospital. Nothing wrong with that, but she wasn't exactly saving lives. Heero would either be at school or in his bedroom and Tabytha had strongly advised me not to seek contact, unaware that I had absolutely no intention of initiating any sort of contact. So to say things were going well seemed far-fetched to me, the way seven dwarves and a magical kiss were unlikely. And thus, the most eloquent response I could manage was: "Excuse me?" "Better get downstairs before your pancakes go cold." With that Cameron took a step back and closed the door behind him. I was such a whore for anything sweet and damn him for knowing that! As soon as I envisioned syrup drizzling on a stack of pancakes, I knew I would be joining them for breakfast, though, out of self-respect, I argued with myself for a little while longer, just for the sake of it. Then I jumped into black jeans, a black shirt and switched out one of the stud earrings with a skull and cross - to piss them off - and fashioned my hair in the most chaotic, unruly braid ever before heading downstairs. As soon as I opened the bedroom door I was guided by the smell. "Good morning, Duo. How nice that you are joining us!" Tabytha greeted, gesturing with a spatula. She was wearing a pink, frilly apron, with not a single spot on it as I imagined she was pretty particular about not actually getting it dirty. "Take a seat at the breakfast table; I'll bring you your pancakes." In the kitchen by the window, there was a smaller, round table that seated four, as opposed to the giant, rectangular table in the dining room. Heero and Cameron were seated next to each other, both absentmindedly eating their breakfast as they each leafed through the morning newspaper. One of Tabytha's jackets hung over the back of the chair next to Cameron, claiming the chair as hers, forcing me to seat myself beside Heero. I scraped my throat and sat down. "Good morning." There was no response. "Don't mind them," Tabytha said as she placed a plate in front of me, "they always lose themselves in that piece of recycled paper. Don't ask me why, I can't stand newspaper, the paper dries out my fingers, you know? The thought alone gives me goosebumps. Like nails on a blackboard, do you know what I mean?" I stared at her as she sat down, overwhelmed by the volume of words. I supposed I should be grateful I wasn't being ignored for the moment, but the alternative quickly lost its novelty and thus its appeal. "I get the same feeling when Phu files my nails. Oh, Phu is my nail stylist. Her name isn't actually Phu, but she is Vietnamese and when she introduced herself, my mind stopped working after Phu. It was unpronounceable. But she doesn't mind me calling her Phu. I suppose she knew when she moved to America people would have trouble with her name, after all, it is not our responsibility to say her name right. She can't really pronounce my name either and that's fine too, although I do think she should, by now, know how to speak a little English." I looked down at my delicious looking stack of pancakes but cursed inwardly. I had lost my appetite. "Duo," Cameron thankfully interrupted Tabytha, as he appeared to have lost interest in the newspaper, "are you excited about today? Or nervous maybe?" I frowned. "Why, what's today?" Cameron turned to Tabytha. "I thought you had talked to him about this." Tabytha responded defensively: "Well, I did, but only a little, I didn't mention a specific day or anything. I thought you were going to discuss this with him." "Discuss what?" I interjected. Cameron looked at me apologetically. "You are expected at school as of today." My throat suddenly went dry, causing me to cough violently. I got the coughing under control with a few sips of water, my incredulous stare, however, could not be helped so easily. "I'm sorry," he continued, "apparently Tabytha and I both assumed that you had been informed. I called the principal as soon as you arrived. He says that it is fine for you to start in your age appropriate class and see how it goes. He wanted to hold you back a year, but I assured him Helen home schooled you well." "No!" I slammed my fists down on the table, causing the china and the silverware to rattle. Heero looked up at me for the first time in weeks. "No?" Cameron retorted, offended. "You don't get to say her name and you don't get to pretend like you knew her!" I screamed as I rose out of my seat. "You have no right! You have no right!" "Duo, I understand you are upset, but I was married to Helen for nearly ten years," Cameron calmly replied, not impressed at all by my rage. "And then you left and everything changed! She changed! You don't know her, you didn't respect her enough to know her! So you don't get to pretend to some high school principal that you have even the slightest idea of how well she home schooled me!" Finally I seemed to have managed to silence him. He just blinked at me. I reeled back like a startled, wild animal when I felt Tabytha's hand on my arm. "Duo, you don't have to go to school today if you don't want to." "Oh, I will be going to school," I assured her, gesturing around me dramatically as I added: "Any excuse to get out of this goddamned house!" Then I stormed off. I contemplated going back upstairs, but since I was already fully dressed, I ripped open the front door and stepped outside, using all my strength to pull the door shut as loudly and violently as possible. I roughly wiped away the tears that stung my eyes and determinedly headed in a certain direction even though I didn't have a clue where the school was. No one came after me. I was upset that I had let him get to me; I had been doing so well, but the moment his lips formed her name, something in me snapped and a dam burst. Like when a dam bursts, there was no stopping the inevitable. I aimlessly roamed the streets, more occupied with fighting my emotions than with finding the school, yet it was the latter that I miraculously succeeded in. The building was relatively small and unremarkable, encircled by a wrought iron fence that proudly bore the sign of the school. The yard was completely empty and I figured I must have been early, however, when I looked up at the clock on the tower of the school building, I noted classes had long started. I had been walking around town for nearly three hours, completely lost in thought. At the gate I hesitated, I was unwilling and completely unprepared in every sense of the word, but I reminded myself that school would likely be the only thing to look forward to as I sat out my sentence. Who would have ever thought? With a surrendering sigh I stepped onto the grounds. Once inside, the administration desk was easy to find. A grumpy, elderly lady gave me directions to the principal's office, a short walk down a narrow, dark hallway, almost ominous and threatening. At the end there was a waiting room, with several empty chairs, and through the frosted glass of the door to the principal's office I could see two seated figures. Their muffled voices were incoherent as the sound barely made it through the walls. Still jittery with the emotionally laden morning, I couldn't bring myself to sit down, so I paced the waiting room instead, studying the educational anti-drugs, anti-smoking and anti-sex posters. How dull. I jumped when the door suddenly opened. A student looked at me with wary eyes before quietly passing me by and heading back through the hallway. "Can I help you?" The principal was a short, chubby man with an impatient voice and stern, beady eyes. "I think so. I'm Duo Maxwell, this is my first day here." "Right, Maxwell, come in." I followed him inside the small, musty smelling office and closed the door behind me. At his urging, I sat down in the seat across from his desk as he too sat down with a heavy sigh, his desk chair creaking eerily. With his short, thick fingers he started searching through the mess on his desk. "Here it is." He leaned forward to hand me a piece of paper. I had to get up and reach my hand out as far as I could to take it from him. When I sat down and studied it, I instantly recognized it as a class schedule. "I advised your father that you should be held back a year but he was adamantly against that," he said with an annoyed tone. "As you probably know, people don't say no to your father." I didn't know how to respond to that. Cameron had indeed given me that impression, but I didn't really know him, in spite of the fact that he was my father, so I could make no judgment. I decided not to say anything, as a reaction wasn't required anyway. "So I suppose I'll just let the fact that you are extremely late on your first day slide." "Thank you, sir," I said insincerely as he made no attempt to hide his own rude attitude. "You're far too late to join the class that is currently in session, you will only be disruptive. You should wait these last few minutes and start with the next period. Besides, you'll probably need the time to find your class. Do you have your books?" "No, sir." "Then you'd better hurry. Ask the concierge to take you to the basement, we store the supply of schoolbooks there, here is a list of the books you'll need..." His fingers delved back into the mess on his desk and managed to produce another piece of paper. He checked it before handing it to me. "Good luck." "Thank you, sir." I left the office and walked back to the administration desk where I asked for the concierge. The old woman didn't even respond, instead, an equally old man in a grey coverall emerged from the back, taking a large bite out of a thick sandwich. "I need some books," I explained, holding up the list. I was a fish out of water but I was in no panic; in my lifetime I had met so many different people and had been thrust into so many different situations, I had learned to deal with basically anything. Although, of course, nothing could have prepared me for moving in with my father after eight years of absence. "Follow me," he said with around a mouthful of sandwich. I followed the sounds of the rattling keys attached to his belt as he guided me down a dark staircase. He unlocked a door and finally bothered to flick on a light. The many stacks of books were a little daunting and for a moment I stood there, clueless, the list limp in my hand. Luckily the concierge was helpful enough to point out where I could find the books for each specific subject, and because I didn't have a bag with me he handed me two plastic bags with the school logo on it and lent me a pen. He made me promise to return it. He laughed at all the jokes I made. I didn't make jokes for his benefit; it was just my way of reassuring myself and getting myself into a more suitable state of mind for one's first day at school. I felt like if I couldn't successfully distract myself from what had happened that morning, I might throw a huge, unprovoked tantrum in the middle of one of the classes. After I had entertained him he was kind enough to show me to the correct classroom and I got there just in time. The teacher was about to close the door but held it open as she saw us walking up to her. I apologized as I passed her and walked into the classroom. I was momentarily stunned when silence overcame the entire class and all eyes turned to me. Instead of lingering at the front of the class I was quick to spot and conquer an empty table, unfortunately at the front of the classroom. I sat down and lay my two heavy bags on the table. I already knew I would be the freak with the plastic bags, but that was the least of my concerns. A lot of things that are usually very important to someone my age, become very unimportant very quickly when you're dealing with the death of your mother. I would only be the freak with the plastic bags for a little while, until they would get to know me. Then I would be the freak with the dead mom. "You're Duo Maxwell, right?" the teacher asked after saying goodbye to the concierge. I was a little surprised to find her looking directly at me. I had secretly hoped she would just ignore me and start her class as usual. No such luck. "Yeah." "Why don't you introduce yourself to your classmates, make some friends?" Every idiot knew that making friends was a far more complicated process than a simple introduction, but I wasn't bothered. I felt no need to make friends, or even acquaintances. I was only here as long as my sentence lasted, then I would be gone, to never return. Not to say I wasn't going to put in any effort. I figured it would be beneficial to my stay here to at least make some allies. I stood up from my seat and turned around to face many curious expressions. "Hi, my name is Duo and I'm an alcoholic." Most of them laughed. "I saw your anti- drugs, -smoking and -sex campaign posters so I'm pretty sure the teachers here won't like me, but I hope you will," I spoke glibly, earning more smiles and even some laughter. "Thank you for your insightful introduction, Mister Maxwell. You can sit down now," the teacher interfered. I did as I was told and started searching the bags for the appropriate books. I distracted myself from personal thoughts with the material and found I could easily keep up, in spite of the fact that I had been home schooled for the past few years and my mom had lost focus on my academics the final few months of her life. The classes were repetitive. Some of the faces changed, but the routine never did. I didn't have trouble finding my way around the school as the principal had predicted. The school wasn't very large and I had been confronted with much more challenging layouts, like driving my mom all around the country ever since I was sixteen. The dull grind of the day came to a screeching halt when I entered the physics classroom and I instantly knew he was there, before I had even consciously registered his figure in the chaos of mingling students. I think it was because the moment I stepped through the door, I felt his eyes on me. The teacher approached me, shook my hand and introduced himself. He seemed very friendly. But I immediately forgot his name and his face. Finally, I looked right at him. The students were slowly making their way to their appointed tables. Seated at each table were two students, but, as luck would have it, the seat next to his remained unoccupied. "You can sit next to Heero," the nameless, faceless teacher spoke, pointing at the lone boy in the back. "Hey, both your last names are Maxwell. You guys don't happen to be related, do you?" "We're brothers. Sort of," I grumbled. Heero seemed equally disappointed. And pissed off. "Excellent! Then it should be no problem. We finally have an even number of students, now Heero won't have to work on projects alone anymore." The Heero in question couldn't be more displeased about this fact. If looks could kill... well, then both our problems would be solved. "Excellent indeed," I agreed sarcastically. The teacher didn't make me introduce myself to the entire class. By then there was no need anyway, all the faces were familiar. I had shared at least one earlier class with all of them. Except Heero of course. I sincerely hoped the similarities in our schedules did not extend beyond physics. I dragged my feet walking up to him. He was already busily ignoring me, leafing through his textbooks. I slammed the two bags onto the table, purposefully loud and with a sigh I seated myself on the high chair. Luckily the class was mostly theoretical and the small assignment we had to complete we could do individually, so we could continue to pretend that the other wasn't even there. Though in reality I was hyper aware of his presence. Even the slightest move he made I could feel on my skin and in my muscles, as if the air displacement physically moved me. And I went crazy wondering if I should give amicable conversation another try, with each technical term that I read in the text, the thought crossed my mind to pretend not to know what the term meant, just to have an excuse to say something to him. However, I firmly decided against those tactics. He already hated me. I didn't need him to hate me and think I was an idiot. It was the most uncomfortable fifty minutes of my life. When the bell rang he was on his feet and away in a heartbeat, leaving me behind. I can't stand a year of this, I told myself, gathering my books back into one of the bags. I had hoped for school to be a welcome escape, but this single class I shared with him posed a very real threat to that. There would be no avoiding him, not in the way we had both planned to. Sooner or later we would have to work together on an assignment. I feared that day, I really feared it. Heero was incredibly attractive, but over the past few weeks looking at him had not become the enjoyment that I had expected it to be, it was incredibly uncomfortable and confrontational. I had come to see him as the physical embodiment of everything about the living situation that I hated. And honestly? Pierce his ears and put in a cross and I'd be looking at a reflection of my inner self; struggling, filled with hatred, betrayal, unadulterated anger and the yearning to just be left the hell alone. The classroom had emptied out by the time I had risen to my feet. I walked up to the teacher, seated behind his desk. It was the final class of the day, so no students were waiting outside. "Excuse me, sir?" I started. He looked up from his papers, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Yes, the other Mister Maxwell?" "About that... isn't it possible for us to partner up with someone else?" My request surprised him. "You don't want to work with your own brother?" I scratched the back of my neck. "Well, he's only my brother on paper. In reality, we are total strangers." He frowned but didn't ask any questions regarding the strange familial arrangement. Instead, he said: "This seems like as good an opportunity as any to get to know each other, then. If you really feel you have to, you could ask one of the other's to exchange partners with you, but I doubt you will succeed. They are all good friends and have been working together as partners the entire year, most even several years. Moreover, hm, how do I put this in a way that won't get me fired?" he scratched his scruffy beard. "Heero is a very... driven student, that makes him... challenging to work with. Heero doesn't really get along well with the others." That didn't sound very promising in the least. "Can't we just work individually, then?" "I'm sorry, but if the class has an even number of students, I am required to partner everyone up." He turned his attention back to his work, making it evident this discussion had come to an end and so had my hope. I walked back to the administration desk to return the pen to the concierge. He asked me how my first day had gone, I answered with a lighthearted joke that made him laugh. But my heart felt heavy and I felt like I could cry if I would let myself. Having no idea how to get back to my prison, I got on the school bus and asked the driver, he dropped me off at the nearest stop, from where I could trace my steps back to the house. I paused on the sidewalk in front of the house, ignoring the curious stares of a nosy neighbor. This wasn't home, I recognized, so coming back to this house at the end of a challenging day felt wrong and made me sad. I wished I still had my mom to come home to. She made every hotel, every motel, a home. Even when we had to sleep in the car from time to time, she made me feel at home. I missed that and I realized I would forever miss that. The thought made me nauseous. I blinked when the front door opened. Tabytha appeared in the doorway. She smiled at me as if everything was right in the world and between us. "Come in," she urged me and I reluctantly obeyed. "Oh dear, don't tell me you've been lugging those bags around all day." "It's no problem." "There is a gift waiting for you in your bedroom. We had wanted to give it to you this morning, but you left so quickly." Her unwavering smile was unsettling. "Oh," was my sole response. I started up the stairs. "Do you want a snack?" She called after me. I hadn't eaten anything all day, I didn't even have money with me to buy lunch, so I was starving. I wished I could have refused her offer, but my growling stomach made it impossible. I came back down. "Yeah, sure. Thanks." "Don't worry, Heero isn't home yet," she said with a wink. "I saw on the board that he has an after school meeting with the chess club." Of course he does, I thought with a roll of my eyes. I followed her into the kitchen where a plate with a tasty looking sandwich and a large glass of orange juice was waiting for me at the breakfast table. To my dismay, Tabytha sat down next to me, but I could make no objections, annoying and unreal as she was, of the three I liked her the best. With her, everything seemed fake, but I preferred that to the way I felt when I was with Cameron or Heero. "How was your first day?" she asked nicely, completely neglecting the fact that all of them had failed to mention I would even be going to school today. "Fine," I lied. "That's good to hear. Did you make any friends?" "Sure." "Wonderful. Do you have any classes with Heero?" "Yeah." The first honest answer. "Oh, that is very good, you two should really get to know each other." She poured herself a floral-patterned cup of tea. "Once you get to know him, he's not that bad. Just, RTFM," she finished with a chuckle. I noted that was a strange thing for a mother to say about her son, adopted or not, "he's not that bad". I frowned and asked her what RTFM meant. "Read The Fucking Manual," she replied with a painfully sweet tone of voice. Strange indeed. "Heero just has a lot of rules," she elaborated, "as long as you don't break them, you should be fine." "What's the most important rule?" I wondered, purely out of curiosity. "Never go into his room uninvited. But never interfere with his school work or his projects either, that is also a pretty big one." "Is he, like, autistic?" I inquired cautiously. Tabytha let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, no, at least, I don't think so. He is just like Cameron in that regard. They are both very particular. I suppose it is because they are both geniuses. Their work is what is most important to them and they just don't want to be disturbed." "Oh." I pondered over that for a moment before I abused the window of opportunity with more questions, starting with: "What is Cameron's work exactly?" I knew she had misinterpreted my intentions when her initial, enthusiastic reaction was: "Oh, how nice that you show interest in your father's career!" She continued: "Are you familiar with Archer pharmaceuticals?" "Aiming for a better life?" I responded, remembering the slogan from old ad campaigns. "Exactly!" "Didn't that company go bankrupt a couple of years ago?" It seemed unlikely to me that a tanked business could pay for this spacious house and the nice cars in the driveways. "It did, it was then that my father realized the company needed change, so he stepped down and appointed Cameron as CEO," Tabytha said proudly. "Your father?" "Yes, my maiden name is Tabytha Archer. Anyway, your father has successfully turned the business around; it is now the fastest growing pharmaceutical company in the state. Your father is a brilliant businessman. My father died in peace, knowing Cameron was at the helm. Cameron was originally a lawyer, like his father- your grandfather - but he has great business instinct, at least, that what my father always used to say. I don't know anything about the business myself," she said with a girlish giggle. "You know, your grandfather is the head of the most successful law firm in the country." I got the distinct impression that all this grandeur was incredibly impressive and important to her. In sharp contrast, I felt incredibly apathetic in the face of it all. I had never even thought about the fact that I had grandparents. My mother's parents had deceased when she was only a young girl, she talked lovingly, but little of them. There had been no sisters or brothers for me to call aunt or uncle. It had always just been the two of us, with the exception of those few times we would visit old friends of hers. I would have been more impressed if Tabytha had told me of a grandfather who had missed me, a grandfather who wished to meet his long lost grandson. But it wasn't like that. I finished the sandwich paying little attention to her endless string of words. I understood the desire to fill an uncomfortable silence; I had just never really been confronted with how annoying it could be to be at the receiving end of the rambling. In spite of what I had believed, it didn't make the situation any more bearable, just insufferable in a different way. I headed upstairs still chewing on the last bite. In my room, on my bed, I found my present. I felt almost violated, since I had grown attached to the privacy of my room, to know one of them had been in there disturbed that little bit of peace of mind that I had acquired. Sitting on top of the perfectly made bed - which I had left that morning in a tangled mess - was a hip but sturdy shoulder bag of a well-known and expensive sportswear brand. It was mostly black but with a graphic blue and white design on the front. I noticed the little note thoughtfully placed in front of it. Duo, To make school more bearable. Cameron & Tabytha. I wasn't eager to accept too many gifts from them, but this was one I could not refuse. I couldn't walk around with a plastic bag for the continuation of my academic career. I dumped my books on the bed and then kneeled in front of the desk. Softly - as if someone might be listening by the door - I opened the bottom drawer and inspected the insides. It seemed to be just the way I had left it, the box exactly an inch away from the left and front panel of the drawer, with the lettering and the picture facing the other way. I needed a lock. If they could keep secrets from me, I damn well had the right to keep secrets from them. I needed to change the entire room, perhaps to mark it as my own territory; maybe then I'd feel a little bit better, a little more at ease. Soon it was time for dinner and I was summoned downstairs. Cameron, in spite of his busy job, made it home for dinner every day to take his seat at the head of the table. Tabytha bustled about in the kitchen to perfectly arrange everyone's plate and she would place it in front of us in a certain, thought-through way. The silver cutlery was perfectly aligned and the crystal water glasses were polished to perfection. However, none of these efforts could make the event into a success. The proceedings never changed. No one mentioned my outburst of that morning and Cameron didn't seem to feel any more uneasy in my presence than I had deemed usual. As always, Tabytha rattled on about her insignificant day and blew everything out of proportion to make it pass as meaningful. Cameron just listened. Heero ignored all of us, focused on his food consumption. I never felt like I had the right to speak, or that I had anything to say. That evening, though, I opened my mouth anyway. "Hey, you guys said I could change the room any way I wanted, right?" Tabytha and Cameron seemed confused and surprised that I finally spoke. "Of course. It's your room." Cameron eventually said. "Well, then I'll need some money," I continued as he fell short of offering. "Of course. Anything you want." "And I'll need to use the car." "Naturally," Cameron responded absentmindedly. "We could go get things together," Tabytha suggested enthusiastically. "I have excellent taste, I would love to help you!" "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to do it by myself," I responded as neutrally as possible. "Oh..." She seemed disappointed to have a new project taken away from her, but I wasn't about to let her take control. "That is fine, Duo," Cameron said with an understanding tone. I suspected him of placating me and was proven right when he added: "But considering what happened, I'm sure you understand I can't just give you money and lend you our SUV." My body tensed up at the presentation of this very uncomfortable topic. I hadn't even considered doing that, but now that he mentioned it, I realized I deserved to be kicked in the head for not thinking of it myself. It would have been a good plan, had Cameron not realized it too. "We'll do it next Saturday," he continued diplomatically, "I'll drive you wherever you want and I promise I will just wait by the checkout counter. I won't interfere." Desperate to get out of this contrived father-son Saturday bonding experience so much so that I struggled for coherence, I stammered: "I don't... I'm not sure..." "You know what?" He interrupted me and he raised his fork as if he was to announce something brilliant, "You're right. That's a bad idea. I have a much better idea." I waited with stomach turned further and further into an unrecognizable knot that made even the sight of the remaining food on my plate unbearable. "Heero can go with you." This seemed to shock the Asian boy. For the first time in all these awkward dinners, he looked up. He snapped his neck and looked at Cameron with big eyes. Big, betrayed and shocked eyes. I wasn't surprised. The opposite in fact. My immediate thought was: of course. After all, didn't the greater scheme of the universe constantly occupy itself with the task of how to make my life just that little bit extra miserable? This was the manifestation of all that effort. And so, I wasn't the least flabbergasted, only defeated, when he added insult to injury and suggested, with a tone of voice that clearly indicated it was more a command disguised as a suggestion: "In fact, Heero can help you. You could probably use an extra set of hands." "That is an excellent idea, honey!" Tabytha supplied us of her meaningless input and approval. "I just... I wanted it to be my project," I argued in vain. "And I want my sons to be able to look each other in the eye." At his words, Heero purposefully angled his face down at the table's surface, completely unwilling to heed Cameron's request. His sons. The words left a bitter taste in my mouth. It implied I was somehow not only part of him, but also part of Heero. I looked at the other son, at my brother, with whom I bore no resemblance and who I didn't know. He was aware of my gaze, his body became even more tense, so tense his hands were trembling, the only indication that he was not carved out of stone; cold and unmoving, existing but not living. He never met my gaze, his eyes still focused on Cameron, wordlessly trying to change his mind. It wasn't going to happen, I knew it wasn't. I accepted my fate, knowing there was nothing I could do to refuse it, hoping it wouldn't turn out to be too bad. But I feared I would not be so lucky, I hadn't been in a long time. None of the things that were happening to me indicated that I had any sort of luck on my side. First my dad left me and my mom, forcing us into a wayward, gypsy-like existence, rich only in our minds and hearts, dirt poor to the world and our growling stomachs. Then my mom died. Then I was forced to live with my estranged father as the court denied me early emancipation. Now this, being forced to spend time with someone who resented me so much he couldn't even bear to look at me. Swell. The discussion, if there ever was one, was over. It had been decided. The dinner had made it instantly clear to me what kind of authoritarian figure Cameron was within the household. Not even Heero, who must have been hating the idea even more so than I did, opened his mouth to argue. After staring at him lengthily without result, he bowed his head and scrutinized his food, long lost was the appetite to consume it. When I was dismissed I fled upstairs. The atmosphere had become even more suffocating. Tabytha's lack of words created tension. Heero's anger and dismay thickened the air. The scraping of Cameron's knife over the ceramic plate as he was the only one to finish his meal, made me cringe. To clear my thoughts I reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and retrieved the thick photo album. I had never had the opportunity to leaf through it and look at all the pictures. She had only given it to me on her deathbed, her hands too weak to lift the thing. She just pushed it towards me over the white hospital sheets. Her skin was as white as her teeth, I had noticed, when she offered me a smile. Looking at the images was overwhelming, both in a sad and happy kind of way. Happy to see her face and feel her so close to me, filling my heart, the past touch of her fingers ghosting over my cheek. But deeply sad, knowing she was only a memory now. A memory and a tombstone, in the city we happened to be passing through when her body decided it had been enough. I reread the letter on the first page, only now noticing the tear stains, then realizing quickly they were my own. I pulled my sleeve down over my hand and used the rough fabric to wipe away the single trail of tears that had escaped my left eye. I took a deep breath and released it slowly and I touched her face in a picture where she was smiling. I was still a young boyand we were at some amusement park. The memory of the day eluded me but her smile was exactly the way I remembered. It had never changed. It was beautiful, but with a sadness to it that I only started to recognize once I grew older. Sadness at her husband abandoning her, I supposed. As painful as some of the memories could be, I'd rather wallow in remembrance of her, than confront myself with thoughts of my present and my future. My progress through the book was slow. I stopped for long moments on each page, studying the pictures, playing out the events in my head, closing my eyes and allowing myself to smile when a happiness I hadn't enjoyed in a long time surfaced and enveloped me. I stopped when the pictures started to show signs of my mother's illness. The exhaustion, the paleness of her skin, her pain, her thinning hair and the IV's were still crisp and clear in my mind and I didn't need photographs to remind me. I dragged my feet all through the week, hoping that somehow, time would fall into step with my slow pace. Of course I contemplated blowing the whole thing off, especially when during a dinner halfway into the week, Cameron again insisted that Heero not only accompany me to the store, but also help me with my room. I guess most of my motivation for going along with it was pettiness. I knew I would be doing Heero a favor as well by calling it off, so I chalked it up to cruel and unusual punishment for us both. Maybe I would even learn something, actually get to know Heero or the family better. Not that I was interested. Knowledge is power. I definitely needed some more power. As expected I encountered no trouble in school. The students responded favorably to the anarchistic quality of my character. The mystery and the rebellion expressed in my clothes, my many earrings and my inexplicably long hair drew them in. Many of them had a serious desire for "cool by proxy", thinking that even being loosely associated with me would somehow make them a rebel. Something none of them actually had the courage to openly be. It was a novel experience for me, being engulfed by high school society, one that I got bored with quickly, but I knew better than to make enemies and create yet another hostile environment in my life. My muscles were sore after Physics on Thursday, a full hour of stiffly sitting next to my brother, expertly ignoring me. I rolled my shoulders and my neck as I walked out of the classroom. Heero had already gone, uncannily swift in his departure. "Hey dude, wait up!" a deep voice called. Having no reason to assume the person was addressing me, I casually continued on my path towards the next class. I was startled, but managed to control my response, when a tanned hand landed on my shoulder. "Wait up, man," that voice said again. I turned around and felt my sore muscles tense up anew when I was faced with a group of four tall, bulky built young men in matching Letterman jackets. Even as someone who had been home schooled most his life, I knew what the stereotypical jock looked like and I also knew what a guy, looking the way I did, could expect from them. Their smiles were unexpected and disarming, but I remained suspicious of their intentions. Many people had approached me during those first few days with amicable intentions, but they had all been common folk. I realized, within the boundaries of high school society, I was faced with royalty. I was annoyed more than I was unnerved. "What's up, dude?" the guy who had had his hand on my shoulder said. "Nothing. Just minding my own business." I prepared to turn around but his words froze me. "Your last name is Maxwell? Like Heero Maxwell?" With a quirked eyebrow and piqued interest I responded: "Yeah." I kept my body half turned away from them. I was taller than all four of them, but I knew that if it would turn into a fight, they would have the upper hand. "Dude, that's fucked up man, are you guys like family or something?" "Maxwell is not an uncommon name. It could be a coincidence," I pointed out, not eager to tell them anything. Like I said, knowledge is power. "Well, with the way the two of you are devotedly ignoring each other in class, I figured something was up." "Clever." I deadpanned. "Very astute." "They're saying you guys are brothers. Is that true?" He continued with a mocking tone. It appeared they already knew the truth, so I decided not to corner myself with a lie. "Yeah. We're brothers." "Dude!" he explained and he briefly cast a glance over his shoulder at the other three. He turned back to me and asked: "That's hilarious." "Yeah, it never fails to crack me up." His eyebrows suddenly formed a deep frown. "Are you mocking me?" "I wouldn't dare," I said dryly. "I'm being nice to you and you mock me?" "I know right, what has the world come to?" I wasn't really thinking of self-preservation before I opened my mouth. I have often found that in confrontational situations like these, my intentions start out good, but after a while of having my buttons pushed, the part of my brain in direct control of my mouth just seems to think: how can I fuck this up even more? "You better watch your attitude, braided boy wonder, or you might get yourself and that little whore of a brother of yours in serious trouble," he warned with a sly grin before walking off, his friends following him, all of them pretending I was completely invisible, walking into me with painful jabs of their shoulder. I watched them go, confused by all of it, but mostly by what they had called Heero. He didn't exactly resemble my view of a "whore", in those awful, ill-fitting pressed pants and unflattering button-up shirts. As it turned out, the weekend might get interesting after all. I stored the little sneak-peek of information away, planning to put it to good use during the weekend. Saturday morning came quickly. Even after a sleepless night. There was a quiet but persistent knock on the door. "Duo?" Tabytha's voice drifted through. My reply was nothing more than an incoherent groan. "Duo, it's past eight o'clock. The stores open at nine," she announced dutifully. She waited by my door for a little while - for what I didn't know - then I heard the clicking of her heels going back down the hallway. I took my time getting ready, showering leisurely and lazily drying my hair. Mostly because I anticipated it would bug the crap out of Heero, who had proven himself to be a very schedule-bound character. I put on my favorite pair of dark jeans with matching holes over both knees and fading with scuffmarks all over. I didn't buy them like that. Growing up the way I did, with lack of monetary resources, you wore your clothes until you grew out of them. So when I stopped growing, I was stuck with what I had until it was threadbare. I wore a black hoodie and finished with my large, black boots that made my footfalls obnoxiously loud. I stomped downstairs, greeted halfway by the smell of breakfast: French toast. My breakfast wasn't the only thing waiting for me in the kitchen. When I rounded the corner I was met with Heero's cold glare that sent shivers down my spine and chased away all the warmth that the nice shower had left me with. He stood with his lower back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest, dressed in the usual: awful beige slacks and white button-up shirt. 'Whore', I remembered. I tried to see it but I couldn't. He looked like a goodie-two-shoes, dressed as if he was going to church, rather than a Home Depot. The only rebellious thing about him was his hair, going every which way, but I didn't think it was an intentional statement. Heero pointedly looked down at his wristwatch upon my entry. I grabbed my plate, took a big bite and asked challengingly: "What?" Crumbs shot forth. Heero looked appalled and turned away, like he couldn't stand looking at me any longer. Tabytha didn't interfere; she had colorful magazine pictures spread out over the breakfast table. I noticed a lot of flowers and dresses. She was intently focused on them. I leaned in closer, studying the pictures as I asked: "What's all this for?" I ignored Heero's exasperated sigh at the inevitable, added delay. "I'm planning a wedding!" she practically squealed. "I don't normally do weddings but this is a very special occasion. It's your aunt's wedding!" My brows knitted together. I didn't even know I had an aunt. This estranged family kept getting bigger and bigger. "I mean, it's her third wedding, but it should still be special, right? Besides, three times is a charm! And if not, well, who doesn't like a party?" I regretted ever showing interest, glowering as she rambled on about and bridesmaids' dresses. "It's nine o'clock," Heero stated impatiently. His voice startled me, as I had completely forgotten what he sounded like. It was deep and tense, like a music note ever building towards a violent climax, but always stopping short of that, remaining in that state of tension and aggravation. "We should already be at the store by now," he continued. "Heero," Tabytha soothed him, "don't worry so much, you have the entire weekend." "I have homework." She quirked a delicate, blond eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty certain your teachers won't give you any trouble for not handing in an assignment three months ahead of the deadline." He scowled and dryly retorted: "I'm actually only two months ahead on this particular course." "Well, like I said: no reason to worry. Let Duo finish his breakfast." She turned back to her 'work'. I looked at Heero with a devilish grin and took a slow bite of the French toast, my hand, my lips and my jaw working in exaggerated slow motion. He looked away, his jaw clenching and his fingers gripping his upper arms. Fifteen minutes later I decided I had pushed him far enough. Any further and I might push him off a ledge and find him gripping my ankle and dragging me down with him. I put away my plate and listened to the jingle of car keys as Tabytha handed them to Heero. "Just be home before noon, okay? Cameron has the Audi and I have an appointment, so I need the SUV." "I hope we'll be back well before noon," Heero said. I followed him outside to the SUV and jokingly offered to drive. He didn't grace me with any sort of reaction. I sat down in the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt over my shoulder while curiously looking around. The car still had that new smell to it, dominated by the scent of leather. The car I had gotten used to, driving all around the country, smelled like cheeseburgers and wet dog - which was curious, seeing as we never had a dog. Heero backed the large vehicle out of the driveway and headed towards our destination. I quickly became very irritated with his style of driving. Keeping the speed five miles under the speed limit and crossing roads far too cautiously, causing the cars trailing us to honk repeatedly. When we arrived at the Home Depot, he parked far away from the entry and the other cars. I figured he must be worried about damaging his parents' brand new car, but I had no sympathy. I took a cart and pushed it into the store, looking around, not having a clue where to go. It struck me, with a mild sense of awe, that I had never been in a home depot. I had never had a private room to decorate. Those first few years after Cameron left, when we did rent apartments and stayed in place a little longer, I was too young to be of any major influence. Mom would just show up with the few decorative items she could afford, doing her best to make a bare spare bedroom a suitable child's bedroom. I was so focused on watching the signs over the aisles that I accidentally pushed the cart into a display. Heero quickly interfered, taking the cart from me, muttering something about me being a 'blistering simpleton'. I didn't defend myself. I preferred his insults over the tense silence that had nearly suffocated me during the prolonged drive over. Insults I could handle, especially his. I found them quite amusing in their eloquent delicateness. I still had no idea what his deal was. I didn't expect a warm welcome, I didn't expect us to become friends or even so much as act as if we remotely resembled two brothers. But the hostility was uncalled for. I would have considered jealousy as a possible explanation, fear that Cameron might like me more as his 'real' son, than Heero. But that was preposterously unrealistic in my opinion. Cameron had made it abundantly clear that my mom and I didn't live up to his expectations when he decided he was done with us, and in comparison with Heero I accepted that I was no ideal son. Heero had nothing to worry about. I would never be two months ahead on my school assignments. I would never win science awards. I would never be a good little conformist. And I wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit. "What do you want?" Heero snapped at me. "Excuse me?" "What do you want?" He nodded in the direction of the main aisle. "Oh, just some paint and stuff." I still had to get used to having him actually speak to me and thus acknowledging my existence. Foul and impatient as this acknowledgement may be, I couldn't help but see it as progress. Maybe Cameron, though still hateful, had made a good point. I didn't disagree with him that it would be best if Heero and I could at least co-exist in a civil manner. Still, each time he addressed me, I had to refrain myself from looking over my shoulder and earnestly wonder if he was actually talking to me. Heero seemed to be familiar with the lay-out of the store. He led me to the appropriate aisle and idly stood by as I walked along the wall of paint cans, scrutinizing the samples. It wasn't so much a search for what I liked, as a search for what they - Cameron and Tabytha particularly - wouldn't like. Making my room 'homey' was not the same as making my room 'me'. I wanted the sheer color scheme to repel them as much I personally felt. Black was an obvious and easy choice, but I felt like more colors were needed to express my inner anger, so I kept mulling over different dark shades. Red, I decided after some consideration, was too vampy and strangely welcoming in its warmth. I needed something cold, so I walked over to the blues. I looked back at Heero, feeling a little uneasy as our eyes met. He had on his usual glare, intimidating and frosty. I suddenly wasn't so sure any more if I liked this progress. Being under his cold and examining stare made the rhythm of my heart beat uncomfortably hard and fast. The exotic, cat-eye like shape of his eyes with thick black lashes framed clear, all-seeing orbs. The outer rim of his iris was dark like the sky on a moonless night, but lining his pupil, extending out into the dark blue with sharp, jagged edges, was blue ice, giving the effect of his glare on my skin a frostbite-like quality. I reached back towards the shelf and picked out a dark blue and light blue that most resembled the two tones of his eyes. The colors weren't nearly as fascinating as paint in a jar, but it would have to do. Heero's glare was the coldest and most unwelcoming thing I could imagine and I hoped the colors would have my room convey the same warning. I walked the cans over to him and deposited them in the cart. "Like them?" He shrugged. "What's your room like?" "Like none of your business," he bit back viciously. I raised my hands in surrender. "Let's just go get brushes and sandpaper and stuff." He promptly turned the cart around and led the way to the adjoining aisle. I gathered up all the necessary equipment to sand the furniture and paint the furniture and the walls and much to Heero's dismay I announced I wanted to walk through the store to see if there was anything else I wanted. I needed to find a lock for my drawer and for my door. In the appropriate aisle, under Heero's watchful eye, I got what I needed, but I decided to go through the entire store. Cameron did say I could buy whatever I wanted, why not make good use of that? Heero became increasingly impatient as I took my time strolling through the aisles, him following me rather than the other way around. Eventually, he wondered out loud: "Why do I even need to be here?" I stopped and looked back at him, shuddering a little - invisibly I hoped - under the intensity of his stare from underneath lowered eyebrows. "Because Cameron said so." "But why? What did Cameron mean with 'considering what happened'?" he demanded, keeping his effective glare focused on me. "Why do I have to hold the money and drive you around town?" I noted that he sad Cameron as opposed to 'dad', even though Cameron was more his father than he was mine, but I didn't question it. "Because he figured that if he would give me the money and the car, I would run, considering I have already done so twice. That is what happened." Heero seemed surprised I gave him an honest answer. He made my heart ache, though I couldn't explain why for the life of me, when he asked: "Why don't you just run away?" I rolled my eyes. "Like I said, I already did so twice. Yet I still ended up with you guys, didn't I? It didn't work, can't get very far without money." I stepped in more closely, keeping my eyes fixated on him, noticing a change in his expression, like the tables were turning and now he was the one at the receiving end of an ominous glare. "With money, however, I could get far away from here. You wouldn't have to stand me for even one more day." He strengthened his glare. "It wouldn't be stealing," I argued, "Cameron said I could buy as much as I want. It would simply be a case of... rerouting funds, based on personal preference." He looked away and started to push the cart further down the main aisle. "Why are you acting like you aren't jumping at this opportunity?" I questioned as I followed him with hurried pace. "I wish I could give you the money," he hissed over his shoulder. He turned around to submit me to the full brunt of his glare. "I really wish I could." "Then what's stopping you?" "Cameron will know I gave it to you. I will not suffer the consequences." "He's not exactly going to miss me. I doubt he'll be very upset." I saw in his eyes that I was not convincing him. "You can just tell them I took it from you. I'll gladly give you a black eye if that will solidify your alibi," I finished with a cheeky grin. "It's on an ATM card. You wouldn't know the code unless I tell you." He looked away, but added: "Trust me, if I could, I would." I sighed and watched him walk off. When he noticed I wasn't following him, he stopped dead in his track and whipped his head back impatiently, his hair flinging waywardly around his angry face. "Aren't we done here?" "Fine." I trailed him to the checkout counter where I watched him pay for everything with Cameron's ATM card with dull eyes. The cart rattled as Heero pushed it over the uneven asphalt towards the SUV, parked all the way in the back. "Why do you call Cameron by his name, rather than calling him 'dad'?" I asked, raising my voice so I could be heard over the noise. He answered my question with a question of his own: "Why do you?" Because he is not really my dad. He opened the trunk and started transferring the supplies from the cart to the SUV. After a few items he turned around and snapped: "Aren't you going to do anything?" I stepped in and helped him load the remainder of the items and then, at his insistence, pushed the cart back to the store while he waited in the car. The drive back to the house was as agonizing as the earlier trip had been. Tabytha came to the front door and greeted us as we got out of the car. "Did you get everything you need?" I didn't answer her and after an uncomfortably long moment of silent, she awkwardly excused herself and walked back into the house. Heero and I carried the purchases up to the guest room, my room. He promptly retreated to change into a set of old clothes and while he got dressed in his own, very private room, I took the sheets off the bed and hid all my personal affects in the bathroom, out of reach from Heero's calculating eyes. Heero's old clothes were just a different pair of slacks and a loose fitting T-shirt. Even though he was an insufferable dick, I wouldn't have minded to see him an old, tight pair of jeans. Heero's looks were just about the only enjoyable thing about him, but he seemed hell-bent on ruining his esthetics as much as he could with those hideous clothes. Because I wanted to paint the furniture, we had to sand them and thus, to avoid getting an excess amount of dust in the room, we had to carry the furniture outside. Luckily it was a sunny day, but not too hot. The bed we dismantled and taken downstairs in pieces. The desk and empty dresser we had to maneuver down the stairs as a whole. It was difficult coordinating with Heero, he was very stubborn and defiant, but we managed and we got the last piece into the driveway just in time to see Tabytha leave. With her as well as Cameron gone for the remainder of the day, I told Heero he didn't have to help me, that I would rather do it by myself. He reached for a sanding machine and simply said: "They will know." Then he turned on the machine and started working on the surface of the desk. I supposed he was right, after all, without his help it would take me twice as long, that kind of slow progress they would surely notice. I took a piece of sandpaper and pulled out the drawers to start work on those, all the while keeping my eyes on Heero and the stiff, tense motions of his body as he worked. After an hour my grumbling stomach decided it was time for lunch and without any announcement I dropped my tools, stood up and walked into the house, curious if Heero would follow. I got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and took a couple of large gulps before I started raiding the cabinets for food. I jumped when I closed a cabinet door and realized Heero had joined me in the kitchen, just staring at me. "Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich too?" I asked as I made preparations for my own. "No thanks." He quietly worked on making himself a healthy sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes and low-fat mayonnaise. "So," I said when I sat down next to him at the breakfast table where he pretended to be reading the newspaper Cameron must have rifled through that morning, "this guy approached me in school this week. Some dumb jock." "I'm sure you got along well," he noted disinterestedly, keeping his eyes focused on the small black lettering on the recycled paper. I scoffed. "What about me makes you think I would get along with a jock?" I gestured at myself, certain the black clothes, the earrings and the chains on my belt were unmistakable. I hadn't bothered to change, seeing as all my clothes were old and a bit of paint would not be terribly compromising. "Oh, I apologize," he said dishonestly, looking up at me with his ice cold eyes, "I was focusing on the 'dumb' part." That boiled my blood a little, admittedly. I defensively straightened up in my seat and didn't appreciate the victorious, smug look in his eyes. "You think you are so smart." "So do you," he shot back, "the difference between you and I is that I have school results and IQ-tests to back up my assumption. Whereas you rely on a misguided notion." "Well, if you are so much smarter than me, maybe you can help me figure something out." "Four," he said, looking back down at the paper, the financial section. "Two plus two is four." "Why did that jock call you a whore?" My question erased the victory from his features. Only momentarily did he look surprised with a hint of offense. His reaction wasn't immediate, he watched me first, for several heartbeats, gauging me, maybe contemplating answering me. He delayed his response further by taking the final bite of his sandwich. With a screech of the legs of the chair over the floor, he stood up. Looking down at me with narrowed eyes he said calmly: "Good luck with your room." Then he walked off and disappeared through the door that led to the garage. I heard him going up the winding staircase, up to his room. The curiosity was crippling me, as surely he predicted. I resigned to my fate and continued work on my own. Amazingly, I hoped Cameron would force Heero to me help me the next day. I was eager to have some questions answered. Perhaps if I could figure out this family and reveal its hidden imperfections, I could be more at ease. I could stop feeling worthless, less of a person than they were. Curiosity may have been said to have killed the cat, but I was no fucking feline. My mom always said, somewhat mysteriously, that she trusted my ability to figure out any truth. Knowledge is power.
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