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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 Eight
Tabytha had come home earlier in the afternoon, practically bouncing up and down and boring me with details of the upcoming wedding that I wasn't even interested in to begin with. As far as I know she had already gone to bed, after what she described to be a busy but successful weekend. I spied through the opening between the curtains and watched Heero – they were unrecognizable with their helmets on, but I knew Heero would be the one sitting on the back – get off with stiff movements, his hands seeking support on Cameron's shoulders. Once he stood next to the bike his balance wavered and he would have fallen backwards onto the immaculate lawn if it hadn't been for Cameron's gloved hand reaching out for his forearm and steadying him with a tight grip. Assured his son wouldn't topple over again the father let go of him and reached into his pocket for the remote control of the garage door. I heard the noise, muffled through the walls, as the door rolled back and I pressed my cheek against the window pane to follow Cameron with my eyes as he pushed the bike into the garage, trailed by a slow-moving Heero. As soon as they were out of sight I hurried downstairs, walking past the closed door of the master bedroom where Tabytha had retreated over an hour ago, not invested enough to stay up to await the safe return of her husband and adoptive son. I stormed into the kitchen at the exact same moment Cameron walked in through the door. I stopped and pretended I hadn't come racing down. Acting casual I greeted him with a drawl and headed for the fridge. The light that went on automatically as I ripped the door open barely lit the room and cast long, dark shadows. "How was your fishing trip?" I asked. Cameron closed the door to the garage and flicked on the lights. He looked tired but his grin was one of satisfaction. "It was wonderful." I took a sip from the carton of milk and kept my eyes
on him in suspicion as he walked up to me and then reached around
me to retrieve a chilled can of beer from the refrigerator. "How
was your weekend?" He nodded absent-mindedly, taking a swig of his beer and he started to walk out of the kitchen. "Isn't Heero coming in?" I wondered, pointedly looking at the closed door to the garage. "He was tired. He went straight to bed. He- We didn't get much sleep. We stayed up late and got up early every morning, to fish." "Right," I took another thoughtful sip from the carton. "To fish." "Goodnight, Duo." He walked away. "Goodnight…" I put the milk back and contemplated going up to Heero's bedroom door with some lame excuse so I could find out what was going on, but a frightened, nervous feeling stopped me. I had the sinking feeling that all my questions would have unwanted answers, answers that would leave me feeling sick, and even though I never shied away from prying, even at my own expense, I was uncharacteristically reluctant. I switched off the lights and found my way back upstairs. I slowed my pace in the hallway and loitered outside the door to the master bedroom. There was no sound to be heard, even though Cameron had just gone in there. He had probably decided not to wake his wife, not even to say hello after being apart all weekend. I went back into my room and sat on the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest. I chewed on the tip of my thumb as I reviewed the information available to me. All my knowledge was vague and incomplete. All I had were my own concerns and fear. Really, I had no solid evidence anything sordid was going on in the household. But I couldn't shake that feeling, that feeling of being an unsuspecting viewer to a drama about to unfold. But this drama wasn't going to unfold itself, it was curled up tightly in its own secrecy. I would have to actively pull at the loose ends to get anything concrete freed and out into the open. I had to be prepared for the consequences. They could
very well be worse than my overactive mind could predict. "Good morning," She chirped. "Good morning." I took my seat, my eyes darting back and forth between the financial section – Cameron – and the back of the science section – Heero. Neither of them responded. "Don't mind the boys," Tabytha remarked, "They go two days without a newspaper and they think they come back to a different world that they must explore and dissect all over again." She nodded in dismay at the recycled paper their hands held in front of their faces. "As if they ever write anything new in there. It's all the same, every day. More depressing news. Recession, corruption, civil unrest, earthquakes… I do not understand why anybody would want to start their day reading about those sorts of things. Even those 'Medical marvels' are always more disgusting than they are impressive." "Sure…" I agreed noncommittally. Heero and I left for school without exchanging a single word – he wouldn't even return my glances. I wouldn't see him again until Physics at the end of the day. But I knew he would just ignore me then too. When I walked into my final class of the day Heero was already sitting at our shared table. He was hunched over a thick textbook that I didn't think was mandatory reading for the class. Three young men surrounded him, crowded him, leaning over him. One of them was the kid that had gotten into trouble with the teacher before for making a comment regarding the incident between Heero and the P.E. teacher, but the teacher hadn't arrived at the classroom yet. The three were leering at him and the few other students in the room just watched, amused. Heero didn't seem to care to much, he was focused on his reading. However, when one of them grabbed the book and yanked it away from him Heero shot up from his seat, knocking the stool backwards. The dangerous glare he sported had the threesome backing up, if only a little. "Don't touch my things! Don't ever touch my things!" He yelled hoarsely at the tall kid mockingly holding his textbook out of his reach. I had been ready to jump in to come to Heero's aid, but seeing that glare ofhis I sprinted forward to protect the three classmates. It was not apparent to them, but it was clear to me that Heero was about to cause some serious harm. My 'little brother' would only get in trouble, I didn't want that. I was behind the kid holding the book in a flash and easily snatched it out of his loose grip. "Don't bother," I told him, casually flipping through the pages. "You wouldn't be able to understand a single thing it says." The boy turned around and glared at me. "Big brother to the rescue," One of the other's spat sarcastically, evoking laughter. I paid them no heed and held the book out to Heero. He yanked it out of my hands like I had been the one who had stolen it from him. "Don't touch my things," He warned me as well, his voice low and menacing. "I was just handing it back to you, ungrateful twat," I defended myself, unnerved by Heero's glare. One of the guys mimicked a hissing cat, then laughed. "I don't need your help!" Our quarrel bored the other three and they moved away to pester someone else until the teacher entered the classroom, barking orders: "Sit down! Open your textbook! You better pick up that spitball right now, young man!" Heero and I tensely sat down next to each other. What was it with him that he could irk me so much I forgot all about my pity and my best intentions? He was frustrating beyond comprehension! I spent the hour quietly doodling in my notebook while Heero eagerly answered all the teacher's questions as new material was discussed. Everyone was rolling their eyes at Heero's inexplicable enthusiasm regarding the class, I was tempted to as well. After class, once I had calmed down, I approached Heero, catching up with his as he hurried to his after-school meeting of the chess-club, navigating abandoned halls as students poured out of the front gate until soon we seemed to be the only ones left. "Did you have a nice weekend?" I inquired dryly as I rushed after him. "Why are you following me?" He shot back. "Maybe I want to join the chess-club." Not aware I was being sarcastic, he cast a poorly veiled surprised look over his shoulder as he continued to speed through the corridors. "You play?" I grinned and deadpanned: "No." Heero groaned at being fooled. "Then what do you want from me?" "I want to know about your weekend." He stopped, so suddenly that I ran into him. Before I could distance myself he turned around and pushed me away. His eyes were wild. "Why?" I shrugged. "It just seems like something a brother would ask about." Heero scoffed. "Then don't bother. We are not brothers." "Fine. Then I am asking as a friend." He let out a single, bitter laugh that sent chills down my spine. "Friends?" "It was worth a shot." He took a step closer to me and even though he was significantly shorter than me, I felt intimidated. "You are proving yourself to be quite unintelligent, so I'll explain it to you again. You being Cameron's son and living in my house, doesn't make us brothers. You nagging me constantly and supposedly chivalrously standing up for me doesn't make us friends," He seethed. "I don't want you in my life. And I don't want you to touch my things." I let out a nervous chuckle. "Dude, I was just getting you your book back, I-" "You were in my room!" He yelled abruptly, aggressively. "I-" I had no truthful defense and my mind was too shocked to come up with a clever deceit. "You bothersome cretin! You think I wouldn't notice? The key had been moved when I got back. I knew I should have taken it with me!" Bothersome cretin? I would have laughed if not for the fact that his intense demeanor seriously frightened me. "You had no right to enter my room! You had no right to touch my things! They are mine and I don't want to share them with you!" "I'm sorry. Calm down." "No!" With powerful hands he pushed me back again. "What did you find? What did you see?" I raised my hands in surrender. "Look, I didn't rummage through drawers or cabinets or anything. I was just in your room." "Where you were not allowed to be!" "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I stepped back as it looked like he was about to sock me. Behind him I could see curious faces poking out of the single lit classroom. The members of the chess-club looked at us in fascination. I glared at them. "Mind your own goddamn business!" Heero whipped his head around just in time to see them cower back inside the classroom and close the door. He turned back to me and hissed: "Exactly. Mind your own goddamn business." He walked away with angry stomps, ripping the door of the classroom open and slamming it shut behind him. I cursed under my breath and lingered in the hallway, in complete shock. I had expected Heero to be angry if he would find out that I was in his room, but to be confronted with the reality of his wrath was quite a different thing, something I hadn't been prepared for. Clearly it would be a long, traitorous road to earn back Heero's trust, if I ever could, which would make it damn near impossible to find out the truth about the imperfection of the Maxwell-family that I had inadvertently become a part of. That pissed me off more than anything and I was made all the more angry because it had been my own damn fault. I shouldn't have gone snooping, I had traded whatever slow headway I was making with Heero, for nothing more than a single glance around his room. I could have gleaned more information from him than his private quarters and belongings. The mirror had been an interesting discovery but only posed more questions as opposed to providing me with some answers. With my hands tucked into my pockets I walked back to the house, guilt-ridden. In the silence of the journey I started to feel bad for getting Heero so upset. Clearly the boy was having a hard enough time as it was without me seemingly making his life more difficult. I imagined Heero needed an ally in that distorted household, but all I had proved myself to be was a traitor. Could I redeem myself after betraying his trust? For him to leave the key behind rather than taking it with him, as he said he knew he should have, must have meant that for the sake of a tiny sliver of hope he was giving me the benefit of the doubt. Consciously or not, he had been testing me. And I had failed. No one else was at the house so I fixed myself a snack that surely Tabytha would not approve of so near to dinner time, and snuck it upstairs. After eating my fill I moped around, did my homework and surfed the web – unchecked thanks to Heero's program. I googled Cameron's name, like I had several times before, but all I ever found were raving articles about how this unexpected 'savior' turned around the family business that he had married into. He was a 'savagely clever businessman', a 'generous contributor' to the campaigns of police chiefs, mayors and even senators of his preference, an 'unsung philanthropist' and, above all, a 'good, old-fashioned family man'; respectable and admirable in every regard. It was a pretty balloon that I wanted to stab with a kitchen knife, over and over again, even after it had long deflated. I found only brief mentions of my mother as a 'previous marriage that he could not make work' and the articles painted a picture of a wronged man, abandoned by his wife who took his only son from him. "What an ass…" I remarked, getting angry all over again. I shut the laptop – hating that is was a gift from him – and pulled out the photo-album from its hiding place, bringing it into my lap. As far as I was concerned the album was the only thing I could trust to be truthful. Everything else was censored by Cameron, apparently. I wished my mother would have told me more about him as I had gotten older; told me of dark and embarrassing secrets that he surely had, even back then. Normal dads don't walk away from their family, closeted skeletons had to be involved in his decision to leave us behind so promptly. For him to spin the truth like that to his own benefit, to make people sympathize with him, disgusted me. My mother and I lived a nomadic life of poverty and for what reason? Who knew? Apparently he had the whole city, if not the whole state in his pocket, couldn't he have made us seem like the perfect little family, with the same trickery and deceit he used to disguise the truth of the current Maxwell-clan? I stared at that first picture, of me blowing out the candles on my improvised birthday cake, in some hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of nowhere that we happened to pass through. I had never suspected that the life I had with my mom, spent on the road, mostly hungry and unshowered, was better than the alternative. What I had been through with my mother certainly wasn't easy, but at least I didn't need to submit to the compulsion to soap up the bathroom mirror because I couldn't stand the sight of my own reflection. Leafing through the pages I stopped every time there was someone other than my mom in the pictures with me. In the beginning some friends of the old life bothered to meet up with us as we aimlessly travelled throughout the country, zigzagging up and down from the West coast to the East coast and back again. I was too young to remember most of them, after a few years more and more friends bailed. No explanation was giving, they just stopped meeting us at whatever motel we happened to stay in and my mother would never say their name again and as a result I would quickly forget those names and soon thereafter their faces. Constantly travelling, you learn to deal very quickly with the coming and going of people. You don't get too excited when they enter your life and you don't the mourn the loss too long when they leave. I never missed them, until now, coming to realize that they could have told me more about Cameron from before he split, that could have provided clues for what was going on. Only one face was recurring, the lined face of an old friend of my mother, thinning, greying hair framing a full face that was set with sparkling eyes; eyes that made all the difference, the way diamonds enhance an otherwise plain ring. In the picture, where I was only twelve years old, she was wearing a burgundy cardigan she had knit herself and she had wrapped it around us both, to keep us warm as we stood outside in the snow and watched the fireworks on New Year's Eve. Her name was Robby – or rather, I doubted her name was actually Robby, but it was a nickname of some kind that we always called her by, probably derived from Robin, or Roberta, or something of the likes. My mother had met her not long before Cameron took off that one day. Maybe that is why Robby always managed to stay friends with us, unlike the others she didn't really know us as 'wife of Cameron' or 'son of Cameron', so maybe it was easier for her to forget about him the way my mom wanted it. All the other people always seemed to want to talk about him, much to my mother's annoyance. My mother wrote her a letter on her deathbed – what she wrote exactly she never told me – and talked a nurse into bringing the letter to the post office. I had offered to it, but she hadn't wanted me to leave her side for even a single moment, it was when every breath could be her least and whereas I secretly wouldn't have minded to not be there to watch her take it, she needed me there. She told me I had to mourn her death before that last breath would hitch in her throat, because as soon as she was gone I had to go. The instructions had been clear. Go. Run. Don't look back. Don't let them find you. Don't let them take you to him. I felt horrible for failing to live up to her dying wish, for there I was, in his house. "Robby… Robby… Robby…" I repeated the name, hoping the sound would spark the memory of her actual name. I was certain I had known it at some point, it had always been more or less an inside joke that we called her 'Robby'. To satisfy my curiosity I carefully took the picture out of the album – there was a small chance her name was written on the back -, unhooking the corners where it was held in place on the page. I stared at her kind face one more time and then turned the image over. "Ruby Borges, 1953," I read aloud. I squinted at my mother's failing penmanship. She must have only thought to write the name when she was near the end, when her hand-eye coordination was so poor she could hardly do anything. I wondered why the name was important enough to add after the fact. More puzzlingly, why would she write down a date that clearly wasn't the date of the moment in the picture, my mother hadn't even been born then, let alone me. It seemed reasonable that it was Ruby's birth year, but why was that relevant? With a frown on my face I turned back the pages to the very first, where my mother had written her message for me. I read it again. " 'I hope you will never lose your curiosity and inquisitiveness, I hope you will use them to discover more things, to seek more answers'…" Maybe she had expected I would one day desire the answers to questions regarding Cameron that she had always refused to give me and maybe Ruby – Robby – was the person to ask. With a shrug I reached for the laptop. I tried social media sites first, but when the results had been significantly narrowed down and I scrolled past the profile pictures, no one looked to be a match. Considering her age, that wasn't too surprising. Next I opened an online directory. I typed in the name and the state, New York, where I hoped she still lived. The search yielded two results of people with the exact same name, but they were not of the right age. I browsed for a different directory and came across one with advanced search options that included year of birth and place of birth – which I gambled to be the state of New York, after all, if she hadn't lived in that state at one point, how could she have met my mother? After a dutiful process of elimination I ended up with a single result: Ruby Borges, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Even though she would have moved across state lines, it seemed reasonable that that was her. I wrote down the listed number for later, just as Tabytha called from downstairs to announce dinner was ready. I shouldn't call the woman on my cellphone anyway, for all I knew Cameron could have the device bugged, the way he attempted to spy on me via the laptop he had given me. Sitting at the table was uncomfortable as ever, with a tense atmosphere filled with forced niceties. Occasionally Heero would look up at me, his eyes throwing daggers that stung in my chest and bled my heart but in the meantime we maintained the pretense that we were getting along better every day and Heero was so devoted to the charade he even joined me upstairs in my room after dinner for a little while. All the while stone-walling me of course, regardless of how often I apologized. The next morning after school I took a detour home, walking by the local train station. It was indicated online that the train station was still equipped with old-fashioned payphones. It all felt very clandestine, walking into the train station, eyeing the crowd, searching for the payphones. In a silly way it was kind of exciting. I got a strange look from an employee when I asked him where I could find the payphones. Clearly he wasn't asked that question very often and it was obvious why, most people rushing through the building either had their phone to their ears or pressed up against their noses. But with a confused frown he pointed me in the right direction. Standing in front of the phone I produced the piece of paper with the phone number from my pocket. With my fingers on the dials, I stopped. My hands were suddenly sweaty and I wasn't excited anymore, I wasn't thinking of funny spy-movie parallels. I was thinking about my mother. This woman had been my mother's friend, the kind of friend you write letters to on your deathbed. I hadn't seen Ruby since a few months before my mother's condition worsened to the point where she had to be hospitalized and where she would die a short while later. If I called her, surely she would want to talk about my mother; talk about her life; talk about her death; talk about my feelings regarding it all. I wasn't ready for that. More than anything I had been ignoring those thoughts and feelings as I didn't know how to deal with them. I had been in survival mode. I didn't want to think about the loss, much less talk about it, but how could I not if I were to make that call? I stuffed the paper back into my pocket and popped the collar of my jacket to shield myself from an imagined chill that left me shivering. Disappointed in myself, but resigning to fact that I wasn't ready to chase those questions at such an emotional cost, I started heading back to the house. Back in my room I hid the paper in the photo album. I knew I wouldn't be able to call her until the pain of not having all the answers was greater than the pain of losing my mother. Considering that the latter was quite an overpowering kind of hurt, I accepted that it might take me while. I eased my guilt at not being able to go through with it with the thought that if my mother had been convinced there was any kind of urgency to the matter, she would have told me to call her old friend, as opposed to leaving a hidden clue in the album. Left to my own devices, I had to get Heero to warm up to me. I didn't know how to do that other than being the least annoying I could possibly be when I was around him, giving him a wide, respectful berth and adhering to the rules he submitted our interactions to: no talking unless in the presence of Cameron to maintain the ruse, no touching him nor his things – not even pick up his pen for him when he accidentally drops it to the floor - and complete dedication to our joined assignments for Physics. It wasn't until two weeks after the fishing trip that he seemed to notice the change in my attitude. We were in my bedroom. I was sitting on the bed, mindlessly browsing the web and Heero was sitting at my desk, studying of course. Out of the blue he turned in the seat and observed: "You seem less obnoxious than usual." I shrugged, even though I mentally patted myself on the back for a small victory. After all, it was the closest thing to a compliment he had given me. "Why?" Heero wondered suspiciously. Since he was asking me yet another question he must be expecting a verbal answer, which I took as permission to speak. "I'm just trying to do what it takes for you to consider me your friend." He scoffed and turned his attention back to his work, but I couldn't help but notice he stayed in my room longer that evening than he ever had and I took it as another small victory. The progress I had been making would be tested another three weeks later when we were all expected to attend the third wedding of the aunt I had never even met. Tabytha had announced a week beforehand that we would be spending the entire weekend in a hotel up North for the event and the aunt had reserved two rooms in the hotel; one for Tabytha and Cameron and one for Heero and I. The tension was particularly palpable that week. I stared out the window as we travelled up the highway to our destination. The drive had been quiet for the past hour save the soft music playing on the radio. Classic songs; all violins and choirs going "Oooohhh" and "Aaaahhh". Not my kind of music at all but I had been warned not to put in my ear plugs and listen to the 'garbled noise' that I called music. "You are quiet, Duo," Cameron started. How observant. "Are you nervous?" His tone was mocking but no one else in the car seemed to notice. "Nope. Just enjoying the music." Cameron snorted softly, aware of my blatant lie. However, Tabytha ignorantly remarked: "Now see? And you would have missed it if we had let you listen to the same old music you always listen to." "Yeah, totally…" I looked over to Heero, seated next to me in the back of the car. He purposefully had his face fully turned away and he was leaning his body against the car door, to distance himself as far from me as possible. He held his backpack protectively against his body, like a shield. The thing was heavy with books, he insisted that he had to do homework this weekend. I suspected it had been an attempt to be allowed to stay at the house, rather than coming with us to the wedding, but in the end he had to take his books with him because there were no valid excuses to miss the festivities, as far as Tabytha and Cameron were concerned. We drove upstate for four hours through monotonous green landscape dotted with towns that the highway gently curved around. When we finally came to a stop it was in front of an old inn; a stately manor in the midst of tall trees, with a wooden patio overlooking the stream that ran right by the large, solitude building. The front porch was decorated with white balloons and golden ribbons being tousled by the wind. There was a separate building to the side, a converged barn, that laborers were carrying tables, chairs and decorations into. "Isn't this place just lovely?" Tabytha asked as we all got out of the car. Cameron agreed unenthusiastically, looking around with a calculating gaze, his hands on his hips as he stretched his back after the long drive. "It is such a blessing that they were able to accommodate us on such short notice. Come, let me show you the reception hall-" "Tabytha," Cameron interrupted before she started to wobble towards the barn on her impossibly high heels, "I think it's best if we look for our rooms first." "Right, right." She waved over one of the men that had been working on getting the barn ready for the reception. He gave her an odd look but he approached her nonetheless, albeit cautiously. "Hello there," She purred. "Could you be a doll and help us with our luggage?" "Ma'am, I'm sorry. We are all very busy with the wedding preparations. Perhaps someone at the front desk can help you." "But then we would still have to carry our luggage all the way inside," She mewled pathetically. Cameron sighed and walked up to the two of them, delving one hand into the pocket of his beige slacks. He took out his wallet and produced paper cash. "For your trouble." The worker seemed to accept the money more to get it over with than actually wanting it. Glowering he approached the trunk of the car and hoisted the straps of our bags over his shoulders. I hurried to get my own bag. I didn't need him to carry him, nor did I want him to. I shot him an apologetic look. Heero snatched his duffel bag from the man's hand before he could sling it over his shoulder and walked away without a word. The man blew his bangs out of his face and followed us inside. At the front desk we received keys to our rooms and directions upstairs. An employee offered to help with the bags, but the man carrying them said it was alright and he started up the two flights of stairs to our rooms on the top floor of the mansion. Our rooms were identical and right next to each other. The interior was old fashioned with a lot of polished wood and busy patterns on wallpapers, seat cushions and bed sheets. Two single beds were on opposite ends of the room. Neither Tabytha nor Cameron made a complain about not having a bed they could share, they seemed fine with the separate twin beds. I walked in and unceremoniously dumped my stuff on one of the beds. Heero remained standing in the middle of the room, looking uncertain. "What? Did you want this one?" I gestured at my bed of choice. "No," He spat. He neatly placed his bags by the other bed and then inspected the small bathroom. Cameron appeared in the doorway to the hallway and startled me with his deep voice. "Tabytha is going to show me around. The rest of the family will be arriving later. Stay in your room and rest, you need to be well-rested for the rehearsal dinner tonight." He left and shut the door behind him. "Fucking control freak…" Heero stalked out of the bathroom announcing: "We should establish rules." I quirked an eyebrow. "I'm waiting…" "For what?" "The punchline to your joke." He stared at me with blank eyes. "You're serious?" I asked incredulously. I sat back on the bed and folded my arms in front of my chest. "Alright… what kind of rules did you have in mind?" "You don't touch any of my things," He started adamantly. "Lights out and quiet at ten o'clock in the evening. I prefer to shower before going to bed. You can shower in the morning. But only after you've given me the chance to go the bathroom and brush my teeth. We keep the room tidy, I don't want to look at your clutter all day and we make our beds in the morning. Also, I need to study, so no music or noisy computer-games. Do you have anything to add?" I shook my head at him. "Yeah… You're crazy." He seemed unfazed by the insult and proceeded to unpack his bags, placing his neatly folded clothes in the closet and arranging his books on the desk between the two bed in neat stacks organized by subject, lining his pencils perpendicular to the edge of the desk. "Now hold on a second, why do you get the desk?" He threw a look over his shoulder. "You didn't bring any books." "I brought my laptop." Heero rolled his eyes and turned away. "You always take your laptop in your lap in bed anyway." "Because you always hog the desk!" I argued, more to tease him than anything else. "Well, I need the space to spread out my books and notes." His childlike reluctance to let me have the desk was kind of endearing and I found myself smirking as I watched him fidget with his collection of pencils. "Maybe we could share the desk, there are two chairs." As soon as the words dropped from my lips I knew I had made a mistake. 'Sharing' was a kind of trigger word for Heero, a word that he seemed to despise more than any other, even more than the nasty things the kids at school were calling him – behind his back and to his face. "I don't want to share!" He burst, every last bit about him that had been endearing evaporated in the heat of his sudden anger and intolerance. "Fine. Okay. Okay," I tried to appease him. "You can have the desk. It's fine." He calmed down but I could still see extreme tension in his neck and his white-knuckled fists at his sides. To give him some space to calm his frazzled nerves I excused myself and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I heaved a deep sigh. After a long drive the need to take a leak was high so I relieved myself. Once I flushed the toilet and turned around to wash my hands in the sink I stilled and my heart skipped a beat. One of the dark blue towels provided by the staff had been draped over the oval mirror above the sink to cover its reflective surface. Shit, I thought to myself, this kid is so fucked up. I washed my hands and splashed some cool water in my face. Gripping my fingers around the edge of the sink I let my head hang forward and watched thick droplets fall from my bangs onto the white porcelain. I wished I could help Heero, I somehow felt it was my responsibility to try – even though I wasn't really his big brother. But I felt completely in over my head. This wasn't the kind of kid that just needed a good laugh and a pat on the back; he needed serious help. The kind of help I could hardly provide him with. I wondered why Tabytha, Cameron, or someone at school had never realized the seriousness of whatever deep-seated psychological issue he was dealing with. The possibility that Cameron, for whatever reason, didn't want Heero to get the help he needed, appeared likely to me. Whatever happened to Heero before he was adopted and afterwards that had caused him to be so overprotective of his things and so self-loathing, nobody in his life – not even Heero himself – seemed invested enough to help him manage the effects of what he had been through. Heero may be a difficult person to like, but it was impossible not to pity him and not to feel for him. I knew what it was like to carry the weight of demons on your back, it was crippling if there was no one there for you to share the load, like my mother had always been there for me. I stepped back out into the bedroom and discovered Heero had seated himself at his desk and was busily studying. I flopped down on my bed, careful not to crush my bag with the laptop inside, and laced my fingers underneath my head as I got comfortable, staring up at the ceiling. The sound of Heero's pencil scratching on the paper as he jotted down the information he gleaned from his beloved books, lulled me to sleep. I was used to sharing a room with someone else – with my mother- I liked the sounds people made when they were just minding their own business; their breathing, writing, scratching the back of their head, the rustling of their clothes with each movement. It was a comfort to me to know I was not alone, a comfort that allowed me to sleep. It was dinner time by the time I was rudely awoken by a fist rapping on the door of our room. I shot upright in bed and it was my sudden movement, more than the sound at the door, that startled Heero, who jumped in his seat. Cameron opened the door without waiting for permission to enter. "Get ready boys," He instructed. "Dinner is in half an hour. Everyone is here." He left as abruptly as he had arrived. "Great," I glowered, rubbing my tired eyes. "You shouldn't have let me sleep for so long. I'm gonna be a fucking zombie all through dinner." "If you had wanted me to keep your sleeping habits in check you should have stipulated that when we were deciding on the rules." We? Deciding? "You mean when you told me that I could and could not do?" "Yes," Was his matter-of-fact reply. He finished writing something down and then painstakingly organized his workspace before getting up from his seat and walking over to the closet to retrieve the pair of grey slacks, white button-up shirt and blue jacket he had packed for the reception dinner. He took them into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. With a groan I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and got up. The room briefly spun around my head. I got dressed in the black slacks and black button-up shirt that Tabytha had purchased for me along with the suit I was to wear to the wedding. I didn't mind the risk of Heero walking in on my while I was in a state of undress, I wasn't self-conscious of my body. I was sitting on the bed tying my new, glossy shoes when Heero emerged from the bathroom. His unsightly, bulky attire made him seem twice as old and half as attractive as he actually was, but still I commented: "You look good." It was the polite thing to do after all and I didn't care for the silence between us one bit. "So do you. Quite a change from the usual," He observed dryly. "I happen to think I rock the 'maladjusted-teen' look," I jested lightheartedly, referring to my preference for torn jeans, baggy cargo-pants, faded T-shirts, oversized hoodies and worn All Stars. He looked away, I couldn't tell if my joke had any effect on him. Probably not though. I re-braided my hair and was done just as Cameron and Tabytha showed up and we were to go downstairs as a family. I felt like a fraud trailing after the 'picture-perfect' couple, Heero to my side. They were not my family and I especially had no interest in meeting all the relatives that had gathered downstairs in the dining hall, but it was duty to shake their hands and answer their mind-numbing questions with whatever lie that seemed most appropriate. Although nearly two hundred guests would be coming to the wedding the next day, the rehearsal dinner was a little more demure, with some fifty or sixty family members and close friends of the happy couple attending. Most of them were not staying in the inn, there weren't enough rooms available, they were staying in a nice hotel in the nearest town. The dining hall was filled with chattering guests, I felt like I was walking into a chicken coop. Large round tables were scattered around the floor space but most people were up on their feet and busily mingling. As soon as people took notice of Cameron they started to swarm him like he was a celebrity and they his devoted fans. They talked with him about business, golf and tennis and his accomplished son, Heero. Only at that point did the asshole think to introduce me. "Duo…" Repeated one of the older gentlemen, sounding shocked. "Hi. What's up?" I addressed the group that had gathered. They all stared uncomfortably. "How's your mother?" One of them asked. "Dead," I replied coldly. "Oh." No one offered me their condolences. They had nothing at all to say to me. Every single face looked relieved when one of them dared to turn the focus back to Cameron's golf handicap. An attractive, middle-aged woman came bursting through the circle of spectators and squealed excitedly at the sight of Cameron's tall and imposing frame. She threw a lock of her golden hair over her shoulder in a practiced gesture and then lunged herself at him. "My baby brother!" She disentangled herself from him and paused to straighten her silk, champagne-colored dress that hung off her bony shoulders with spaghetti straps. "The beautiful bride!" He returned, making a slight bow. "I'm sorry I couldn't come greet you earlier today. It has been such a chore making this wedding happen. Tabytha knows all about it!" She shared giggles with Tabytha, but as she looked at her sister-in-law her eyes caught sight of me and her jaw went slack, if only momentarily. She recovered quickly and exclaimed: "Little Duo! Oh, it is so wonderful to see you!" She walked up to me and hugged me as fervently as she had her brother. I 'oomphed' when she crashed into me and wrapped her arms around me tightly. She was obviously in a state of inebriation, but her excitement appeared to be genuine. She pulled back and cupped my face. "Oh, you've grown so tall… and handsome! You look nothing like Cameron, thank God! Haha!" The crowd laughed with her, even Cameron although his eyes were dead in spite of his smile. "Come, come sit with your aunt. We have so much to talk about!" With her arm around my shoulder she guided me to the nearest table and we took seats in front of plates that had entirely different names on the table cards. I felt awkward, but at the same time it was a relief to have been swept away from that group of disdainful, staring eyes. "My God," Before she continued she waved down a waiter for a glass of champagne. "It's been so long since I've seen you. You were no older than four or five!" "Yeah," I reacted dumbly. I couldn't remember her at all. She was the aunt that never came to birthday parties, thanksgiving dinners or Christmas celebrations. In her defense, she lived on the other side of the country, in L.A., with her first husband at that time. We met twice, three times at most, before Cameron bailed and my mother severed all ties with the family, packed up our stuff and left to start anew. "Do you remember? I had bought this toy for you, some kind of robot thing – whatever," She waved her hand dismissively and took a large gulp from her glass, "How the fuck was I supposed to know that the recommended age was eight and up? I didn't know a damn thing about kids, I just thought: he's a boy! Boys like robots! Right?" "Sure." She laughed hysterically and continued with big hand gestures: "So I gave you the present – I had them wrap it at the store of course – and you were so excited! I was right, you know, you really did like that damn robot. But your mom yanked it away from you because apparently the small parts were a choking hazard or whatever and you cried and cried and cried! God, she was so pissed at me…" I forced on a smile. "Your mom always hated me," She mused. "I'm so sorry by the way, for what happened." She reached out her skinny hand and rested it on my knee briefly. "God, isn't that just the scariest thing? Just like that, POOF! A brain tumor. God has a fucked up sense of humor, I know all about it kid, I'm twice divorced." She said it like it was supposed to mean anything, like I was supposed to feel equally sorry for her. She grumbled absent-mindedly: "Jesus, I wish I could light up a cigarette. Fucking nazi laws. The freedom of the American citizen down the crapper because some virginal, zit-faced scientist comes up with 'second-hand-smoke'." I nodded and tried my best not to let my shock and disgust show. "Speaking of virginal scientists… How are you getting along with your brother?" She eyed Heero, who was stiffly standing next to Cameron who bragged about his achievements to the guests, with a bemused glint. "Fine." She stared at me. "Bullshit. Bullshit!" She laughed. I shrugged. "It's just a little tense." "You don't have be PC with me, Duo. I won't tell my baby brother what you really think of Heero. I sure as fucking Hell don't tell him what I think of the little creep." My eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?" She rolled her head. "Okay, sure, the little worm is a genius… la-dee-fucking-da. But he creeps me out, the way he just stares at everyone and never says a damn thing." Shock was clearly registered on my face at her derogatory words but it did not seem to register with her as she rambled on offensively. "Look, when my baby brother had that nip flown
in from the orient everyone was so impressed by his good deed. But
really, there are plenty of normal kids he could have adopted. But
Cameron just had to have him. And now look at him," She spat,
"He looks so fucking ungrateful. I'm very relieved to see Cameron
now has his proper son again. "STOP!" I jumped up from the chair and glared down at her, unaware of the shocked stares I was receiving, not only from her but from everyone around us. "Duo!" She exclaimed in shock. "Don't you fucking dare say those things!" Her jaw dropped. I was about to continue yelling at her when a strong hand wrapped around my upper arm and gripped me so tightly it hurt. I winced and looked back, straight into Cameron's angry eyes. "Come with me," He hissed and he dragged me away. He wouldn't let go of me until we were in the relative privacy of the hallway. "Do you know what-" "Shut up!" He ordered and I couldn't help but obey. He was intimidating. "I am not going to let my son embarrass me like that." "But-" "You do not speak to your aunt like that." "But she-" "Conduct yourself with dignity. I expect a higher level of decorum from a Maxwell." "Except of your sister?" I challenged. "Well, I'm not the boss of my sister," He said dismissively. "You're not the boss of me!" He smirked darkly. "You will behave." The statement was definitive. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back into the dining hall. The dinner was a blur to me. I ate my pretentious servings of 'haute cuisine', hiding my distaste and tuned out the drab, monotonous exchanges of unimportant information like quarterly statements, insurance, horse power and political connections. On the inside I was seething. Heero was sitting next to me, as detached from the people around us as I was. Sometimes someone would ask him a question out of politeness, regarding school. Even though he took pride in his straight A record, all he ever replied to the question of how he was doing in school was: Fine. At some point the professional photographer that had been blinding people with his flash all night had approached us for a picture of the two brothers. Neither one of us was very cooperative and what the bride would end up with was a picture of us staring into the lens with dead eyes, blank expressions and slumped shoulders. I had no doubt it wouldn't make it into any photo album. With Cameron's permission – Heero asked, not I – we retreated to our room shortly after the dinner, leaving the hollow laughter behind us as waiters circled the tables with more alcohol, especially considering my little spat earlier that evening. "Fucking bullshit!" I yelled once we were in the privacy of our room. We had been graciously granted permission to leave the party early. I kicked my empty duffel bag that was on the floor and it flew across the room. All Heero had to say was: "I'm going to take a shower and then sleep. We agreed lights out and quiet at ten." I glared at him. After catching a glimpse of my watch I snapped: "Well then I have thirty-five fucking minutes left to rant and you can damn well count on me making good use of them!" Without a reaction he gathered up a fresh set of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Soon I heard the water running. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Fuck!" I stalked over to the bathroom door, pounded on it once and yelled: "This family is fucking crazy!" No response. He was probably just rolling his eyes at me losing my cool like that. "And Cameron is a creep! He's a fucking creep!" Nothing, but surely he had to agree with me on that one. "He has no business telling what to do, or what to say!" I ranted on in frustration, throwing my hands up in the air angrily. "And that bitch! Unbelievable!" I snorted. "And who the fuck cares about the fucking sand-trap at St. Andrews Golf Course! Why did I have to listen to some old fart talk about a pit of sand for forty fucking minutes?!" Twenty minutes later Heero emerged from the bathroom freshly showered with a scowl on his face. "Are you done?" I glanced down at my watch. "I have fifteen minutes left." He threw his gaze up at the ceiling and walked past me with a grunt to put away his worn clothes and crawl into his bed. Tucked under the sheets, propped up against the headboard, he pulled a book into his lap. "You're seriously going to read?" While glaring at me with one eyebrow raised he demonstratively opened the book and then focused his attention on the printed words. "How can you be so calm?" "I'm used to it." I scrunched up my face. "Alright… so that means you're okay with just rolling over and taking it?" He shot a cold look at me. I sagged down onto my bed, flabbergasted. "So that's it? It doesn't bother you?" "It's over now, isn't it? There is no point getting all worked up over it." "I'd agree if not for the fact we still have the rest of the weekend to get through." "Just get over yourself and bear it. It'll be over soon." He turned a page. Casually, he reminded me, "Your time is running out." I shrugged. "I guess I'm done cussing. If… If you're okay with it, I suppose I shouldn't let it get to me like that." No fucking way I truly believed that, but I had been making some progress with Heero and it seemed beneficial to just go with it. "Good. But you still have to get ready for bed and you only have ten minutes left." "Dear God…" I rolled my eyes but started gathering clothes to sleep in and my toothbrush and toothpaste and headed into the bathroom. I was done and in bed with minutes to spare. I flashed him a grin but he quickly made it disappear with the announcement that he had set his alarm for seven o'clock. "Why? We could sleep in." "I always get up at seven. I don't want to disturb my sleep-wake-rhythm." "Fine. Knock yourself out. Just don't disturb my 'sleep-wake-rhythm' either…" Of course the next morning I was awoken with a start by Heero's shrill alarm clock and the shock of the sudden, violent sound had me sitting upright in bed with no hope of falling back asleep. "Fuck you," I growled at him, watching him get out of bed with hooded eyes. "Not that I want you to join me for breakfast, but if you get up now you won't have to eat with all the other guests," He remarked absentmindedly as he disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed. I was up in a flash, blindly gathering clothes and throwing them on. I hastily combed out my hair and neatly braided it anew after the plait got ruined while I tossed around in bed all night. Heero eyed me with marginal surprise when he walked
out and spotted me. "You don't want to shower first?" He shrugged and followed me out of the room, through the hallway to the dining hall. Only a few of the tables were occupied. Some faces were vaguely familiar but we certainly wouldn't be expected to sit with them for breakfast. With a growling stomach I made a beeline for the breakfast buffet, loading my plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and bread. Heero made a face at my selection while he got himself a bowl of plain yoghurt and added pieces of fresh fruit to it. "How could you possibly eat that?" "With a fork," I dead-panned. "You're disgusting." "Oh please, I'm doing you a favor. I could easily eat this with my hands. Or just eat it straight off the plate-" "Please don't." I chuckled and crossed the room to take a seat at a table by the window, overlooking the stream and the dense line of pine trees beyond. I was surprised – pleasantly so – when Heero took a seat next to me. I had expected he would join me at the table, but I hadn't thought he would voluntarily sit right next to me at a table that could seat six. He paid me no heed, even as I was staring with a silly look on my face, and brought the first spoonful of yoghurt – with a chunk of peach – to his lips. Along the way he had found a local newspaper and he folded it out on the table to read. "So… the wedding isn't until late in the afternoon. What do you want to do until then?" He frowned, but his eyes never left the page. "I am going to study." "Nooo," I drawled, then emphasized: "What do you want to do?" "I want to study." "Ugh, your hopeless." "Yeah? And what about you? Plan on doing a lot of hiking in your All Stars?" I made a face. Nature wasn't really my thing. Sure, I enjoyed the sights trekking across America from the relative comfort of the passenger seat in my mom's old truck, but I was far too dependent on modern amenities to consider venturing out into the wild unknown. "No," I replied with a roll of my eyes, "I was actually thinking about heading into town." Heero snorted. Even though he still pretended to be reading the newspaper, I suspected he was giving me his undivided attention since he hadn't turned a page in a while. "As if Cameron would ever let you borrow the car." "Well, dummy, I don't need him to lend me the car-" "You're walking?" "Jesus," I grumbled under my breath, "It's like having breakfast with Rainman. Didn't you see the big poster at the front desk? There's a shuttle bus heading into town every hour." He looked like he doubted me. "Ah, he's smart, sure. Observant? Not so much." He didn't enjoy being mocked, so he spat childishly: "Cameron is never going to give you permission to leave the hotel." I shrugged. "It's worth a try." I happened to glance around the room, chewing a big bite of my breakfast, when I spotted Cameron and Tabytha by the buffet table – plates loaded up with fruits – and they were scanning the crowd, clearly looking for us. I shrank in my seat when their gazes found us in the far corner and they started in our direction, pausing to greet family members seated at other table. "Speak of the Devil…" I mumbled under my breath just as they approached our table. "Goodmorning, boys," Tabytha chirped, "Sleep well?" She didn't even wait for us to answer, she started to ramble about how soft the mattress was and that she slept like a baby and that evolved into a lengthy monologue about how important nightly rest is for the complexion. Heero absent-mindedly handed a section of his newspaper to Cameron, who had taken a seat next to him. I had the misfortune of having Tabytha sitting next to me, taking the full brunt of her incessant chatting, even having to suffer a few compliments about my own complexion – 'sickly pale' as I may have been, apparently my pores were invisible and she marveled at my 'manscaped' eyebrows. The idle conversation introduced to me to a whole new level of discomfort. So I was actually relieved when she had to come up for air eventually and I could turn my attention to Cameron. "Do you guys have any plans today?" It took Cameron a moment to look up from the news article. "I suppose it is my duty as brother of the bride and of Tabytha as wedding planner, to assist in getting everything ready." "Oh yes, it needs to perfect," Tabytha chimed in and then took a delicate bite of grapefruit. "Oh. Well, since you are busy anyway, you wouldn't mind it if I head into town for a little while?" Cameron chewed thoughtfully. "Into town?" "Yeah. I'd like to look around, maybe do a little shopping. I think I might need some new clothes." "You do, you definitely do," Tabytha concurred, disdainfully looking down at my black cargo-pants. There was a long silence and then Cameron spoke matter-of-factly: "Okay." Heero's head snapped up. "Okay?" He blurted. "Yes. There is no need for Duo to waste his time here and I think shopping for some new clothes is a good idea. I saw there was a bus heading into town every hour." "Yes, I saw that too," I pointed out and in response to Heero's perplexed expression I looked smug. "Then I don't see why not. I'll give you some cash after breakfast." Cameron nodded definitively and then turned the page to resume reading. Out of the blue Heero declared: "I want to go too." It was my turn to look perplexed. Cameron mirrored the expression, although he hid it quickly. "You do? Why? Weren't you planning on studying in your room?" "I need new clothes too." A chuckle erupted out of Tabytha. "Oh, you most certainly do. Would a slim-fit button-up kill you?" She remarked, but then blinked innocently and looked down at her plate. "You really want to go?" Cameron sounded hesitant. "Yes." I jumped in: "Cool!" I exclaimed exaggeratedly. "It'll be good to spend the day with my brother." I knew the brother-bonding-angle would prevent Cameron from backing out. "You're right. It'll be nice for you two to spend the day together," Cameron conceded. "Just make sure you are back before three, so you have plenty of time to get ready for the ceremony." "Awesome," I drawled and I shot Heero a look. He didn't look particularly excited but he had made it a point to come along and I was curious to know why. I'd try to pester him into confession later that day. After breakfast we went upstairs. Halfway up the steps Heero asked: "Who's 'Rainman'?" I laughed. Heero studied for a little while as I showered and brushed my teeth, since I hadn't taken the time to do that before. I lounged on the bed listening to music until I decided it was time to go and Heero didn't argue with me. He followed me downstairs where we looked for Cameron in the chaos of men and women working on the final preparations for the wedding. He gave Heero his ATM card and explained that he would have given us the keys to the car if not for the fact that we didn't know the area and he didn't want to risk us getting lost. It was all fine with me, I didn't mind taking the bus. Of course I ended up listening to an unidentified family member the whole way into town as she and her friends also took the bus. I tuned her out and observed Heero, seated across from me, holding his bag in his lap. He had taken three textbooks with him and I worried I would lose him at the first quiet café or park-bench we would come across. Obviously he had no interest in shopping, he merely used the impromptu outing to get away from Cameron, it seemed. Although I didn't exactly understand why, other than the fact that Cameron was a controlling creep. Heero should be used to that by now, he hadn't appeared bothered by his controlling nature before, shrugging it off as a meaningless nuisance more than anything. I ditched the group of ladies when we arrived at the bus stop in town and dragged Heero along by the wrist so they wouldn't catch up with us. To my dismay the town was a town in the smallest sense of the word. The shopping district was a single street with mostly local stores like a butcher shop, a tailor and a bakery. With only a single bookstore and three clothing stores that didn't look like my kind of place at all, I worried we weren't going to be able to kill a sufficient amount of time and boredom would force us to head back long before the hour of three. I looked over to Heero and saw he had already plucked one of his books from his bag and had started reading while he quietly stood next to me. I was tempted to take the book from him, but I knew better. He would just snatch it right back and seethe that I was not allowed to touch his things and then the rest of the day would be the kind of uphill battle that you need icepicks and oxygen-masks for. "Want to hit the bookstore first?" He shrugged noncommittally. "Alright." I started towards the bookstore and threw a glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, he was following me, trailing three steps behind, nose still in his astronomy textbook. We lost each other between the aisles as we scoured the store. Heero didn't know it, but I was quite the avid reader, although he wouldn't approve of my preference for science fiction and dystopian, futuristic tales. Of course Heero idled in the science section and occasionally when I'd peek around the corner I saw him commit a book to the small but growing stack at his feet. I spent my time looking for a copy of one of my favorite books that I had lost while I was traipsing around Las Vegas, trying to deal with the death of my mother while simultaneously struggling to make a living, all in an attempt to honor her dying wish; to not let the authorities take me back to Cameron. Much to my joy I found George Orwell's 1984 and with it tucked under my arm I joined Heero at the non-fiction aisle and sat down on the carpeted floor, with my back against the bookshelves stacked with self-help books. I cocked my head and read the incomprehensibly long and complicated titles of the five books neatly organized at his feet. "A little light reading, I see?" He flinched, like he hadn't been aware of my presence. He dumbly looked down at the stack, then remarked defensively: "I can get as many as I want." I shrugged. "I wasn't judging. Well, I was, but not the quantity." I flashed him a grin. He nodded at the book under my arm. "What about you?" I presented him the cover. "George Orwell, 1984? You like that book?" "You sound surprised." I couldn't really blame him, so I answered: "It's one of my favorites actually. Have you read it?" "Of course. It was on the list for English Lit." "Yeah. That's probably why my mom had me read it." I looked down and grimaced. I hadn't intended to mention my mom, I didn't want to risk anybody asking me about her. Of course I was foolish to fear, Heero didn't care about my story with my mother, he ignored the remark and continued his search. Recognizing it was going to take a while I got comfortable on the floor, with one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, with the foot tucked under the other leg. I opened the book and balanced it on my left hand, flipping the pages with my right. At one point – while I was on page 36 – Heero knelt down on the floor by his stack and started to narrow down his choices. I paid him little attention and went on to page 37. It was at page 88, when I briefly glanced up, that I realized he was having trouble choosing between three books. I closed the book, placed it in my lap, and studied him momentarily, my gaze going unnoticed. His expression was one of deep contemplation as he held the textbooks one at a time, studying the front and back, rifling through the pages, reading random paragraphs. He craned his slender neck to look up at the shelves, like he was reconsidering a book he had previously dismissed, but he thought better of it and focused on the three before him. He nodded decisively and gathered the heavy books in his arm. "I'm ready," He announced, getting up from the floor. I jumped up. "You're getting all three?" "I can get as many as I want," He stated defiantly. Spoiled little thing, I thought dismissively. "Alright. Let's head for the check-out and then see if those clothing shops are any good." "I don't want clothes," He said with a pout on the way to the register where he dumped the heavy textbooks on the counter and I placed my paperback copy of 1984 on top. "Too bad. We said we were going to shop for clothes, so they expect us to come back with clothes." He grunted but didn't say anything so I assumed he agreed with my logic. He paid for the books without so much as making eye-contact with the friendly clerk. The duty to say 'Hello', 'Thank you' and 'Have a nice day' fell to me. At the third store I found clothes to my liking and I purchased two pairs of jeans – black and grey – and a number of cheap, dark T-shirts and sweaters while Heero mostly loitered in the corner occupying himself with the first chapter of one of his purchases. Eventually I managed to persuade him to try on some things. I watched him pick out a pair of slacks in a horrible, undefined shade of brown and a cardigan two sizes too big and while he was in the dressing room – I supposed to make sure the fabric was itchy on top of everything else, to ensure the highest quality of repellency – I hurriedly got a pair of form fitting jeans and a tailored white button-up. He vehemently argued against my choices when I presented them to him - after catching him sitting on the bench in the dressing room, reading one of his goddamned books – but he could not deny my logic when I reminded him Tabytha wanted him to get something fitted and if he would just get the one set, she wouldn't be pestering him about it anymore. I waited on the other side of the curtain and stifled my chuckles as I heard him express complaints under his breath. When the rustling of clothes died down I called out: "And?" Disdainful he replied: "It's too tight." "What is?" "Both." I rolled my eyes. "Can you button up the jeans?" "Yes." "Can you button up the shirt?" "Yes." "Does it look like you are about to burst out of either?" "No, there is still a little bit of room left, but-" "Then the fit is just fine. Show me." "No!" I laughed at the high pitch. "Come on!" "No!" "I'm pulling away the curtain in 3… 2…" "God! I knew I hated you with good reason!" He yanked aside the curtain to submit me to the full force of my glare. It would have been impressive – intimidating for sure – if not for the fact that I was looking anywhere but in his eyes. I always knew he was sporting a better physique than his horrible choice of attire alluded at, and the size of the jeans and shirt I had picked was spot on, but the reality of it was quite remarkable. Between his bare feet – toes curling in discomfort – and his flustered, angry face, he was a vision of perfection. His slim legs, encased in light blue denim, went on for days. He had the shirt tucked into his jeans and normally I would disprove, but with his narrow hips and tiny waist he could pull it off. The white cotton of the shirt contrasted nicely with the natural golden hue of his skin and I imagined he would look even better with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He had the shirt buttoned all the way up, the collar fitted around his graceful neck that would look even longer if he would pop the top three buttons. As I shamelessly stared – wondering whether I could or couldn't see his nipples through the fabric – I definitely wasn't having any brotherly feelings. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Stop staring. Just when I think you've become less bothersome you reveal yourself to have been the same annoying simpleton all along." Ignoring him I stated: "Buy the clothes." "No." "Why the fuck not? You look amazing!" His eyebrows knitted together. "Why would I want to pursue such a shallow objective? I have no interest in looking 'amazing'." I threw my gaze up at the ceiling. "No, I suppose you only care about looking smart." "Please, that would be no less shallow. I am only interested in actually being smart. Anyone can 'look smart'," He spat derisively, "Even you." "Now who's being the simpleton? You don't want me to bother you? You don't want Tabytha to bother you? Buy the fucking clothes and shut us up." "Fine!" He ripped the curtain back to close the stall. "Fine!" I echoed with a grin. Twenty minutes later we were quietly seated in the bus on our way back to the hotel, practically inhaling the chocolate croissants we had picked up at the quaint bakery. The shopping had left me in a lighthearted, positive mood. I decided give myself the weekend off and to push away all of my concerns and bad thoughts for the time being and enjoy the steady progress I was making with Heero. Sure, he still claimed to hate me, but I was well-acquainted with his genuine hatred – it was vile and biting – and the way he acted no longer reflected that. I had the hopeful inkling that he was being abrasive and crass because he didn't know how to behave differently. There was a carefree bounce to my step. I wasn't going to stress about the fucked-up dynamics – and underlying reasons – of this family I had been tossed into until Monday. At four o'clock everyone was seated in the barn adjacent to the hotel, waiting for the slightly delayed ceremony to start. I busied myself studying the setting. It was quite beautiful. The entire inside of the enormous barn was painted a crisp white and the high, pitched ceiling, with sparkling lights wrapped around the support beams merged cathedral-like acoustics and grandeur with ethereal whimsy. Music by a violin quartet announced the arrival of the bride, slowly making her way down the aisle in a skirt suit of gold, shimmering material with embroidered details. In spite of my intentions to temporarily cast off my judgment and dismay of this twisted extended family, I couldn't help but think: bitch. My eyes were cold with disinterest following her towards her husband-to-be, who thankfully sported a warmer expression. The bloated ceremony lasted an hour including any and all antiquated rituals and opportunities for self-glorification possible. Kings and queens have been married blowing less smoke up their own asses, I thought, mouthing nonsense as the crowd was supposed to stand and sing yet another hymn. When it was finally over the newlyweds were whisked away by the hired photographer who had scouted a number of idyllic backgrounds for their immaculate wedding pictures and the guests were ushered into the ornately decorated dining hall for the reception. I was quite pleased to discover both Heero and I had been assigned seats at one of two 'kiddie-tables'. Probably as punishment for my outburst the evening before. As we awaited the grand entry of the newlyweds I helped a young girl – a second cousin, or something – pick out a color for the fish that was the next picture in her coloring book. Heero all the while stared intently at the flicker of the candles amidst the carefully arranged flowers of the table's centerpiece. Suddenly the room erupted into clapping and cheering, but I didn't even bother to get up and feign excitement. Our table was so far in the back I couldn't even see the happy couple through the mass of tuxedo's and cocktail dresses anyway. More importantly, the bride wouldn't be able to see my total lack of enthusiasm. What followed was almost an hour of speeches that tested my gag-reflex. Luckily the girl's insistence that I help her with her coloring was the perfect excuse to not pay attention to the ass-kissing. I shot a glance over my shoulder occasionally and saw Heero was still keeping himself entertained studying the movements of the flame of the candle closest to him. If he was thinking of setting the room on fire he was but a single questioning look removed from having an accomplice in me, but unfortunately it seemed like he had just tuned everything out and he was probably thinking of something academic and dry, like the contents of that book on advanced mathematics that he had been dependent on all day like an unhealthy drug habit. Eventually I was awarded my own coloring image – the oversimplified image of an owl – and set to work with the bright colored crayons while waiting for the first course to be served. After asking nicely I was granted another page torn from the coloring book – a giraffe – and I placed it in front of Heero, along with a yellow and a red crayon. "Here you go," I chirped. He stared at the outline of the animal. I expected him to hand the page right back to me with
some sort of degrading remark regarding my intelligence. I smiled. "Don't have those. But I do have green, purple, orange and pink if you're feeling particularly creative." He scoffed and continued the important task of staring up ahead. When I was done with the owl, earning myself compliments from the six year old artist next to me, I started on the giraffe. The night wasn't insufferable. The kiddie-menu of fries and crispy chicken and chocolate sundae's for desert that were served at our table were actually more to my taste that the exotic foods that the waiters presented to the other guests. The two big pieces of red velvet cake with dark chocolate frosting that I managed to steal made me a happy boy for as long as they lasted as I wolfed them down with big bites – the kiddie-menu had unfortunately meant kiddie-sized portions. As everyone started to mingle later in the evening and abandon the dining tables for the dance floor I lost track of Heero who was making the rounds with Cameron, who proudly showed him off to uncles, friends and business associates. The intelligence of their offspring likely paled in comparison to Heero's, which was undoubtedly exactly the reason why Cameron enjoyed rubbing the boy's genius in their faces. I appointed myself nanny and played with the kids. I was better with the kids than the present adults anyway. They were too young to mimic their parent's arrogance and even blatant racism. Tasking myself with keeping the children entertained and docile conveniently allowed me to sidestep any approach from distant relatives who felt obliged to catch up with me. "Sorry, I can't really talk, we're playing hide-and-seek." They were probably just as relieved as I was not to have to suffer through a conversation of forced niceties. It wasn't until I gathered them all up at our table again so their parents could pick them up and take them to bed that I noticed Heero still hadn't returned to his seat. If he didn't come back soon he'd miss the flame he had been watching going out in a cloud of smoke as the candle had dwindled to a pathetic stump amongst the arranged roses and lilies. Sitting alone at the table I wrinkled my nose when I caught a burnt scent and watched as the candles on our table went out one by one. The hour was close to midnight. The crowd of guests hadn't shrunk by much, only the parents of the young children had been forced to go back to their rooms upstairs or their hotel in town. People were still dancing and laughing and waiters continued to circle the tables with an endless supply of champagne glasses. Recognizing my absence would go unnoticed, I decided to go look for Heero and headed up to our room. I expected him to be seated at the desk, but he wasn't there. His bed was empty too. "Heero?" Quiet. I felt a sickening uneasiness in my stomach, my twisted imaginations getting the better of me again. My carefree demeanor was instantly replaced by suspicion and vigilance. I could feel something was wrong, though I couldn't explain how I could tell. The last time I sensed something was wrong was mere minutes before my mother told me about her diagnosis and the terrifying inevitability of her passing. I stalked over to the bathroom door and tried the doorknob. It was locked. I knocked. "Heero?" There was no answer. His strained voice replied: "Just leave me alone, Duo." I recoiled at the sound of his voice. Something was definitely wrong. "Are you alright?" There was a long pause, then he breathed: "I'm fine…" He didn't sound fine. Not in the least. I demanded: "Heero, open the door." "No!" My fists tightened at my sides. "Heero, open this fucking door right now!" "Just leave! I told you the bathroom was mine in the evening!" I rapped my fist on the solid door. "Open this door!" I didn't know exactly what I feared was going on in there, I just knew I was afraid. "You can't tell me what to do!" "Fine! I won't. Leave the door fucking locked, for all I care. But know that I will just kick in the door!" I gave little to no pause to second-guess whether or not I'd be able to kick the door in. "Leave me alone! I don't want you here!" "I'm kicking in the door!" I announced and I took a step back. I warned him to step away from the door and just as I started my countdown I heard the click of the lock being opened. Nothing else happened. I took a moment to steady my breathing. I had been pumping myself up in preparation of attacking that door with any force necessary. Before I could reach for the doorknob it turned and Heero opened it a few inches to peer out at me. He attempted a glare, but his face was pale and his normally expressive eyes were weak and tired. "See, I'm fine, now leave me alone." I steeled my nerves and pushed the door open all the way. Heero lacked the strength to stop me. I stared at him, stripped down to nothing more than the white dress-shirt he had been wearing with his suit and black boxer briefs. My eyes were tempted to trail down the length of his bare legs, but they caught sight of rivulets of dark blood running down the inside of his thighs. My jaw dropped. My heart rate sped up. My mouth went dry. My hands got slick. Heero sighed in resignation and stepped back, maneuvering himself with slow movements to sit on the bathroom floor with his back against the side of the bathtub. He heavily leaned his head back and extended his legs out in front of him. It was then that I saw the bloodied razor on the white edge of the bathtub. I swallowed the lump in my throat that previously incapacitated my speech. "What have you done?" I asked in a whisper. Tentatively I stepped into the bathroom, unsure of what to do or what to say. I stared at his thighs, noticing the fresh cuts that were the source of the blood. The towel he was sitting on was dotted red as well. As I got closer I could see that his thighs were riddled with scars in various stages of healing. I held onto the sink for support. I stared at the blood. It was a lot, but I didn't know if it was too much. When I looked up at his sickly pale face I noticed he had been staring me down with defiant eyes. I slowly crouched down, succumbing to the shock. Heero closed his eyes. His breathing was deep and labored. "Isn't that a lot of blood?" I asked with shaky voice. He cracked his eyes open and looked down. He ran his index finger through the trail of blood seeping from one of the cuts. "No, it's fine." I nodded dumbly. I would have called for help but I didn't think getting Cameron involved – and the rest of the family for that matter – would be helpful to Heero. "Why do you do this to yourself?" His eyes were honest as he replied: "It's liberating." "I don't understand. Doesn't it hurt?" A bitter smile formed on his lips. It scared me. "It's nothing I can't handle." He paused to swallow. "When I cut, it feels like that pain is the only real pain and any other hurt is meaningless; is nothing but a ghost. Then, when the blood comes, I feel weak. It feels like I'm drifting away from my body, leaving all pain behind. It's a relief." His uncharacteristic openness surprised me. I got the sense he was too tired to maintain the barricades necessary to keep me out and he was surrendering to my invasion into what was personal and intimate, not having the strength to fend me off with snappy insults and menacing glares. Realizing I should gather all the information I could while he was being forthcoming, I continued to question him. "Why do you feel the need to do this?" "It's the only way I can escape," He breathed. "Escape from what?" He sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm free now. And I'll be free next time I cut and the time after that. I can escape whenever I want to." I frowned. Boldly, I inquired: "Is it because something bad happened to you before you were adopted?" Heero's mouth offered no answer but his eyes spoke volumes: a definite yes. "And did something bad happen to you after you were adopted?" Another wordless yes.
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