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"Thousand words"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, angst, fluff, Lemon, OOC Pairings: 2x1 Summary: Duo and Heero have to share a dorm room
in college and they become best friends. When they discover that neither
has time for, nor interest in a girlfriend, they explore a friends
with benefits relationship. But sex never remains uncomplicated. " Thousand words" Two "Welcome back. This will be your final year. The last year you will pretend to listen to me and the last year I will pretend that your nonsensical answers during class are acceptable. If you would please be so kind as to open your textbooks to chapter thirteen, we can begin." The professor droned in an utterly monotonous voice. The sound of two dozen or so books being slammed open was deafening if your ears were hung-over, which mine were. I cringed. I opened my own book carefully, softly, only to rest my forehead onto the open pages. After all, that is why I had chosen to seat myself in the back row, as I did every year, every class. The classroom was unusually small. Lectures on the more popular courses were held in the large auditoriums in the basement of the complex, philosophy was no such course. I only chose this elective because it was no secret among the student body that the grumpy old professor had no devotion to his profession as an educator and passed everyone who managed to stay conscious during the majority of the lectures and handed in assignments not more than two weeks after the official deadline. So even though the material didn't exactly catch my interest, the course was right up my alley. I am what one - Heero - would call a "coaster". Sure, I want to graduate, that is a given, I just didn't want to work my ass off to get there if there are alternative routes that call for less studying and more living. Of course by Heero's definition a lot of students are coasters, after all, he was the university's number one overachiever and that didn't just get him extra credits and make him a shoe-in for valedictorian, it apparently also gave him the right to obnoxiously pass judgments with regards to the "underachievers". He can be a real pain in the butt from time to time. I sat up straight with the realization I could spend my time much more productively than thinking about Heero. I scanned the classroom for unfamiliar faces - or rather: backs of heads. Sadly, the course didn't exactly offer a great abundance of cute college girls, the classroom was dominated by lazy students, mostly male, and the few exceptions: overzealous, decidedly less than popular students who actually believed philosophy would prove to be a useful course in the future. The kind of students that also voluntarily signed up for Latin and the Algebra honors course. Where they would sit with Heero. Damn overachievers, always making the regular guys feel bad about themselves. I sighed and rested my head back down, it felt heavy, burdened with thoughts, none of which directly related to school. Most students were abuzz with the final-year stress. I, however, felt dull, knowing that the best time of my life was only a year away from coming to an end and I had no faith any future period of time would trump my years in university. Not to say that the past three years have been perfect, there had been some particularly questionable moments, but I didn't think anything could beat the time I've shared with Heero. It was so pathetic that I already missed him before he had even gone away, but knowing that our paths would part, already left me feeling incomplete in expectation of that moment. Damn it. If only I could convince Heero to flunk his final year. I would gladly flunk my courses, I was in no hurry. But Heero was a perfectionist and a genius in his chosen branch on top of that. He probably couldn't flunk even if he tried. They - with they I mean everyone who has ever met us - referred to us as the 'Architect and the Engineer'. Maybe because when you boil our individuality down to such a specific, superficial aspect, one might actually be able to make sense of our friendship. Architect and Engineer was no definitively odd combination, but it couldn't hide the fact that we were. I supposed Carefree and Anal-retentive, Outgoing and Recluse, Coaster and Overachiever, Mischievous Devil and Mister Holier-Than-Thou, or Happy-Go-Lucky and Happy-Go-Fuck-Yourself weren't as catchy. I chuckled at a memory that suddenly hit me. When we first met, Heero told me to go "fuck myself" in response to my admittedly annoying bantering so often it was the first phrase that he could pronounce completely free of his Japanese accent. "Ah, mister Maxwell has an amusing thought." The professor spoke up. I shrank in my seat. "Since this class is obviously so dull and boring to you all, perhaps mister Maxwell will do you all the favor of sharing his incredibly humorous thought with you. Lord knows he had entertained many people in the past with his brain farts." And then it just burst out of me, like sometimes happened: "I was thinking "Go fuck yourself"." The overachievers gasped in shock and turned back to the professor, the others laughed and sat backwards in their seat, grinning at me and giving me the thumbs up. With a dangerously red face the professor replied indignantly: "I will consider your request. As will you while you write an essay on the purpose of avoiding saying or doing things that you will later come to regret and how this will impact our modern society. At least three thousand words. And so will the rest of the class. I don't care when you hand it in. Just know that if you don't, I will fail you." The other students groaned and some cursed at me. "Fine." I started packing my stuff into my bag, assuming he would also throw me out of class. "Where are you going?" "Out?" "Ask yourself this: would you consider being excused from this class ahead of time punishment?" I grumbled. "No..." "Didn't think so." The professor said smugly. "Take your seat, mister Maxwell." With a heavy sigh I sat down. Apparently though he didn't mind his course subject being made fun of, he didn't take personal mockery lightly. I sat through the duration of the class, paying no more attention after my blunder than before. When the class ended two hours later, everyone got up and as they packed their heavy books into their bags, they all glared at me. 'Sorry' I mouthed to a friend of mine, a fellow coaster. I had only one more lecture that day, one actually pertaining to my major of choice. As the other students descended the staircase I casually walked over to the private elevator in the South-East corner of the building. Heero was off campus today, an excursion to the airfield, and he had reluctantly given me his honorary student elevator pass. I got out on level -1 and with my hands in my pockets I strolled to Auditorium C. The class wouldn't be starting for another twenty minutes, but they always kindly opened the doors in advance so the students could steadily make their way inside. I entered at the top of the auditorium and scanned the backs of the seats. I was one of the first to arrive, but not the very first. I spotted a couple of small groups, spread throughout the large space. One particular group caught my attention, a set of five girls sitting next to each other in one of the rows up front. The outer left girl sat sideways in her seat and caught sight of me in the corner of her eye. She leaned in to say something to the girls and then all of a sudden all five of them turned in their seats and looked at me. I glared at one in particular and then chose a seat somewhere up high, far away from them. I had hoped she would have the decency to ignore me, but I had no such luck. After she had probably been urged by her friends, I saw Hilde slowly making her way up the steps towards me. A walk of shame and rightfully so. She stopped at the end of the row of seats where I had taken place, allowing the distance of a couple of chairs between us. "Hey." She greeted softly, her hands resting on the fold away table. "Hey." I replied dryly as I pulled out the table in front of me and unceremoniously dumped my bag on the surface with a loud slam. "Duo, I just-" "Why are you talking to me, Hilde?" I demanded as I turned to look at her. She visible squirmed under my glare. A glare I had learned from the best. "What part of "don't you ever talk to me again" don't you understand?" I continued angrily. Hilde looked extremely uncomfortable as all present students had turned in their seats at my loud voice and were now watching our exchange. "I said I was sorry!" She snapped. "Fuck you, Hilde! Fuck. You." I pointed an accusing finger at her to emphasize my hateful point. She turned and walked away before I could tell if my words had affected her in any way. I hoped my words hurt, I hoped they stung. She certainly deserved it. I glared at the four girls who had been looking up at us. When Hilde rejoined them, their heated conversation was obviously about me. Occasionally, one or more would judgingly look up at me. I wondered how Hilde had spun the truth of what had happened between us to make it seem to her friends that she was the victim in all this, when in fact she had been the crazy bitch. It was to be expected that Relena would have a bad influence on her. More students starting pouring in and I distracted myself by actually paying attention when the lecture on ancient Grecian architecture and it's reflection in modern day structures began. When the first day came to a blessedly quick end I joined some friends at a cafe across the street and got burned for getting some of them the extra philosophy assignment and their forgiveness cost me two rounds of cheap, watered down beer. A small price to pay. With the final round, Nash took hold of his beer and climbed on top of his chair. The owner of the cafe said nothing, most of his clients were students and he had long since gotten used to their antics. "To the last year." Nash solemnly started. "To the last year of an endless supply of college tail!" The ones drunk enough to go along "hoorayed" and then laughter burst out among us when one, sober enough for coherent thought, yelled: "Speak for yourself!" We ate pizza and later drank coffee to get rid of the edge of our pleasant buzz before returning to campus at around nine o'clock. Nash and I walked shoulder to shoulder to our shared dorm building. He had been loud all evening but had then suddenly turned quiet. "You okay?" I inquired. "You're not going to throw up, right?" "Oh please. I barely had anything to drink." "I know, but the way you worked your way through that entire pizza, it wouldn't surprise me." Nash laughed shortly and then explained: "I'm just bored with it all. Everyone is so goddamn civil. Last year was way more fun, all the drama and the yelling." I didn't miss it, being a large part of the drama and a co-contributor to the yelling. "Civil? Didn't you hear I cussed out Hilde, today?" Nash ignored me and mused: "I'll think of something. I'll make this year memorable." I playfully punched him. "I'm sure you will." Nash wasn't called "the evil twin" without damn good reason. Everything he did was to distinguish himself from his perfect twenty-minutes-younger-twin-brother Joshua, who had always been favored by their father. Joshua was far away now, at Harvard pre-med, but his influence on Nash was strong. A lot of daddy-issues in Dorm Building B, I had realized a long time ago. But at least it led him to put together excellent raves and smuggle in all the right stuff. I helped him up the stairs - not drunk my ass - and deposited him in his dorm room before making my way to my own room. The door was unlocked, meaning Heero was home. "Hey, dude." I said upon my entry. "Hey... man..." He retorted awkwardly, he never could smoothly reply to the whole dude-routine most of the students got going on. He sat at the desk, his back turned towards me, he was hunched over papers spread out over the surface of the desk, occasionally scribbling something utterly illegible in the corners, not because it was in Japanese, but because his handwriting had gotten fucked up from having to write so much so fast over the past couple of years. It's safe to say my handwriting was still fine. Perks of the coaster. "How was your field trip?" "Excursion." He corrected matter-of-factly. "What's the difference?" I threw my bag on the top bunk, still basking in my meaningless victory. "Field trip sounds like something organized by a kindergarten." I snorted and repeated: "How was your field trip?" "Ha. Ha." With a tired sigh I sat down on his bunk bed, slumping my shoulders. Only one day had passed and I was already sick of everything. Heero turned in his chair and cocked an eyebrow at me. "You know that is my bed, right?" "Hmhm." With an appreciative groan I lowered myself down on the mattress that had been mine for three years. "Too tired to climb to the top bunk." "If you want we could still switch." He suggested with a smirk. "Ha. Ha. Nice try. Top bunk is mine, baby." I muttered, my eyes closed, my body relaxed. "Then get the hell out of my bed before it starts stinking of you." Heero remarked and then turned back to his work. I heard the squeak of the desk chair as it spun. I frowned, but kept my eyes closed. "I don't stink!" "I know. You just have this smell." Heero absentmindedly replied. I opened my eyes and looked at the back of his head in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean? what is this smell you refer to?" "I don't know. Just drop it." He sounded irritated. I sat up with a grin. I loved annoying him, that was a given. I had gotten so good at it I once jokingly put it on my resume. Only to accidentally forget taking it off before going on a job interview at a local high-end store. Needless to say my humor was not appreciate and I didn't get that job. "No," I started, "I seriously want to know. What smell?" "It's stupid, just let it go." "Tell me." "No." "Tell me." "No!" I grinned, it could take a while, but I knew I could win. After multiple attempts in varying, annoying voices, Heero finally caved, he had no stamina in regards to this. "Fine! It's..." He paused, maybe in thought, maybe in embarrassment. "You smell like pineapples and a rain storm." He said softly and with repressed anger at me having pestered it out of him. "And I don't want my bed reeking of it!" I started laughing. "Go fuck yourself." Heero muttered. "Speaking of which, nice going with professor Mulnick." He said sarcastically, turning around to face me with a challenging expression. I took my time letting my rumble of laughter die out before I questioned how he knew about that. "It was all over Facebook and Twitter." I snorted. "You are not even on Facebook or Twitter or any social media for that matter because you have no need for a social media." "I didn't say I read it there, I just said it was on there. Someone on the excursion told me." "Field trip." I teased. Heero rolled his eyes. "You can be such an asshole, Maxwell." He managed to maintain his death glare for a moment longer but then it cracked and withered in the presence of his smile. "Did you really tell Mulnick to go fuck himself?" "Technically, no, but by purposefully leaving out the air-quotations - cuz that shit is fucking moronic - it sure did sound like I did." "I'm baffled you have never gotten expelled." "Oh please, principle Andrews is a bully. He gets a kick out of shit like this, makes him relive his glory days as the high school jock. Only three kinds of people he hates; nerds, women and queers. And I ain't none of those." "Really, with that braid you could have fooled me." I chuckled but wondered, for some reason, it supposedly fooled him into thinking I was which one of the three I mentioned. Like he had read my mind, he said: "It makes you look like a nerd. Like that kid from Graphic Communications with the gross ponytail that makes his friends call him the Elfenlord of..." he paused and searched his memory but came up with nothing more specific than: "something stupid..." "Well, you are just lucky you are good in sports and are friends with me, or else, you'd be a nerd too." Heero didn't deny that, after all, he was all study and no play, something that was trademarked by the stereotypical nerd. With the conversation having reached an unspectacular end I got up and announced: "I'm going to take a shower and then crash, this day has lasted long enough." "So you are just going to pretend that you didn't talk to Hilde today?" I sighed, standing in front of our closet, my hand reaching in for a towel. "It wasn't so much talk as yell." "So I've heard." "Seriously, people should mind their own fucking business and keep my personal shit off Facebook!" I exclaimed wildly gesturing around in the small space with my towel, accidentally hitting the lamp, causing it to erratically sway back and forth. "I'm sorry." I sighed and could kick myself when I noticed the uncomfortable expression on Heero's face. "You don't have to do that. You always do, but you shouldn't. It's not your fault." "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just thought you might want to." Heero explained with a shrug. I pulled out my desk chair and sat on it backwards, the back support between my legs, my arms resting heavily on top of it. I pensively looked down at the gray carpet. "I don't know, man, it's just all so twisted." "I know. I'm not implying you should forgive her. If it wasn't socially unacceptable to hit a girl I would have long punched her in the face." "Me and you both..." Heero continued: "But you keep getting so worked up about it. You're letting it get to you." "How could I not?" I raised my voice again, sitting up straight, the subject just always got me so heated. "She seriously fucked with my life for a moment there. She is a manipulative-" "Yeah, but everything is fine now." He interjected before I could say something nasty. "Look, I'm trying to forget, but she keeps trying to "mend things" and that just fucks with my head!" I lowered said, defeated head onto the back rest with a groan. Heero looked at me seriously. "Because you still have feelings for her?" I chuckled darkly and vaguely shook my head. "The opposite. I never had feelings for her. For any of those girls, but I let them suck all time and energy out of me anyway and let them threaten to fuck up my life. That's what's so warped about it. And you know what, I don't think she ever really loved me either, she just wants to have me because I'm "Duo Maxwell". Which makes her actions all the more psycho. I mean, I get that love might do stupid stuff to your head and decision-making process, but to let greed become you like that... Jesus..." I looked at him with frustrated eyes. "I'm done with girls." I said determinedly. "I'm just done with them. I mean, aren't you?" Heero shrugged and looked away. I never got the feeling his own traumatic debacle with Relena in sophomore year bothered him much. He was always so apt at compartmentalizing things and dealing with things on an unimaginably rational level. I wondered where all those repressed feelings went. They didn't just go away, they couldn't, life wasn't that easy, nor fair. I wondered if sometimes, maybe in the quiet of the night, those feelings hurt even his rational, logical heart. He got me laughing and relieved the tension with a simple comment: "What about the sex though?" Once I had stopped shaking and caught my breath, I replied: "Yeah, the drama I can do without, the sex I can't." I got up and rolled the chair underneath the desk. I adjusted my grip on the towel and said jovially: "Thank God for casual sex with easy college girls." I walked past him and patted him on his shoulder. "Thanks, man. And, don't study too hard, I don't want to see your brain growing out of your ears, 'cause that ain't something I wanna be looking at every day." "Just never forget to wear a condom," Heero bantered, "God forbid your genes ever get spread around." "And... scene. That's a wrap on the "Make love not babies" campaign, people!" I walked off laughing and clapping my hands. Heero always made me feel better. People accused him of being cold and unemotional, when in reality he is always very attentive and insightful and sensitive to my problems. I hoped I was as good a friend to him as he was to me. I showered leisurely, grinning when I poured pineapple and orange scented shampoo into my open palm. I briefly wondered where the supposed rainstorm scent came from. When I was done I roughly dried myself off. There was no tackling my mass of hair, so I always toweled most of the water out and then accepted the fact that my clothes or bed sheets would get damp. I wrapped the towel around my waist and gathered my clothes into a bundle in my arms. When I got out, one of the younger guys from our dorm building was waiting just outside the door. The other bathroom was taken too. He didn't comment on the fact that I took longer than the agreed ten minutes, intimidated by the fact that I heavily outranked him in seniority and popularity. I casually trotted back upstairs to my room. Heero was still bent over his work, this time chewing on the end of his pencil. A quick glance revealed the papers were a collection of schematics for some sort of machine. It made very little sense to me, when it comes down to abstract schematics, my mind went blank when it went beyond a simple, two-dimensional blueprint. My presence seemed to have escaped his awareness. With a grin I tip-toed towards him and stuck my index finger in my mouth, wetting it. With quick movements I closed the distance and prodded my finger into his ear. Heero moved away with sharp, startled movements. It was so third grade but I laughed anyway. "Sorry, thought I saw some brain coming out. Just trying to do you a favor by popping it back in." Heero glared at me dangerously. He was still the master of the death glare, no matter how well he had taught me by example. "You are such an infant." He pulled his sleeve into his hand and rubbed the shell of his ear dry. "Like you wouldn't be avenging yourself by giving me a wedgie right now if it wasn't for the fact that I'm not wearing underpants." "Like I would come anywhere near your underwear." He retorted dryly. We both chuckled. He always tried damn well to pretend that he had no appreciation for my pre-adolescent antics, but I knew he secretly thought it was funny, in the end he could never hide that final, soft chuckle that betrayed him. Heero grew up an only child with no friends, I think he liked the fact that after all those years of being secluded, serious and mature well beyond his age, he had someone to goof around with. One day I would get him to stop his efforts at pretending that he didn't. Heero turned back to his work and in the relative privacy I ditched the towel in my laundry bin and stepped into a pair of boxers and snatched a clean shirt off the top of my stack of clothes in the closet. "Honey, I'm going upstairs. Turn the lights off when you come bed?" I joked as I climbed the narrow ladder to the top bunk. "Will do. Sweet dreams, darling." Heero replied monotonously to the backdrop of his pencil scribbling furiously on the paper. I crawled under the sheets. The facts that the lights were still on was no problem for me. I could sleep anywhere, anytime. My thoughts, however, were more intrusive and obstructive and I was awake long enough to hear Heero get changed, flick off the lights and crawl into bed. He must have noticed I was still awake because a few seconds of listening to him breathe, I heard him say: "It stinks down here." I laughed hard and during my gasps for oxygen in between I heard his soft chuckling. That was the last thing I remembered. I woke up hours later at my alarm clock blaring in the early morning. I reached for it on the small shelf on the wall by the headboard and turned it off. After a few slow breaths and a desperate struggle to open my eyes, I rolled over and peeked over the protective barrier surrounding the top bunk, at the lower bed. Heero was already gone, his bed neatly made. Anal-retentive, I'm telling you. I didn't know whether he had an early class or if he was out for a run, but I supposed it wasn't really relevant which of the two it was. After a few more moments to allow for motivational speaking, I managed to sit up straight and - for lack of better descriptions - stumble out of bed, down the ladder. It didn't take investigative talent like Sherlock's to deduce I was not a morning person. I grabbed items of clothing at random, not caring what kind of mismatch of colors and styles I would end up wearing. It was like playing dress-up Russian Roulette. I wouldn't know till well into my cup of coffee, one third into the first class, if I had made a complete ass of myself or not. I did, once, actually go to class wearing striped pyjama bottoms. That was a dark day in the history of Duo. I packed my bags with the appropriate books and minded not to forget my day planner or I wouldn't have a clue where I was supposed to be at what times, another thing that has occurred to me. On several, separate occasions. I made an important stop along my way to class: the coffee corner. I had to wait in line but I knew it would be worth it. When it was my turn and a chipper young girl asked me what I wanted I ordered the usual: "I don't care, it just has to be strong and it has to be super sized." I literally had no idea what she gave me every morning. For all I knew she could have slipped some Ritalin in there. Whatever it was, I was not the one who would be asking questions, because it worked and that is all that mattered. Twenty minutes into a lecture on structural mathematics I noticed I had simply chosen a pair of dark blue, worn jeans and a long sleeved, white shirt to wear. Nothing embarrassing, thankfully, though normally I wore the shirt during basketball practice and not as everyday wear. But it was clean so it was fine. Not bad, I praised myself. Being able to focus on my attention took several more sips of the strong coffee. Math was never my strong suit, let alone my passion. It was an unfortunate companion to the occupation of Architect. Also not something I coveted since an early age. I had wanted to study fine arts. The memory still makes me bitter, when I think of the rejection letters from different art academies throughout the United States. I always told myself "when the tenth comes in negative, I give up". That was more easy to say than do when that day came that I stood in the hallway of my father's mansion, holding the tenth kind, but definitive rejection. I wasn't good enough. With my grades severely lacking because I had always assumed somehow I would get into art school and things like math and English would basically be rendered redundant, my choice of schools was severely limited to say the least. My father had many connections, he assured me that with the right call to the right person, he could get me into a decent school - according to his impossibly high standards-, but I refused his help. I spent all my life struggling to free myself from his bonds, I wasn't about to let him suck me back in - and owe him for the rest of my life and have him tell me with his dying breath that nothing would have ever become of me if it hadn't been for him. My arts skills made up for my poor math and English and finally a letter came in that didn't open with: "Dear mister D. Maxwell, thank you for your application and apparent interest in our program. Unfortunately..." God, I hated that "unfortunately". The problem now, of course, is that I suck at math. But I wasn't worried. I had made it this far and I will make it till the very end. Thanks to Heero. That guy could sneeze catch complicated math equations in a tissue. I went through the motions of the day, going from class to class, saying hello to friends I hadn't seen since before the summer break and avoiding any contact with Hilde, Relena or any of their affiliates. For lunch I picked up three sandwiches at the University Cafeteria and casually strolled towards the University Library, a separate building a short walk to the East. The sign on the front door was that of a drink and a sandwich with a red circle around it and red stripe straight through it, but I whistled as I opened the door and stepped inside with my pleasantly smelling food. I saluted the older woman at the front desk, who ignored the young student she had previously been helping to greet me. "Duo, what do you got today?" She asked with a wink. With a grin I walked up to her and opened the brown paper bag in which the cafeteria lady had wrapped my hot sandwiches. "Ah, it's a veritable trip around the world today. I've got Mexican Chicken..." "Ooh, nice and spicy." she commented. "Italian Pork..." I continued. "Hn! that comes with that delicious sauce!" "And Australian Crab Melt." I finished and looked up at her expectantly. "Do I even have to ask?" I teased with a wink. She chuckled. "Australian Crab." I was already in the process of handing it to her. She accepted the wrapped sandwich and peeled it open for a quick sniff. "Hmm, you're a doll, Duo." "I aim to please." I said with a grin and headed further into the library. "Say hi to Heero for me!" I only waved in response as I rounded a corner and maneuvered my way through the tall stacks of thick books. It was relatively quiet in the library, most of the tables amidst the shelves were unoccupied. It was lunch hour, from noon to one PM there were no lectures or classes. It was a luxury the professors had negotiated for their own benefit and it suited me just fine too. The only downside was that the cafeteria became impossibly crowded, but obviously Heero and I had found ourselves a new place to hang, seeing as the usually so strict and stubborn librarian was practically in love with the two of us. I made my way all the way to the back where there were separate study rooms. Small rooms with tables that seated four to six students. The study rooms could be reserved in advance at the front desk, but considering they weren't really popular, the librarian gladly had one on permanent reserve for Heero and I in exchange for a daily lunch. Lord knows the guy made quite some hours in this building seeing as our desk in our dorm room was two small to fit an Architect and an Engineer. I looked through the window by the door of the study room located furthest in the back, in a quiet corner of the building where no one ever passed by. I saw Heero standing over the table, his papers taking up nearly the entire surface. I knocked on the window to announce my presence and held up the brown bag when he looked at me. From the look on his face it seemed like I was most welcome. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. His eyes fixated on the bag. "What do you have?" I chuckled. "Jesus Heero, nice to see you too." "I didn't have breakfast." He explained with a pout that was only in my imagination - I think. I sighed. "I told you not to do that. With all that running around you do, both literally and figuratively, you gotta take care of yourself." "Yes, mother." He rolled his eyes at me. "Mexican or Italian?" I asked, holding up both sandwiches. "Mexican." He said decisively. "You are both so predictable." I threw him his sandwich of choice. "She says "Hi" by the way." "She always does." He unwrapped the sandwich from it's cellophane and took a big bite. "Ran into coach Harford today, said you missed practice yesterday." I pulled out a chair across the from him and sat down, propping my feet up on the edge of the table, casually crossed at the ankle. I took a bite from my own lunch before I explained: "You know it's my personal tradition to miss first practice of the year. Everyone knows it. So does he." Heero nodded, sitting down himself, much like me, only he had the decency to use a chair for his feet, not the table. "Yeah and apparently this year everyone took your lead. No one showed up." I laughed abruptly. "He didn't think it was funny." Heero commented, adjusting a piece of chicken back between the two halves of the bread before eating on. "He finds nothing funny." I grumbled. "He's a cranky old man." Heero looked up at me. "He's not that old." "Oh come on! He is like... forty!" "That's not old." "Well, he sure makes it seem old." Eager to end this conversation regarding my less-than-favorite coach I reached out and spun one of the papers around to look at it right side up. "What's all this?" I studied the intricate schematics with very little understanding. "Just some construction schematics of different aircrafts we have to study. We have to design our own aerospace machine this course." He said unenthusiastically, looking at the schematics with tired eyes. Looking at him I'd almost forget it was only the second day back in class. Those overachievers really overexert themselves. Of course Heero didn't have much of a summer break, working to support his sick grandmother. I jumped when Heero suddenly raised his voice at me: "Don't get your greasy paw prints all over them!" I immediately put my hands up in the air in surrender, but smirked at him mischievously. "So what are you going to do about coach Harford?" Heero questioned, knowing it would annoy me. I childishly stuck my tongue out at him. "Well, since no one showed up yesterday, there was no practice, so technically, today's practice is first practice. And you know I don't go to first practice." He crumpled up the cellophane as he finished his lunch. "I thought you liked basketball." He threw the ball of cellophane across the room, to the open trash bin in the corner, but he was slightly short. The ball hit the rim, bounced and ended up on the carpet. He scrunched up his face in displeasure. "I do." I demonstratively balled up the cellophane from my own sandwich and expertly threw it dead center into the bin, even though I sat just as far away from it as Heero. "I just don't like basketball with him. It used to be game, he has made it-" "A sport?" Heero interjected with a raised eyebrow. "No, smartass and clean up after yourself." As Heero stood up to grab the cellophane and put it in the trash. I finished: "He made it a chore. Something not-fun you absolutely have to do because there is no one else to do it and you'll get punished if you don't. Give me coach Zucherman everyday." "Now he was old." "He was wise and experienced." I defended. "The man walked with a crutch, Duo!" Heero argued with a smile. "Fine, fine. So he was old. And he was right to retire. But I just hate Harford." "Maybe because it sounds like Harvard?" "No." "Or because he adores your father as opposed to Zucherman who thought he was the scum of the earth?" I smiled darkly. "I knew I liked that guy for a good reason." Heero sighed and leaned back over his papers. "Just go to practice, Duo. Don't let this guy ruin it for you. And don't let Hilde ruin your final year either." At that I looked at him for a while, but he never looked up to meet my gaze, too focused on his work. With a long sigh I got up out of my seat and flung my bag over my shoulder. "Wanna share dinner tonight? I got this oven lasagna but it's too much for one person." "Sure. I'll get something for tomorrow." "You don't have to." I assured him. With only one major to tend to and no other extracurricular activities beyond basketball practice, I had the time for a job. My dad paid my tuition, but other than that the arrangement was that I had to take care of everything else by myself. Of course he had hoped it would blow up in my face and I would have to come crawling back home and beg him for help, but I actually got a sweet deal working at the on campus bar as a bartender, it didn't pay much, but college girls, as I quickly discovered, were generous tippers. Heero on the other hand, with two majors, multiple electives for extra credit, the honors program, swim practice, his function as vice president in the student government and a controlling dad who kept close tabs on him and his grades, didn't have enough hours in a week left to be a suitable candidate for even a part-time job. In exchange for the mandatory Sunday night dinners and following, ongoing chess game, his father gave him a modest monthly allowance. "I want to. Might as well make use of this short fucking leash my dad's got me on." His voice turned venomous whenever he referred to his father. "Alright. But not that vegetarian dish that you cooked up last time, it was like eating brain with a side of snot." "It was broccoli and tofu with cheese sauce." He defended his cooking skills. "If you say so. Wait for me after practice, okay?" He nodded. "Bye!" He didn't respond, he had already lost himself in his work. The remainder of the day went by quickly with an interesting workshop and an entertaining lecture by an easy-going visiting professor. Though he actually had us laughing with his intermissions of one-liners, I snuck out fifteen minutes before the end of the two hour lecture, allowing me enough time to jog back to my dorm and get my things for practice and make it to the gym on time. I opened the door to the guys locker rooms, the smell that his me was one I never managed to describe more eloquently than the stench of men. Left on their own accord - without female supervision - we are pigs and there is that distinct scent that comes with it when you concentrate several of us into a poorly ventilated space. "Hey guys!" My teammates greeted me in unison. I took my seat on the narrow bench in front of my locker. Nash, our team's small forward, was beside me, only in his underwear, trying to untangle the shoelaces of his left sneaker. Whilst I undressed myself, I commented, my voice muffled through the fabric of my shirt as I pulled it over my head: "So none of you guys showed up yesterday huh?" "Just following our captain's lead." Owen Banes' heavy voice sounded. "Obie!" I pulled my head out of my shirt and grinned at him. "How was Vegas, man?" We shook hands and leaned in to bump our shoulders together. "A lot of saying "No" to strippers and hookers." I let out a hardy laugh. "Yeah, Jen locked that shit down! She owns that dick now." The guys surrounding us, overhearing our conversation, made random catcalls. Obie gave me a weak push and boasted: "She don't own it, she addicted to it." More laughter echoed between the apple red lockers. "Shut up!" Someone barked, abruptly ending the merit. We turned to coach Harford, standing in the doorway of his office, glaring at us. His feet at shoulders width, his hands on his hips, his stomach sucked in and his chest puffed forward. His impeccable hair was immobile even as he stood under the air-conditioning fan. "Summer is over." He said, raising his voice and punctuating like a drill sergeant. "Get dressed and meet me out on the tracks. We are going to get you girls into shape." With stomping footsteps he exited the locker room. We all groaned in dismay, knowing we would be brutally punished for our rebellious absence the day before. I stepped in my navy training pants and pulled a short sleeved T-shirt over my head. It was humid outside and I knew coach would make sure we wouldn't get chilly. We jogged out to the tracks together, where the coach was waiting for us. The track looped around the football field. After three years of being on the basketball team, two years of being captain, I had acquired an intimate knowledge of that track. Even though we patiently and quietly stood waiting in front of him, he felt the need to sharply blow his whistle anyway, before he announced: "Summer break makes players go soft. The first game of the competition is only three weeks away. Three weeks to train you to be strong again, strong as individuals and strong as a team. Since you collectively decided you could afford to miss the first practice, we have some catching up to do. Captain?" "Yes, coach?" I suppressed the urge to salute and stand at attention, he would not be appreciative of any physical comedy at the moment, if ever. "How long did our last competitive game last?" I thought back to our final game. It was the game we went deep into overtime after a tie that neither team could solve swiftly. "Two hours and forty minutes, sir, including time-outs-" "And did we win?" He interrupted, apparently not interested in the details. I glowered. "No, sir." "No." He repeated. "No. Because neither one of you has the endurance to make it that long. You were like turtles moving back and forth on the court!" "With all due respect sir," I argued sarcastically, "the other team wasn't any faster." "And yet they scored... and got to compete in the State Championship!" He shook his head. "Captain, I keep forgetting, how long did that game last?" "Two hours and forty minutes, sir." I repeated. "Right." He produced a stopwatch out of his pocket. "You will be running around this track for the next two hours and forty minutes." My eyes went wide. "Sir," I objected. "practice isn't even supposed to last longer than two hours." He smirked at me smugly. "Well like I said, Captain, we have some catching up to do." He pressed start on the stopwatch. "Go!" Reluctantly, we started to jog down the track. Even though I paced myself my energy was quickly running out, my breathing became labored even through my wide open mouth and the muscles in my legs started to burn. Each time I passed the starting point I glared at the coach who was chatting up some of the blond cheerleaders - one of whom was Relena - who were also supposed to have practice. For some reason the girls were all really smitten with him. I didn't get it. I lost count on how many times I went around the track, my mind was too preoccupied damning Harford to hell. The training was ridiculous and unfair. Even though the game had, technically, lasted two hours and forty minutes, actual game time excluding time-outs, breaks and switches was shorter than that. But there was no arguing with him. He had big shoes to fill and he was desperate to fill them. Coach Zucherman was the only coach in the history of the university to have a basketball team win state championship. Now, Harford had his eyes set on that prize and to wipe Zucherman off the records. Asshole. My tempo had slowed considerably but as long as coach didn't comment on it I wasn't motivated to pick it up and as the track looped away from him I slowed even further to allow myself a moment to revitalize, if possible. I tried blowing my bangs out of my face but they were plastered to my forehead with sweat. When I reached up and wiped them out of my eyes I noticed Heero sitting on the front row of the bleachers watching the slaves run around the track. His eyes found me and I jogged up to him. "Hey." It was barely a word, I was desperately out of breath. I stopped and leaned against the railing, stretching out my calves, pretending to suffer from a cramp should I draw coach's attention. "I thought you'd be done by now." He demonstratively looked at his watch. "What time is it?" I wiped the sweat off my brow and chin. "Six." I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. My heart pounded furiously. "Shit man, I'm sorry. I'm gonna be here for another forty minutes. You go ahead and tackle that lasagna." "Captain!" Harford bellowed from across the field. "One sec coach! Cramps!" I shouted back. "No, it's fine. I'll wait." Heero said, already pulling his laptop out of his bag and opening it up in his lap. "You sure? You don't have to." "No, it's fine." He flashed me a grin. "I will gladly watch you suffer for another forty minutes." "Captain!" "Alright. Gotta go." I started running again. As soon as I did, I wish I wouldn't have to. I was done, I was exhausted. I started to doubt whether or not the fun of the game and hanging out with the guys was still worth it. Just like it had become apparent to me that girls are not worth the drama. Everything was becoming so tiring and exhausting, the fun had been sucked out of it. Basketball used to be fun, but Harford ruined it for me. He hated my guts, he would surely bench me for the duration of the year if he wasn't afraid of mutiny by the rest of the team. Relationships used to be fun too. Hilde was the one who ruined that for me. All people in my life ended up disappointing me, by not caring, by using me, by betraying my trust... I looked over my shoulder, back at Heero. He was the only exception. I didn't know whether that was wonderful or incredibly pathetic. I just knew that I didn't have the energy or strength of heart left within me to invest in another relationship, to make myself vulnerable like that again, vulnerable to being fucked with and for what? What did I get in return? All those girls, all that time and energy invested, all that drama and I still didn't know love. Every time I thought I did, I ended up being proven wrong. I was tired of being proven wrong. There, on the track, drenched in sweat, out of breath, in a moment of clarity - or heart failure and lack of oxygen to the brain - I decided I was done with love. Done with waiting for it, done with searching for it, done with expecting it from others, done with giving it to others. I was going to hold myself to my proclamation from last night: I am done with girls. No relationships this year; no attempts that are doomed to fail. Casual sex only. I hadn't exactly figured out how that would work considering all my previous casual sex-dates ended up being my girlfriends for at least two weeks - just enough time to have me come to regret it - but I would figure it out. My decision was enforced by the euphoria I felt when the coach blew his whistle and announced it was time to hit the showers. I shared a brief look with Heero through which we communicated that he would wait for me there and then I hurried back to the locker rooms. The guys were too drained to mess around. Not a single one of us got slapped with a wet towel that day, we didn't even make any penis-jokes when we all stood under the shower. It was weird. I took longer than the other guys because I simply couldn't neglect washing my hair after sweating so profusely. I did my best to towel dry it afterwards but my braid ended up moist along my spine anyway. When I stepped outside where the temperature was cooling, it was actually kind of nice. I walked right across the field, in a beeline towards Heero. He caught me approaching from the corner of his eye and shut off his laptop and tucked it into his bag. "Get any work done?" I inquired as we headed towards our dorm building. "Some. Mostly just answered a couple of emails." He said with a shrug. "Anything from your mom?" He shook his head. "Just school. And my dad. To let me know he accidentally knocked over the chess board, so we have to start over next time." I snorted, recalling Heero telling me about a similar email not all that long ago. "So I'm guessing you were winning?" "Always am. Never actually did though. Sons of poor losers can't ever be winners." "That must piss you off." I pushed the door to our building open and we stepped inside and headed for the kitchen. We were the only ones there, the other guys had either already eaten, or had gone out to eat, which was a common occurrence. "Not really. One more year and then I will never see him again." Heero said absentmindedly, sitting down at the small table crammed into the kitchen in a brightly lit corner. "He knows it too." My heart suddenly stung as I was reminded that in a year time, I might never see Heero again either. I pulled the refrigerator door open and got out the lasagna. I popped it into the oven and twisted the dial to the appropriate time before seating myself across from Heero. "Will you go out with me Friday?" I asked several long minutes into complete silence. Heero gave me a baffled look. "Not like that, homo!" I kicked his shin, under the table. "I need my wingman! We've gotta sniff us out some ass in a club or something." Heero quietly commented, still confused about the concept: "I didn't think you'd be ready to start dating so soon." "I'm not going to date. I'm gonna meet a hot girl. Ask her for her name. Talk her up. Have a little bada-bing-bada-boom. And then I am going to forget her name. I told you, casual sex." He raised his eyebrows at me. "Really?" "Yeah, so what?" "Well, to be honest I didn't think you were being serious." He looked as if he was afraid he was about to offend me or something. "Why?" He bit his lip, looking very uncomfortable now. Jesus, what is it? My look was demanding and effective. "You are just..." He paused briefly and then firmed his resolve. He looked up at me and said: "You are a girlfriend kind of guy." I snorted and leaned back in my seat. "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means you always have a girlfriend. You don't do single and you don't do casual sex. Not successfully at least." "Well, my relationships also aren't exactly successful." I argued. I didn't know why it bothered me that he would think of me as a "girlfriend guy", but my ego did feel dented and I sort of felt like my masculinity was being attacked, like he thought it impossible for me to be the raw, sexual "do em and leave em" guy. I felt like he mocked me, even though I was sure he didn't. "I just don't see it working. Look at your track record. You've never been able to a shake a girl, not after at least two weeks to allow her time to learn you are actually quite an asshole." He finished with a smirk. "Thank you, best friend." I replied sarcastically. He shrugged. "All I'm saying is, for some inexplicable reason, girls have to have you for more than one night. Apparently you are the master of trickery and deceit." "Okay, okay, enough with the sarcasm on the offensive already." "You are just not all that charming in real life." He continued dryly, his lips twitching, struggling with the smile that threatened. "I said shut it!" I ordered, pointing my finger at him, but I released a chuckle anyway. I was saved by the bell, or rather, the ding of the oven. I got up and got the dish out of the oven, placing it on the table and then moving to add two plates, two sets of cutlery and two cans of ice cold cola. "All day I slave for you in this kitchen and this is what I get?" I muttered jokingly. "Who are you to judge me anyway?" I started up again once I sat down. "You, the guy who chases girls off. Seriously, I have never seen women run that fast, especially in those heels." I dug into the lasagna, wincing as my wrist accidentally touched the hot oven dish. "At least I can have sex without immediately losing the key to the ball and chain." He said with a mouthful. I frowned, I had never known that. Though silly of me - in hindsight - it had never occurred to me that Heero was having sex. He never had a girlfriend and never went out, so I always assumed the poor guy took care of business all by himself. It was rather shocking to know the truth couldn't be more different. I mean, on one hand, there was an obvious logic to it. Heero was very handsome, athletic and smart - to a fault. But every thing else, the lack of interest in any social contact beyond our own friendship, the obsession with school, the dark, dangerous brood he always sported walking down the halls, all seemed to be so insurmountable. Yet, as he told me it was so, I discovered I didn't doubt the truth of his words for even a second. I leaned in curiously: "Where do you even meet girls?" "The library." He stated matter-of-factly, bringing another large forkful to his lips. "You're kidding... But where do you...?" My eyes went wide and then I scrunched my face up in disgust. "Oh no, don't tell me... not in the study room!" I hissed. "Dude, we eat there!" "And in the restrooms. The sex I mean, not the eating." He continued to eat like this conversation wasn't the weirdest we had ever had. I shook my head and worked in a couple of big forkfuls before I said with a grin: "You cheap whore. Nice going!" He let out a single burst of laughter. "Wow." I appreciated, sitting back in my chair, a little dazed. "I seriously need to study at the library more often." "It's not going to happen." He popped his can of cola open and took several big gulps before he elaborated: "I'm telling you, girls do not want to have one night stand with you. They will just use sex to get to you and once you give in to that, they own you. And you let them because more is exactly what you are looking for too. Somehow a relationship always just spontaneously appears, until they find out you are a dick, of course." He added. "Zip it, mister Charismatic." I grinned smugly. "I accept your challenge." He quirked an eyebrow at me. "I will prove to you that I can have casual sex. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am." I smacked the table to punctuate my words. "Because I am done with relationships. I am sick and tired of those girls and their drama and their brainwashing canoodling- don't!" I stopped him as I saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the beginning of a smirk and a sarcastic remark, "You better watch out, Yuy, because from now on you are going to have some competition." I finished my cola and crushed the can between my palm and the table. Heero looked dutifully unimpressed. "Ooh, manly..." He dead-panned. "That totally makes up for the "canoodling" thing." Even though our conversation had been riddled with jokes, I was being serious. It would be my last year, at university and with Heero. Like Nash, I just wanted to make it memorable, only in a good way. To make all the drama from the previous year hopefully less memorable. On top of that, the opportunity to prove Heero wrong, made the objective all the more interesting to me.
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