'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. - Tennyson

The night was thick with silence and humidity. The only sounds were those of summer, and they hummed outside my opened living room windows. Cicadas and tree frogs battled each other for the loudest chirps, only to be engulfed by the rumbling of thunder. We needed the rain; it'd been a while. Our rose garden was in want of some encouragement from mother nature.

I'd given up on my worn paperback copy of Wuthering Heights hours ago in favor of my phone. Every summer I vowed to reread my childhood favorite; maybe it was the tradition of campfires and stargazing, but something about summer just begged for ghost stories, if the gothic romance could be called that. But I rarely got past the first few chapters any more. Something else always seemed to demand my attention.

That night, though, there was nothing in particular. I was just bored and restless. My fiance was asleep upstairs; had been for hours. He'd been an early riser as long as I'd known him while I had always been a night owl. Luckily our opposing schedules suited us just fine. He slept; I read. Or, rather, scrolled on my phone, clicking on pointless things. Like quizzes that promised to tell me whether I was marrying my soulmate.

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

Catherine's hopelessly romantic words about her one true love, Heathcliff, could have swayed me to pick up my book once again. Maybe I should have stuck with my novel reading that night after all. It's quite jarring to go from reading the sublime to the ridiculous, but like most people, I just couldn't help myself. And sometimes I was genuinely curious as to which Disney princess I was most like.

The clock struck midnight, and not on my phone. The old grandfather clock that had been passed down in my family for generations chimed - loudly - announcing the end of that day, and the start of the next. But seeing the date change over on my phone made it more real, somehow.

July 12. One more month till my wedding. Our wedding.

A little thrill raced through me, but it was a combination of excitement and dread. Sure, I was excited about marrying Duo, at last. It was the event itself I was dreading. All the pomp and fussing and unnecessary attention that would be lavished upon both of us for several uncomfortable hours… my chest squeezed just thinking about it. I wanted to run away, and so did Duo, just to escape all the wedding planning hoopla. The compromise was to have a staycation that weekend, and avoid wedding talk at all costs.

The plan was to keep our phones on 'silent' for the next 72 hours, but we both knew that was a lofty goal at best. I was always glued to mine and had a habit of responding to work emails from the beach. Duo would complain very seldom about my technology addiction, though. He always exhibited a great deal of patience with me and was tolerant of my (undiagnosed) OCD tendencies. He knew if my phone blared with a call or a message, I was simply compelled to answer; I couldn't leave a call unanswered or a text or email unopened. If I did, it would drive me crazy for hours, and Duo would have to hear about it.

The only exception to this, of course, was sex. At least most of the time. I mean, I tried.

It was 12:11 a.m. when the name I tried to forget, but couldn't, appeared on my screen, along with the message:

Heero Yuy: Hey Relena. How are you doing?

I almost dropped my phone. How am I doing?! I wanted to scream. He knew how I was doing. He knew very well.

All he had to do was click on my profile and see my status, if he hadn't already heard the news the old-fashioned way. "Engaged to Duo Maxwell." Which I had updated months ago, when we first started planning this wedding. Then again, I knew Heero had never been much of a social media user. But, still, he had an account. Which was how he was messaging me.

Jerk, was what I wanted to type instead of a typical greeting. That, or ignore the message altogether. But I couldn't bear to do that; then I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the unopened message.

And anyway, it was too late; I already clicked on it. Which meant that Heero would get a check mark, and would know that I saw it. I had to reply.

Ugh. Fine. I'll get this over with…

"Good!" I typed, hoping that would "sound" upbeat. But really, I wanted to punch him through the screen. If only. "How are you?"

How the hell are you?! I wanted to ask. Where are you?! Because it had been a long, long time, and I still didn't know. I never did. Heero came and went with the wind.

And our relationship went right along with it.

I could see on my screen that he was typing. A moment later came the reply.

"Doing good. I'm out in the woods where it's not too hot and dry."

He's in the woods? I thought wryly. That probably meant he was living in the woods. Homeless. Heero was never fully honest about his living situation, whatever it was, ever since he "went off the grid." That was only one of the more frustrating things about him.

Impatient, I asked, "Where are you?" It would be a miracle if he ever got right to the point.

Heero is typing… Heero is typing…

"Kind of near Sacramento," he said. Whatever "kind of" meant. I snorted.

"Awesome," I typed, not actually meaning it. But maybe, I reasoned, if I acted casual, I could trick him into revealing more. Did he have food and water, and a place to sleep? Had he found a job, or anything? Was he sleeping in one of his old cars or had he built some sort of tree fort or tent contraption?

Knowing Heero, anything was possible.

"Yeah, it's good to be closer to nature. I've been getting a lot of sun, which is nice."

His typically cryptic answer revealed everything and nothing at the same time. I could infer whatever I wanted. I sighed out loud and, for some reason, continued to engage him. At that point, I couldn't just sign off or set down my phone. It had been at least three years since I'd heard anything from Heero; I had to know if he was at least okay.

"That sounds lovely," I said, choosing to keep my "tone" breezy. "Can you see the stars right now?"

"Just the sun set," he said.

Right. The sun would be setting out his way, if he was in fact in California. "Ah. It's much later here," I replied, as if he didn't know where I was. Of course he did. "It's raining here," I added. The rain had just started; I could hear it falling in soft splatters outside the window, and finally a breeze ruffled my curtains and began to cool the room.

I turned off the lamp next to me so that my phone's screen was the only illumination, besides the moon. What I was doing felt covert - talking to my long lost first love in the middle of the night - and seemed to demand the cover of darkness.

"Jealous," he said just then, and for a beat I wondered if he was referring to something besides the weather. "I miss New England weather."

Of course not.

"Do you?" I asked, wondering so much more. "It's quite fickle."

Maybe I meant something else entirely, too.

"Yeah, I do," came his response. "I like that it's so random and unpredictable."

"You would," I muttered.

Heero was still typing.

"It's alive and has personality."

I had to wonder if he was still being literal. But with Heero you never could really tell; his humor, if you could call it that, had always been facetious. He preferred to fly under the radar, not only in his actions but his tone of voice. I always thought he said everything with a little twinkle in his eye, but I might have been mistaken. He'd always kept me guessing.

It was infuriating. Just like his little disappearing - and reappearing - act.

"It can be tempestuous," I answered him after a minute. I no longer knew what we were even talking about.

"I love it," he said. I had to snort again, because as far as I knew, Heero didn't "love" anything. He'd prided himself on being a minimalist, and therefore had "no attachments." Not to people, places or things.

Certainly not to me. Even if he put that theory to the test by "checking in" with me every now and then.

I still didn't know why he chose to message me that night. I probably never would. Our conversation would end abruptly, as our little chats always did. I remembered when I first found him on social media, how elated I'd been to find out that he wasn't dead. Because, really, I had no idea.

We had, to put it mildly, lost touch after high school, after six magical years - including junior high - of getting to know one another and concluding that we had to be soulmates. Okay, to be fair, I was the one who concluded that. Heero was much more reserved. But it was clear he cared about me.

He was an introvert to the core, but he slowly let me in. It took months of my pestering to break through his stony exterior, but I was too stubborn to give up on him. The day I first spotted him - seventh grade, from the soccer field - it was cupid's arrow through the heart, love at first sight for me. He never said if he felt the same on his end; he said, at one point, he remembered that I wore "a lot of pink." From then on I was the "girl in the pink" to him and his friends, but I didn't mind. They gave him hell for it, which was one reason I was sure he shied away.

I played my heart out in soccer every day at recess or in gym class while he slunk away under the bleachers. That was one place I normally wouldn't be caught dead; it was where the older kids and deviants went to smoke. Most of them were wearing leather - even in summer - or sported brightly-colored hair, piercings or tattoos. They were more than a little intimidating. Even Heero stood out from the crowd, with his unruly hair and oversized army jacket. Sometimes he'd wear matching cargo pants, and I surmised he had probably borrowed the uniform from his dad or older brother, if he had either of those. His life was a total mystery to me.

Which made him all the more alluring.

Heero didn't smoke, but hung under the bleachers with large headphones over his ears. Our first real conversation involved me asking him what he was listening to, after tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, gave me a once over, eyed me skeptically, and turned back around as if I hadn't been standing right there. So I tapped him again.

"Hey! I'm talking to you," I scolded him. "Don't be rude."

He obviously heard me over his blaring music because he turned again. And that time, he took his headphones off, and handed me one. He didn't smile but there appeared to be less ice in his eyes. My heart pounded as I took the headphone he offered and pressed it to my ear.

Wailing guitars and screeching vocals assaulted my eardrum. I gave a little shriek of surprise and stumbled back.

Heero laughed. And then I couldn't help but laugh with him.

We were different; that was obvious. But that didn't seem to matter over the next few years. Before we were old enough to drive, we would take long walks together around town. We'd walk from our school to the mall, miles and miles, and then walk around the mall for hours. We didn't shop - although I wanted to - because we weren't remotely interested in the same things. Occasionally I'd pull him into some girly accessories store, and Heero would feign a look like he wanted to die. He only ever wanted to browse the CD section at any and every electronics store. But if I let him get in too deep, this process would take hours, and then I would be the one who was bored.

I tried to "get" his music, but I couldn't. It all sounded like the soundtrack to a horror film; there were no discernible lyrics or melody lines. Basically, if it wasn't pop music, I was deaf to it. I needed something I could sing to.

We rarely went to the movies because we couldn't agree on those, either. Heero managed to talk me into seeing various iterations of Alien and Predator, even Alien vs. Predator, and it was all torture for me. Likewise, he couldn't stomach a chick flick to save his life.

What we did enjoy were long stretches of silence. I didn't know why we enjoyed each other's company so much, when we had little to nothing in common. His face was often a blank, but I could tell his mind was always churning with some inquisition or other. So I would poke him and ask for "a penny for his thoughts." And then he would floor me with talks of the universe, and black holes and the time-space continuum and quantum leaps. At first I thought it was just his sci-fi obsession talking, but then I figured he would go off to MIT and study astrophysics or something.

Instead, he fell off the face of the Earth.

At least that's what it seemed like. High school ended and we headed off to different colleges, without defining our relationship before parting ways. The dreaded "future talk" never came, and even though this frightened me, there was some small comfort in avoidance. If we never broke up, technically we were still together. And even though I didn't know what we were, or where we would end up, in my mind it didn't really matter.

Because Heero was mine. He was weird and wonderful and I would love him forever.

We attended schools just hours apart from one another, both choosing to stick relatively close to homebase. But eventually the visits, phone calls and letters - actual handwritten letters - slowed. I had a cell phone - my parents had insisted I have one at school, for safety purposes - but Heero didn't want one. The only phone numbers I had for him were for his home and dorm room.

I found out from my family that Heero's parents put their house up for sale, while he was still at school. I tried to call them to find out more, but their number had already been disconnected. And that was only after I tried to reach Heero in his dorm. If his family was planning to move, why hadn't he told me?

I'd call and the phone would ring off the hook. Heero never bothered to set up his answering machine. Weeks went by and I became sick with worry. His radio silence gave voice to one of my deepest fears - that we really were broken up; Heero just hadn't told me. Maybe he couldn't bring himself to do it, or he just didn't want to. Maybe he had met someone else and just didn't care enough to tell me the truth. Maybe he cared too much. Or, maybe, something much worse had happened.

I was too terrified to drive the hours it would take to get to Heero's college and ask him these questions in person, and demand answers. Over the course of several weeks, I lost my appetite, and dropped weight along with it. My nights were sleepless and fretful. I couldn't focus in class and my grades suffered for it. And then came the panic attacks. After I blacked out in my dorm room shower, on the day of my art history final exam, and panicked after coming to on the bathroom floor, my roommate brought me to the campus nurse. Who then suggested I see a therapist for anxiety.

I went home for winter break, agonizing over the thought of bumping into Heero somewhere. I drove past his house and saw unfamiliar cars in the driveway.

Gone, without a trace, without any warning.

My parents had heard that the Yuys had sold their place pretty much overnight. My mom knew the realtor - a friend of a friend - but she was tight-lipped on the reasons why. They said the family had gone back to California, where they'd moved from originally, but no one had managed to confirm this.

I hounded mutual friends online. Thanks to the advent of social media, it was easy to track them down. Duo was the first kid who'd befriended Heero - besides me - after he moved to town and started attending our junior high school, and said he'd heard Heero was thinking of moving to Colorado.

Heero had mentioned wanting to go there before, so he could climb the Rockies and camp and check out the stars from way up high. It wouldn't have surprised me if that was where he was going, even if his family had gone elsewhere. But I never expected him to up and leave without a word.

It hurt, but not as deeply as I expected. Oddly, I came to accept his silent betrayal. It was as if I'd always known deep down that something like this would happen. Because I knew Heero, with all his talk of the secrets of the universe and the mysteries of life, wasn't the type to get himself tied down. He was always chasing the stars.

And I had to let him go.

So I did, more quickly than I thought was possible. Once I realized that I was free to go out with other guys - perhaps I had been free all along - I went and dated just about every type. There were intellectuals and artists and musicians and uber-geeks, even the bro-types who were addicted to protein shakes and the gym. I figured I owed it to myself to try a variety until I found the perfect fit.

It took all of my twenties to realize I had already found the one I couldn't let go of, and who wouldn't let go of me.

Naturally, it was only after I started dating Duo that Heero decided to contact me.

Heero, I would learn, seemed to possess a special radar for finding me when I was otherwise engaged.

In this case literally.

It wasn't the first time, either. Two years before that, I stumbled upon his Facebook account. He'd finally made one, and Duo was a mutual friend. It took me several weeks of debating, continually clicking back over to it, before I caved and, with shaky fingers, sent Heero a friend request.

He accepted immediately.

And that very moment, he struck up a conversation. As if that wasn't completely ridiculous. As if it hadn't been years.

"Hey Relena. How's it going?"

We talked about all the usual mundane things. Work and the weather. Although I wasn't sure one could call whatever Heero was doing "work."

Sure enough, he'd gone to Colorado. He'd dropped out of school to camp, moving from state to state but mainly sticking to the west coast. I'd jokingly referred to it as #vanlife but Heero didn't seem to get the humor. When I asked what he did for money, he said he gigged in an electronic band. He'd taken up synth playing. He'd gone to Burning Man, several times. I had no idea what went on there, or if I even wanted to know.

Even that night, one month before my wedding, Heero was still a mystery to me.

And we were still talking about the weather.

"It's boring here," he was saying. "Bright and sunny and warm, always."

He would find that boring. I was reminded then of one of our long walks to the mall. It was a sticky day in July or August, and the skies broke open above us. We were quickly drenched, but neither of us ran for shelter. We kept walking, undeterred, laughing about how pathetic we must have looked entering the shopping center. A couple of drowned rats turned mall rats. We ended up at the movies and I was shivering in the air-conditioned theater. Heero wrapped his soaking wet army jacket around me, and I'd squealed in complaint until someone behind us shushed me. Heero whirled around in his seat and scowled in their direction before turning back to me. And then he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, his long, dripping wet bangs soaking my face even more.

I expected the memory to sting with the reality of loss, but instead it made me smile down at Heero's profile picture. His face was ruddier now, from his days in the sun, and more angular than I remembered, but he was still boyishly handsome. I had to remind myself that we were in our early thirties, already.

I found myself seconding his love for stormy weather.

"I do find it inspiring," I admitted. "It puts me in the mindset to write. I find myself looking forward to rainy nights."

That was about as personal as I was willing to get, unless he asked me about the wedding. Then I wasn't sure what I would say.

"Yeah, there are so many moods with New England weather," he said. "The air just crackles...

"Ha," he added on a separate line. "Relena. We're talking about the weather."

His self-awareness made me smile even more as I tapped out my reply. "I know, right?"

It was awkward. Everything with us was awkward. But how could it not be? There is nothing not awkward about talking online - let alone in person - with someone you used to get naked with; especially when they happened to be the first. You can try to keep it casual, but somehow even innocent remarks about the weather seem seeped in innuendo. Unless it was just my imagination.

And just like that, I could sense the conversation was waning. Otherwise things were about to get personal, and even though I couldn't sense what Heero must have been thinking and feeling over the wireless internet, I could only surmise that he, like me, didn't want to "go there."

He was not about to say, "Well, have a nice wedding," or even, "I miss you." He had never said anything like that to me. He had never even offered an apology for disappearing on me, years ago, without a word.

I had a feeling, though, that was what he wanted to say, or something like it. He must have had some reason for contacting me. Even if it was only out of some obligation to let me know from time to time, out of courtesy, that he was still alive.

I decided that I was no longer bitter about what he had done to me. To us. I'd allowed those wounds to close a long time ago. Heero was who he was. I would probably never understand him, but part of me would always love him, just the same.

I love him now, I thought, and it was the truth. Seeing his face, his words on my screen, filled my heart with the same surge I'd always felt in his presence. I didn't have to let him go; not fully. My love for him was part of me; it wasn't a threat to Duo or our future. It just wasn't going anywhere. And I realized that was okay.

But I was ready for the conversation to end. Instead of just letting it taper off, as it usually did, I wanted to tell Heero goodbye. I wanted closure.

"I have to get going," I said, although I didn't have anywhere to be, other than in bed, with Duo.

"All right," came Heero's near-instant reply. "Good talking to you."

A simple statement, but it felt like a brush-off. I wondered if he could read my thoughts, somehow. I wondered if he might be hurting, knowing - given Heero's pattern - it would probably be the last time we would speak for another stretch of years. And by then, I would be married.

"Take care of yourself," I said, meaning it. I hoped he would stay safe, maybe even find someplace permanent to live.

Heero didn't answer. The green light next to his profile picture dimmed to gray. Offline.

I breathed in and felt a pang in my chest, but I realized nothing had changed. Heero was still Heero. There were still layers of unspoken feelings tangled up between us that we would never unthread. And yet I would go on loving him, anyway. Because that love wasn't a choice; it was a fact. It was a decision I had made back when I first saw him.

I will love him till I die.

"I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

Were we doomed, like Heathcliff and Cathy? Probably. Heero's ghost would haunt me all of my days, as long as he roamed this Earth, and even afterward, if he were to go before me. I would never forget him. But, then, I didn't want to.

My phone's screen went dark, and I immediately pressed the side button to keep my makeshift nightlight on. Because otherwise I would be that girl sitting alone in the dark, mourning her lost love.

The lock screen came back on, lighting up the room with a photo of me and Duo. One from our engagement shoot. I was wearing my favorite, newest pink dress, my arms looped around his neck, grinning up at him while he gazed down at me adoringly, his arms secured about my waist.

Our love was real and concrete. With Duo, I would never have to question, not his mind or his heart. I never had to wonder where he was. Most of the time, he was right there with me.

I wondered why I didn't feel guilty for sitting downstairs, talking to Heero while Duo slept. But I knew Duo wouldn't even be jealous; I would probably tell him all about it later. Duo didn't let that kind of stuff get to him. He knew he didn't need to question me, either.

I wasn't going anywhere.

I allowed myself to dwell for just a few more minutes before switching on the lamp next to me. It bathed the room in a soft, yellow glow, and I picked up my well-worn paperback.

"And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you- haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in the abyss, where I cannot find you!"

"Hey." The soft tenor, and warm breath, behind my ear startled me, and I all but sprang from the couch. I swiveled to see Duo draped over the back of it. He quirked a brow at me before pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Little jumpy, are we?"

"Sorry," I said without even thinking.

"Why are you sorry?" he returned with a lopsided grin. "I'm sorry for scaring you." Then he stood to his full height and padded off to the kitchen. A moment later he returned with two glasses of ice water.

"Can't sleep, huh?" he asked as he settled beside me. He offered one of the glasses and I took a long, grateful sip before setting it down on the coffee table.

"You know me," I said with a shrug. He smiled and placed his glass next to mine before wrapping both of his arms around my waist.

"I can help you get sleepy," he said with a wry grin. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed my neck. Only then did I start to feel slightly guilty.

"I just heard from the elusive Heero," I said, trying to make it sound funny. Duo pulled back, frowning slightly.

"Just now?"

"Uh-huh." I began to twist the ends of my ponytail, an anxious habit I'd tried to kick. Even years of therapy couldn't kill all my tics, though. At least I'd finally stopped pulling my hair out all the time.

Duo said nothing for a moment, even as his eyes seemed to sift mine.

"You okay?" he asked after a while.

I nodded fiercely. And, as if that wasn't enough, added, insistently, "I'm fine."

"What did he want?" Duo didn't sound jealous or possessive, although I could tell he was being protective.

"The usual," I said with another shrug. "Just checking in, I guess."

"So, the bastard's still alive, eh?" Duo chuckled. "That's good."

His nonchalant feelings toward Heero never ceased to impress me. Other guys I had dated long-term had gone into a rage over the notion of this spectre who still took up residence in my heart. They could never understand how I could still love someone who had left me unceremoniously, but still maintained a presence in my life, just by popping up now and then. If and when it suited him. One ex-boyfriend of mine went as far to call it controlling and abusive.

But they didn't know Heero. They only knew him by a bizarre set of characteristics, and judged him accordingly. I knew, somehow, that Heero never meant to hurt me. That he even loved me, too, in his way.

Even still, I knew that wasn't enough to sustain a relationship. Quite simply, I needed someone who, at the very least, was going to be around.

Duo did more for me than that. He knew Heero, too, and understood. Or at least tried to. I'd acknowledged that my unwavering affection didn't make any sense, but he told me it didn't need to.

"There are some people you just never forget," he'd said once. "Because it would be impossible to. They're tied to key events in your life. You met Heero in your formative years, and he had a big impact on you. Nothing wrong with that."

I'd asked, wasn't he jealous that I still carried a torch for some ghost of the past?

"No," he'd said. "Because I know you, and I know your heart's big enough. You don't have to get rid of Heero to make room for me. I know I can't replace him or his memory, but I also know you care enough about me to let your heart expand."

Of course my heart could expand. It was already an abyss.

"Did he ask you about the wedding?" Duo asked now.

"No, " I answered. "He was just saying 'hi.' From the woods of Sacramento."

"Ah," Duo said with a nod. "I wonder what he's smoking out there in the woods?" His eyes glimmered. "Think he's found nirvana yet?"

"No idea," I sighed.

"Too bad." Duo pulled me back into his arms and gave me a squeeze. "I've got my heaven right here."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a light punch on his arm. "You're so full of it."

"Yeah, maybe." The sparkle was back in his eyes, and he grinned at me. "But I love you." He took my left hand in his, twisting the engagement ring he bought me. Which he'd spent months agonizing over, hoping I would like what he picked. I did.

"You know," he murmured, his face close to mine, "I try not to talk shit about Heero. I don't want to be that guy."

"I know," I said immediately, wanting to change the subject.

Duo's eyes tightened. "That said… for all of that guy's mad genius traits, or whatever, I still maintain that he's an idiot."

I lowered my eyes but felt Duo's index finger under my chin, tilting it up so I would look right at him. His eyes locked on mine.

"He let you go," he said flatly. "I'm the smart one, by comparison." His gaze relaxed, and he smiled at me.

"I never claimed Heero was a genius," I said defensively. "He just... really likes space."

"He's an idiot," Duo said again, more forcefully, a new frown darkening his features. "I'm not saying you shouldn't care about him at all, but…"

That was exactly what he was saying, though. And maybe he was right. It was only one more month until the wedding, after all.

Maybe there wasn't as much room in my heart for Heero as I thought.

"Cheer up." Duo's voice was gentle, but cut into my warring thoughts. "Want to go to bed?"

And that was Duo. Always caring and seeking, but never pushy or forceful. He always offered and let me decide.

I nodded and held my hands out to Duo as he stood up from the couch. He raised me to my feet. Then a goofy grin crossed his face, and he bent down and scooped me up from the floor, hoisting me into his arms with minimal effort. He was nearly a foot taller than me, sure, but I was hardly child-sized. I shrieked and kicked in mock protest as he carried me up the stairs toward our room.

"I'm not tired," I whined.

"Good," Duo returned with a smirk. "Neither am I."

The shutters were rattling in our room as heavy rain battered the windows, competing for our attention as we tried to focus on one another. But the moaning wind refused to be ignored. The storm didn't die down all night, and I laid awake watching the lightning dance across the sky, terrified it would strike the closest tree and send it crashing through our bedroom window.

Nothing ever came through the window that night. The storm ended and the sun rose, and the ghost of the tempest vanished, along with the abyss.

A/N: This is dedicated to all of us who have loved and lost, and have come out on the other side.

This is loosely based on a true story; GW characters just fit so well, perhaps because this author tends to gravitate toward those types (heh). This is also an experimentation in style; first person, digging a little deeper and getting a lot more personal- mining my own life for creative fodder. I really did hear from a ghost from the past, about a week ago, one month before my wedding! However, the real-life version of this story was far less dramatic, so I took much creative license here. I hope you enjoyed it!

I know it's a bit dark and really douchey of Heero to ghost Relena like this, but I can kind of see him doing something like this if he never learned how to function in the real world. And I can see Relena keeping the torch burning for him...

Please review and let me know what you think! And of course, stay tuned for more story updates, soon!

I love you even when Heero doesn't (the meanie)!

- RFP