Umm...hello?
This is my first GW fic, so be kind... It's a bit surreal/conceptual; a look at Heero's relationship with Duo, written mainly in monologue form. This is just the opening frag - more will arrive eventually. Bear in mind that it's meant to be sort-of mentally read aloud, 'cause that's the way I write things. There's a a little bit of implied 2+1 shounen-ai in here, nothing even really un-canon, but if you're THAT narrow-headed the door is thataway. >>>
Truly enormous thankyou to Kracken. Kracken who inspired this fic, helped me with it, encouraged it along, thought up a name for it when it went up on her ML... Everyone should read her fics - she is THE GREATEST!
.1
Yes, I know. I know when I should and I don't. When you expect something I won't give, or wait for something that won't come from me. Don't push it. It's not going to appear when you press all the buttons, because they just aren't plugged in. There's no response. You give me that look, or that throwaway word, or that mad tormenting half-touch to my arm and I can't do anything. I can't do what they do in all the films, a glance across a crowded room and, voila, one love affair, 'mission accomplished'. You never do anything to me except torment me, leave me hanging here not knowing what I'm supposed to do, or…feel. People like Quatre talk about 'emotions' - I don't even know what that means. I know what I think about you. I know the way my throat tingles every time I look at you. But there's nothing more. You may as well give up because I just don't have any more.
I know it. I watch Trowa and Quatre sometimes, see the way they interact; they always know what to say to each other, when to smile, when to touch. I could never do that. I even saw them kiss once, at the end of a long day, mission over and bone weary, high on adrenaline and covered in sweat - they just got straight out of their Gundams and kissed, right in front of me. I turned away, I couldn't watch them, and I didn't understand. Why did they do that? I'll never know what it is that makes a man react like that; quit looking for it Duo, it isn't there.
I wish I knew what to do. You know what you want, always talking at me, smirking at me, toying at me. Always pushing. I can't even think about that. When Relena does it it's so easy, I can just swat her off like a buzzing insect, walking away, locking it out. I can't do that to you. You're too important to me, Duo. You're my friend. I trust you. I…need you…
You aren't like anyone else I've ever met. I don't know how to keep you away from me, and I hate myself for leading you along like this, giving you my silence, ignoring your advances, when I have to tell you it'll never happen. You're looking for someone kind, someone who'll talk to you and appreciate you and return all the care you give. It's not me. I can say that to Relena. Kuso, I could say that to anyone except you. You're - different. You're not someone who I can throw away; that's never happened to me before.
It'd've been better for you if you'd never met me. I'd've felt a lot better if I'd never met you - safer, saner, more in control - but I can't help but be glad you're here with me. You're a good pilot, yes. You can hack very well, yes. You know a lot about explosives, yes. You could do all that on the other side of the galaxy but here you can -
- tell me more with one damned look than the rest of my lifelong aquaintenceship has ever said to me ever. You want me for something that isn't war or murder or solving someone's filthy problems. You tell me I'm something other than a stage prop in a mediocre tragedy, and maybe…maybe I sometimes wish it were true…
It's not. You're reaching for someone who isn't real. I've been a killer as long as I can remember, Duo, simply a machine for winning battles. I don't think past the next bullet. I don't know what else there is. All else is irrelevant; a friend is someone who assists in missions, someone I can rely on to fly at my back or draw enemy fire or similar. There's nothing for me outside that, no-one I want to speak to or look at, or to hold me or touch the warm light on my neck…
…kuso. There's everyone, all of them, every person I've ever known, in one column and then I have to deal with you. There's no rule I know for this, no equation you fit into. Maybe Quatre's babbling about sometimes having to think with your heart is true; I should be doing that, but I can't because I have no heart. I can't feel anything, and I don't know what I want. It's like I'm not really a human. If I was, if I was like Quatre or, or you or someone, I'd do something, smile back and - whatever real people do when someone hits on them.
It's as if I'm missing a perception, like being deaf, or blind; there's a whole world I can't ever be a part of. Duo, you mustn't push me; I don't want you to waste yourself. I don't want to pull you down with me, you shouldn't become something like me…
"Heero?"
"Hn?" Quatre stands before me. I didn't hear him come in. He's giving me one of those impossible expressions, pink lips parted, small face tilted, blue eyes alight with something that could be voodoo for all I'd know about it.
He steps up to me, moving carefully, and pauses. His mouth opens as if he's fishing for the right word. I wait, immobile, not thinking of anything. There's no point imagining what he could be thinking; he is a language I can't comprehend.
"Heero…" He touches my hand with the warm tips of his fingers. "You - you only need to try, you know."
He shuffles backwards towards the door, then leaves me alone again.
There's a heavy lump in my throat…