I do not own any rights to Gundam Wing or its characters. This work is not for profit.

Everything about him irritates me. Everything. The length of his hair, the fact that he keeps it braided, that he won't ever let me touch it, he never talks about himself, he never asks personal questions, his eyes are the color of a flower, his snarky comebacks, the clothes he wears, that goddamn cross hanging around his tiny wringable neck! Just EVERYTHING!

But for some reason I'm drawn to him. When I need to be alone, or feel like everything is too much, I seek him out. Not so much as asking him to be around... but if he is I feel better, calmer. Maybe all of his raw energy makes me feel like I don't have to produce my own. I have no idea, but I hate that the most.

I'm also pretty sure that he hates me back, that I annoy him by simply standing in a room with him without talking to him.

He confirms my suspicions when I enter the kitchen where he's cooking something or other - the man's always eating - and just sit at the table and watch him without saying a word.

"Fuck I hate it when you do this man." I flinch at the words and look up to his face from his hands that had stilled on the chopping block. He points the knife at me, "Why the hell do you hang out around the most talkative person you know and never say anything?"

I shake my head, "You aren't the most talkative person I know. That would be the Ringmaster in the Circus me and Cathy work for."

He shakes his head at me and continues chopping vegetables. "You didn't answer my question."

"Your question became invalid as your premise was wrong." The knife barely missed my ear. I retrieve it from its quivering position in the wall and take it to the sink. I wash it off before handing it back to him. "You'll ruin it doing that."

"I hate you." The words hurt, I'd always thought he hated me, I wasn't expecting the words to hurt so much.

"Yeah, well, I don't like you either." I shrug and head back to my seat to watch him cook.

He turns to me, the very picture of rage, and demands, "Then why the fuck are you in here?!"

I shrug again, "I can't stay away from you."

He gives me the same baffled look I give myself whenever I come to that conclusion in front of the mirror and turns back to his cooking. I watch silently until he's finished, pull out his chair and push it in when he sits down to eat. He passes me a bowl of my own and we eat the soup he made.

"I don't want you to be away from me."

The words are quiet as I wash the dishes and I almost think I'm hearing things. I turn and he's standing there beside me a consternated look on his face and I know I heard him correctly.

"Then I won't be. Just because I hate everything I know about you, doesn't mean I hate YOU."

He blinks up at me and then a beautific smile breaks out over his face and he nods, "I guess I don't really say much with how much I talk huh?"

I grin at him, "Not really, no."

"I'll work on that."

"I'll be around to hear it." We head up to our shared room once the dishes are put away and go to sleep. Maybe I don't hate everything about him.