* Raspberry Scones *
Heero awoke first, as always, as usual, his eyes opening to face the white ceiling
above. As far back as he could remember, he had always woken this quietly, but he didn't
always face the same ceiling. He had faced lots of ceilings, many ceilings; from one day to
the next, it didn't seem that he had any ceilings that were the same that he had taken
shelter under. But now he had found a little respite, a little leeway for him to live for a
little bit. I guess I owe it all up to Duo.
He turned to face his friend in the opposite twin bed from across the room. His
first real friend was laying on his side, chestnut brown hair splayed across the pristine
pillows and sheets in an array of colors from the shots of sunlight between the blinds in
the window. They sent out flashes of a color almost white, to a deep dark shade of color
that even Heero couldn't identify. He got up slowly, carefully, not to disturb the silence
and tranquility of the little room in the school dorm that they shared. But despite his
efforts to keep silent, the occupant of the other bed still stirred slightly and turned
over, his hair flashing brilliant colors against the blinding white of the pillow. The
American pilot grumbled softly in the back of his throat, but did not stir afterwards.
Heero got up and padded over to his best friend's bedside and tried to shake him awake.
From previous experience, he knew it wouldn't work.
"Duo, it's time to wake up."
No answer replied. The Japanese wasn't daunted though. He shook harder the
shoulder that had once fired the gun that wounded him, and frowned impatiently. "Duo..."
he growled. "Wake up, you lazy slob. It's already 8. We're going to be late for classes
if you don't wake up soon."
Duo did stir, this time, and Heero heard his slurred words as they ran over his
tongue. "Mmm, Heero, I ain't no lazy slob..."
Heero held back a chuckle, but all the same, it didn't wake Duo up. So he turned to
graver measures. He grabbed the glass cup from the bedside table and filled it up to the
brim with water, then upended it over Duo's head. He repeated this process several times,
but no avail; Duo was still sleeping as soundly as ever, even though his bangs stuck to his
shadowed face. His eyebrows bent inward, frowning back at Heero, but as Heero observed,
those eyes did not open, and that made him mad.
After 10 minutes of shaking, upending numerous cups of different substances on top
of Duo's head (including a large glob of hair gel; Duo's hair won't be moving for WEEKS),
shouting, cursing, tugging his hair and threatening to cut it, Duo was *still* sound asleep.
This wasn't good.
Heero sighed resignedly at the damage he had done, and then he leaned down to shake
the shoulder wearily again. But something nagged at the back of his mind, and on its own
accord, the hand swayed, hesitant and uncertain over the shoulder, then started towards
Duo's fiercely scowling face. It stopped just millimeters away from it, and at that moment,
Duo stirred and turned back, effectively making Heero cup his cheek.
It lanced through him, this feeling. Heero reeled back from the invisible bolts of
electricity that shot their rays through him, enveloping him, x-raying him as nothing had
ever before. Just the pureness of it surprised him, and he stumbled back a little, still
wondering what happened. It had all happened so fast he had had not time to register what
happened.
Just when it couldn't get any worse or puzzling for Heero, Duo's violet eyes opened
and regarded him. "Huh? What's happening? Enemy attack from OZ?"
Heero regained his composure somewhat and aimed a well-aimed swat at Duo's wet head.
"No, baka, it's time to get up for school. We were already late, and I had to spend 10 good
minutes to wake you up", he picked up a new uniform from the chair of his desk. "You'd
better get up soon and dress, or you won't be able to catch a bite before class."
There came no answer for a few moments, but as Heero was straightening his scarf, he
heard a muted muttering from under a soaked pillow and the telltale creak of weight being
shifted to the middle of the bed. Duo got up, muttering something unintelligible under his
breath as he picked up his neatly pressed uniform. Nothing else was heard, for Heero had
already gone out the door. As he picked his way through the hall and the crowds of students
that cluttered it, he thought about Duo.
Something is seriously wrong with me. What was it that I did that made me feel
like that? Was it Duo? Did he do that on purpose, to make me realize something?
Does Duo love me? The way I love him? Do I love him at all? What is "love"?
Iie. Don't get your hopes up, Heero Yuy. Who would want to love you, an
emotionless shell like you, a person who never shows anything on his blank face, nothing
mirrored your eyes, nothing that ever shows what you're thinking. You're never polite, just
plain rude, shoving away other peoples' kindness, people who actually care for you despite
your seemingly nothingness, people who actually cared if you lived or died. People who come
across your path have 2 roads after they meet you: if they mystify you somehow, you let them
live. If they displease you or insult you in any way, they die.
Ah, the little voice in Heero's head sang out, full of triumph. But that's not the
case with Duo, is it? He has insulted you, pelted you with everything from almonds to
bookshelves to cars, has refused your every polite asking to "shut up", has done everything
against the latter, and yet, you can't bring yourself to pick up that gun hidden on the top
bookshelf, aim at his head and pull the trigger.
You LOVE Duo Maxwell. Don't deny it, the voice said. And for once, Heero was
able to answer this question it posed. Yes, the other voice answered. I am in love with
Duo Maxwell, refuser of every asking I give. Something about him mystifies me, though, so
is that the reason I let him live, and let him harangue me to the end of my days, a faithful
friend to turn to whenever I need a shoulder to cry on?
Nonsense. Heero Yuy, the Perfect Soldier, never cries.
Not even for Duo Maxwell?
To this Heero had no answer, but he walked on, hands in his pockets, head bowed down
in thought, trying to act inconspicuous, but in fact, he was the most conspicuous. He
headed over to the cafeteria, ignoring the arguing voices in his head.
* * *
Duo looked at the closed door with a mixture of anger, confusion, and exasperation.
He was angry because once again, he had forgotten to tell Heero to pick up a little bite of
something from the cafeteria. His actions mirrored the anger he felt, because he pulled on
his slacks, buttoned his shirt, and put on his coat with a vengeance. As he was tucking in
his own scarf, the door labeled 205 with large gold numbers opened and Heero entered once
again, holding a paper plate with a chocolate glazed donut and a cup of coffee. The
Japanese gave the beseeching American a glare that probably would've burned the donut if he
had faced it with the same look, a look that clearly read if-you-try-anything-to-steal-my-
food-you'll-pay scowl. Duo matched him glare for glare, but heeded the look and continued
with dressing. Finally, when he was done, he got up and sat beside Heero on the edge of his
bed. Heero gave him a blank look, and continued sipping his coffee. After he had taken
several droughts of coffee and the cup was completely empty, Duo spoke up, his tenor
effectively waking up the silence of the room.
"Can I have half?"
"No."
"Quarter?"
"No."
"Eighth?"
"No."
"Sixteenth?"
"No."
Duo threw up his hands in exasperation and unbelieving ness. "Heavens! Can I have
a crumb?"
Heero threw him a look that clearly answered his question.
"No?!?!?! What's wrong with you today, Mr. Perfect Soldier, Mr. Omae o Korosu?
Hmph! So generous, aren't you?" Duo picked up his books and propped open the Chemistry book
to study for the quiz that day. Heero looked after him for a moment, then opened his mouth
to eat the donut-
-And was stopped as a meter-long braid came whirring out of nowhere and whacked him.
Heero (of course) knew who it was, and hurriedly blocked all the flying punches that came
his way. The paper plate in his hand that held the donut did not move. Duo, tired, gave a
weary snatch at the pastry, but just landed flat on his face in front of the bed with
Heero's foot pressed above his neck. Brown crumbs of donut rained down on top of Duo's
neatly plastered head (courtesy of Heero's hair salon), and Duo had to painfully endure
watching Heero devour the donut with agonizingly extensive slowness. Only when the Japanese
was done did he let go of Duo's neck. The American jumped up, pride obviously injured, but
he just shot Heero a horrid look and went about his business. Heero called after him in a
mocking voice.
"Duo, if you eat too much, the girls in class won't like you anymore, so that's why
I reserve for your well-being."
The L2 pilot gave an exaggerated snort and turned back to face the Japanese. "Oh?
And when did you even start worrying about MY well-being when you don't worry about YOUR
well-being?"
Heero's eyes widened a little at this. Duo stormed up in front of Heero, his wet
hair swaying with vehemence as he approached the unsuspecting L1 pilot. Heero had never in
his life seen Duo this mad before, not even when he "repaid" the debt of saving him from a
most certain death in the hospital where he would've been tortured, not when Duo had saved
him from all those tight scrapes that he never would've gotten out of if it hadn't been for
his best friend and secret crush. But now the American was angry, and Heero could feel his
heart pounding more insistently than ever in his chest, and he could tell that this was
something that he wouldn't be seeing a lot.
Duo advanced on Heero slowly, deliberately, and it was all Heero could do than
shudder at that murderous look that was reflected in Duo's eyes. The American did not back
his step, even though he saw that Heero was well and truly scared by this behavior. He
lifted his right hand right in the air, and proceeded to grab Heero's shirtfront. He raised
the Japanese to eye level with no trouble.
"Listen. I didn't get you out of that hospital for the 1st time to have you try and
commit suicide. You got out with a broken leg, and that was it. You got lucky. The 2nd
time was the one you took upon yourself; you slashed your wrists just after the Mariemeiya
Incident. I personally drove you to the nearest hospital, where thankfully Sally Po was and
she convinced everyone that the reason we were in such gangster clothes was because we had
just got up from bed that morning, sleeping. You got lucky that time as well; you got out
without a scratch at all. Heero", he paused here, and Heero thought he saw a faint flash of
worry and anxiousness behind those sparkling violet eyes, "I don't want to get you into the
hospital a 3rd time because wanted to slit your wrists."
Heero's eyes opened wider. Duo's eyes just narrowed. "Yes, you thought no one knew
what you were going to do yesterday evening. Well, Heero", Duo began to transport Heero to
the door. "Do you seriously think that after the 2nd time you went to the hospital that I
would actually risk you trying to be the old kamikaze Heero again. I don't want to see you
in the hospital for the 3rd time, because this time you might now get out alive. Do you
think that I would let my best friend die?" He reached past Heero and grasped the golden
doorknob, then pushed a dumbfounded Heero out into the hall.
The Japanese stared dazedly at Duo's newfound strength as he was unceremoniously
pushed out of the room and into the hall. Duo jabbed an accusing finger at Heero's chest,
and the L1 pilot fell back, into the silent crowd that had gathered outside of the door at
the sound of the argument. "Well", Duo's face was blank as Heero's for once, like he had
gotten into the habit have having a scowling face all the time. "I think you should think
it over what should your life is worth, and not just throw away all that you've worked for
in a flash of a blade on your wrist or a bullet to your head. Your life can mean more than
that, so I want you to think about it, and don't come back here until you can give me a
straight answer and not ignore me like you usually do. The things that you worked for in
this life, don't they mean a little more to you than just people that surround you? They
care for you, and yet you do nothing to repay them for what they've done for they've done
for you. And while you're at it, consider what is worth living for and what is worth dying
for!"
Heero stared in shock as Duo slammed the door in his face. The crowd behind him
stood just as silent, and for a moment, the hall was devoid of sound, and just the whisper
the subject of death rippled through the minds of many. The figures in the hall stood
silently, watching, unspeaking in a cold façade of indifference. All was unmoving for a
moment, then the hush was broken my hurried whispers, of faces peering and sneaking looks at
the young Japanese boy who stood in front of the door that had been so unceremoniously shut
in his face. The whisperings grew louder, and talking prevailed once again, with nervous
laughter and giggles. Heero stared a few moments at the closed door, the 3 numbers on the
door playing on his memory.
And then he was down the hall again, the throng of people parting like Moses'
parting of the sea as he strode down the hall once again that day, head bowed low, eyes on
his shoes, and his thoughts somewhere else.
* * *
Duo slammed the door with all his might, focusing on making Heero's face as flat as
he possibly could, focusing on making some actual emotion to appear on it, but nothing came
on it as Duo spoke except a bit of eye-widening and lips parting to form an oval. Then the
door was shut, and Heero was outside. Duo could barely remember what he had said just
before he slammed the door -no, he couldn't remember at all, just the horrible face that
registered more emotions than any other expression Heero had ever shown to him alone. He
had his hand clenched angrily on the door for a moment, then he released its tight grip,
and sank to the bottom of the door, feeling the floor under him securely. His memory came
crashing back like a wave, and suddenly he just couldn't help it anymore and just threw his
head into his hands.
Duo, Duo, Duo no baka!!!! You just shoved him away like that, the person you like,
and you just treated him like dirt! Oh, you stupid idiot, you've done it this time. He
snuffed piteously in the warmth of his arms for a moment, then looked up blearily for a
moment, then started to get ready for class. But in his mind, voices much like Heero's
that morning whirled insistently in his head, each suggestion for the response to this
matter more absurd than the last.
Tell him how you feel!
No! That's suicide!
You saw how he stroked your cheek this morning. You saw how he jerked away after
he touched you! He's in love with you, Duo Maxwell, and it's bloody well damn time you told
him that you felt the same way, to save him some trouble from having to confront a baka like
you and tell you that he loves you! He'll never say it! Your infamous amount of patience
won't get you and him anywhere, and it won't last forever either.
Duo packed up, and left the room. A few minutes later, Heero snuck in and got his
stuff as well, and though both pilots were sitting together in the same classroom, in the
same row of seats, in the same aisle of 2-some seats, their minds were both in completely
opposite and different directions.
* * *
The rest of the morning passed without incident; Heero kept to his own work and his
own self, and though Duo frequently cast an eye over his comrade, he did not say anything,
lest he hurt his best friend even further, adding more fuel to the fires of vengeance and
self-pity that had welled up in Heero. He had always had a sort of paternal instinct for
this person; it just came to him as a something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As far
as Operation Meteor went, he HAD fallen for Heero a long time ago, had been surprised and
shocked at his suicide attempt from the top of the 50-story hospital building, the self-
detonation switch, the valor he showed against Epyon with Zechs in its cockpit. He cast
another glance at Heero, and realized that Heero was making more typing errors than he ever
had seen the Japanese make before. It was obvious that Heero was also thinking of him, but
refused to look at him, in sake of betraying his own feelings.
Duo turned back to his own work, still thinking, still contemplating his options of
what to do of the situation. He was still thinking as the lunch bell rang. Heero's
retreating back sent Duo another pang of guilt. But there had been no time to think after
that, for already he was surrounded by eager fans of his basketball skills, and he was like
their "trainer". He was led away, to the shade of a tree, where he broke lunch with the
rest of his trainees, and for a moment, his heart was a little lighter as he jumped through
the air and nailed another basket against the opposing team.
They were busy slapping high-fives when Duo saw a shadow retreat from the far end of
the gym. Rakey bangs covered the top part of the person's face, but after Duo had just
taken account of him, the stranger lifted his back from the whitewashed walls and left the
gym. Duo didn't even need to doubt that it was Heero, no doubt glad that they had won
despite the fact that they were one player short.
It was late when Duo returned to his room in the dorm. He had to stay because some
of the young cadets wanted some extra help with a trick or 2. He stopped in front of his
door, and was about to punch the key into the lock when he realized that a light was shining
from under the door. Duo's resolve hardened, and he pushed the door open after a deft twist
in the lock. The door stood ajar into the room, as his curiously colored eyes swept over
the room. In the corner, he saw the faint silhouette of Heero, stooped, gathering clothes
from the dresser. The drawer closed with a clang, and the picture frame on to of the oak
dresser fell down flat. Heero regarded it for a moment, then picked it up and righted it,
but not before he had looked for a second at it.
Duo could see the picture in his mind's eye. It was the only picture of the 5
pilots actually together. It had been taken just a year ago, when they had their
celebration party of the end of the wars. Quatre was wrapped in Trowa's arms, Wufei was
off to the side, looking like he wanted to leave, but a small smile was visible on the
normally impassive face. But in the middle was Heero, his arms crossed over his chest,
with an annoyed expression on his face, but like Wufei, he was smiling. It was just a
minuscule gesture of upturning of the corners of his mouth, but all this had been tribute
to Duo's constant haranguing. Duo had his arm slung around Heero's shoulder, his face
joyous with one eye winking at the camera. Duo could even remember who had taken the
picture; it had been Sally Po, who had convinced Wufei to smile with some constant
complaints that she staged everyday. And Wufei had compiled. But Heero's smile had all
been Duo's doing. No one had been able to make him smile before, maybe except Relena, but
this one was a genuine smile, not the smirks and the laughing, mocking smile he wore to
battle. And Duo was actually able to boast that he was able to do something, for once.
Then the picture went away, and Heero stopped in front of him. Duo looked up at him
with a grim defiance. He squared his shoulders and tried to feel brave, but he knew he
couldn't feel that way, especially not against his best friend. "Well", he started. "Where
do you think you're going?"
Heero's face was blank as he replied. "Away. Isn't you who wanted me to go away
and think for a while? Well, I'm escaping, away to a place where I can't be bothered by the
likes of YOU." The Japanese immediately regretted saying those words when Duo's face became
a mask of hurt. But Heero knew he couldn't show his true feelings; he didn't even know if
Duo really liked him or not. And even if Duo DID like him, wouldn't he have said so
already? Heero wasn't sure, but he wasn't willing to get hurt again by something like this,
and so he pretended to shrug off the look and ignore the pained look on Duo's face. He
grasped his pack tighter as he brushed past Duo, and he remembered the touch from that
morning and inwardly shuddered. But when Heero found his hand was already on the doorknob,
he found he didn't have the strength to turn it. He just stood there, pack in one hand,
doorknob in the other, but he found he was rooted to the spot and couldn't move.
Duo whirled around, suddenly, braid making an elegant twirl around him to collide
hollowly with his chest. "Heero!", he cried suddenly, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I
didn't mean what I said this morning!"
Heero took his hand off the doorknob while Duo sighed in relief, but the L1 pilot
still didn't turn around. "Are you sure of what you just said?'
Duo stopped and thought back. "Well...if you put it that way, no. But I'm sorry
for the outburst and the temper and the way I said those words, but I don't regret the
content that I said." He bowed his head low and whispered, "Heero-kun. I'm truly sorry if
I hurt you in any way."
Now Heero really did turn around, and when Duo looked up at him, his face was graced
with a smile, a smile like the one in the picture frame on top of the dresser. It lit up
his face beautifully, and Duo found it was contagious, for he was smiling as well. Then
Duo reached out and took Heero's pack and walked over to his bedside, where he started to
unpack Heero's clothes once more. The Japanese protested a little, but the American just
looked up at him and smiled a tear-filled smile, but did not stop. Heero gave up, and did
his homework, letting Duo copy off his when he was done. He was rewarded with a big smile
on his crush's face, and he felt that everything was once again right in this world. And he
was happy.
* * *
"And so that 3-pointer went right in, just like that! Nice "swish" at the end!
Yaha!", Duo made the gesture of shooting a basketball up in the air at Heero. "Cool, ne?"
Heero gave a muted grumble and turned over. "Duo", he said softly over his shoulder
and hoped that the braided pilot could hear him. "We have a mission tomorrow. Get to
sleep. The Preventers Agency won't be happy if we fall asleep in the middle of the mission,
you know."
Duo shot up straight in his bed and almost tumbled head over heels right off the
edge of the bed. "WHAT? When did they post that up? I haven't seen it! When did the
mission statement come?"
Heero didn't turn. "A long time ago. Last month."
Duo sank back down on the pillows. All was silent for a few minutes, then it was
broken once again my Duo's endless round of basketball commentary. Heero silently cursed
himself for not shutting up the chatterbox while he still could. Duo rattled on about hoops
and baskets, spins and twirls, uniforms and sneaker sizes, until Heero couldn't take it
anymore and threw his pillow in the American's direction, hoping to at least gain peace for
a few moments.
His plan didn't work, however, because Duo caught the pillow neatly and threw it
back. Heero caught it with defiance, and slid to the edge of his bed, his toes against the
cool wooden vinyl floor. Duo did likewise, and soon they were looking at each other,
sharing the exact same thought. Their thoughts were stimulous, and they were the same. All
at once Heero lunged at Duo, and Duo lunged at Heero, and they battered each other with
their pillows until feathers cascaded all over the room and over the bed. Heero stopped,
and looked through the whirl of whiteness at his secret love.
Duo was laughing, his laugh chuckling like water over the smooth stones of a small
river, a mixture of the trees' breath and the grasses' language of wind, and it both
entranced and mystified Heero. Duo's lithe body was still standing from the onslaught, and
as the white feathers floated over him, Heero caught his breath at the beauty of Duo, who
was looking at him with laughing, jovial eyes with a deep, dark sadness in it that Heero
couldn't quite place. The violet eyes were shadowed in the untidy bangs that held suspended
over the heart-shaped face, and it seemed all Heero could do not to reach out and stroke
that cheek like he did that morning, and feel that same electricity alight him. Chestnut
colored hair, unhindered, fell down to Duo's knees in ripples. Heero had to suppress the
urge to run his fingers through those locks of hair. The moonlight came through the blinds,
and Duo's figure was outlined in stripes of light and dark, with the occasional feather to
break the pattern. Heero's heart skipped a beat at this beauty, at this person he had
admired for so long before him.
The feathers floated down, unbidden, but neither Duo nor Heero could see them. All
they saw were one other, and they knew what the other was thinking, just by looking at each
other. The silence grew for eons between them, and then the gaze was broken. The L2 pilot
smiled softly and started picking up feathers and stuffing them back into his pillowcase.
"Well, Heero, get to work. I'm not going to pick all of these up, unless you don't want any
feathers in your pillow tonight." His eyes strayed longer than usual on Heero's face, and
the Japanese could feel a faint flush of pink rise through his cheeks, but he hid it quickly
by bending down and picking up feathers.
Duo was done first this time, and just sat there looking at Heero, waiting patiently
for his comrade to finish. When the Japanese finally did, they both sat down on their bed
and just looked at each other. This time it wasn't Duo who broke the gaze, but Heero.
"Duo, we need to get to sleep. As I told you before, we do have mission tomorrow, and I
intend to be wide awake when I do it-"
"I love you, Heero."
Heero was dumbstruck at the words that had just come from Duo's mouth. He didn't
hear Duo say a quiet "Oyasumi nasai, Heero-kun" after that statement, but just hung onto it
for more minutes than he could afford to waste, then climbed back into his bed and stared at
Duo's back, as if wanting to will the back to turn. On the other side of the Duo, the
violet eyes were wide open, and would be open for some time, before they shut completely and
entirely shut in sleep.
* * *
The next morning was like any other. Heero tried to shake Duo awake, it didn't
work, so after 7 cups of water, a wet towel rubbed on Duo's face, ruffled hair, and blobs of
hair gel, Heero gave up and surrendered to Duo's whims and gave him what he wanted. He
leaned down and place a tiny, chaste kiss over Duo's lips, barely even touching them, but
it was a kiss, alright.
Duo waited until Heero was out of the room and on his way to the cafeteria before he
got up. He had purposefully faked sleep the day before, and this day was no different. He
ran his fingers over the spot where Heero's lips had met his, and shivered slightly, a good
thing. He like Heero's kisses, now. They were clumsy and awkward, but they were truly from
the heart, and that was something that Duo valued about the Japanese the most.
Heero came in from the door labeled 205 once again, just like any other morning, and
was bearing 2 items, one of which Duo hungrily watched as Heero gulped down his coffee.
Heero caught the yearning look on Duo's face, and sighed. Duo merely licked his lips in
answer and asked, "Can I have it?"
Heero gave him an unreadable look, and to Duo's surprise, he shoved the plate toward
Duo. The American jumped at it and lifted the pastry to make sure Heero wasn't trying to
pull something off. There was apparently nothing wrong with it, so he took a nibble, then a
small bite, then a larger one. Halfway through he offered Heero the rest. "Are you sure
you don't want it?"
Heero shook his head, and endorsed himself in watching those lips, coated with deep
red raspberry sauce eat the remainder of the pastry. Duo then proceeded to lick off his
fingertips, and then turned to Heero, who was watching. "Well, whatcha want? It's not like
there's anymore, you know."
"Yes, there is. Want me to show you where?"
Duo was a bit puzzled when Heero said this. "Where?"
Heero walked over, lifted Duo's face to face his, and gently leaned down to kiss
him. Thoughts of "this is crazy" and "this is insane" chased each other around his head,
but he paid them no mind and just continued. The kiss was returned passionately, eagerly,
so enthusiastically that Heero found himself gasping for air with flushed cheeks afterwards.
Duo smiled, a little smirk over his face, but his eyes were alight with happiness. "Well",
he stated. "Didja like it?"
Heero stared at him, then a slow smile crept up his lips as the full taste of the
raspberry sauce, sweet and syrupy, over his lips as he lifted his hand to touch the place
where Duo kissed him. "Yes. It was good. VERY good."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This was one of my first fanfics ever. I wrote this quite sometime ago. To all
those who are against yaoi, I think it would've been better if you had read the preview
before you had read this, and please refrain from sending me too many flamers.
Andrea Weiling
P.S. If anyone would like to have a fanfic written, I am taking suggestions. If you have
any, please send them to andreaweiling@hotmail.com. All comments, both flamers and helpful
criticism are fine, as long as a minimum of foul language is used.
Heero awoke first, as always, as usual, his eyes opening to face the white ceiling
above. As far back as he could remember, he had always woken this quietly, but he didn't
always face the same ceiling. He had faced lots of ceilings, many ceilings; from one day to
the next, it didn't seem that he had any ceilings that were the same that he had taken
shelter under. But now he had found a little respite, a little leeway for him to live for a
little bit. I guess I owe it all up to Duo.
He turned to face his friend in the opposite twin bed from across the room. His
first real friend was laying on his side, chestnut brown hair splayed across the pristine
pillows and sheets in an array of colors from the shots of sunlight between the blinds in
the window. They sent out flashes of a color almost white, to a deep dark shade of color
that even Heero couldn't identify. He got up slowly, carefully, not to disturb the silence
and tranquility of the little room in the school dorm that they shared. But despite his
efforts to keep silent, the occupant of the other bed still stirred slightly and turned
over, his hair flashing brilliant colors against the blinding white of the pillow. The
American pilot grumbled softly in the back of his throat, but did not stir afterwards.
Heero got up and padded over to his best friend's bedside and tried to shake him awake.
From previous experience, he knew it wouldn't work.
"Duo, it's time to wake up."
No answer replied. The Japanese wasn't daunted though. He shook harder the
shoulder that had once fired the gun that wounded him, and frowned impatiently. "Duo..."
he growled. "Wake up, you lazy slob. It's already 8. We're going to be late for classes
if you don't wake up soon."
Duo did stir, this time, and Heero heard his slurred words as they ran over his
tongue. "Mmm, Heero, I ain't no lazy slob..."
Heero held back a chuckle, but all the same, it didn't wake Duo up. So he turned to
graver measures. He grabbed the glass cup from the bedside table and filled it up to the
brim with water, then upended it over Duo's head. He repeated this process several times,
but no avail; Duo was still sleeping as soundly as ever, even though his bangs stuck to his
shadowed face. His eyebrows bent inward, frowning back at Heero, but as Heero observed,
those eyes did not open, and that made him mad.
After 10 minutes of shaking, upending numerous cups of different substances on top
of Duo's head (including a large glob of hair gel; Duo's hair won't be moving for WEEKS),
shouting, cursing, tugging his hair and threatening to cut it, Duo was *still* sound asleep.
This wasn't good.
Heero sighed resignedly at the damage he had done, and then he leaned down to shake
the shoulder wearily again. But something nagged at the back of his mind, and on its own
accord, the hand swayed, hesitant and uncertain over the shoulder, then started towards
Duo's fiercely scowling face. It stopped just millimeters away from it, and at that moment,
Duo stirred and turned back, effectively making Heero cup his cheek.
It lanced through him, this feeling. Heero reeled back from the invisible bolts of
electricity that shot their rays through him, enveloping him, x-raying him as nothing had
ever before. Just the pureness of it surprised him, and he stumbled back a little, still
wondering what happened. It had all happened so fast he had had not time to register what
happened.
Just when it couldn't get any worse or puzzling for Heero, Duo's violet eyes opened
and regarded him. "Huh? What's happening? Enemy attack from OZ?"
Heero regained his composure somewhat and aimed a well-aimed swat at Duo's wet head.
"No, baka, it's time to get up for school. We were already late, and I had to spend 10 good
minutes to wake you up", he picked up a new uniform from the chair of his desk. "You'd
better get up soon and dress, or you won't be able to catch a bite before class."
There came no answer for a few moments, but as Heero was straightening his scarf, he
heard a muted muttering from under a soaked pillow and the telltale creak of weight being
shifted to the middle of the bed. Duo got up, muttering something unintelligible under his
breath as he picked up his neatly pressed uniform. Nothing else was heard, for Heero had
already gone out the door. As he picked his way through the hall and the crowds of students
that cluttered it, he thought about Duo.
Something is seriously wrong with me. What was it that I did that made me feel
like that? Was it Duo? Did he do that on purpose, to make me realize something?
Does Duo love me? The way I love him? Do I love him at all? What is "love"?
Iie. Don't get your hopes up, Heero Yuy. Who would want to love you, an
emotionless shell like you, a person who never shows anything on his blank face, nothing
mirrored your eyes, nothing that ever shows what you're thinking. You're never polite, just
plain rude, shoving away other peoples' kindness, people who actually care for you despite
your seemingly nothingness, people who actually cared if you lived or died. People who come
across your path have 2 roads after they meet you: if they mystify you somehow, you let them
live. If they displease you or insult you in any way, they die.
Ah, the little voice in Heero's head sang out, full of triumph. But that's not the
case with Duo, is it? He has insulted you, pelted you with everything from almonds to
bookshelves to cars, has refused your every polite asking to "shut up", has done everything
against the latter, and yet, you can't bring yourself to pick up that gun hidden on the top
bookshelf, aim at his head and pull the trigger.
You LOVE Duo Maxwell. Don't deny it, the voice said. And for once, Heero was
able to answer this question it posed. Yes, the other voice answered. I am in love with
Duo Maxwell, refuser of every asking I give. Something about him mystifies me, though, so
is that the reason I let him live, and let him harangue me to the end of my days, a faithful
friend to turn to whenever I need a shoulder to cry on?
Nonsense. Heero Yuy, the Perfect Soldier, never cries.
Not even for Duo Maxwell?
To this Heero had no answer, but he walked on, hands in his pockets, head bowed down
in thought, trying to act inconspicuous, but in fact, he was the most conspicuous. He
headed over to the cafeteria, ignoring the arguing voices in his head.
* * *
Duo looked at the closed door with a mixture of anger, confusion, and exasperation.
He was angry because once again, he had forgotten to tell Heero to pick up a little bite of
something from the cafeteria. His actions mirrored the anger he felt, because he pulled on
his slacks, buttoned his shirt, and put on his coat with a vengeance. As he was tucking in
his own scarf, the door labeled 205 with large gold numbers opened and Heero entered once
again, holding a paper plate with a chocolate glazed donut and a cup of coffee. The
Japanese gave the beseeching American a glare that probably would've burned the donut if he
had faced it with the same look, a look that clearly read if-you-try-anything-to-steal-my-
food-you'll-pay scowl. Duo matched him glare for glare, but heeded the look and continued
with dressing. Finally, when he was done, he got up and sat beside Heero on the edge of his
bed. Heero gave him a blank look, and continued sipping his coffee. After he had taken
several droughts of coffee and the cup was completely empty, Duo spoke up, his tenor
effectively waking up the silence of the room.
"Can I have half?"
"No."
"Quarter?"
"No."
"Eighth?"
"No."
"Sixteenth?"
"No."
Duo threw up his hands in exasperation and unbelieving ness. "Heavens! Can I have
a crumb?"
Heero threw him a look that clearly answered his question.
"No?!?!?! What's wrong with you today, Mr. Perfect Soldier, Mr. Omae o Korosu?
Hmph! So generous, aren't you?" Duo picked up his books and propped open the Chemistry book
to study for the quiz that day. Heero looked after him for a moment, then opened his mouth
to eat the donut-
-And was stopped as a meter-long braid came whirring out of nowhere and whacked him.
Heero (of course) knew who it was, and hurriedly blocked all the flying punches that came
his way. The paper plate in his hand that held the donut did not move. Duo, tired, gave a
weary snatch at the pastry, but just landed flat on his face in front of the bed with
Heero's foot pressed above his neck. Brown crumbs of donut rained down on top of Duo's
neatly plastered head (courtesy of Heero's hair salon), and Duo had to painfully endure
watching Heero devour the donut with agonizingly extensive slowness. Only when the Japanese
was done did he let go of Duo's neck. The American jumped up, pride obviously injured, but
he just shot Heero a horrid look and went about his business. Heero called after him in a
mocking voice.
"Duo, if you eat too much, the girls in class won't like you anymore, so that's why
I reserve for your well-being."
The L2 pilot gave an exaggerated snort and turned back to face the Japanese. "Oh?
And when did you even start worrying about MY well-being when you don't worry about YOUR
well-being?"
Heero's eyes widened a little at this. Duo stormed up in front of Heero, his wet
hair swaying with vehemence as he approached the unsuspecting L1 pilot. Heero had never in
his life seen Duo this mad before, not even when he "repaid" the debt of saving him from a
most certain death in the hospital where he would've been tortured, not when Duo had saved
him from all those tight scrapes that he never would've gotten out of if it hadn't been for
his best friend and secret crush. But now the American was angry, and Heero could feel his
heart pounding more insistently than ever in his chest, and he could tell that this was
something that he wouldn't be seeing a lot.
Duo advanced on Heero slowly, deliberately, and it was all Heero could do than
shudder at that murderous look that was reflected in Duo's eyes. The American did not back
his step, even though he saw that Heero was well and truly scared by this behavior. He
lifted his right hand right in the air, and proceeded to grab Heero's shirtfront. He raised
the Japanese to eye level with no trouble.
"Listen. I didn't get you out of that hospital for the 1st time to have you try and
commit suicide. You got out with a broken leg, and that was it. You got lucky. The 2nd
time was the one you took upon yourself; you slashed your wrists just after the Mariemeiya
Incident. I personally drove you to the nearest hospital, where thankfully Sally Po was and
she convinced everyone that the reason we were in such gangster clothes was because we had
just got up from bed that morning, sleeping. You got lucky that time as well; you got out
without a scratch at all. Heero", he paused here, and Heero thought he saw a faint flash of
worry and anxiousness behind those sparkling violet eyes, "I don't want to get you into the
hospital a 3rd time because wanted to slit your wrists."
Heero's eyes opened wider. Duo's eyes just narrowed. "Yes, you thought no one knew
what you were going to do yesterday evening. Well, Heero", Duo began to transport Heero to
the door. "Do you seriously think that after the 2nd time you went to the hospital that I
would actually risk you trying to be the old kamikaze Heero again. I don't want to see you
in the hospital for the 3rd time, because this time you might now get out alive. Do you
think that I would let my best friend die?" He reached past Heero and grasped the golden
doorknob, then pushed a dumbfounded Heero out into the hall.
The Japanese stared dazedly at Duo's newfound strength as he was unceremoniously
pushed out of the room and into the hall. Duo jabbed an accusing finger at Heero's chest,
and the L1 pilot fell back, into the silent crowd that had gathered outside of the door at
the sound of the argument. "Well", Duo's face was blank as Heero's for once, like he had
gotten into the habit have having a scowling face all the time. "I think you should think
it over what should your life is worth, and not just throw away all that you've worked for
in a flash of a blade on your wrist or a bullet to your head. Your life can mean more than
that, so I want you to think about it, and don't come back here until you can give me a
straight answer and not ignore me like you usually do. The things that you worked for in
this life, don't they mean a little more to you than just people that surround you? They
care for you, and yet you do nothing to repay them for what they've done for they've done
for you. And while you're at it, consider what is worth living for and what is worth dying
for!"
Heero stared in shock as Duo slammed the door in his face. The crowd behind him
stood just as silent, and for a moment, the hall was devoid of sound, and just the whisper
the subject of death rippled through the minds of many. The figures in the hall stood
silently, watching, unspeaking in a cold façade of indifference. All was unmoving for a
moment, then the hush was broken my hurried whispers, of faces peering and sneaking looks at
the young Japanese boy who stood in front of the door that had been so unceremoniously shut
in his face. The whisperings grew louder, and talking prevailed once again, with nervous
laughter and giggles. Heero stared a few moments at the closed door, the 3 numbers on the
door playing on his memory.
And then he was down the hall again, the throng of people parting like Moses'
parting of the sea as he strode down the hall once again that day, head bowed low, eyes on
his shoes, and his thoughts somewhere else.
* * *
Duo slammed the door with all his might, focusing on making Heero's face as flat as
he possibly could, focusing on making some actual emotion to appear on it, but nothing came
on it as Duo spoke except a bit of eye-widening and lips parting to form an oval. Then the
door was shut, and Heero was outside. Duo could barely remember what he had said just
before he slammed the door -no, he couldn't remember at all, just the horrible face that
registered more emotions than any other expression Heero had ever shown to him alone. He
had his hand clenched angrily on the door for a moment, then he released its tight grip,
and sank to the bottom of the door, feeling the floor under him securely. His memory came
crashing back like a wave, and suddenly he just couldn't help it anymore and just threw his
head into his hands.
Duo, Duo, Duo no baka!!!! You just shoved him away like that, the person you like,
and you just treated him like dirt! Oh, you stupid idiot, you've done it this time. He
snuffed piteously in the warmth of his arms for a moment, then looked up blearily for a
moment, then started to get ready for class. But in his mind, voices much like Heero's
that morning whirled insistently in his head, each suggestion for the response to this
matter more absurd than the last.
Tell him how you feel!
No! That's suicide!
You saw how he stroked your cheek this morning. You saw how he jerked away after
he touched you! He's in love with you, Duo Maxwell, and it's bloody well damn time you told
him that you felt the same way, to save him some trouble from having to confront a baka like
you and tell you that he loves you! He'll never say it! Your infamous amount of patience
won't get you and him anywhere, and it won't last forever either.
Duo packed up, and left the room. A few minutes later, Heero snuck in and got his
stuff as well, and though both pilots were sitting together in the same classroom, in the
same row of seats, in the same aisle of 2-some seats, their minds were both in completely
opposite and different directions.
* * *
The rest of the morning passed without incident; Heero kept to his own work and his
own self, and though Duo frequently cast an eye over his comrade, he did not say anything,
lest he hurt his best friend even further, adding more fuel to the fires of vengeance and
self-pity that had welled up in Heero. He had always had a sort of paternal instinct for
this person; it just came to him as a something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As far
as Operation Meteor went, he HAD fallen for Heero a long time ago, had been surprised and
shocked at his suicide attempt from the top of the 50-story hospital building, the self-
detonation switch, the valor he showed against Epyon with Zechs in its cockpit. He cast
another glance at Heero, and realized that Heero was making more typing errors than he ever
had seen the Japanese make before. It was obvious that Heero was also thinking of him, but
refused to look at him, in sake of betraying his own feelings.
Duo turned back to his own work, still thinking, still contemplating his options of
what to do of the situation. He was still thinking as the lunch bell rang. Heero's
retreating back sent Duo another pang of guilt. But there had been no time to think after
that, for already he was surrounded by eager fans of his basketball skills, and he was like
their "trainer". He was led away, to the shade of a tree, where he broke lunch with the
rest of his trainees, and for a moment, his heart was a little lighter as he jumped through
the air and nailed another basket against the opposing team.
They were busy slapping high-fives when Duo saw a shadow retreat from the far end of
the gym. Rakey bangs covered the top part of the person's face, but after Duo had just
taken account of him, the stranger lifted his back from the whitewashed walls and left the
gym. Duo didn't even need to doubt that it was Heero, no doubt glad that they had won
despite the fact that they were one player short.
It was late when Duo returned to his room in the dorm. He had to stay because some
of the young cadets wanted some extra help with a trick or 2. He stopped in front of his
door, and was about to punch the key into the lock when he realized that a light was shining
from under the door. Duo's resolve hardened, and he pushed the door open after a deft twist
in the lock. The door stood ajar into the room, as his curiously colored eyes swept over
the room. In the corner, he saw the faint silhouette of Heero, stooped, gathering clothes
from the dresser. The drawer closed with a clang, and the picture frame on to of the oak
dresser fell down flat. Heero regarded it for a moment, then picked it up and righted it,
but not before he had looked for a second at it.
Duo could see the picture in his mind's eye. It was the only picture of the 5
pilots actually together. It had been taken just a year ago, when they had their
celebration party of the end of the wars. Quatre was wrapped in Trowa's arms, Wufei was
off to the side, looking like he wanted to leave, but a small smile was visible on the
normally impassive face. But in the middle was Heero, his arms crossed over his chest,
with an annoyed expression on his face, but like Wufei, he was smiling. It was just a
minuscule gesture of upturning of the corners of his mouth, but all this had been tribute
to Duo's constant haranguing. Duo had his arm slung around Heero's shoulder, his face
joyous with one eye winking at the camera. Duo could even remember who had taken the
picture; it had been Sally Po, who had convinced Wufei to smile with some constant
complaints that she staged everyday. And Wufei had compiled. But Heero's smile had all
been Duo's doing. No one had been able to make him smile before, maybe except Relena, but
this one was a genuine smile, not the smirks and the laughing, mocking smile he wore to
battle. And Duo was actually able to boast that he was able to do something, for once.
Then the picture went away, and Heero stopped in front of him. Duo looked up at him
with a grim defiance. He squared his shoulders and tried to feel brave, but he knew he
couldn't feel that way, especially not against his best friend. "Well", he started. "Where
do you think you're going?"
Heero's face was blank as he replied. "Away. Isn't you who wanted me to go away
and think for a while? Well, I'm escaping, away to a place where I can't be bothered by the
likes of YOU." The Japanese immediately regretted saying those words when Duo's face became
a mask of hurt. But Heero knew he couldn't show his true feelings; he didn't even know if
Duo really liked him or not. And even if Duo DID like him, wouldn't he have said so
already? Heero wasn't sure, but he wasn't willing to get hurt again by something like this,
and so he pretended to shrug off the look and ignore the pained look on Duo's face. He
grasped his pack tighter as he brushed past Duo, and he remembered the touch from that
morning and inwardly shuddered. But when Heero found his hand was already on the doorknob,
he found he didn't have the strength to turn it. He just stood there, pack in one hand,
doorknob in the other, but he found he was rooted to the spot and couldn't move.
Duo whirled around, suddenly, braid making an elegant twirl around him to collide
hollowly with his chest. "Heero!", he cried suddenly, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I
didn't mean what I said this morning!"
Heero took his hand off the doorknob while Duo sighed in relief, but the L1 pilot
still didn't turn around. "Are you sure of what you just said?'
Duo stopped and thought back. "Well...if you put it that way, no. But I'm sorry
for the outburst and the temper and the way I said those words, but I don't regret the
content that I said." He bowed his head low and whispered, "Heero-kun. I'm truly sorry if
I hurt you in any way."
Now Heero really did turn around, and when Duo looked up at him, his face was graced
with a smile, a smile like the one in the picture frame on top of the dresser. It lit up
his face beautifully, and Duo found it was contagious, for he was smiling as well. Then
Duo reached out and took Heero's pack and walked over to his bedside, where he started to
unpack Heero's clothes once more. The Japanese protested a little, but the American just
looked up at him and smiled a tear-filled smile, but did not stop. Heero gave up, and did
his homework, letting Duo copy off his when he was done. He was rewarded with a big smile
on his crush's face, and he felt that everything was once again right in this world. And he
was happy.
* * *
"And so that 3-pointer went right in, just like that! Nice "swish" at the end!
Yaha!", Duo made the gesture of shooting a basketball up in the air at Heero. "Cool, ne?"
Heero gave a muted grumble and turned over. "Duo", he said softly over his shoulder
and hoped that the braided pilot could hear him. "We have a mission tomorrow. Get to
sleep. The Preventers Agency won't be happy if we fall asleep in the middle of the mission,
you know."
Duo shot up straight in his bed and almost tumbled head over heels right off the
edge of the bed. "WHAT? When did they post that up? I haven't seen it! When did the
mission statement come?"
Heero didn't turn. "A long time ago. Last month."
Duo sank back down on the pillows. All was silent for a few minutes, then it was
broken once again my Duo's endless round of basketball commentary. Heero silently cursed
himself for not shutting up the chatterbox while he still could. Duo rattled on about hoops
and baskets, spins and twirls, uniforms and sneaker sizes, until Heero couldn't take it
anymore and threw his pillow in the American's direction, hoping to at least gain peace for
a few moments.
His plan didn't work, however, because Duo caught the pillow neatly and threw it
back. Heero caught it with defiance, and slid to the edge of his bed, his toes against the
cool wooden vinyl floor. Duo did likewise, and soon they were looking at each other,
sharing the exact same thought. Their thoughts were stimulous, and they were the same. All
at once Heero lunged at Duo, and Duo lunged at Heero, and they battered each other with
their pillows until feathers cascaded all over the room and over the bed. Heero stopped,
and looked through the whirl of whiteness at his secret love.
Duo was laughing, his laugh chuckling like water over the smooth stones of a small
river, a mixture of the trees' breath and the grasses' language of wind, and it both
entranced and mystified Heero. Duo's lithe body was still standing from the onslaught, and
as the white feathers floated over him, Heero caught his breath at the beauty of Duo, who
was looking at him with laughing, jovial eyes with a deep, dark sadness in it that Heero
couldn't quite place. The violet eyes were shadowed in the untidy bangs that held suspended
over the heart-shaped face, and it seemed all Heero could do not to reach out and stroke
that cheek like he did that morning, and feel that same electricity alight him. Chestnut
colored hair, unhindered, fell down to Duo's knees in ripples. Heero had to suppress the
urge to run his fingers through those locks of hair. The moonlight came through the blinds,
and Duo's figure was outlined in stripes of light and dark, with the occasional feather to
break the pattern. Heero's heart skipped a beat at this beauty, at this person he had
admired for so long before him.
The feathers floated down, unbidden, but neither Duo nor Heero could see them. All
they saw were one other, and they knew what the other was thinking, just by looking at each
other. The silence grew for eons between them, and then the gaze was broken. The L2 pilot
smiled softly and started picking up feathers and stuffing them back into his pillowcase.
"Well, Heero, get to work. I'm not going to pick all of these up, unless you don't want any
feathers in your pillow tonight." His eyes strayed longer than usual on Heero's face, and
the Japanese could feel a faint flush of pink rise through his cheeks, but he hid it quickly
by bending down and picking up feathers.
Duo was done first this time, and just sat there looking at Heero, waiting patiently
for his comrade to finish. When the Japanese finally did, they both sat down on their bed
and just looked at each other. This time it wasn't Duo who broke the gaze, but Heero.
"Duo, we need to get to sleep. As I told you before, we do have mission tomorrow, and I
intend to be wide awake when I do it-"
"I love you, Heero."
Heero was dumbstruck at the words that had just come from Duo's mouth. He didn't
hear Duo say a quiet "Oyasumi nasai, Heero-kun" after that statement, but just hung onto it
for more minutes than he could afford to waste, then climbed back into his bed and stared at
Duo's back, as if wanting to will the back to turn. On the other side of the Duo, the
violet eyes were wide open, and would be open for some time, before they shut completely and
entirely shut in sleep.
* * *
The next morning was like any other. Heero tried to shake Duo awake, it didn't
work, so after 7 cups of water, a wet towel rubbed on Duo's face, ruffled hair, and blobs of
hair gel, Heero gave up and surrendered to Duo's whims and gave him what he wanted. He
leaned down and place a tiny, chaste kiss over Duo's lips, barely even touching them, but
it was a kiss, alright.
Duo waited until Heero was out of the room and on his way to the cafeteria before he
got up. He had purposefully faked sleep the day before, and this day was no different. He
ran his fingers over the spot where Heero's lips had met his, and shivered slightly, a good
thing. He like Heero's kisses, now. They were clumsy and awkward, but they were truly from
the heart, and that was something that Duo valued about the Japanese the most.
Heero came in from the door labeled 205 once again, just like any other morning, and
was bearing 2 items, one of which Duo hungrily watched as Heero gulped down his coffee.
Heero caught the yearning look on Duo's face, and sighed. Duo merely licked his lips in
answer and asked, "Can I have it?"
Heero gave him an unreadable look, and to Duo's surprise, he shoved the plate toward
Duo. The American jumped at it and lifted the pastry to make sure Heero wasn't trying to
pull something off. There was apparently nothing wrong with it, so he took a nibble, then a
small bite, then a larger one. Halfway through he offered Heero the rest. "Are you sure
you don't want it?"
Heero shook his head, and endorsed himself in watching those lips, coated with deep
red raspberry sauce eat the remainder of the pastry. Duo then proceeded to lick off his
fingertips, and then turned to Heero, who was watching. "Well, whatcha want? It's not like
there's anymore, you know."
"Yes, there is. Want me to show you where?"
Duo was a bit puzzled when Heero said this. "Where?"
Heero walked over, lifted Duo's face to face his, and gently leaned down to kiss
him. Thoughts of "this is crazy" and "this is insane" chased each other around his head,
but he paid them no mind and just continued. The kiss was returned passionately, eagerly,
so enthusiastically that Heero found himself gasping for air with flushed cheeks afterwards.
Duo smiled, a little smirk over his face, but his eyes were alight with happiness. "Well",
he stated. "Didja like it?"
Heero stared at him, then a slow smile crept up his lips as the full taste of the
raspberry sauce, sweet and syrupy, over his lips as he lifted his hand to touch the place
where Duo kissed him. "Yes. It was good. VERY good."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This was one of my first fanfics ever. I wrote this quite sometime ago. To all
those who are against yaoi, I think it would've been better if you had read the preview
before you had read this, and please refrain from sending me too many flamers.
Andrea Weiling
P.S. If anyone would like to have a fanfic written, I am taking suggestions. If you have
any, please send them to andreaweiling@hotmail.com. All comments, both flamers and helpful
criticism are fine, as long as a minimum of foul language is used.