Author's note:

I'm going to be straight with you: This is a 'oneshot'/writing exercise that got totally out of hand. I've written this story freeform, without my usual preparations, and apparently when I do that, I end up writing 60.000+ words when it was supposed to be around 10.000 -.-' The story is longwinded in some parts and rushed in others and undoubtedly suffers from inconsistencies and other errors, but there is no point in trying to fix that. I can only hope the story will still be enjoyable in this honest and raw form, in which it came to be. If not, well… there will be a lot of sex, so at least there's that :P

An overall warning up front: A lot of sex! Sexual content includes (but is not limited to): masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, double penetration and a minor element of 'dubious consent'. This is, however, not a PWP, you have to wait a long while for things to get steamy. Please heed the warnings at the start of each chapter.

Warnings for Part One: Language

Three

Part One

"Do you remember Heero Yuy?"

That was how it all started, with a simple enough question.

How could I forget Heero Yuy? He was the son of Odin Lowe, a friend of my father, they used to be in the military together. I was raised on heroic tales and the bitter knowledge that I would never be half the man my father was, let alone hold a candle to the greatness and the epitome of bravery that was Odin Lowe. Heero was the same as me in that regard; a disappointment waiting to happen. We never managed to build any kind of friendship on that common ground, whenever we were forced to hang out together every Thanksgiving, since we were nine years old when Odin moved back to the United States with the son he had fathered whole stationed in Japan. Heero was short, slight, mild-mannered and sensitive; everything me and my older brother were not. We felt cool and big giving the young, displaced Japanese boy a hard time about that.

When we ended up going to the same middle school, and then later high school, I didn't relent. The popular kids saw the same thing my brother saw: an easy target. I actually used to hold Heero responsible for how we bullied him, he made himself an easy target. Why couldn't he just stop drawing elves and mages in the borders of his notebooks and stop wearing shirts with the image of those comic-book characters with big eyes and make some friends instead of just moping around? Then we wouldn't have had anything to tease him about and the problem would have been solved.

I had to think that way, back then, because if I would have acknowledged the truth – that I made his life a living Hell because doing so made my life easier – it would have wrecked me and I was already standing on unstable ground emotionally speaking.

In his sophomore year, Heero transferred to a private school. Supposedly because he was some kind of genius. Although that might have been true, I knew Odin must have finally given in and allowed him a fresh start, with new people. Heero never told his father I had been part of the problem, or surely I would have gotten an earful at the next Thanksgiving, which proved to be the last our families shared. We had less and less to be grateful for.

I thought about him a lot during my 'year-of-self-discovery', following my high school graduation, regretting the mistakes I had made in the way I had treated him. I knew these were the kinds of mistakes that would haunt me forever, in the quiet moments.

So when my father asked me if I 'remembered' Heero Yuy, I replied wearily: "Yeah?" The first thought that came to mind was that he had killed himself and left a suicide note that implicated me.

However, the conversation took – if possible – an even stranger and more nauseating turn.

My father informed me that Heero was also enrolled at Wellington University, the same school I attended. He studied Computer Sciences, which explained why we never ran into each other because the Musical Education program was housed in a different faculty building. He had a part-time job as freelance tech support, helping old people set up their home entertainment system and debugging computers – I imagined when the owners got careless when browsing for porn. This job apparently earned him enough money to be able to afford an apartment close to campus, rather than live in the dorms, so he didn't have to deal with the noisy and inconsiderate roommates that I struggled with and, as it appeared, he had a spare room available.

The details were glossed over but it was apparent my father called in a favor from Odin, who, in turn, must have guilt-tripped his son into agreeing to let me rent the room. My father would provide an appropriate financial compensation, to cover my part of the rent and other expenses, so I could get out of the crowded dorm house where I couldn't find the peace and quiet necessary to study nor sleep.

I didn't want to move in with Heero, mostly because I acknowledged how difficult it would be for him to live with his childhood bully, but also, more selfishly, because I knew it would be hard on me as well. I had oftentimes wondered if I should find him to make amends, but to be faced with him every single day and be confronted with the accompanying guilt, was not something I thought to be conducive to my own well-being either.

Still, I had no choice. My only other option was to move back into my parental house, because my father wasn't going to watch my GPA drop any further, but really, moving back home was not something I could do; there was too much pain in that house. The memories would consume me like a black void eating away at the very fabric of time and space around it.

So with jittery hands I packed up all of my belongings, barely enough to fill a duffel bag and I walked the two blocks from the campus to the address I had been given.

Since Heero could apparently afford a two-bedroom-apartment on the wages of his part-time job, I expected the building to be a dump, but I was surprised to end up standing in front of a modern, well-maintained, clean building, taking note that I had passed a supermarket, coffee shop, pizzeria and Chinese take-away restaurant along the way and I knew the park was only four blocks away. The apartment was on the fifth floor, but it didn't even matter because there was a properly functioning, spotless elevator. As I was taken up to the fifth floor, I wondered how many hours of work Heero managed to squeeze in next to his school work and how much he was paid per hour, to be able to afford an apartment in a nice building like that.

I got out of the elevator and reluctantly shuffled to door 5C. I had given this day some thought, running scenarios in my head, but I had always expected to be much older and much wiser when I first saw Heero again, with the past being so far behind us that old wounds had healed and even the scars would be barely visible. When I couldn't remember anymore what he looked like when he cried as I devastated him with my biting words, which were echoed by others.

Faggot! Pussy boy! Gaysian! Cocksucker!

Accusing someone of being gay was a popular bullying tactic in that time, even though we had no way of knowing if there was any truth to our scathing words; Heero seemed to hate both genders equally, shying away from all human contact. He never did anything to imply he was attracted to anyone.

I stifled a groan and knocked on the door because I didn't have my own set of keys yet.

There was a delay but then the door was swung open and I was hit with the scent of clean laundry, spice and exotic flowers.

I froze at the sight of the young man before me – not a small, defenseless boy anymore.

Heero Yuy had grown up remarkably. Although he was still shorter than me, he had legs for days and an elegant, craned neck. His body was toned, I could see the tightness of his thighs in his skinny jeans and the muscle of his chest and upper arms through his fitted shirt. I remembered him being almost sickly pale when he was younger, but as I stood before him his skin glowed golden, more befitting for his Asian heritage. His face had matured equally favorably, the softness and roundness of it he had outgrown. He had a strong, sharp jawline and chiseled cheekbones. If it weren't for the unmistakable color of his eyes, I might have suspected it to be an entirely different person standing before me. Although shaded by unkempt bangs that fell haphazardly down his forehead, dark eyebrows and thick lashes, his brilliant cobalt blue eyes still managed to shine brightly, with a wild fury now that he was older, rather than the sparkle of innocence I remembered.

I had been staring, but hopefully not long enough for it to be noticed. "Hi." That was an… inspired greeting.

Shapely lips bared white teeth in a smile. Of course his teeth were perfect, the Japanese boy had worn braces for as long as I had known in and, as it appeared, it had paid off. He stepped aside and held the door open for me. "Come on in," He said and his pleasantly deep, vibrating voice caught me completely off guard.

I adjusted the strap of the duffel bag on my shoulder awkwardly and stepped into the apartment. I was in for another surprise: the place was amazing. The front door led directly into a spacious living room, modestly but stylishly furnished, a winding staircase led up to an open loft space and the kitchen was modern with a granite topped breakfast bar as opposed to a dining table. A hallway next to the kitchen probably led to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I refrained myself from reacting to the décor, as astounded as I was, and focused my attention back on Heero. Unlike what I had expected to be met with, he looked comfortable and confident, it was evident in the way he stood and the way he regarded me; his hips slightly pushed forward, his arms relaxed at his sides, a slight smile on his lips and curious eyes.

For a moment I wondered if he had taken the time to scrutinize me the way I had him, and I felt my face flush because I realized I looked horrible. With mid-terms only two weeks away and given my steadily dropping GPA – not to mention the insomnia I suffered thanks to my night-owl of a dorm roommate – I had bags under my eyes, a five o'clock shadow on my jaw that didn't suit my face at all, mismatched, wrinkled clothes and unwashed hair. This wasn't at all going as planned.

"I'm sorry about this," I started dumbly.

Heero shrugged. He flicked his bangs out of his eyes and said: "It's okay. My dad said you're having trouble at school because you can't study in the dorms."

I smiled sheepishly. "I wish it was just that. Studying I could still do in the library. Unfortunately, it is frowned upon if you roll out a sleeping bag between the aisles and start to snore. They say it's disruptive to the other students."

The young, handsome man looked at me oddly, like he couldn't figure out if I was being serious or not. He didn't bother himself too long with trying to figure it out. "Shall I show you to the spare room?"

"Sure." I followed him into the hallway and it turned out to be the first door on the right.

The room was perfectly nice. It was small, but functional, with a twin bed and a desk under the window. There were large, built-in closets that I had absolutely no need for. I walked in and apprehensively put my bag on the bed.

"Is that all of your stuff?" Heero wondered.

I looked back at the bag. It didn't bother me much, after trekking through Europe for a year I was used to the nomadic lifestyle and had practicality nullified the desire to be fashionable or to collect memorabilia. "Yeah."

"Okay." He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

The movement drew my eyes to his pelvis, but I caught myself and quickly looked away. I proceeded to pretend to inspect my new surroundings for a moment, just long enough for the blush on my cheeks to subside. "It's really nice."

"The room is not very big. Sorry about that."

"Are you kidding me? It's bigger than my dorm room and I had to share that with a two-hundred-pound heavy-metal enthousiast. Besides, the rest of the place is amazing. I certainly didn't expect it to be like this. I mean, how can you afford this?"

"It's not as expensive as it looks," Heero replied and that may have been a lie. "And my part-time job pays really well."

"Cool. Anyway, I'm really grateful. I'm sure you would have rather kept this place all to yourself. And I imagine you definitely didn't want to have to share it with me." I bit on the inside of my cheek. We had to address past grievances sooner or later. We would be living together, there was no avoiding the issue.

"I don't mind," He said mildly.

"You don't?"

"It's true that I wasn't looking for a roommate, but the place is big enough and from what I heard you seem pretty serious about getting your GPA back up so I don't expect we'll be in each other's way."

"I am. Trust me, no wild parties or anything. But I was actually more referring to…" I let my words trail off and I looked at him expectantly, waiting for it to dawn on him. Realizing I had to spell it out for him, ignoring the fact that he might purposefully be trying to deny past hurts, I continued: "I was referring to the things that happened between us when we were younger." I shook my head, I shouldn't phrase it like that. "I was an asshole to you."

"Everyone was an asshole to me. I think I just brought it out in people," He tried to brush it off.

I didn't understand why he was reacting this way, absolving my responsibility when I knew I didn't deserve that. "Don't say that. It wasn't right the way I treated you and it definitely wasn't your fault."

He waved his hand dismissively. "It was a long time ago. We were kids. We're adults now. It's water under the bridge," He said with practiced ease.

I stared at him. It didn't feel right to be acquitted like that, but if that was the way he wanted to handle things, perhaps in the interest of self-preservation, I decided I had no choice but to accept that. I never intended to make things harder on him than I already had. "Okay, cool. I'm glad you feel that way." I couldn't help the confused frown that lingered on my face. "So, Computer Sciences, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I figured you would get into art or something. You were always drawing in your notebooks."

He raised his eyebrows, perhaps surprised that I remembered. "I was actually designing game characters, it wasn't about art, or even about drawing. What about you?"

"My major? Musical Education."

He nodded. "I remember you were really into music. You played the guitar, right?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Uh, no. The piano."

"Really?" His brows furrowed together. "I could have sworn it was the guitar."

"My brother- uh, the guitar was my brother's thing. I play piano."

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's okay."

We stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"You get settled in," Heero said, "Your key is on the kitchen counter. I'm going to the library. I guess I'll see you around."

"That's pretty much unavoidable," I joked uncomfortably.

He smiled, even though it wasn't funny and turned around.

Jesus those jeans are tight, I thought as I watched him walk out of my room. Moments later I heard the front door open and close and I was left alone in my new home. The quiet that settled was a little unnerving. Although I had come to escape the ever-present, indistinct murmur of people and muffled beats of music competing with one another, which I was constantly subjected to in the dorm house, the intense quality of the silence wasn't as welcome as I had expected it to be. It was deafening in and of itself.

Unpacking my stuff took me less than five minutes. I treated myself to a lengthy shower afterwards. The bathroom was large and luxurious, with a bathtub and separate shower stall. The washer and dryer were in the laundry-room. While I dried my long hair, pawing at it with a big towel that I boldly decided to borrow, I couldn't stop my fingers from flipping open the medicine cabinet. Three of the four shelves were empty. The bottle of ibuprofen was innocent enough, but my eyes widened at the discovery of a supply of condoms. I slammed the cabinet shut, as if that could make me un-see it and I stared at my own reflection quizzically.

All this time I thought I had ruined him with my unkind words and harsh treatment. I had envisioned him to be the same, slight, susceptible boy I knew, only perhaps a little taller, looking at me with the same, frightened, distrusting gaze; a young man plagued by a bleak childhood, growing up to be disturbed, with a distorted view of the world, hearing an insult in every thoughtless remark, understanding every compliment to be sarcasm.

Had it been egotistical of me to think that I would have affected him to that extent? Clearly my concerns were at least somewhat misguided. He might simply veil his dislike with politeness, but there was no mistaking the lack of fear; the vulnerability was replaced with apparent confidence. And he seemed perfectly well-adjusted. He looked healthy and fit and based on his choice outfit he was aware of the fact that he had grown up handsomely, dressing to accentuate his long legs, strong thighs, small waist, defined chest and toned arms. And if the condoms were any indication, his attractiveness had not gone unnoticed by others.

Maybe my feelings of guilt had been unfounded. Maybe I had given myself too much credit and Heero too little.

The meeting rang in a very weird period in my life. In spite of the fact that we were roommates, I didn't see much of Heero. He was rarely home. Of course I questioned if it had always been that way or if he purposefully made himself scarce to be away from me as often as possible. Whenever I did see him, though, he was always polite, with his lips curved into a small smile and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. The gangly, uncoordinated teenager had been replaced by a self-aware, precise figure and it was… distracting.

You see, I had been so vicious with my name-calling when I was younger because I believed that the louder and more often I called Heero a faggot, the less people would suspect that I was struggling with my own sexual orientation. Making his life harder, made my life that much easier, or so I chose to believe. I wouldn't realize until later, when I came to terms with my sexuality, that each of those harsh words would scar me as much as they did Heero – even more so, it seemed; I hadn't been able to stop thinking about him and he had all but forgotten about me. I was gay and I could no longer deny it, not to myself and not to others.

Being his roommate, catching glimpses of him brushing his teeth at the bathroom sink with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips and sitting on the couch when he came home from his morning run in those impossibly tight shorts, was torturous.

My thoughts of Heero became of a different nature. Whereas my thoughts were once marked by pity, they were now stained with lust. It was as jarring as having someone spill scalding hot coffee in your lap. I would literally flinch at times at the intensity of these new fantasies.

All I could do to reign in that unforgivable desire was to bury it underneath the crushing weight of my textbooks. As was initially the plan, I studied more than I ever had before.

When midterms were over and the waiting-game for my grades began, I gave myself the night off, noticing I looked even more horrible and exhausted than I felt. Heero was away for the evening, as he usually was. School, work, friends, I had no idea. We talked, but we never really talked. Our conversations were about the weather, local news, demonstrations in the quad and who finished the milk.

With the place to myself, I decided to make use of the large television in the living room. I made a nest for myself on the couch with the pillow and blanket from my bed, arranging snacks and drinks around me and after flipping through about a hundred channels I finally settled on a high-octane action movie, with lots of shaky camera movements, flashing lens-glares and sudden noises and every other gimmick that was supposed to excite the audience. The movie was funny for all the wrong reasons. I amused myself with my own, sad spin on a drinking game; popping a milk-dud every time the main character said 'Oh God'. The box was empty before the halfway point of the movie.

I had one of my flinch reactions when the door opened a quarter to eleven and Heero looked surprised to find me sitting on the couch. I had been cooped in my room the entire time, pouring over my studies.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't expect you back so early." I looked apologetically at the clutter that I had surrounded myself with. I started clearing things away. Most days Heero got back so late that I wouldn't even hear him come home. Lately I had been sleeping like a log.

"That's okay. Finish your movie." Without pause he retrieved a beer from the fridge and then thought to ask: "Would you like one?"

"Uhm." I didn't really drink alcohol after I got sick on Grappa that one time in Firenze – Florence. But I knew that if I said no this conversation would prove to be as short as any other we had had and it was really time for us to get to know each other a little. Although I still remembered the old Heero Yuy, but this was an entirely new person and I hoped he viewed me as a changed person as well; I didn't want to be the person I used to be. So to prolong the interaction, I finally replied: "Sure. Thanks."

He got another bottle of beer and walked over to the couch to hand it over.

I could tell he would walk away as soon as the drop-off had occurred, so I asked: "You're home early. What gives?"

"I got ditched by my friends. They're making out in a closet somewhere." He took a swig of his beer and looked at the screen pensively, he didn't need to see much more than a single action sequence to know I was wasting a perfectly good Friday night. "What's your excuse? Midterms are over. Typically, Freshmen celebrate the end of midterm-exams quite excessively."

I shrugged. "I don't really like parties. I haven't really clicked yet, you know?"

From his look it was obvious he didn't understand my point.

"I haven't assimilated into the college-life yet," I explained. "And it doesn't help that I have failed to make friends so far. It was such a culture-shock, starting school this fall. I feel like my head is still clogged with Parisian train schedules." I cringed at the way I tried to crowbar a personal topic into the conversation.

"It'll get easier," He said, though his dry tone did little to assure me. But he probably knew what he was talking about. Heero was a Junior, he was ahead of me because it didn't take him two years to finish his senior year of high school and he didn't have to waste any time to go soul-searching in the London Underground. He completely ignored my attempt to bring up my year of back-packing through Europe, which I figured would have been a good way to introduce him to the new-and-improved Duo Maxwell. He took another drink from his beer, never taking his eyes off the screen. He glared at the way in which the movie blatantly defied the laws of physics. "Well, goodnight."

I watched him leave, disappearing into the dark hallway. His bedroom was at the very end. "Goodnight…" Was my belated response, so delayed he probably hadn't heard it.

I turned off the TV and cleaned up the mess I had made. The beer I poured out in the sink after only a single taste. It tasted even more bitter than I remembered, especially after all that awkwardness. I went to bed, grateful that sleep would at least come to me quickly in the blissful silence of the apartment.

My grades came back good, which allowed me to relax a little and with the measurable improvement, my father was also less on my case. Him and I hadn't been getting along for a couple of years now, not since I watched him stumble off his pedestal. My whole life I was made to believe that my father – the war hero – was an incomparable kind of man; made of unbreakable moral fiber. A great big oak tree rooted in strength, honor and values. Although that made me feel insignificant in his shadow, I would have preferred for things to remain that way. I could handle my father looking down on me as long as I actually believed him to be the better man. However, since he was uprooted, I couldn't stand him anymore, much less his involvement in my life. I went by the house to show him my B's and that one A-, as we had agreed I would, and then I left just as quickly, ignoring his invite for dinner.

Classes calmed down a little, everything felt less hectic and there was less pressure. Things wouldn't start to get crazy again until the next exams neared. Students and professors alike seemed to forget the inevitable approach of finals every semester. I didn't mind the quiet before the storm. I was proud of myself for being able to turn things around as quickly as I had. A few more grades like the ones I had earned during midterms and my GPA would approximate 'respectable' again. I rewarded myself with music.

There was a piano in the music hall that students could sign up for to use and I blocked off every eight to nine o'clock timeslot of the week.

There had been a point in my life, not too long ago, when I thought I would never touch the ivory keys again. The music, however crisp and melodious, was a soundtrack to pain and suffering that I couldn't bear to hear anymore. But music had a way of simply happening to me. I realized it one day in a café in Berlin. I had taken a seat by the window. Watching the dreary weather put me at ease, because the world seemed as dour as I felt and validated my mood. I rested my hand on the table and my fingers moved in a seemingly random patterned, until I actually heard Shubert's Sonata No. 2 in A major. I heard it so clearly I thought, momentarily, the barista had changed the channel of the radio, replacing the European pop with classical music, until I realized that I was hearing the notes in my head as my right hand absentmindedly played.

I knew that even though it hurt to play, I had no choice but to continue. I could stop, but the pain would become a phantom pain and would continue to haunt me with equal fervor.

My parents fancied me a child prodigy ever since I first touched the keys of the piano at my grandparents' house. Imagine their disappointment when I announced in my mid-teens that I didn't want to become a concert pianist, instead I wanted to teach. They were horrified. They accused me of wasting a gift, but I didn't see it that way. The gift was in my ears, not in my fingers. Every song I played sounded genius to them, but I could hear the mistakes. I could from a very young age, from when my brother first started taking guitar lessons. I was seven when I heard him play and with my limited vocabulary I tried to explain to him that the sound was wrong, I said: "The guitar sounds dirty". It wasn't just his amateurish handling of the strings – he was only eleven years old and a beginner -, the instrument itself had been out of tune, but I couldn't make them understand, I didn't even fully understand it myself. His playing was like nails scratching a chalkboard.

When he got better and our parents bought him a new guitar, it started to sound wonderful, albeit far from perfect and as I started taking piano lessons we would sometimes play together and I could hear us both improve. It was the greatest joy I had ever experienced and when my playing reached a plateau that I simply couldn't get past – my fingers too stiff and uncoordinated -, I realized that my future wasn't about the further pursuit of my own musical genius, but instead to help others grow. Playing an instrument was so therapeutic and educational, the devotion, discipline and sense of achievement involved in the process of learning to play was something I wanted to help others with.

So I never did further research into conservatories and instead decided early on that I would enroll in a local college to study Music Education. It was good to finally be there and to move forward again. It invigorated my passion and after only playing in bars and cafés to earn tips from patrons, it was a treat to hear the notes of a properly tuned piano in the excellent acoustics of the music hall.

For whatever reason, as I played Chopin, Debussy and then later took a stab at Liszt – a piece I never managed to play to my satisfaction – I remembered those living room concerts my parents forced me to give every major holiday, Thanksgiving included.

I was fifteen and had already decided I wanted to become a piano teacher. Odin, sensing my parents dismay at this decision, tried to throw me for a loop when he pushed Heero onto the bench next to me, declaring him my very first student. I taught him simple melodies that required few keys and zero technique, but when I caught my brother's grin, I embarrassed Heero by playing the aria from a piece by Bach, forcing him to copy me, as if I had just played something simple and he was stupid for not getting it. He tried bravely, his expression one of absolute focus. Of course he failed, not able to recount the notes, he pressed the keys in a nonsensical pattern but when he finished he looked at me in defiance, like he had just nailed it, against all odds.

Coincidentally it was the last Thanksgiving our families spent together. It was the last I had seen of him, before moving into his apartment. In hindsight, I realized it had been my first glimpse of this new Heero Yuy; one that would learn to hide his pain, so others could no longer take pleasure from it.

I suspected this coping mechanism explained Heero's politeness, which I certainly didn't deserve.

The next day, still searching for a way to show him that I had matured and was actually a nice guy, I went to the grocery store and got every I needed to make seafood paella. It was one of the few recipes I had actually managed to get right, after several instances of trial and error.

I had no idea if Heero would be home for dinner, he rarely was, but I hoped he would stop by the apartment so I could at least invite him to join me. Hopefully the smells would tempt him to cancel any other plans he might have had.

It was a quarter to seven and dinner was almost done when I started to realize I was going to have to eat a whole pan of paella by myself, or otherwise let it go to waste. Just as I took a single plate out of the cabinet, the front door opened and I smiled.

"Hey, roomie!" I greeted him far too cheerfully.

He was immediately suspicious of me, stopping dead in his tracks and eying the apron I had purchased for the occasion.

"Dinner is almost ready," I said. "Would you like to join me?" I grabbed a second plate and placed it on the breakfast bar.

He glanced down at his watch and I figured he would blow me off with the excuse that he was already running late for yet another evening of social activities that could not be missed, but he surprised me when he said: "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

Every single one of the few syllables made me smile more brightly. "Cool. Take a seat!" I ripped the refrigerator door open and produced the pitcher of Sangria that I had prepared earlier. It was more a fruity drink than an actual wine, which was probably why I could stomach it. I poured him a glass, some of the liquid spilling as chopped pieces of peach, pineapple and lemon plopped into to the glass.

"You went through a lot of trouble," He observed and he took a seat at the bar.

"No trouble! I enjoyed doing this and the smells take me right back to Spain." Surely he would inquire about my trip through Europe this time around, right?!

He didn't say anything. He took a sip of his Sangria and nodded appreciatively. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and the fact that I didn't just notice it but actually watched it happen in slow-motion was a bit disturbing.

"By the time I reached Barcelona, I ran out of cash, so I did the dishes in this amazing, local restaurant for a couple of weeks and the sous-chef was a really nice guy. He taught me some recipes." I rambled.

He smiled, but he merely took another sip, I assume as an excuse to not have to comment.

"I hope you're hungry."

"Starving. I skipped lunch today."

"Oh, that's good!" I frowned at myself. "No, I don't mean- obviously that's not good, but it's good that you've worked up an appetite. Although you definitely shouldn't skip meals, that's not healthy." I nearly went cross-eyed and was out of breath by the time I managed to put a stop to that string of words.

His smile brightened. I had no reason to suspect it to be disingenuous, but I still felt like it had to be an act. How could he possibly be nice to me after everything I had done to him?

Regardless, I was going to turn it all around. I was going to earn his smiles.

I put the big pan of paella on the bar and filled up his plate with three large spoonfuls, making sure to give him plenty of the shrimp and mussels. I sat down next to him and served myself.

"Bon profit," I said, smirking at him.

"Is that Spanish?"

"Catalan. Most people in Barcelona speak Catalan, especially to foreigners who bothered to learn Spanish, they love seeing them squirm."

He smiled and took a bite of rice.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before actually digging into my meal. We both fell silent and I hated that. I tried to keep the conversations going by asking him about his plans for the evening.

"Just meeting a couple of friends."

"Oh." He was always 'meeting a couple of friends'. "Do you have a lot of friends?" Shit, I thought to myself, realizing that might be interpreted as disbelief.

"No," Was his dry response.

I watched him eat and took note of the fact that he was purposefully eating around the seafood. "Why aren't you eating the shrimp and mussels? I assure you they are fresh and I prepared them well, you don't have to worry."

He shrugged. "The rice and the vegetables are good."

"Yeah, but the whole point of seafood paella is the seafood. I know some people think shrimp and mussels look kind of gross, but it's really delicious-"

"I'm a vegetarian," He supplied.

My mouth formed a silent 'O'. "I'm- I'm sorry… I didn't know."

"That's okay." He brought another forkful of rice and vegetables to his lips.

"No. It's not."

"Really, it is. I'll just eat around it, it's fine."

"It's not fine!" I slammed my fists on the counter top, startling him. Chickpeas rolled off the fork that he held limply, he was staring at me. "We've been living together for over a month and I didn't even know you're a vegetarian!" My intense frustration expressed itself as anger. It was unintentional and couldn't be helped in the heat of the moment.

"That's okay. That's not your fault."

I was yelling at him and still he was being so goddamn polite! "No, it's not my fault! I keep trying to talk to you but all you ever do is nod and smile at my non-jokes. It's weird! We're living together, but we don't know anything about each other. We're strangers. I can't stand it!"

He straightened up in his seat. "I know who you are." For the first time his voice was cold and I knew exactly what he was referring to. With the flick of a switch he had dropped the polite act.

I softened my tone as I hoped to convince him: "I'm not the kid you used to know. I've changed. That's what I have been trying to tell you. I've done a total 180!"

He regarded me critically. "You didn't 'do a 180'," Heero retorted with a snort. "You've done a 360."

I reeled back. I wasn't prepared for his harsh tone, nor the glare that he focused on me. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're still an ass-kisser," He bit. "You're the kind of guy that would do anything to be liked. You were a petty bully just so you could impress your brother and the big jocks at school, because those were the people whose good graces you needed to get by. Now you've moved into my place and you've figured you have to get on my good side, so now you are blindly trying to please me. Tell me Duo, if I thought it was funny, would you stuff someone into a locker?" He rose out of his seat. "Or literally piss on a guy in the showers after gym while others hold him down? Or leave little love-notes signed with the name of a boy who had nothing to do with it?"

I shrank into myself as I had my past deeds thrown into my face. This was how I expected him to react in the first place and I thought that the carefully thought-out speech and heartfelt apology would come out of me the way I had rehearsed it many midnights in European hostels, but my lips were sealed shut and after a moment I couldn't even make eye-contact with him anymore. I was disgusted with myself.

"I don't want to get to know you because I already know everything I need to know: that I don't want to be your friend."

I winced at his words. "If you feel so strongly about it, why did you agree to give me the spare room and why have you been so nice to me?"

He sighed. "Because of your brother."

I snapped my head to look up at him. "Your dad told you?"

He looked away. He felt bad now for yelling at me, I could tell, because he pitied me. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Why? He was the one who started it all, so I suppose you were happy to hear he is dead." I wiped a hand across my cheek and hoped I caught the tear before he could notice.

"Of course not. I won't pretend that I didn't wish him ill when I was young, but I never meant it. Not really."

"No?"

"I thought I did. I thought I really did prefer him to just… die. I thought I did until the moment my father told me he had actually passed away." He looked at me poignantly. "As soon as he said it, I realized how wrong I had been. Nobody deserves to die."

I scoffed. "Maybe he did… He was an asshole and a fool." I touched the silver cross pendant on the necklace that I always wore. It burned my skin sometimes.

He frowned at my remark and didn't know how to respond.

With renewed resolve I pressed on: "But I assure you, I'm a changed person. I'm a better person now."

"Did your brother's death make you want to be a better person?" He spat.

"No." I shook my head. It was the truth. After his death I was more angry than I had ever been, a gluttonous kind of anger that consumed everything and made me more cruel than before and without conscience. I enjoyed being a black hole, the jagged edges of which cut sharply into all those around me. "I didn't want to be a better person until I realized I couldn't be any worse. First, I had to sink all the way down to rock bottom before I could thrust myself up again." I chuckled bitterly and explained: "My year in Europe, away from it all, were my 'swimming lessons'. I won't sink anymore, I can swim now. It's a lot of hard work but I won't go back to that dark place."

All he did was stare.

"Tread water with me, Heero? Just be honest with me and give me a chance to show you I'm one of the good guys now. Save your smiles for when I've actually said something you think is nice, or funny. And when it's really funny, you might even want to laugh." I grinned.

He sighed and eventually he sat back down and took another bite of paella. "Fine," He mumbled with his mouth full.

"Thank you." I smiled and picked up my own fork. I knew he was cooperating out of pity more than anything else, but I wasn't too proud to accept it. "Next time, you cook."

He rolled his eyes at me. It was better than those small, empty smiles he was giving me before.

It turned out Heero wasn't easily amused. Not by me at least. But the first time I made him smile, knowing it was genuine, was magnificent. I was on the couch watching another stupid flick and just like the 'Director's Commentary' option on a DVD, I wouldn't shut-up; I commented on everything that appeared on screen. I said something that I didn't even think was particularly funny, right when Heero stalked through the living room and he paused and smiled.

I was drunk on it from the first sight. I didn't like the alcohol-induced buzz that most students chased after like rabid dogs, but I knew I would be chasing that intoxicating smile.

Things were looking up. I was enjoying my music. My grades were steadily improving. And Heero and I spent some more time together and I actually felt like I got to know him.

At first I thought he was one of those 'my-body-is-my-temple' kind of guys, rejecting the consumption of animal meat because of it, but he would later tell me that he simply didn't enjoy the taste of it. And if his body was his temple, than he worshipped with beer and sweets. I supposed it didn't matter much, clearly his physique could handle his sweet-tooth. French toast was his favorite and it actually made my stomach turn watching him drizzle sweet syrup on top of it and finish with a pinch of sugar on top. Growing up, his dad had been really strict about treats, Heero was never allowed to have any, so when he moved out of the house, he went a little overboard, he explained. He started to gain weight and he said that he didn't want to transition from a kid being bullied for being too skinny, into an adult bullied for being too big. Thus, his rigorous work-out routine was born; a seven mile run every morning, sets of squats, push-ups, crunches and lunges during the day, whenever he had a couple of minutes to spare and to the gym four nights a week. Clearly, it worked wonders for him.

I felt like a total, lazy slob in comparison, so when our friendship was tentatively forming, I decided to give it a boost. The only way to spend more time with him, was to work with his routine, not against it, and accompany him. A seven mile run I deemed too extreme, so I joined him at the gym. He had a special pass that allowed him to bring a buddy to the gym for free. I was proud and ecstatic to be that 'buddy'. Until I actually tried to keep pace with him on the stair stepper. I had been lucky with my genetics. My shoulders were broad, my arms strong and reasonably toned and I had long legs with calves that looked more than decent in shorts, but my condition was abominable. I did better on the weights, but only marginally so.

But my determination to befriend him would not be underestimated. It motived me to continue to tag along, even though I was making a fool of myself. At the end of the two hour work-out, Heero sported a healthy flush – a 'glow', if you will – and modestly sized stains of sweat on his shirt; on his back, chest and under his arms. My shirt was completely drenched all the way through in the first half hour, my face was beet red for the entire duration of the exercise and by the time I dismounted whatever machine-of-torture we did last, I stood on shaky legs.

Heero could have given me a hard time about that, he had earned the right, but it was never more than lighthearted banter and he always made me feel good about myself by complimenting my efforts once we hit the showers.

Oh, the showers.

There were private shower stalls but everyone got dressed and undressed in the open area of the locker room. I never saw anything, because I purposefully turned away whenever I noticed he was about to pull the towel away from his waist, but the mere thought of him being naked – still wet from his shower and with that damn glow - was enough for my face to go red all over again.

I hated working out, but I stuck with it and not only because of Heero, but also because I liked the results. I had never been so fit in my life. My arms were big and muscular, my chest was toned and I was pleased to see a hint of shadows on my abdomen, indicating a forming six pack. And all those spin classes had made my thighs strong and my calves thick. I liked the spin classes the best, not because of the results I could see and feel in my legs, but more importantly because I always found an excuse to mount the bike behind Heero's and the view during the out-of-the-seats part, standing up on the pedals and leaning forward onto the steering wheel, was very motivating to go faster.

Luckily we also did things together that I enjoyed. We shared mostly quiet dinners and more and more often we would spend the night on the couch together, picking apart whatever flick happened to be on. Heero seemed to enjoy these movie-nights enough to cancel or reschedule other plans, at least once a week. Or he just latched onto any excuse to eat buttered-popcorn. Whatever his reasons, I was happy. We shared a dry, cynical kind of humor and we ended up making the other laugh a lot.

I didn't yet dare to tell him, but he was the first real friend I had ever had.

I was almost going to risk ruining that friendship when I was about to ask him if he wanted to go on a date with me. Ill-advised, I knew that, but I felt like I had to try. I didn't know for certain if Heero was gay, but I had been getting some vibes, whatever that may mean. I had been working up the courage to ask him when I met him.

The boyfriend.

It was so unexpected that my brain froze up. For an uncomfortably long period of time all I could do was stare at him, while thinking to myself: Goddammit, Maxwell, say something! Say Something! Anything! And then my mouth finally produced words and of course I regretted it instantly. I said: "Wow, you are the tallest Asian I've ever met."

The black-haired man with angular features raised his eyebrow at me. Logically, he couldn't think of a dignified way to respond to that and he was left just as stunned as I had been. He looked back at Heero, with confusion clearly written across his face.

"I'm just joking, man!" I tried to brush it off. We shook hands for a proper introduction, but he kept looking at me oddly.

Chang WuFei was a handsome, tall man, almost as tall as I was. His black eyes were calculating as he scrutinized me without ever uttering a single word. He was dressed stylishly in dark blue jeans, a white shirt and a black leather jacket. A blue scarf was draped casually around his neck.

I didn't know why Heero had never mentioned him before. As Heero struggled to make the meeting a little less awkward, he told me how they met and although I was barely able to pay attention I did catch him saying that they had been going out for a couple of years. Years! I felt like Heero was telling me he was a vegetarian all over again. Who was this guy I was living him? I thought I knew him, but clearly I had been proven wrong once more. You'd think him being in a steady relationship would have come up at some point…

Well, fuck, at least now I know he's definitely gay, I thought to myself. Not helpful at all.

The couple didn't stick around for long, thankfully. WuFei had just come by to pick Heero up for their date.

"Have fun, you kids," I said, waving them off. God, I am so awkward.

I dropped down onto the couch and stared at thin air. I couldn't fathom why Heero had kept him a secret. He even seemed nervous when he came home from the library and saw me in the living room, he had expected me to be at the music hall, but I had switched my practice to the late afternoon time-slots. To open up my evenings for a potential date, actually. When WuFei knocked on the door he wanted to leave without introducing us, but WuFei stepped inside and insisted on a formal greeting. If I had been at the music hall, like I was 'supposed' to be, I still wouldn't have known anything about the guy's existence.

It was a secret.

Fag! Cock jockey! Mary! Sissy boy!

Even after all the progress we had made, Heero was still afraid I would judge him for his sexuality.

"Oh, God," I groaned. I had been pining after him all this time and he had been hiding his sexuality because he thought I might still be a homophobe! "Well done, Maxwell."

I waited on the couch for Heero to return. At some point I contemplated going to the grocery store to get him a peace-making-offer from the candy aisle, but decided against such cheap tactics.

It was a long wait and I fell asleep on the couch.

When I woke up bright daylight poured into the apartment and I heard Heero work the fruit-juicer as he prepared his healthy, morning smoothie. I sat up slowly. There was a sharp pain in my back from sleeping on the couch in a contorted position. I blinked at the sight of him.

He had gotten back from his morning run. He was wearing those skintight black shorts and a fitted white T-shirt which was stained by his sweat. The wet spots on the shirt made the fabric see-through. I could see the muscles of his back and behind tense up with every piece of fruit and vegetable that he fed into the machine, forcing it through the opening. Even with the machine humming and sputtering, I could hear the beat of his up-tempo music, coming from his earplugs.

He was unaware of my newly attained state of consciousness until he turned around to fetch a big glass from a cabinet. He paused and pulled out one of the earplugs. "Good morning."

"If you say so," I croaked.

He poured the muddy orange concoction into the glass and when there was some left-over, he offered me a serving.

"No thanks." I made a face at the less-than-appetizing sludge.

He shrugged his shoulders in a judgmental 'suit yourself' kind of way and took a big drink from the glass.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?"

He gulped down about half of his breakfast before placing the glass on the counter. Without looking at me, he replied: "Because I knew you would get all weird about it. You proved me right, too. You behaved like such an idiot."

"The only reason I behaved like an idiot is because you made me one!" I defended myself. "I was totally caught off guard. If you had just told me-"

"If I had told you, things would have gotten weird that much sooner. We were finally getting along, I didn't want to ruin that."

I paused at that, at the acknowledgement that our relationship was indeed improving and not just him playing a game of pretend with me. "This doesn't ruin our friendship."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "You stared at him for the longest, most uncomfortable two minutes of my life and then all you could muster were stupid jokes! If that is how you are going to behave around us now that you know, I was perfectly right not to tell you."

"I was at a loss for words! Can you blame me? You've been dating this guy for years and I didn't even know. I was about to ask you out," I blurted – #nofilter -, "and then someone strolls into our apartment and says: 'Hi, I'm Heero's boyfriend'. I'm sorry, I'm not so suave that I can bounce back from that just like that," I snapped my fingers to illustrate my point.

He stared at me, his jaw slack, his eyes confused and deeply hooded by his frown. All he managed after what seemed like an eternity of silence was a baffled: "What?"

Knowing which part of my monologue befuddled him, I dropped my hands limply down to my sides, my entire body deflating and I admitted sheepishly: "I was planning on asking you out. Just… hadn't gotten around to it yet."

He looked offended. "Are you serious right now?"

Recognizing it was a delicate subject, based on our shared history, I assured him: "Yes. Like you said, we're getting along. I thought, maybe, that we got along well enough to, perhaps, warrant a… uh… date… type… situation… thing."

He didn't look any less confused. "You're gay?"

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Technically, this would count as my first coming-out experience, if one insisted on quantifying the 'coming-out-experience' as telling someone, who previously believed you to be straight, that you are not. All the other people in my life either knew from the get-go that I was gay, or they still believed I was gung-ho for pussy. My father belonging to the latter category, among others. "Yes."

Heero started laughing; a bitter, twisted laugh.

"Uhm… okay…" I bit my lower lip and watched him awkwardly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How should I react?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I can't tell you how to react but… a villainous cackle was not exactly what I had been expecting."

"You expected differently?" He cocked his head. "You give me shit about looking 'faggy' and 'girly' and 'whimpy' and you wear your brother's cross around your neck, but you expected… what? That I should have known? Should my spider-sense have been tingling?"

"Look, I apologized for how I treated you and I meant it. I don't stand by what I said back then. I was a confused kid. I thought that if I would call you a 'fag' people would never suspect that I was one." I touched the cross routinely. "And the cross has nothing to do with any of this."

"So you're gay," He concluded dryly and put his hands on his hips.

"Yes, I think we've sufficiently established that." I was getting annoyed and bitter.

"Right." He bit back. "And you've been gay all this time…"

"Maybe we're born with it, maybe it's Maybeline, I don't know," I shrugged. "But yeah, I think so."

"Sure. But let me get this straight – excuse the pun. When I was a scrawny, odd-looking kid you threw me under the bus so you could be popular. Now that I'm hot, you want to date me?"

Yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad. "It's not like that, though."

"It seems like it."

It was true that when I had thought of Heero in the past, before our reunion, I never thought of him a romantic, pining kind of way. I never even thought of him as a friend, just a poor boy I had wronged. When I first saw him again, of course I noticed his physical beauty, it was as obvious as a lighthouse on a clear night; a beacon drawing your attention. But as I lusted after him I never considered doing anything about that. As long as it was only lust, I knew it was wrong to act on it. However, my feelings for Heero had evolved. Love – even at only four letters – was too big of a word for it, but I could state, without question, that I had fallen for him. It was my attraction to his off-beat personality that made me realize my feelings had every right to be. They were genuine. In the past, I didn't know him well enough to fall for him as a person and I admitted that was my own, selfish fault, but it didn't change the fact that he was more than 'a hot guy' to me. I wanted to date him because I thought there could be something there. I tried to explain this to him, using my words carefully to avoid further upsetting him or further embarrassing myself.

He relaxed a little. He was less defensive, but no less bewildered at the revelation.

"Trust me, it won't be an issue." I approached him and hoped my expression would convey my sincerity. "I got a little weird yesterday, but I won't act like that again. WuFei seems like a cool dude. Clearly, he has to be, or you wouldn't be going out with him for so long. I won't get in your way. I won't try anything. I won't take pictures of you while you sleep and sniff your underwear-"

He made a face and I realized how awkwardly inappropriate my attempt at a joke was.

"I shouldn't have said that," I amended. "But you know what I mean. I won't be weird. Not to you. Not to WuFei. I promise."

"Okay. Good." He nodded in agreement and that was the end of it.

As absent as WuFei had been since I moved in, he made his re-entry into the apartment deliberately noticeable. He came over all the time. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Heero had confided in him that I had been about to ask him out and WuFei felt the understandable need to establish himself as Heero's boyfriend; to make his presence be felt after being non-existent as far as I knew. He was catching up on missed opportunities to show any contenders that Heero was off-limit.

I was sympathetic to the impulse, but put off by it on principle.

The age-old cliché proved true. The things you can't have, are the things you desire most. I was like a kid being denied access to the cookie jar and now I especially couldn't stop looking at it and I could swear I smelled the sweetness of crumbly chocolate-chip cookies.

Luckily, Heero wouldn't let it interfere with our friendship. Perhaps because he didn't even realize WuFei was uncomfortable with our closeness. As honest as he was with WuFei, it didn't seem like WuFei wasn't being entirely forthcoming with him.

I wanted to dislike WuFei and I wanted to magnify his errors to make them visible to his boyfriend, but I couldn't. He wasn't doing anything I wouldn't do if a catch like Heero was mine. In fact, I probably would have been a dick about it, but WuFei was nice and civilized and not in that fake kind of way either. The vibe that entered the room with him was this insufferable, yet likeable:

Hi, I'm Heero's boyfriend and I'm awesome, by the way.

His major was Biological Engineering and he was at the top of his class. In his spare time – aside from rocking Heero's world, I supposed - he volunteered at a refugee shelter and did charity work for the local Planned Parenthood clinic, organizing events to bring in donations. There was some deeply personal motivation behind his involvement in the latter, but we didn't know each other well enough for him to share that with me. Regardless, the man was a saint. He scored extra points by making it a point to accompany Heero on his morning run as often as he could, they would meet up at the park. Except for one weekend every month when he would fly all the way to his hometown in China to stay connected with his family. He was devoted and loyal beyond comprehension. To the point where you could almost argue it was a flaw. Almost. On top of everything we was easy to talk to, polite, patient, proud but not arrogant – no claims of infallibility, no problem with owning up to mistakes - and attentive; it was not uncommon for him to show up with groceries if he happened to have caught a glimpse of the shopping list stuck to the refrigerator the day before.

Watching them, I felt envy. They were so put-together. They had everything figured out. They had been dating since they met in their Freshman year. They had a routine of beautiful, effortless precision. They knew each other so well it was, at times, hard to distinguish one from the other; where did Heero end and WuFei begin and vice versa? The only thing I noticed was that they weren't very passionate, but perhaps that was in my presence only and intentional, to spare my feelings. They were cool and calculating instead, it lacked heat. If I didn't know they were a couple, I would have never guessed. Perhaps that was a natural part of the evolution of a relationship that was conceived nearly three years ago, but with them both being so young – and fit – I would have suspected more uncontrollable intimacy: suggestive gazes, lingering touches, those disgustingly 'adorable' nicknames couples tend to call each other.

Seriously, maybe they should call each other 'Lovebug' and 'Muffin' on occasion, I thought to myself, maybe then I would be less weirded out, since, aside from the sex, they had more of a brotherly dynamic.

Was that jealousy rearing its ugly head? Being so inferior to WuFei – this admirable specimen of an otherwise grossly flawed human breed – I supposed the only way to salvage my pride was to let myself believe that I could make Heero melt with passion, have him stare at me lustfully and not be able to take his hands off me.

That was how my fantasies entertained me at night and sometimes, most inconveniently, during the day.

I didn't really talk much with WuFei, whenever he was at the apartment, he was there to see Heero and I steered clear of the pair as much as I could. I wasn't a total glutton for punishment.

We didn't talk much, until one night.

TBC…

This story was not written with chapter-breaks in mind, so 'cliffhangers' like this will likely be the norm. However, unlike my other stories, you can expect updates regularly. I want to focus on my other stories again, but since all I have to do for this story is proofread, I plan to update "Three" at least once a week! If that is something you want, let me know, and hold me to it should I forget.