SDA (ask me if you don't know what that means)
^*^*^*^* No Room for Romance ^*^*^*^*
I need Relena. She is everything to me. My arms need her in them. My body needs her touch. My mind needs her presence. My heart needs her love. There's only one problem-I have no room in my life for romance.
Relena is one of those people that needs to be loved, and I'm one of those people who can only give love. I can't let you have it.
I hate romance and all the mush that goes along with it. What else do you expect? I'm a male and therefore by nature inept at anything even remotely romantic. Add to that I'm a soldier, and The Perfect Soldier at that, there's not much room for romantic endeavors. I'm cold, heartless, and emotionally empty. Someone like Relena doesn't need someone like me. Quite honestly, she needs someone like Quatre, someone who actually has feelings. Whoever eventually lands herself with Quatre will be a lucky girl; he's aware of women's feelings, and their needs and wants. He has a natural advantage over people like me; I grew up with crazy old men whose only goal was to teach me how to properly blow things up. Quatre grew up with twenty-nine sisters.
These thoughts painfully swirl through my mind as I am at yet another boring political conference. I have no real purpose here, no mission to complete, and nobody to meet. One might ask why I persist in coming to these things, and the answer is simple enough: Relena. I'm not officially her bodyguard, but anybody who's anybody knows she gets no better protection than from me, and ninety percent of the time I'll be found nearby her person (assuming you can actually find me). Once again I'm here to view my passion from the shadows as she gives another marvelous speech. Yet another thing Relena needs that I cannot give her. She's a talker, and I'm.not. Hn is the only word I'll say more than once in any given conversation willingly, and it hardly classifies as a word (yet; I threatened the dictionary makers to include it in their next edition). If I were with Relena, I know she'd expect me to talk to her, to tell her I love her and I need her, all of which may be true, but are words which I cannot utter. It's almost as if I have a code against speaking my emotions upon the rare occasion I am found to have them.
"Watch it," a politician snaps at me. I step back into the shadows, almost fading from his sight. I must be getting careless, letting him spot me. That usually happens when Relena is foremost in my mind. She's the one subject that can keep my mind so wholly occupied I sometimes forget my surroundings, where I am or what I'm doing. It's a curse I have to live with, one that I cannot remove.
Looking around I spot her across the room. Silently I slip along the walls and make my way to her. She is talking with representatives from L2, laughing and having an enjoyable time before the conference begins. Stepping out of the shadows, I direct my gaze elsewhere, but I remain where I am long enough to know she saw me before I again find cover in the safety of darkness. I find it comforting to know she knows I am there, almost as if in some strange and twisted way it makes up for her lack of company. There, she's looking at me, giving me one of those painful gazes she directs my way when she thinks I'm not looking. I know I am hurting her, but I can't do anything about it. I don't have the skills to do anything about it. I am naught but a soldier, and she an angel. I can't give her what she needs, no matter how much I would like to. I have no romantic abilities, not now, not ever.
I am sorry, Relena. All I can do is be your silent protector. Maybe one day I will discover room in my life for romance, but that day is a very long way off. For now I shall simply hide in the shadows and keep you alive.
No room for romance.
^*^*^*^* A/N: This story is solely dedicated to Beckmeister. I hope you actually bothered to read it, but most likely you don't even know it exists. Please review! Namarie! ~~Callisto
^*^*^*^* No Room for Romance ^*^*^*^*
I need Relena. She is everything to me. My arms need her in them. My body needs her touch. My mind needs her presence. My heart needs her love. There's only one problem-I have no room in my life for romance.
Relena is one of those people that needs to be loved, and I'm one of those people who can only give love. I can't let you have it.
I hate romance and all the mush that goes along with it. What else do you expect? I'm a male and therefore by nature inept at anything even remotely romantic. Add to that I'm a soldier, and The Perfect Soldier at that, there's not much room for romantic endeavors. I'm cold, heartless, and emotionally empty. Someone like Relena doesn't need someone like me. Quite honestly, she needs someone like Quatre, someone who actually has feelings. Whoever eventually lands herself with Quatre will be a lucky girl; he's aware of women's feelings, and their needs and wants. He has a natural advantage over people like me; I grew up with crazy old men whose only goal was to teach me how to properly blow things up. Quatre grew up with twenty-nine sisters.
These thoughts painfully swirl through my mind as I am at yet another boring political conference. I have no real purpose here, no mission to complete, and nobody to meet. One might ask why I persist in coming to these things, and the answer is simple enough: Relena. I'm not officially her bodyguard, but anybody who's anybody knows she gets no better protection than from me, and ninety percent of the time I'll be found nearby her person (assuming you can actually find me). Once again I'm here to view my passion from the shadows as she gives another marvelous speech. Yet another thing Relena needs that I cannot give her. She's a talker, and I'm.not. Hn is the only word I'll say more than once in any given conversation willingly, and it hardly classifies as a word (yet; I threatened the dictionary makers to include it in their next edition). If I were with Relena, I know she'd expect me to talk to her, to tell her I love her and I need her, all of which may be true, but are words which I cannot utter. It's almost as if I have a code against speaking my emotions upon the rare occasion I am found to have them.
"Watch it," a politician snaps at me. I step back into the shadows, almost fading from his sight. I must be getting careless, letting him spot me. That usually happens when Relena is foremost in my mind. She's the one subject that can keep my mind so wholly occupied I sometimes forget my surroundings, where I am or what I'm doing. It's a curse I have to live with, one that I cannot remove.
Looking around I spot her across the room. Silently I slip along the walls and make my way to her. She is talking with representatives from L2, laughing and having an enjoyable time before the conference begins. Stepping out of the shadows, I direct my gaze elsewhere, but I remain where I am long enough to know she saw me before I again find cover in the safety of darkness. I find it comforting to know she knows I am there, almost as if in some strange and twisted way it makes up for her lack of company. There, she's looking at me, giving me one of those painful gazes she directs my way when she thinks I'm not looking. I know I am hurting her, but I can't do anything about it. I don't have the skills to do anything about it. I am naught but a soldier, and she an angel. I can't give her what she needs, no matter how much I would like to. I have no romantic abilities, not now, not ever.
I am sorry, Relena. All I can do is be your silent protector. Maybe one day I will discover room in my life for romance, but that day is a very long way off. For now I shall simply hide in the shadows and keep you alive.
No room for romance.
^*^*^*^* A/N: This story is solely dedicated to Beckmeister. I hope you actually bothered to read it, but most likely you don't even know it exists. Please review! Namarie! ~~Callisto