Warnings: Extreme angst, some humor. 1x2 Eventual 1x5, I'm not quite sure, I haven't finished the story, but I've got it all laid out in my head and that is where it is heading. Yaoi!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters, but I do own this plot.
Side note: \/ Lyrics "" Phrases said by ??? (#) Explanation at bottom x# How many times it is repeated in the real song.
Wish You Were Here
By: Lemony Sickness
The Irony of a Ceiling Fan
Lyrics by: Incubus - Wish You Were Here (Morning View)
I wake up on the floor, the white rug beneath me no comfort. How I ended up in this precarious position, I don't remember clearly, all I know is that I don't want to(1). The ceiling fan's bulb, incased in a unique globe of crystalline glass, casts rays of light upon the hardware floor that seemingly borders the rug; glares causing shapes to appear on the dark gray walls. The four paddles with their intricate designs revolve round and round, staying in sync; unlike my heart, which beat rapidly, the fan didn't feel pain… It didn't feel the pain of the immensity as I was.
At that moment I hated that fan, as funny as I may sound, I did. Others only see a ceiling fan as an object of decoration, and would say I was "off my rocker" for feeling the way I do, but I can't help myself, it was like this particular fan mocked humanity. I glare at the thing with all the intensity of a charging bull, but it simply ignores my Persian blues and continues to rotate… Just rotate. Life could die around it, and it would just go on rotating, only stopping if blown up, broken, or turned off, never feeling the pain of dieing.
Tired of glaring at the fan, I slowly get up off the floor using my bed beside me for leverage as a dizzy spell consumes my vision for a few seconds. I take a glimpse of myself in a large mirror connecting to a dresser directly across from me and realize my jeans are sagging slightly; allowing the elastic band of my white cotton boxers to peek out. Not seeing a belt, and not caring to pull on a shirt, I walk across my bedroom and open my door. I stall as I place my hand over the light switch and glance back at the offending fan. I close my eye and shake my head, my bangs brushing against the bridge of my nose, and I flip the switch downwards and continue to watch the fan till it comes to a slow standstill. Then I laugh. Not the laughter of happiness… No, it was a sound full of irony. I was laughing at the irony of it all… I was laughing at the imperfect soldier that was me.
\I dig my toes into the sand…
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
strewn across a blue blanket/
As I walk out of my house beside the beach, I slip my leather brown sandals on to my naturally tan feet and walk across my small cozy deck and down the wooden stairs, a resounding clunk following my every move across the panels. The sun is setting, casting an eerie picture of itself upon the rippling water; seemingly mirroring itself in watercolors (2). I squint and hold my hand over my eyes, to act as a shade, as the sun glares at me, a soft breeze ruffling my hair.
I finally came to the spot, our spot, which I have grown fond of over the few times we spent here during one of our many missions. And out of those many missions, that one stood out in my mind the most. It was the main reason I chose to live here after the war. I toe off my sandals and place them side-by-side next to the huge rock with the slightly flat and slanted surface that you, for some odd reason, named Mortemore (3). I pat the rock, "acknowledging its existence", as you used to do. I shove my toes into the sand relishing in the cool feeling it brings to my toes and the bottoms of my now bare feet. I sigh and climb up the side of Mortemore, placing my feet in the familiar nicks and crannies to shove myself upwards. Finally situated on the so-called flat surface, I lean back on my hands and tilt my head slightly as I gaze at the sun, which was trying to hide behind the ocean. I frown as I remember the time we… My friends and I, tried sending our Gundams, "our buddies" to this same ball of fire to destroy them, but in the end, we just ended up blowing them up. I close my eyes and see the reds, yellows, and oranges that try to penetrate the skin that hides my gaze. And when I open them a few minutes later to see that everything around me is tinge with a green iridescent glow.
The last of the suns rays disappear behind the depths of the ocean leaving only the bon fires surrounded by laughter, and the distant shine from windows to keep the beach alight. I continue to gaze at the place the sun used to be, longing for its warmth, for your cheeriness that warmed me is no longer on this earth anymore. I shift my eyes upward to look at the sky, once tinged with the fiery colors of sunset, and I see the thousands of twinkling stars spread across the bluish black sky. Some seemed to wink playfully at me, just like you used to do.
\I lean against the wind,
pretend that I am weightless/
The breeze is soothing to my warmed skin that the sun's heat only kissed moments ago. My hair is disheveled as the wind blows through it, all the while caressing my skin and soothing me. You used to ruffle my already untamable hair because you knew it annoyed me, unnoticed to you, I actually enjoyed your teasing, your attention. The rock's cool surface awakens me from my thoughts as I shift; little indentions are left on my hands from the bumps and tiny minuscule pebbles that had lain beneath them. My hands were callused from the war, for I was a highly trained killing machine, trained to be perfect. "Perfect soldier" I was referred to, but that was perhaps the understatement of the year. I gave the impression of perfection on the outside, but on the inside I was scared and lonely; not letting my emotions show, for that is what I was taught to do, only to act on them. But oh, my emotions were there, hidden securely underneath my so called "shell" or "mask", only seen in my eyes, which only glared, making people avoid them. But my shell wasn't as secure as I thought it was, because you somehow managed to crack and chip it.
Beginning to feel uncomfortable in my position atop of the old rock, I slid off. I feel like I am flying as I descend to the sandy ground, and land with ease. I guess all these times of jumping from high places have helped. You used to nag me about doing that, and I would smirk when you would remember the time I set my own leg and cringe.
\And in this moment I am happy…
Happy./
Remembering you, and all the good times we spent together; your cheeriness and happy-go-lucky self brings a slight smile upon my face. It's small, but it's there.
\I wish you were here./ x4
My smile falters as my memories of you become paler, and I look up at the sky and imagine your face looking down at me, as if you were your own constellation. "The heavens" seems to get farther away and I realize my legs have gone weak, so I spread my arms like a bird as I fall on my back with a thud.
\I lay my head onto the sand…
The sky resembles a back-lit canopy
With holes punched in it. /
Sand interlaces with the strands of my silky dark brown hair as my head rests on the beach's facade. The sky resembles the acute description of what you said you wanted the ceiling of your room to look like – black with "those star thingies that stick to the ceiling and glow!" I laughed at your exclamation and eagerness, but stopped quickly when you stared with your Cobalt orbs wide and a tiny smile gracing your pink lips.
I look like a sacrifice as I lay here, arms out, and palms up, so I bring my arms to myself and place them under me as I lean on my elbows for support and hook my thumbs through the belt-loops of my jeans.
\I'm counting UFO's,
I signal then with my lighter/
When we used to sit in this spot together, I would just stare at the sun, water, and sky… Like I am doing now. I would listen to you ramble on about nothing in particular, though you thought I wasn't paying attention – You just continued to talk, as if to pass time, and to hear your own voice. But I did pay attention, more than you know.
You liked asking me questions, I guess, just to get me to respond. I commit to memory the time, out of nowhere, you ask me, "Do you believe in aliens?" My blank look didn't help, it only caused you to chuckle and push forth. "UFO's Heero!" At that you jumped up, grabbed your black lighter from your khaki pants pocket, and with a flick of your thumb, had a little flame produced from the opening. You twirled around and waved at the sky as if to greet the unknown. You didn't go as fast as to kill the flame, but you did exactly that, right down to detail. You received plenty of weird looks that night with your antics, but you were a free spirit, nothing stopped you from having fun.
\and in this moment I am happy…
Happy./
I can still see you there spinning and laughing as your image, seemingly sketched into eternity with dotted lines, as you fade into wisps of sand, and yet again, I smile; a broader smile than the first, but not quite reaching my eyes.
\I wish you were here./ x4
Now, more than ever, I feel lonely, and I realize… I miss you more than ever.
\The world's a roller coaster
and I am not strapped in
maybe I should hold with care
but my hands are busy in the air./
My life has had many ups and downs, more downs than a guy my age should have, but your presence helped… You gave me my ups. I should have told you I cared, and how much you meant to me, but the trained soldier in me wouldn't step aside – And now…
\I wish you were here/
Owari
To continue, or not to continue? Now that you have read, you should review… Please!
Thank you for reading this; it took me many hours of mulling over things, and writing and retyping this over and over again to make it postable. And I still don't think it is good enough! This was saved on my computer under the title of 'The Irony of a Ceiling Fan' and even had that as the title when I first posted it, but I didn't think it would catch as many viewers attention, so I changed it. Oh yeah, before I forget!
(1). Think what you want. I didn't really get my point across as intended, but I didn't want to go into detail in that area for I might have lost track of the area I wanted this fic to go to; if that made any sense. I was hoping that most of you level minded people would get the point that he was drunk.
(2). Heh. Go figure.
(3). Pronounced Mort-eh-mer