Heero hated working nights. Hardly any customers came in so he spent most of the hours standing around and thinking about how miserable he probably was. Mostly he just felt cold about his life. On the downward slope of his twenties, never had a real romance, stuck in a crappy job (he never did figure out what his ideal career was, so he took whatever paid). Yep, he was going nowhere fast. The years seemed to be disappearing faster than Jello shots in a Frat house. The good ones were gone and only the ones nobody wanted were left. Like the green ones. What flavor was green Jello anyway? It seemed like it should be its own flavor. When someone asked 'So what does that taste like?' it should be perfectly alright to answer 'Like green Jello.'
The bell above the door chimed and a truck driver tramped into the gas station. His pot belly threatened to bust a button or two off his brown cowboy shirt. A gleaming belt buckle flashed at the top of disproportionally skinny legs that were trudging over to the energy drink section of the coolers. He pulled out an obnoxiously gold and red can, paid while scratching idly at his wiry black beard, then left without a word or his change. Heero was alone again. He hoped his shift would end soon.
Four hours, two more truck drivers, and a woman heavily under the influence of something later found Heero sitting on the floor behind the cash register scratching lotto tickets he hadn't paid for and intermittently banging his head lightly against the cupboard where the Windex was kept. The bell jingled again signaling another customer. Heero sighed and tried to get up nonchalantly, grabbing the Windex bottle on the way as if this was his purpose for being down there all along, and pretended to wipe the glass around the donut display. Then he saw who was standing in the doorway and dropped all pretenses (along with the Windex bottle which landed softly on the counter with a thunk). The man standing in the doorway walked over closer trying to control the amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"I wasn't going to last another minute." Heero bemoaned with an indolent tone which greatly undermined how much the young man really had been suffering. His dark jeans were coated in a layer of dust and other things from the gas station floor and his uniform shirt was hopelessly wrinkled from the crouched position he'd spent hours in. There were extra kinks and spikes in the man's normally softly but unkempt bedhead which gave it a harsh unruly texture. His deep blue eyes were rimmed with red and his almond peach skin looked blanched and a little clammy. He pried off his name tag with numb fingers and shoved it deep in a back pocket. The slightly older man on the customer side of the counter straightened and looked away abruptly as if startled awake from a dream. He reached into the carrier bag at his side and pulled out a small piece of white plastic which stated his name was Trowa and he would be very happy to help. Though anyone greeted by the distant, uninterested expression on the man's beautifully chiseled face would be strongly inclined to believe the opposite.
"You off tomorrow?" The way Trowa asked questions no one was ever sure if he cared what the answer was or even if he got one for that matter.
"No, one more night." Heero's features momentarily looked even more exhausted before his face became stone again and he nodded to his coworker. He took off out the automatic glass doors without saying bye, the bell chiming behind him.
Had anyone been in the store to witness this brief interaction they would have seen two groggy, terse, apathetic young men exchanging shifts. They would probably assume they weren't very fond of each other either. It would come as some shock then to learn that what they'd just witnessed was a truly heartfelt moment between two best friends. One of whom was deeply concerned about the other's current well being.
When Heero got back to his studio apartment on the other side of town the first thing he thought of was a cigarette. He was trying to quit so it seemed like it was always the first thing he thought of anywhere he went. The second thing he thought of was food, and lastly collapsing into his lopsided mattress. He decided on food first, which was left over curry from the Indian cuisine place down the street. He filled a glass with water and took a sip, then left the glass on the counter and took out a green beer bottle instead. Next he turned the air conditioning down one degree because it made him feel like he was cooling the place off even though one degree made almost no difference. He stood directly under a vent for a few seconds and let the air waft over his face. Grabbing a bottle opener he decided to spend the next few minutes watching the sun come up from his balcony. It felt like an oddly poetic thing to do but he was so tired he couldn't even feel the sleepiness anymore. He needed to do something in order to trick it into coming back while he wasn't paying attention. Unfortunately, he hated television and didn't feel like starting a movie so this was the next best option.
Outside was cooler than he remembered. He stood for a second, then walked back inside, grabbed a kitchen chair, and set it down on his small patio. One of the few benefits of having an upstairs apartment was having a view not blocked off by a tall fence. The air conditioner had already switched back off but he closed his sliding door anyway and leaned his head against the cool glass. He took a long drink from his bottle and just watched the city for a few moments. It was quiet. Pigeons landed on the roof of a building across from him and he watched them for a bit. There was no other movement in the city at that ungodly hour of the morning. A few minutes longer and he closed his eyes briefly. It was no good, he couldn't relax. With a small amount of resignation he let one hand drop and it groped around beside a potted plant behind him. Then it pulled out a rumpled pack of cigarettes. There were four left.
With the remorseful deliberation of one about to knowingly commit sin, he pulled a single white tobacco sheath free and balanced it in his lips. The lighter came from his pocket, despite trying to quit the habit he still always kept one on his person. That first drag was harsh and wonderful. The second was smoother and even more wonderful. The third was practically orgasmic.
He looked about again, tension leaving his body in curling tendrils of white smoke. Morning had begun to stretch out, its long gray fingers extended across the city to grasp at his patio floor, lean against the wall next to him, and lightly trail up his arms and touch his cheeks. The pale light was both warm and cool at the same time. He let his eyes close again, utterly lost in the tranquility of it all. He didn't even hear the squeak and groan of his neighbor's sliding glass door. Nor did he register the soft padding of bare feet across concrete he was so wrapped up in his small, solitary haven of light and vice.
"Hey, think I could bum one of those?" A deep melodious sound snapped Heero away from his reverie.
On the patio next to him was a man, around his age, leaning against the railing and smiling at him with thin, soft looking lips. His skin was fair and even and looked equally as soft, except for a bit of barely noticeable stubble over his jawline and chin. He wore loose gray sweats and a white tank top. His hair fell gently over his bent back and dangled gracefully at his side. It was so long, and brown, and beautifully braided. Quite a few strands seemed to have made an escape and were being blown caressingly about the man's face. The gray morning light was now tinged with pinks and purples and reflected in the man's eyes and off his pale skin. Heero took a swig of his beer, his mouth oddly dry all of a sudden, and fumbled dumbly behind the planter for the cigarette pack. His fingers grappled and twisted and slid along clay and concrete until finally the rested on smooth cellophane which crushed easily in his grip. He winced and hoped the cigarettes had survived. He pulled one out (thankfully intact) and proffered it across the gap between their porches. He had to stand up from his kitchen chair, of which he was suddenly embarrassed, to reach the man. He noticed a proper lounge chair with cushions on his neighbor's side. The smiling man reached out and plucked the cigarette with two fingers muttering a soft 'thanks man.'
"I'm Duo." Duo said, and extended his other hand across the gap careful not to drop the cigarette he was sticking in his mouth. Heero reached over again and shook his neighbor's hand with a firm grip. He saw the man's lips quirk around the filter.
"Heero." He offered in return and deftly tossed his lighter across the way. Duo caught it with ease and lit the end of his arrogated prize. Heero heard the telltale click and saw the brief glow of flame behind the man's cupped fingers. Then he chucked the lighter right back at Heero with a tiny flick of the wrist. A moment of unnecessary panic and Heero caught it with one hand. He recognized the familiar flood of relief and bliss on Duo's face as he pulled the toxic vapors into his body and released them in a long exhale verging on a sigh.
"Thanks again, man. I got rid of all mine. Trying to quit." Duo shrugged in a nonchalant yet still slightly rueful way. Heero found the action somewhat endearing.
"So am I." Heero took another long drag and heard Duo briefly chuckle then try to cover it with a snort.
Duo pushed off the railing and collapsed onto his comfy wicker chair, propping his feet on the railing faced toward the city. "So what are you doing out here so early, anyway?" Heero shrugged one shoulder and sat back on his chair.
"I work nights." He answered and glanced over at Duo who was brushing a handful of stray auburn tresses behind his ear. The braided man smiled and nodded.
"Guess this is late for you, then." Duo said knowingly. Heero took in his own disheveled appearance, he was still in his work clothes, and made an acknowledging sort of grunt.
"I've been there buddy. I worked in a hospital morgue once. You know, where they keep the bodies until someone takes them away to like a funeral home or something. They always give the new guy the 'graveyard' shift. I will never think of that term in the same way again." Duo shivered dramatically and his freckled nose crinkled with an exaggerated expression of horror. Heero made another noise in the back of his throat, this one sounded pretty amused.
Heero wasn't sure what was going on. He wondered if sharing his cigarettes had somehow warped into a full on tête-à-tête. He hoped not, he didn't think he'd be any good at that. But he didn't feel like going inside, yet. He felt less exhausted out here in the fresh air and lighter somehow. He watched Duo's bare feet out of the corner of his eye as the man used his right toe to scratch the top of his left foot then crossed them at ankles and continued his lounging.
Heero felt an odd sensation in his stomach, like a small flutter of adrenaline or nervousness. His mind seemed to be whirring, turning gears, searching its depths for something. What was going on? Then he realized, with some surprise, that the odd feeling was him wanting to ask a question. And not just that, he wanted to ask it to Duo specifically in order to keep their conversation going. He actually wanted to have a real conversation with this man. This was all very strange. But before he could put an end to this unprecedented and uncharacteristic urge his mouth started speaking without his permission.
"So, what did you do in the morgue?" Heero heard the question and was mildly shocked that he was genuinely curious about Duo's past. The boy looked at him, still grinning a little, and turned his body slightly to face Heero's porch. Almost, the young gas station clerk decided, as if he were happy they were going to talk more.
"Not much really." He began. "Freaked out a lot, filled in toe tags from the medical charts, kept the pathologist company so he didn't go crazy. Er…that last one didn't seem to go so well." Duo's arms came up in a 'what can you do' kind of way and made a face that was utterly unremorseful, but tried to be. "Where do you work?"
"Gas station." Heero replied and kept the resentment mostly out of his voice. He tapped his cigarette on the railing and watched the column of ash crumble and drift away.
"I'm sure that's fun." Duo said and sounded like he was pretty sure it was not very much fun at all. "Anyone ever try to rob you?"
"Once." Heero nodded. "Didn't work though."
"You know, I can't tell if you're just super exhausted or if you really don't like to talk very much." Duo's deep voice sounded friendly and dismissive, as if it didn't really matter either way. Heero was certain the young man would keep talking to him anyway. He was probably just curious if he was bothering the dark haired gas attendant or not. Heero strongly suspected it would be more fun for his neighbor if it was bothering him. The sudden impish grin seemed to confirm this. "So did the police stop him?"
Heero ignored the first statement completely. He knew it had been rhetorical and he felt that he didn't have a simple answer anyway. He skipped to Duo's last question instead. "The police didn't stop him. They just collected him. I believe it was the broken wrist that stopped him."
Duo's eyebrow arched finely. "He broke his wrist?" He asked incredulously.
"No. " Heero shook his head. "I did."
Duo kept staring, Heero was unnerved. "He kept waving his gun obnoxiously in my face. It got on my nerves."
There was another brief silence before Duo began chuckling lightly.
"You're a weird guy, Heero. I think we could be friends." Heero was baffled by the conjunction of those two statements. But, to his surprise, he liked the idea of being Duo's friend. He didn't have very many of those, and he was unusually comfortable with his neighbor especially having just met him for the first time about twenty minutes ago. He supposed it could have been the exhaustion and the beer and the cigarette, but he was definitely enjoying himself. They spent the rest of the sunrise in silence until Heero started to nod off in the chair and decided he better try to make it to his mattress. Duo agreed that he should probably start getting ready for work. They parted with a wave as each went back into their respective apartments, Heero dragging the kitchen chair back inside with him. He made a note to purchase a more comfortable lounge chair.