All righty then....this is just PWP, written for the sheer fact that I need love. NEED! T.T Please review. Then I will feel love! LOVE! NEED! ::sob sob:: Oh, by the way, this is going to be two guys. Mess with me not, flamers, for I will jab your eyes out with spoons and have my puppy dog pee in the sockets! AH HA HA! And heÕs fat. ::nods:: Anyway, on with the show! From DuoÕs POV. Yeah.
__________________________________________________________________
I canÕt imagine his face that way. I swear to God, I canÕt. ItÕs always the same. Grim. Deep. Painful....
Sometimes, I look at him...heÕs watching me, watching him....and I try to imagine it. But itÕs no use. His cold, blue eyes seep into my mind, filling the crevices in my thoughts with their stare, and I give in to him.
ItÕs pathetic, really. IÕve never thought I would be so confused by a single face. Proves how smart I am.
All the time, I imagine him. I imagine him holding me...I imagine running my fingers through his wild hair, his body against mine. But then I move to his face....and I canÕt see it. I canÕt see anything. The entire reverie is destroyed when I try to see him that way...I canÕt see his lips, his cheeks...but most of all, his eyes. I canÕt see his eyes with anything behind them. I can see their power, their determination...and I can see the emptiness that threatens to swallow me whole....so I turn away.
ItÕs funny, almost. He doesnÕt seem to notice that I canÕt watch him for long without averting my eyes from his. Sometimes, IÕll turn to look at him, and heÕll be looking at me.
....Like right now.....
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. ItÕs a tiger ripping at my body, trying to escape through my chest.
But I donÕt turn away.
And neither does he.
IÕm falling into his eyes, further and further. The deep, soulless blue is a mournful nocturne, and I can feel myself caught in each long, soft note. My view widens, and I take in the faint tan of his skin, drawn like smooth, flawless silk over the curves of his face. His long, disobedient bangs drift across his forehead and over his eyes, careless and free. But the softest instrument in his melody the most beautiful. His lips are open slightly, looking perplexed as I simply stare.
ÒDuo...are you all right?Ó
I nod, unable to reply. HeÕs still watching me with those eyes.
Ò...Are you sure?Ó
I wag my head stupidly once more, a piteously small noise making itÕs way through my lips. ÒUh huh.Ó
ÒWhatÕre you looking at?Ó
ÒYou.Ó
Shit. Nice job there, Duo. I feel like an idiot. HeÕs staring at me, blinking. To think, IÕve surprised the Perfect Soldier. But then something happens.
His lips move...
HeÕs not saying anything...
TheyÕre just curving.
And suddenly, I can imagine his face that way.
Because heÕs smiling at me.
__________________________________________________________________
I canÕt imagine his face that way. I swear to God, I canÕt. ItÕs always the same. Grim. Deep. Painful....
Sometimes, I look at him...heÕs watching me, watching him....and I try to imagine it. But itÕs no use. His cold, blue eyes seep into my mind, filling the crevices in my thoughts with their stare, and I give in to him.
ItÕs pathetic, really. IÕve never thought I would be so confused by a single face. Proves how smart I am.
All the time, I imagine him. I imagine him holding me...I imagine running my fingers through his wild hair, his body against mine. But then I move to his face....and I canÕt see it. I canÕt see anything. The entire reverie is destroyed when I try to see him that way...I canÕt see his lips, his cheeks...but most of all, his eyes. I canÕt see his eyes with anything behind them. I can see their power, their determination...and I can see the emptiness that threatens to swallow me whole....so I turn away.
ItÕs funny, almost. He doesnÕt seem to notice that I canÕt watch him for long without averting my eyes from his. Sometimes, IÕll turn to look at him, and heÕll be looking at me.
....Like right now.....
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. ItÕs a tiger ripping at my body, trying to escape through my chest.
But I donÕt turn away.
And neither does he.
IÕm falling into his eyes, further and further. The deep, soulless blue is a mournful nocturne, and I can feel myself caught in each long, soft note. My view widens, and I take in the faint tan of his skin, drawn like smooth, flawless silk over the curves of his face. His long, disobedient bangs drift across his forehead and over his eyes, careless and free. But the softest instrument in his melody the most beautiful. His lips are open slightly, looking perplexed as I simply stare.
ÒDuo...are you all right?Ó
I nod, unable to reply. HeÕs still watching me with those eyes.
Ò...Are you sure?Ó
I wag my head stupidly once more, a piteously small noise making itÕs way through my lips. ÒUh huh.Ó
ÒWhatÕre you looking at?Ó
ÒYou.Ó
Shit. Nice job there, Duo. I feel like an idiot. HeÕs staring at me, blinking. To think, IÕve surprised the Perfect Soldier. But then something happens.
His lips move...
HeÕs not saying anything...
TheyÕre just curving.
And suddenly, I can imagine his face that way.
Because heÕs smiling at me.