Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or anything related to it.
A/N: This is a drabble piece I started at 5 this morning. I had a beta reader and edited and now I am sharing it with you! There is no plot, no point other than Wufei was in my head and I wanted to write. There may or may not be more.
Settled Life
The sounds of pen on paper filled the thick, country air that was heavy with flowers and newly wet grass. A whisper of a wind brought the gentle music of the wind chimes that hung carefully in front of his window. Dark brown eyes creased at the corners in the secret smile that came with the noise. It was soothing. Spring was close, bringing the promise of a better time. His hand, calloused, scarred moved off the desk and into the oil colored hair that hung past his shoulders.
The war had been over for a few years now, just going on four. Wufei had re-enrolled in school after settling down in a small, comfortable city on Earth. Because of the war, because of his wife's death, he had never finished his studies. Until recently, anyway. With the last line written, Wufei put the pen down and stretched out, rubbing his sore wrist. The final paper of the year was finished. He had finally accomplished finishing his high school education and could no focus on enrolling in colleges and bettering his understanding of child development.
The other four pilots were taken aback when he told them his plans. He wanted to be a social worker, to help the orphans of the war cope with the loss of their loved ones and to help get them into better homes. He felt it was right, would be his duty. Being a social worker wasn't going to be hard on him. At least, not from what he'd researched and understood.
Rubbing his face, Wufei checked the clock and blinked at how late he'd stayed up. It was already well after sunrise and he still had work to do. He couldn't slack on his duties just because he was in school. Something had to pay the bills. With a soft grunt, Wufei shuffled his papers into their folder and got up from his desk. Stretching stiff muscles, he moved around his studio apartment. It was time for a quick shower, and then work.
Pulling an all-nighter wasn't something the Chinese pilot was used to. He'd gotten out of that habit about two years after the war had ended. That's when he found a job at a local flower shop. It was only supposed to be temporary work, until he could find something better. However, it was either that, or stay with the Preventers, his first job, and Wufei didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted to regain the man Meiran had known when she'd been alive. It made sense in his head that he would go back to being the gentle, learned man.
The longer he worked for the flower store, the more it relaxed him. Those flowers reminded him of the field he could never go back to. They reminded him of Meiran, whoes grave he could never visit. Those flowers helped him fight demons he thought had left him years ago. How wrong he had been.
When he woke up from reliving her death, reliving the war, drenched in cold sweat... when he woke up pale, screaming on the floor and bleeding sometimes from nails clenched too hard into his own arms, knuckles white... those flowers were there for him. He would cut the stems, trim thorns, water, replant them. The flowers helped soothe the ragged man. Without this shop, Wufei would have ended up a much different man. Wufei had come to love that shop, that city, the people he worked for. He might not say it, but he really did.
After his shower, Wufei changed into a a thin, light-blue, long-sleeved shirt, with a pair of khakis, and his work boots and work apron. Locks of black were tied back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. Grabbing his keys and gloves off the coffee table, Wufei was out the door with no breakfast or coffee.
Tired as he may be, Wufei knew it was going to be a good day.
