There's a voice under all that hair.
I thought Dr. G had lost it when he assigned Duo to perform at this club as a fill-in lead singer while the original one suffered a little accident arranged by me.
Who'd have thought he could sing? Other than Dr. G, who I'll assume heard him sing while working on Deathscythe or something. Anything else is just too scary, or disgusting, to consider.
I should have known Duo would never take on an assignment he couldn't handle. I don't need to be here. I won't have to rescue him from an ugly crowd. I may have to rescue him later from a group of newfound worshippers though. Look at them all drooling over him. I can't help but laugh at them a little. Don't they know he doesn't like it so obvious? That to chase Duo Maxwell you have to be subtle?
Of course not, they don't know him. They only see a beautiful man onstage with a voice as lovely as his face, his hair. I have got to stop thinking like this. I don't need to be here. But I can't leave, either. I can't get up and walk out until he's done singing, until he's
no longer sitting in that bright spotlight, all lit up and sparkling in front of me. And I don't think it's the body glitter someone smeared all over him, he always sparkles, somehow.
I can't do something as simple as get up and walk away, because then I would miss this.
He doesn't even know I'm here. He can't see anyone in the audience, I've been highlighted in lights like that before. You can't see in the dark parts of the room around you. Even though his shining violet eyes look like he's making eye contact, he's really just guessing.
Does he fantasize about the audience like they do about him? Fantasize about some beautiful woman, or even a man, staring at him in transfixed wonder that will find him after stage and sweep him away from all the horrors of his life as a gundam pilot? Does he dream about the people staring at him and wonder all the things about them that they wish to know about him? Or does he look out to a room full of faceless people in their underwear?
If it wasn't for the fact I'd really rather him not know that I was here, I would ask him later. Maybe I can steer Quatre into asking that question, Quatre asks all kinds of questions to get to know the rest of us. No one would think twice about it.
And most of all, the man sitting in the main floor below my balcony, who also doesn't know I'm here, wouldn't have to know that I came. That I wanted to see what Duo would do up there.
Heero can never know that for this evening Duo has me held in some sort of enchantment. I think I would prefer Quatre not to know it either, or Duo. That would just be too much of a mess for us all.
I wonder if Duo knows that Heero is here. Sometimes I think Duo really doesn't know that Heero is in love with him under the cool mask he wears. I only know from the day Duo was so drugged on painkillers he slept for two days, and I found Heero cleaning the bed from the inevitable accident the drugged sleep caused. Heero said not one word of complaint, but instead carefully cleaned Duo up and redressed his wounds. Then, to my astonishment, gently kissed each one and informed Duo's sleeping form that he had to heal now, mother's don't lie, and they say kisses make the hurts all better.
It was that day I also realized that I had an attraction to Duo, almost as strong as the one I feel for Quatre. It's true what they say, human hearts are infinate, and there is infinate room for love in them. But there is also infinate room for hurt, and I would not bring that to any of the three. So I just steal a few moments that are mine from Duo, and no one is the wiser. I put them in my heart with the moment's I treasure about Quatre, and am content with my life and the love of my sweet Arabian.
And the rest?
Fantasies in the darkness, belonging to a silent stranger in the audience that will never touch his life in that way.
I love them both. One I honor by holding every night and telling him, the other I honor by leaving him alone. It is as it should be.
I thought Dr. G had lost it when he assigned Duo to perform at this club as a fill-in lead singer while the original one suffered a little accident arranged by me.
Who'd have thought he could sing? Other than Dr. G, who I'll assume heard him sing while working on Deathscythe or something. Anything else is just too scary, or disgusting, to consider.
I should have known Duo would never take on an assignment he couldn't handle. I don't need to be here. I won't have to rescue him from an ugly crowd. I may have to rescue him later from a group of newfound worshippers though. Look at them all drooling over him. I can't help but laugh at them a little. Don't they know he doesn't like it so obvious? That to chase Duo Maxwell you have to be subtle?
Of course not, they don't know him. They only see a beautiful man onstage with a voice as lovely as his face, his hair. I have got to stop thinking like this. I don't need to be here. But I can't leave, either. I can't get up and walk out until he's done singing, until he's
no longer sitting in that bright spotlight, all lit up and sparkling in front of me. And I don't think it's the body glitter someone smeared all over him, he always sparkles, somehow.
I can't do something as simple as get up and walk away, because then I would miss this.
He doesn't even know I'm here. He can't see anyone in the audience, I've been highlighted in lights like that before. You can't see in the dark parts of the room around you. Even though his shining violet eyes look like he's making eye contact, he's really just guessing.
Does he fantasize about the audience like they do about him? Fantasize about some beautiful woman, or even a man, staring at him in transfixed wonder that will find him after stage and sweep him away from all the horrors of his life as a gundam pilot? Does he dream about the people staring at him and wonder all the things about them that they wish to know about him? Or does he look out to a room full of faceless people in their underwear?
If it wasn't for the fact I'd really rather him not know that I was here, I would ask him later. Maybe I can steer Quatre into asking that question, Quatre asks all kinds of questions to get to know the rest of us. No one would think twice about it.
And most of all, the man sitting in the main floor below my balcony, who also doesn't know I'm here, wouldn't have to know that I came. That I wanted to see what Duo would do up there.
Heero can never know that for this evening Duo has me held in some sort of enchantment. I think I would prefer Quatre not to know it either, or Duo. That would just be too much of a mess for us all.
I wonder if Duo knows that Heero is here. Sometimes I think Duo really doesn't know that Heero is in love with him under the cool mask he wears. I only know from the day Duo was so drugged on painkillers he slept for two days, and I found Heero cleaning the bed from the inevitable accident the drugged sleep caused. Heero said not one word of complaint, but instead carefully cleaned Duo up and redressed his wounds. Then, to my astonishment, gently kissed each one and informed Duo's sleeping form that he had to heal now, mother's don't lie, and they say kisses make the hurts all better.
It was that day I also realized that I had an attraction to Duo, almost as strong as the one I feel for Quatre. It's true what they say, human hearts are infinate, and there is infinate room for love in them. But there is also infinate room for hurt, and I would not bring that to any of the three. So I just steal a few moments that are mine from Duo, and no one is the wiser. I put them in my heart with the moment's I treasure about Quatre, and am content with my life and the love of my sweet Arabian.
And the rest?
Fantasies in the darkness, belonging to a silent stranger in the audience that will never touch his life in that way.
I love them both. One I honor by holding every night and telling him, the other I honor by leaving him alone. It is as it should be.