Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. Obviously.
A/N: I don't even know where this story came from. Sorry for the angst.
He knew better. That's what he plans to tell Quatre after everything is over. He knew better than to fall for Heero.
He knocks on the door of Heero's apartment and waits outside, his heart fluttering as he tries to keep a relaxed, cheerful expression on his face. It's just coffee, and not even a date. Just two friends spending time together on their day off.
Heero opens the door, wearing khakis and a fitted t-shirt that makes him look taller than 5'7". His messenger bag is slung across his chest and he says good morning with a brief smile before stepping out and locking his door. Duo has to step back a bit, to give him enough room to get out. Then he follows him to the car, thanking him for driving.
"No problem," Heero says, not glancing back.
They make small talk on the drive to the shop. How are you, how was it seeing Trowa the other day, how's that painting you're working on coming. Inside, Duo's asking different questions, and eventually the silence stretches as he fights with himself to not say them out loud. The drive feels longer than it is.
Just before they pull into the small parking lot, Heero asks, "So how are you feeling about that art show next week? Are you ready?"
Duo's breath catches in his throat, because he's been waiting for someone to ask this, wanting it so badly. He wants to scream that, no, he's not ready, he's more uncertain than he's ever been because the paintings he produced this time are nothing like what made him famous. There's no fun, no joy in them. They're raw and personal and a child's memories of what life on the streets of L-2 was like. They're all unfinished because working on them makes Duo feel like he's bleeding out onto the floor of his studio.
But Heero's already starting to park and Duo knows how little time he has to answer, so he just says, "Oh, you know. Hopefully I'll get everything done." And then they get out of the car and get in line for coffee and there are other people around and Heero's trying to scope out the best table for them, so there's no way to follow up. Duo doesn't even know what he would say, because all he wants to do is curl up in Heero's arms and cry.
Instead he sits across from him with his mug of coffee and sketches while Heero types on his computer. Probably responding to emails, or planning a schedule for his new programming project, or something like that. Something that takes no emotion, just the detailed logistics that Heero excels at.
Duo does enjoy sketching at the coffee shop with Heero across from him. That he feels safe enough to draw with him there should have been a warning sign from the start. Well, it was. But he couldn't pass it up. It's the only place he has where he can feel the safety of being alone without actually being alone. It became too difficult to give up, and now he's in this predicament.
He knows better.
"What does that even mean, anyway?" he asks himself aloud as he smears more purple on his canvas with a pallet knife. "Knowing better…"
He shrugs to himself. Nothing at all. Knowing doesn't change his emotions one bit. God, he's so terrified of the day when Heero finally starts dating someone, when Duo has to shake her hand and smile like he's so happy for his friend. And he will be, because Heero deserves to have someone to love. And maybe that thought will be enough to save their friendship.
Duo steps back from the painting and sighs with frustration. He's been working on this for three months, but it doesn't show. He's trying to vent all these emotions into something tangible that he can dissect and then discard, but it's not working. It's just a formless pile of shit, as far as Duo can tell. There are so many layers of paint on there because he spends the day with Heero and covers it with shades of rouge and coral and sunshine, shades of hope. Then he wakes up in the morning and buries them with cobalt and grey, trying to make himself stay in reality.
The show is tomorrow. He had been trying to get this one would be ready for it, so he could sell it to someone and forget about it. He's tired of lingering over it, tired of having it take up room in his studio.
But it's true what they say. People's hopes go on forever.
Heero comes to opening night and gives Duo a hug, congratulating him on a job well done. Duo gives his friend a tour of all the paintings. When they get to the one that's really about him (which Duo decided to show after all, even though the oils still haven't dried), Heero asks what it's about. Duo prevaricates, strings some vague words together as his heart tries to choke him by crawling up his throat. Heero doesn't push him for answers.
It's nights like this that break Duo's heart, because by now, he's sick of watching the way he grabs at even that little bit of hope. Maybe Heero does care, he tells himself, while knowing full well that he doesn't. Maybe later tonight Heero will initiate, and say he's just been waiting for the right time to say how he feels. Duo knows that it's all bullshit, another trick of his mind to keep his heart hanging on. He's so tired, but he's no longer in control of any of this.
After the show, Heero takes him out for a late dinner. Quatre's on a business trip, Trowa's with the circus, and Wufei has a two hour drive home, so it's just the two of them. Not because Heero wants one-on-one time, Duo tells himself firmly. But he still enjoys it.
During moments like this, it's hard for Duo not to picture what they would be like as a couple. They would have dinner together like this often, where they would have time to really hear about each other's lives. It's not just that Duo wants Heero to ask him more questions; he wants to know what Heero is really thinking. What he's worried about, what he's excited for, what makes him angry. Sometimes it's hard not to write out the conversations he so desperately wants in his head.
"Your show seemed different tonight. Are you okay?"
Duo's so surprised to hear these words come out of Heero's mouth that he does a double-take, wondering if he isn't just imagining things.
"What do you mean, different?" Like he doesn't already know.
"Just… darker. More abstract. Like you're fighting something." Heero gives him a careful look, studying the neutral expression that Duo has plastered onto his face. "Are you okay?" he repeats.
Duo takes in a shaky breath. He lifts his hands as he gets ready to speak – he's always been one for hand gestures – but he notices that they're shaking, too, and he presses his palms flat against the table in front of him.
"I guess I've just been feeling down, recently. Been thinking about the past a lot."
Heero gives him a slight nod of understanding. That would have never happened during the war, Duo thinks.
"Is it about the war? Or L-2?"
"L-2," Duo confirms. "I just didn't want all my work to be about the good stuff, you know? I wanted to preserve the hard times, too. Even if it's just me that knows what it all means."
"That makes sense," Heero says, as encouraging as Duo has ever heard him. It's sincere. Duo believes that much.
Duo glances down at his plate, chews on his bottom lip a little. He can feel Heero looking at him, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. He does and he doesn't, because he doesn't know how to start without breaking down, and he's not sure if he wants to break down in front of Heero. What he's most scared of is that Heero will listen and then direct him to someone else. Tell him to go talk to Quatre, instead of just listening and knowing that Duo is in pain. Just helping him carry it.
That's really all he wants from Heero. He doesn't need a lover. He just wants him to be a friend who will listen, who knows him.
Duo knows that's a fucking lie before his mind even finishes the thought.
So finally he shrugs, and asks Heero about work instead. They delve into that safe topic and nothing else happens that evening.
Duo goes to the show again the next night, even though he was only scheduled to come the first evening. He figures it doesn't hurt to make an appearance. Besides, he's nervous about whether the pieces are selling. He still has three full weeks left for these pieces to be displayed, but he just wants to see whether even one has been tagged as taken.
A few of the browsing people recognize him and he chats with them for a bit, signs his artist card and passes it out, before slowly walking through his dark paintings once again. Heero's right; they're so much more abstract. Duo is best-known for a painting of two children playing in a giant sandcastle, one standing like a king at the top and the other lovingly etching bricks into one of the towers. These new pieces wouldn't even be recognizable as his if they hadn't been signed.
There is one that has been bought, much to Duo's surprise. His stomach drops a bit when he sees the bright orange tag marking it, because it's the one that he's not even really finished with, the one that is just layers of paint that represent the mess of feelings he shouldn't have.
It takes him a few minutes, but he manages to track down the gallery owner so he can see who made the purchase. The name on the form makes his head spin: Heero Yuy. Because if even a simple question makes his heart ache with hope, you can bet that this comes close to obliterating him.
He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that it means nothing more than the support of a friend. And that he's okay with that.
But he steps outside and calls Heero to ask if he can come over. The air is bitingly cold, although it was sunny earlier. They're on the cusp of fall. The trees will burst into red any day now as the clouds sweep in grey skies and drizzle. It's Duo's favorite weather, and he stands outside for a full twenty minutes before turning away from the gallery and walking towards his car.
For the few minutes that it takes him to drive to Heero's apartment, Duo blasts the music in his car, the harmonies so loud they jar his head. He feels encapsulated in the sound, wrapped safely in the raw grit that comes out in the singer's voice at this volume. Now that he thinks about it, probably none of his friends know that he listens to his music this loud when he's alone. That's another secret he's managed to keep.
As he parks, he turns the volume back down for when he gets back in the car. Just in case. Then it's only two flights of stairs between him and Heero.
He walks in without knocking, knowing that Heero will be on his laptop at the dining room table, waiting for him. "Hey," he says, toeing off his shoes and setting down his messenger bag.
"Hey," Heero says. He types for a few more seconds and then looks up to smile at Duo. "How was your day?"
Duo shrugs and sits across from him. "Pretty good. I hear you bought one of my paintings."
"Yeah," Heero says. He glances up again and then snaps his laptop closed. "Is that okay? Is there another buyer who wants it?"
"No, it's fine," Duo says. "I'm surprised that anyone would want that one. It's not even finished."
Heero stands up to make them some tea without asking whether Duo wants any. He knows him well enough to intuit that he needs comfort. Duo's grateful that he doesn't need to say it out loud.
He stays quiet until the water's done boiling and Heero comes back with the teapot and two empty mugs, so they can talk while it steeps. Then Duo tries to focus and ready himself for the questions Heero might have.
"Can I ask… why do you think no one would want it?"
He always asks permission for prying into Duo's life, even though Duo's never refused him. "It just looks like a lot of nothing to me. I've painted over it at least a dozen times, but I'm the only one who knows everything that's under there." He hesitates, tapping his fingernails against the porcelain mug in his hands, liking the way it rings in the silence. "I'm worried – " he has to fight for these words, fight to keep the tremor out of his voice, "—I'm worried that no one will care about all the mess that I show in those paintings. That they only want the bright parts."
He screws up his courage and looks up at Heero. His head is tilted, his eyes gentle with understanding, and a small half-smile plays at his lips. Duo would almost call it a look of awe.
Heero stays silent, waiting, as he always does, to make sure that Duo has nothing more to say. Then he reaches forward and pours some of the tea into Duo's mug. "I think you're brave to risk putting that out there."
Duo's hands warm as the tea reaches the top of his cup. He stares at the dark amber liquid and tries not to squeeze the mug too hard and tries not to blush and more than anything tries not to look Heero in the eye, because he knows what is clearly written in his own. Because for all that Heero does care about him, it's still only as his friend. Duo knows it to his core. He knows it because he watches Heero so much more closely than anyone else.
"Thanks," Duo whispers, and he raises the tea to his lips, not caring that it scalds his throat on the way down. Across from him, Heero sips carefully at his own cup, watching Duo, and then opens up his laptop again, returning to his work.
Duo feels his shoulders relax, and he drinks his tea more slowly, letting it soothe him. He lets himself enjoy the safety he feels in this moment and puts aside that fact that he still wants more.
It's becoming a simple fact of his life. He's in love with Heero and he doesn't know how to get over it, because just when he's had enough, he finds another reason to hope for a little longer. As exhausted as Duo is from the cycle, it's starting to become familiar, just another part of who he is. Something he can live with instead of fighting to change.
He knows it isn't healthy. He knows he deserves someone who reciprocates. And he knows that, at the very least, he should tell Heero how he feels and let the rejection be the deciding factor, to cut out all the hope that's left in his heart.
He knows better than this.