Loud music and Home shopping
UmbrellasAnPoptarts
((Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, only this story))
((Heads up: this story is guyxguy (1x2)))
Chapter One
Been missing you
You're a few years overdue
I spent them waiting here for you
Now your charities refused
And I can't name a penance for abuse
Twenty-four years overdue
What kind of role model are you
Very least learn not to do
I think I might be over you
Do hope I won't
learn to make
the same mistake
that you would
make me aware and only fear
my only hope is letting go
Went on a limb
For you
Capsized when I turned twenty two
Did it burn as bad for you
No bottle serves to sooth my wound
Do hope I won't
learn to make
the same mistake
that you would
make me aware and only fear
my only hope is letting go
You're a few years overdue
I spent them waiting here for you
Heero sighed heavily with aggravation as he felt a droplet of water splatter unpleasantly on his slightly furrowed forehead. With an irritated glance into the sky he noticed water beginning to pour down around him. Glancing at the neon green display screen on his simple black wrist watch, the corners of his mouth turned down even farther. Stupid weather fools, it's only noon... And I've still got three blocks to go...
The Japanese boy kept his average pace, refusing the weather to dictate the way he walked, even if it was raining down a bit harder than usual. A few blocks later he came upon a sweet and small, corner coffee shop. It was cutely charming with it's bright blue painted door frame and candy red colored awning. For all it's bright colors it looked homey.
Usual frown still in its place firmly on his stiff lips, Heero strolled directly through the door without a second glance, pausing for a moment to shake his head and rid his hair of the unwanted liquid. "Already took a shower thanks..." he muttered in his darkly monotone voice. His dry sense of humor had been product of another person, it had really not been developed all by himself.
He took his usual small table for two by the large window that easily took up the whole front of the tiny shop. He set up his laptop on the red colored glass table top and carefully shook off his leather jacket. The place was basically empty, noon obviously not the best time for a warm cup of joe. A few people hung around towards the counter, others simply sat alone, reading a paper and munching quietly on a doughnut or waiting patiently for a friend.
Heero, on the other hand, was there alone. He wasn't waiting for anyone, and had no one waiting for him at home either. Alone was his way of being, especially working. Flipping open his sleek silver lap top he dug into what he did best, work.
After staring at the computer screen for more than three hours his eyes decided that they needed to take a break, not that they had his permission or anything. They just seemed to do that of their own accord. With a meaningless sigh he sat back in his seat, bending his neck to either side of his body, cracking his stiff and protesting spine.
Arms crossed darkly across his chest, he stared aimlessly out the window. A blank look soon consumed his piercing eyes as he zoned out in the general direction of a newly created puddle of murky water on the old sidewalk just outside.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught something familiar that grabbed his immediate attention. He searched the streets and sidewalks for what had drawn him out of his musings. Many people populated the streets at this time of day and he had a hard time sifting through them to find what had brought him back to reality.
Again, something caught his eye but all he saw this time was a woman... or man with a long brown braid disappearing into the heavy crowd. But that looked a lot like... His mind grew excited and his face had an instant of lightening which he immediately squashed down. Stop getting yourself all excited Yuy, it was nothing. No one. The product of to little sleep and to much work... He wouldn't come to me anyways...
And yet Heero found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the streets and return them to his nearly forgotten and totally neglected work. They stayed glued and focused on the street and the sidewalks on either side. With a strangled sigh of self irritation he stood up abruptly, deciding he needed to go home, get something to eat, maybe take another shower and finish the work he'd started.
Vowing never to enter the coffee shop ever again, he yanked open the glass and metal door and walked straight out without a backwards glance. He noticed that the rain had gotten a bit worse since he'd deposited himself in the little cafe, and it had now been upgraded to a downpour.
Shaking his head for the second time that day at the idiots that ran the weather program on this colony, he stepped off the curb and across the street. A few blocks later he came upon his large, classy apartment building and with a polite nod of hello to the smiling doorman he strolled through the automatic door. When he finally escaped the horrible elevator music on the twelfth floor, he shoved his hand in the pocket of his worn jeans and fished around for his keys.
Jerking them out of his pocket he pulled his house key away from the few others that resided on his simple key ring. At his door he punched in a five digit code on an intricate little silver key pad just a bit above the simple silver doorknob. After a quiet beep, he slid his key in the manual lock. Swinging his door open he went eagerly through, glad to get away from the stupidity of the world.
Slipping his worn yellow tennis shoes, he dropped his keys on one of the gold hooks next to the door. He grimaced slightly as he rolled his lightly muscled shoulders, feeling the stiffness in them. I've got to start sleeping better, it's distracting me from my work...
This thing going on with me has got to stop. I'm in desperate need of control again. I feel like... God damn I feel like I'm falling. I'm falling into this insane world that I didn't even create. I'm lost and confused and I'm not really sure why that is. This is not what I'm used to. I've been thinking so much lately...
So much about memories. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe I'm digging to far into the past. Maybe I've dug up something that was much to happy being buried. Ah, what's with me? Why is everything so different? And why is my heart... Why doesn't my heart care...?
Just as he ran his hand through his ever messy locks of brown hair, he finally heard something over his troubled thoughts and the sad pouring rain. Brows coming down furrowed over his deadly piercing blue eyes, he walked both silently and quickly towards the living room. Making his way down his polished hard wood hallway from the entry way, he wrapped his hand around his simple hand gun which was stored in the waist band of his tired jeans.
Without a second thought he walked in the living room, only to find the T.V. was on. Mute was entered, he could tell by the little green letters declaring it in the bottom left corner. But he didn't even watch T.V. today... or yesterday. And it was on the home shopping channel, he defiantly didn't watch that. Right now they were doing a bit on jewelry. Gold he guessed, there was a gold cross being advertised right now.
Frowning even further in confusion he noticed the beautiful flowers perched charmingly on his simple iron and glass coffee table. At least a dozen red roses rested in a clear glass vase in the middle of the table. He then spotted the white card that was nestled in between a few of the flowers long stems. Curiously, he plucked it out, careful, for some reason, not to hurt the flowers.
But the only thing on the card was a short scribbled message, nothing else no name or anything, not even the florist.
"Been missing you" 12
His head was not made for this kind of detective work because he just couldn't stop wondering who had been able to break into his apartment, and for no other reason than to leave him silly flowers, saying they missed him and turn on his T.V. It was ridiculous and defiantly made no sense what-so-ever.
The only people he knew that would be able to do it, would have done it as a stupid joke and he was pretty damn sure that they wouldn't leave him flowers. That and all of them seemed pretty occupied right now...
Turning on his anxious heel he strode with a purpose out of the room, card still clutched in his hand. The cold of the black and white tile in the kitchen seeped through his thin, white ankle socks as he stood and quickly dialed Quatres number.
Hope he's home... And... well...
unoccupied...The Japanese boys beautiful mouth formed in a deep frown as he waited for his friend on the other end to pick up the phone. Brows knitted in frustration he took a glance around the kitchen, neat and sparkling clean as usual he couldn't see a thing out of place.
"Hello?"
Heero jerked his attention back to the phone as the image of a politely smiling blond haired boy flashed onto the small screen. The Arabians face lightened the instant Heero's face came into view.
"Heero! How have you been?!" the boy exclaimed, a surprised and delighted look on his angelic face and shining in his bright blue eyes.
"Alright. You Quatre?" He held back from busting into interrogation mode, he hadn't spoken with Quatre in a long time and he knew better now, than to start off a long absence like that.
"I'm quite well. I've been meaning to get a hold of you but it seems thing just keep popping up." he said, brows furling cutely, "I try and make time for everybody to get together, but this past year has just been hectic. I make time, something else fills it up. Guess starting a new division of the Winner corporation would do that..." he mumbled, sounding a bit disappointed.
The former pilot of Sandrock had always been the one to bring them all together it seemed. In their heart of hearts, all of them secretly really did want to see their old friends again. But none of them other than the bubbly blond had the sense or willingness to pull it together. It'd been over a year since he'd been in the company of Quatre and the somber faced circus clown. Even longer... Much longer for a certain braided American.
"How is Trowa?" Heero found himself asking, and really actually wanting to know. The quiet French boy was still an important part of his life even if they weren't much in touch anymore... even though Heero wouldn't admit it.
The other boys face brighten considerably at the mention of his loving boyfriends name, "Oh, he's great. He's been very happy lately, putting show plans together with Catherine. He seems very content anymore."
Of course Trowa would be content. He and Quatre had come out and openly stated their relationship almost seven years ago now. Who wouldn't be happy to be living such a wonderful, fulfilling life such as that? All the pilots had been aware of their feelings long before the two love-sick kids had even said a word. Reading people came with the job.
"I hope so. Wufei sends his regards." his nasal monotone voice didn't sound as monotone to him anymore. It was still the same voice, same tone, same sound... But it was different. His words held the slightest bit of feeling. He was surprised.
"Another person I've been meaning to talk to..." Quatre muttered in soft reply, golden brows knitting again for a quiet moment.
"Quatre?" he questioned, drawing the desert prince out of his musings.
"Yes?" was his short and simple, yet interested and curious reply. Bright brows raised slightly as if to urge Heero on, he rested his small chin on a soft, small palm.
"I uh... Somebody broke in my house today and turned my T.V. on the Home Shopping Network and left me flowers with a card." he blurted out, deciding on the shorter of the two versions. Having just pulled a Duo, he wondered what had come over him. It was unlike him to... blurt anything out. Perhaps he really had changed...
Quatre was silent for a minute, his cheerful face looking thoughtful. Finally, "What kind of flowers?"
Heeros brows furrowed as he replied with a bit of wonder, "Roses..."
Cocking his cute head slightly to the side, Quatre said in that mellow voice of his, "Red?"
The Japanese boy simply nodded, unaware as to what this had to do with anything. Slightly confused he watched as Quatre asked him another question, this one seeming to make a bit more sense than the last one. A bit.
"What did the card say?" Quatre asked softly, curious.
He's not even seeing the point in this is he? Somebody broke in, who the hell cares what they wrote on the card...
"Heero...?"
He snapped out of it and held the card up to read it, " 'Been missing you' ."
"Anything else?" Quatre asked expectantly.
"A number," Squinting only slightly Heero made out the tiny numbers scrawled messily on the otherwise blank card, "12." The ex-wing pilot held up the card to the vid-cam and showed it to the boy at the other end.
"Well... Hmmm..." Quatre tried his best to look thoughtful but there was a knowing smirk encompassing his angelic face.
"Share." Heero grunted expectantly, dark brows coming down over his keenly annoyed eyes. Quatre was aware of something and wasn't planning on telling.
"Share what?" he said innocently enough, but the kid was just plain bad at lying. Not even his best innocent voice, which was damn good, could cover up the boys lie from Heero.
"Share what you know." The other former Gundam pilot narrowed his icy eyes in the you-better-tell-me-or-else-I'll-rip-out-your-kidneys way he did when he wanted questioning to go faster. Much faster in this case.
Instead, he got the opposite reaction from what he wanted, Quatre simply laughed heartily. "Heero, calm down. It's nothing pertaining to this, I was just messing with you."
The dark chocolate haired boy muttered something about Trowas newfound humor rubbing off on blonds as well before saying, "Well, do you know anything?"
"No Heero, I'm sorry, I really haven't got a clue." the blond said sincerely. Very sincerely.
"Alright, I have to go grocery shopping so I guess I'll contact you later." And then, almost as an after-thought he added, "Tell Trowa I said hello."
"Good bye Heero."
But the japanese boy turned of the monitor to quickly to see the mischievous, hopeless-romantic look that fell on his long time friends face. Maybe if he'd seen it, he would've had an inkling of things to come.
With a disgruntled sigh Heero ran a hand through his messy hair, only to have it flip right back into it's usual spot. After shuffling back into the boring white living room he flicked off the T.V. with a jab of his long finger. He turned from the extremely normal black television to leave the room but found his sock clad feet rooted in their places.
Blue oriental eyes focused on the blood red blooms situated on his simple coffee table. He found that he really did like flowers. The quiet way they seemed to brighten up the room with nothing more than a little bit of beauty... Just like a certain smile could.
And with that last thought he found his small nose buried in the petals, sucking up their fragrance. He'd never been aware that he liked their smell so much either. It was a bit of a shock that he could hold a fondness in his heart for something so pointless as a flower.
Stepping slightly back, he stared at the fresh smelling roses, getting a deep feeling in the pit of his empty stomach after a while. Dark brows coming together once again that day, this time in wonderance of both the flowers and the feeling unfurling in the bottomless pocket of his stomach.
Finally gathering his scattered wits enough to turn away and leave the thoughtful blooms, he strode from the crime scene into his sterile kitchen. Faint light streamed lazily in through his practical white blinds. Pulling harshly on one of the cords, the blinds abruptly shot up, causing the fading light to spill merrily into the normally dark kitchen.
Fake sunlight graced the white and gray marbled counter tops and spewed across the checkered tile floor like a fast moving fog. It bounced cheerfully off of the metallic refrigerator and silvery, spotless stove. Light flicked around the room, off of all the refracting surfaces in the room. Pots and pans hung neatly over the stove caused small dots of bright light to speckle the ceiling.
Heero missed the shocking transformation of his kitchen, to busy staring moodily out of glass imbedded in white painted wooden frames. Resting a narrow hip on the newly exposed window, he crossed his thin yet muscular arms over his still chest in his usual thoughtful fashion. The streets below were busy and full of city hustle and bustle.
Finally, the oriental boy expelled a long pent up sigh and closed his tired and confused eyes, letting his heavy head loll forward a little. Dark bangs, the color of sinful dark chocolate blocked his eyes from the view of the world outside when he opened them again. There was just something not right about his life. Something was terribly out of place, even he notice that.
Something was missing and he was having trouble putting a finger on it. His wonderful routine life just didn't seem so... wonderful anymore. There was a heavy silence in his heart and it seemed to will his heart not to beat. He was losing his sense of will. His will to wake up when his internal clock demanded harshly for him to. His will to jump in that cold unforgiving shower and right back out again moments later. His will to work long hours simply staring at a computer screen and punching in letters and digits seemed frayed.
He had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it'd been going on for quite some time now. His head forever caught up in the clouds, floating on nothing. His life just wasn't like before. He couldn't figure out what'd changed really, but it'd done such a thorough job of fucking with his head that it took long hours for the soldier to get to sleep anymore, though he was totally exaughsted.
A fleeting image flowed across the back of his eyes and he started. "That-..." his thought went unfinished as he tossed it to the back of his mind, compressed it as he'd done for years. Perhaps it's hard to find out what went wrong when you won't even let yourself examine the evidence, his mind stated softly in that soft, knowing voice that had been once been mellowed out to be reserved for one person and one only.
"Reserved for a rainy day Heero.. Reserved for an oh so stormy say..." he stated softly, to no one other than his troubled self. Pushing himself away from the window, he jerked the string again, sending the blinds careening down to block away the light once more. Pushing a slim and nimble hand through his hair once more, he strode over to the phone.
There, penned in his own neat black writing on the top yellow leaf of paper in a tablet, was his simple grocery list. Tearing it away, he looked it over, memorizing each and every object. Once his watchful blue eyes wandered over the last object on his list he carelessly crumpled the unneeded slip of paper in a strained fist. Tossing it in the blue plastic trashcan on his way out, he exited the darkening room with his natural grace.
Creature of routine, he slid on his shoes at the door, while at the same time sliding on a worn leather jacket. The jacket was defiantly not Yuy style but it wasn't his, but instead it had been someone else's gift to him. It was already worn and slightly torn when it had been given to him and all the more special for it. Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, he turned the jackets smooth collar right side out and jammed his keys in his pocket.
After that, he turned to a small silver key pad located on the empty white wall next to the simple, yet surprisingly painted black, wooden door. Punching in another five digit code, different than the one he'd used on the outside, he nodded slightly when he heard the quiet beep of recognition. And with that, through the open portal he went, slamming the unseemingly high tech door behind him.