A/N: Thanks to everyone who had reviewed. I'm glad to know that people are interested in seeing the story continued.
The story is about a man with a young daughter. In the first few pages of the comic, the girl looks out the window of their shuttle and asks her dad where space comes from. He pats her on the head and says that space just is. Then she asks if she comes from a test tube, like the boys at school say she does, and her dad says, of course not. Of course not.
Wufei starts Duo off with character sketches, trying to get the feel of Lydia and her dad down. Duo fills page after page with different little girls wearing every outfit and hairstyle, exhibiting every gesture and expression little girls are capable of, before Wufei finally settles on one.
"I don't mean to be difficult," Wufei apologizes. "Lydia just has to be perfect. She makes the whole story."
Duo sets aside the rejected drawings and smiles. He understands the desire for precision. What good is expression if it's not accurate?
"No worries," he says. "It's all good practice." He checks his watch. They've been at it for three and a half hours. Duo flexes the muscles in his right hand, curls his wrist towards the underside of his arm to stretch it.
Wufei notes the gesture and collects his own papers. "That should be fine for today. I'll finish writing up the descriptions of the setting so we can work on that next time, and hopefully I'll have some actual paneling done soon." He drums his finger lightly against the table. "It'd be nice to have some pages done by next month to put online, so my readers can see what I'm working on. It'd be good publicity for you as well."
Duo agrees. Just last night, he'd been thinking over when to let his followers know what he was working on. He isn't sure how many of them fall into the graphic novel audience, though. Probably not a lot.
"Since you drove all the way down here, let me make you dinner," Wufei says. "And next time I'll make the drive up to you."
Duo waves his hand. "I'll take dinner, but I don't mind coming down here. It's nice to have a change of scenery."
Wufei watches him for a minute to see what else he'll say, then asks directly, "How is it with Heero?"
Duo shrugs, gives a dry laugh. "You know. Just the same as it always is. I'm trying not to think about it so much."
He'd actually resolved to himself not to think about Heero for two whole months, written down the date and the promise in his journal. But he'd broken it within hours, and he'd been disgusted with himself, and that still hadn't been enough to stop him from calling Heero and arranging to eat lunch with him the following day.
He doesn't want to tell Wufei any of this. Inside, he'd been hoping that finally confessing everything to someone would have released him in some way, overcome the hurdle for him. That hadn't happened.
"I mean, I'm pretty used to how things are. I feel like it's a common enough pattern in my life. The guys I'm interested in would never be interested in a guy like me."
Wufei frowns. "Then what is it that makes you interested in them?"
Duo doesn't know how to answer so general a question, so he just replies in regard to Heero. "He listens, probably better than anyone else I know. He trusts my own opinion of myself and doesn't expect more from me than I can give. I mean, I guess that's the problem, that he never expects anything from me. But it's comforting, too, in a way."
"Because you can't disappoint him." Wufei says this as a statement.
"I guess," Duo answers.
Wufei gives him five more seconds of silence before turning towards the kitchen and digging some things out of his fridge. "I'm not much of a cook, but I can at least put a stir-fry together."
He then goes on to disprove this with the deft way he chops fresh zucchini squash and dices onions, slices bamboo shoots into slivers and throws it all into his wok. Duo rests his chin in his hands and watches in awe from the kitchen counter as he rolls the vegetables along the rounded sides and tosses them. Duo loses track of all the sauces and herbs that Wufei adds in for seasoning. Somewhere along the line he'd also managed to throw in ground pork, cooked earlier that day, and baby bok choy.
Duo is almost sad when Wufei hands him a small bowl of rice with his half of the stir-fry scooped over it. He won't enjoy the taste of the food as much as watching Wufei make it.
If this were Heero he was eating with, they'd eat mostly in silence, leaving each to his own thoughts. But it's Wufei who is sitting across the small round table, and Wufei is no longer the silent man he was during the war.
"I've never asked you before. What made you want to go into art?"
Duo takes a moment to think, working his way through two more bites of food. It's a question he's been asked a dozen times, but he doesn't want to give Wufei the pat answer, cut-and-dry like he would to a magazine.
"I think it started just because I loved it, and felt like I was good at it." He smiles. "I was the biggest graffiti fiend when I was a kid. Learned how to paint with a spray can in the back alleys of L2 before G picked me up. And I always sketched when I had time, even during the war.
"I think, though, that once the war was over and I had to decide what to do next with my life, that's all I could think of. I mean, that was all I really knew. I guess I could have gone back to scrapping, or joined Preventers, or something like that. But those are all just these tiny parts of me. The majority of who I am is caught up in pictures." He pauses. He always pauses here when he tells this, but he doesn't have to hesitate this time because he feels like Wufei will understand.
"I think in pictures. I dream in pictures. I talk in pictures whenever I'm able to. Sometimes I wish I could just draw something instead of having to explain to someone how I'm doing, because with words it all gets lost in translation. And after all the fighting was done, I realized I only had the energy left to fight for this one thing. For my art. To express my thoughts about all the shit we went through and hope that it would help someone, somewhere. Give them hope, like painting those alleyways did for me as a kid."
Wufei nods in understanding and doesn't comment on the emotion that has crept into Duo's voice. Because it's impossible for him to say all that without feeling the same conviction he felt on those streets, that there must be something more, something to reach for.
"It's similar for me," Wufei says. "I returned to literature because it's what I loved before the war, but writing has become a way to hope for me. Something like a star." And he smiles to himself, though Duo doesn't catch the reference.
They continue to talk about writing and art and expression and all the things that burn so strongly in Duo's heart that he never knows how to say out loud. Because Heero probably wouldn't understand those things, and Quatre certainly wouldn't, with all his practicality. Sad as it is, those are really the only two people Duo has in his life right now.
So it's a relief to talk to someone who understands, and the evening is a nice end to a busy day. More than nice. Refreshing in a way that Duo needs. He had no idea that this is part of what his life is missing until tonight. A friend who can support him in his art, who gets the purpose of it all. Who cares enough to even ask about the purpose.
When Duo drives home that night, he sings loud for the whole two hours. He feels like he's finally moving on a bit, and it feels good. He feels free.
He still has those lunch plans with Heero to worry about the next day. He got home so late the night before that he barely even has the time to dress before Heero knocks on his door. He feels like he has some extra courage today. He doesn't need to push their conversation towards something deeper, and he's not even sure that he wants to.
He finds himself unable to stop chatting about Wufei while they're walking down the stairs, during the ride to the restaurant, all the way through the meal, even. It's weird that he already has so much to say about the project. They've only met twice now.
Heero listens to every word with his usual patience, although Duo thinks that a few of his comments sound out of place. Slightly annoyed. Duo knows that he's talking too much and tries to stop, he really does. But their usual silence is suddenly so uncomfortable.
"So tell me how you're doing," Duo says lamely.
Heero responds with a description of his latest work project, but it's all details and logistics, as usual. A whole bunch of facts that Duo will certainly memorize and follow-up with next time he sees him, but he still wishes for something more. Some days Heero gives it to him, but this isn't one of them.
Their normal rhythm is just off today. They're not quite on the same page. Duo feels willing to talk about nearly anything, and Heero's a closed book, looking like he doesn't even want to be sitting there. Duo's starting to feel the same way.
Heero signals the waitress for the bill.
When Duo visits the gallery during the last week of his show, he walks slowly past the walls, noting which pieces have orange tags. Most of them do, and that knowledge gives him a funny feeling in his chest. It's a hodgepodge of relief, excitement and total fear that those little pieces of himself are now sitting in people's living rooms and offices. But overall it's good. It's freeing.
There is one piece, however, that is conspicuously without a tag. And Duo wouldn't care – never really let it bother him when a piece didn't sell the first time around – except that it's the one. The first one sold, to Heero, about Heero, unfinished and for some reason marked, once again for sale.
The first feeling that cuts through the shock is one of betrayal, and then anger. Why didn't he say anything? Duo knows he's going to have to screw up his courage to talk to Heero about this, because it'll be really awkward when that piece ends up back in his studio when it's supposed to be in Heero's apartment. Did he think Duo wouldn't notice?
It takes him two days to figure out the words he wants to say, and he realizes something. Part of him wants to pick a fight. Part of him always looks forward to conflict with Heero, even if it means shouting and harsh words. It never comes down to that, literally never has since after the war, but when Duo's planning what to say, he always expects it will. Kind of hopes that it will, if he's honest.
Maybe it's the desire to speak his mind without holding anything back, without overthinking everything. Maybe he's just angry. He doesn't know anymore.
When he finally does get around to talking to him, Heero reacts as expected. Listens to Duo explain how hurt he is, then apologizes. "It seemed like you didn't really want me to have it," is the only explanation he offers.
Duo actually clenches his fist in his lap. "But I thought you wanted it. I thought that's why you bought it." He doesn't know how to say those words right, to get them to mean what he wants them to mean.
Heero studies him for a minute. "You said that you were the only one who understand everything that painting meant. So I thought that you would want to keep it with you and finish it. I thought it would be strange for me to have it."
Duo stares at him, then anywhere but him. The words echo strangely in his head. It would be strange for me to have it. That's when he realizes why he's really upset. Because there was something hopeful about Heero being drawn to that painting, something soothing about picturing it on his wall. Duo put that one in the show because he didn't want it shunted back to him, where it would likely stay unfinished forever. He wanted it to end, and when Heero had bought it, it had seemed like such a pat resolution. A funny story that he would tell Heero once they finally started dating.
Duo says some more words, but he doesn't even know what they are. Something along the lines of 'don't worry about it'. He can barely hear Heero's answer over the roaring white noise in his head.
