Monday morning 6 a.m., Heero was running. The streets were desolate; the onset of traffic and humanity remerging was imminent. He did require headphones blaring music to keep pace, running full-speed on lonely sidewalks gave him enough stimulation. His rapid footfalls echoed on the alleyway walls. His breath was heavy yet steady, and his hair wet with sweat, dripping down the features of his face. This was his routine, consistently every dawn he would rouse and emerge on the empty streets. He would run until his leg muscles burned. He would return home, shower, eat breakfast and then proceed to class.
Heero enjoyed most of the college courses he had taken. Despite his efforts to sustain anonymity, he had gained fast notoriety amongst the faculty. His first year, he could observe history professors in awe of him, recognizing who he was yet never broaching him in conversation. General education required world history since the After Colony calendar was established. That had been an awkward class for Heero, often during lecture the professor would look to him and lose his train of thought. Because of this Heero remained silent, offering no questions or comments under the professor's speculation. Odin Lowe had been an answer on a multiple choice question, seeing his name like that hurt him more than any words could express. To be remembered as such, Heero conjectured the same fate would have befallen him if he had died in battle. This reaffirmed his sentiment no matter how justified he had felt, history scholars would still deem Operation Meteor as terrorism.
He had failed Intro to Philosophy due to his final term paper. His final paper's thesis had been, "Only that which has the ability to take its own life is truly alive." Heero had included sound counter-arguments but concluded that a man can only ascertain if he would commit suicide by trying. He had not been entirely serious but he could not decide on a topic, he had been struggling with course all semester. In fact, Heero keenly hated philosophy. Was the chair there? Is it still a chair if we did not call it a chair? Where do you end and the chair begin? Heero had no concern with these matters. Upon receiving his term paper back, Heero had burst out into laughter, drawing the attention of his peers. Scratched in red pen was his failing grade along with a phone number to free counseling on campus. He retook the class, passing with a C-.
Yet the majority of the student body overlooked Heero in regards to his past. He never sought friends or a significant other. He never felt impelled to do so. However, he procured several acquaintances amid the student protests. During his second year, the university's administration attempted to set a new agenda of barring transfer students from Earth by means of a rather large tuition fee hike. Heero attended the initial meetings, causally taking over, asserting his judgments nonchalantly. His peers welcomed Heero's advice; the day of the walk-out mobs of students had organized and flanked the administration building and other key offices. The multitude of students overpowered the campus, instigating its close for that day. The protest was non-violent and a success, the fee for transfer students was revoked.
Heero maintained the same route each morning. He would time each run; the duration rarely strayed more than thirty seconds of his average time. His life was repetitious and effortless, save from his visits with Relena. It had been two days since he had seen Duo. Heero was apprehensive of his desire, and he was inconclusive on how to act on it. He sped over the crosswalk; a lit hand was blinked a stark orange hue. Slowly, vehicles began to appear on span of the asphalt as people manifested on the sidewalks. He could not determine how this feeling suddenly arose and swept over him. Nor could he distinguish if this desire was novel. Had his attraction to Duo be latent, repressed all this time? He could not deny that he felt a kinship towards Duo. Heero suddenly ceased movement. He stood before his apartment, glancing at his wristwatch. The digital clock indicted that he had been two minutes slower that his typical time. Heero scowled and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Wednesday Afternoon, Duo was bent awkwardly under an external thruster, it was half dismantled. Arrays of colored wires were tangled, spilling out over the tarnished metal. Duo heard footfalls approaching. Howard's feet appeared next to Duo's head, dangerously close to his lengthy braid. Howard announced with ease, "C'mon Duo. Business meeting." Duo crept out, on his knees; he witnessed Howard and Malcolm ambling towards the back exit of the shop.
"What is it boss?" Duo spoke causally as he pushed the door open. His attention was drawn towards to Howard's hands, stuffing his glass pipe with a nugget of marijuana. Duo smirked, nodding at Malcolm. Malcolm was the lead computer technician, often having to create new mainframes for each ship. Because of this Duo rarely saw him, thus never acquired any assessment of his character. Yet, Duo decided if he was selected to partake in Howard's conferences he had to be alright. Howard asked for a lighter which Duo retrieved from his pocket. Howard offered the green to Duo, which he accepted with a wide smile. He held the pipe to his lips, igniting the lighter over the dried cannabis, inhaling deeply. Duo passed the glass pipe and lighter to Malcolm, exhaling a haze of grey. Howard glanced at Duo, and expressed with an air of disinterest, "So what did that Yuy kid want?"
Malcolm coughed after taking a toke, and handed the pipe to Howard. Duo shrugged, and spoke carefully, "I really have no idea." Howard pouted his lower lip in thought and slanted his head, then proceeded to smoke.
"You mean the pilot of Wing was here?" Malcolm asked excitedly. Duo tensed and eyed him as he chattered on. "My girlfriend keeps hoping that he and Relena will get together. She says that they'll unite Earth and the colonies, you know? Can you imagine fucking the Queen of the World?" Malcolm laughed too loud. Duo took the pipe from Howard's hand, his genial demeanor abating. He instantly decided that he disliked Malcolm.
"Watch your mouth," Howard chided with no real conviction.
Malcolm was chagrinned, yet recomposed himself before inquiring, "So Duo, any word on that?" Duo drew more smoke from the glass stem, taking his time. Upon pushing out the smoke over his lips, Duo's expression was aloof.
He finally replied, "Don't hold your breath." Duo thanked Howard, giving his shoulder a pat, advancing towards the shop door. Aggravation was swelling in Duo despite the TCH. He earnestly attempted to focus on his work. He ended up stripping the wrong wire, an error he had to mend. Duo replaced the faulty wire after much difficulty locating it. When he tested the power the circuit arched, indicting there was a wire grounded someplace else, meaning Duo spent the last hour in vain. Duo exasperated muttered fuck under his breath. He reached into the front pocket of his coveralls, pulling out his cell phone to check the time. It was seventeen to five. He thought it was time to call it a day. In the office's one unisex bathroom he changed into his street clothes, ripped jeans and a grey pull-over sweat shirt. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his face contoured into a seething sulk. Duo gruffly slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and left.
Daylight waned, Duo lay on his bed. He had his stereo booming lugubrious heavy metal. He stared at his cell phone in contempt. Duo had always been fond of Heero yet he suspected it was futile. He also assumed that Relena had beguiled Heero. Lusting after Heero was safe; his admiring of Heero was simply fodder for his teenage masturbation fantasies. He never fathomed that his feelings would come to fruition. He never imagined that he would smooth his hands through Heero's hair nor bite down on his lip in a hunger kiss. Duo groaned, these last days had been hellish for him. His continual obsessing over that night was bearing on his sanity. Languidly Duo pulled his body from the mattress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he swept a hand through his bangs. He desperately wanted to stop the flood of thoughts swirling in his skull space. Duo decided to get drunk.
He possessed enough whiskey, but he fretted he did not have enough cigarettes. Duo had a habit of chain-smoking when drunk. Walking to the kitchen, Duo mouthed the lyrics to the familiar song pouring out from the speakers. He retrieved a bottle of whiskey and perched himself on the kitchen stool. Taking a large swig from the bottle, hoping that he would not have a hangover tomorrow, Duo sighed. Bottle in his hand, he moved to the couch, for the next several hours he idly watched television periodically gulping down the liquor. When the bottle was drained a third of its contents and his cigarettes were gone, Duo's felt morose and lonesome. He felt cursed, unable to stop thinking of him. He was not so inebriated where he would drunk-dial Heero, but was lit enough that sending Heero a text message seemed like a great idea. His fingers fought to be steady. The message was sent. Duo tossed the phone on the couch cushion next to him, reclining back he gaped at the ceiling. His peripheral vision was reeling, distorting his poorly lit living room.
Heero rouse immediately. On the night stand, his cell phone vibrated and blinked. Sitting up in bed, Heero furrowed his brow. His alarm clock displayed the time of 3:46 a.m. He never received text messages, except on the rare occasion when Relena was stuck in a diplomacy seminar. Her messages read that Heero could kill her now. Heero stretched his arm, ensnaring the phone in his grip. Flipping it open, an indication of a text message from an unknown number, he pressed enter. It read, "We're friends right?" Heero stared bemused at the message, the glow from the cell phone lighting up his face. Heero called the number, after five rings the voicemail message was prompted.
"Hey, yo! Duo here, but I'm not here. So you know what to do." His voice was cheerful. The timestamp on the message told that it was only sent minutes before. Heero was posed in contemplation, although sleep was still smeared over his cognition. Heero felt enlivened, hearing his voice stirred him. Yet it befuddled him to why Duo did not answer. Heero input a reply and sent, "What are you doing?"
A few minutes ebbed into the shadows before Heero's phone sounded. "Thinking," Heero frowned at the concise message. Entirely out of impulse Heero typed in his response, "You okay?" Heero had lain awake for nearly an hour before his sleep crept back over his conscious. He never received a reply.
Thursday morning Duo's head pulsed in pain. His throat was tender and he coughed. He laboriously crawled out of bed. It dawned on his that he could not recall changing his clothes or going to bed. A surge of fear struck him as he searched from his phone, fighting his aches. Ripping at his sheets and pillows, he located it buried at the foot of the bed. His phone showed that he had missed a call from Heero. Immediately, he viewed his incoming and outgoing call record which showed that no new calls where made or answered. He emitted a low rasp of air, feeling some meager sense of relief. But it was fleeting, he browsed his text messages. It wasn't a feeling of regret, yet something similar. However, he was pleased with himself he did not answer the phone. Though he could not remember if that happened by his choice. Duo assumed he had irritated Heero last night, it was a bad move. Blacking out gave Duo a dire feeling of uneasiness. He was able to drag himself to work, but Duo tormented himself all day. He felt he should call him back, yet Duo was nervous. He had no idea what to say. Throughout the afternoon Duo played out possible conversations in his head, feeling stupid for doing so.
Duo returned home from work exceedingly grateful that his day was over. As he opened his front door he stepped on cardboard envelope. Duo eyed the same-day express letter, culling it off the carpet. Inspecting it as he kicked the door shut behind, he tore it open. The documents he withdrew were from Universal Travel Shuttle Agency informing him that his flights to Colony CD86 had been paid for; all he needed to do was schedule his flight twenty-four hours before departure. Duo studied the papers, the personal message segment read: Come see me. Duo remained motionless, mild contentment brushed over his temperament. Duo dialed Heero's number; it immediately went to an automated message. Duo uttered calmly, "Hey man, yeah, I'll try and head your way this weekend. Call me back."
Author's note: I feel this chapter was a little slow, but necessary. Bare with me! Also, comments and critique are very much appreciated. Thanks.