Sheenannemarie: Sorry this reply is a chapter late! I'm still experiencing technical difficulties with FF . net -.-' But thanks for both your reviews! :) You are definitely right that it is burdening Duo, which will be addressed near the end of the story. I hope you will continue to read till then :) Thanks again for your reviews!
Snowdragonct: Thank you for reviewing so quickly and so kindly :) I really liked the scene myself, it showed a bond that may sometimes be lost in the present day time of the story. Thanks again for your review and I hope you will like this chapter :)
CircleKV12: It was more an intermezzo than a full blown chapter, sorry about that. I just wanted to slow it down a bit and not start giving everything away just yet, but that is coming :) Nettle is based on a psychologist that I know personally. He (! :P) is good, but very straight to the point and somewhat aloof to people that aren't under his treatment. I did intend for her to come across as a little rude because I ant the relationship between her and Duo to end up negatively. I hope that isn't giving too much away :S The kisses will soon return and the other pilots will return as well, near the end of the story (which unfortunately is drawing close) Thank you for reviewing, even though it was indeed quite an uneventful chapter :)
Kai-Chan94: Thank you! :) Yes, Duo has a nose for trouble, why else would he end up falling in love with the Perfect Soldier. Poor him ;)
Starless-ocean: Well, I'm glad you think so. Not much actually happened, but there are of course always little things that help the story and the characters along and it's good to hear that you appreciate them :) I'm not sure I understand what you meant by your final comment: "But I somehow miss Duo's 'I might run and hide, but never lie'" Would you mind explaining it me? Maybe it's something that was my intentions but have been doing wrong. Whether it's something I did intentionally or not, or can be helped or not, I'd like to know. If you don't mind of course, I'm not pressuring you into doing something you might not want or have the time for :) Thank you for your review, I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)
Nikki: I'm not familiar with the phrase, nor Anchorman, sorry :S The office is based on the office of a psychologist I know, which is also an alien realm of wood and decorative items in an otherwise minimalist and modern building. I do agree with you that sometimes during the show Heero displayed suicidal tendencies, but not out of personal motivation, only if he felt his death was beneficial to the process of the war. In the flashback scene, however, it obviously would have been better for the purpose of the mission if he hadn't risked his life as well. Love indeed ;). Of course the whole at-J's-order-I-will-blow-up-Wing-while-I'm-standing-on-it hadn't happened yet at the time of the flashback, otherwise Duo might have thought differently :P Thank you for reviewing :)
KenshinnXX: I didn't take the comment in a negative way if that's what you think :) A lot of reviewers are speculating and it's fun to read. I'm glad you don't like the psychiatrist, you're not really supposed to :P Thank you for your review :)
Phoenix Pinion1: Wow, thank you for your review! You are so kind. I'm so happy to read that the story appeals to you this strongly :) I wouldn't describe their relationship as the lyrics of "Grenade" either, but a reviewer mentioned the song and simply the first half of the chorus inspired me to write the flashback scene. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy Warheads :)
bbchan: Thank you :) I'm glad you liked it.
Chibichocopaws: Thank you for your review :) I agree that Heero did show some suicidal/careless tendencies during the war, but I don't think he is suicidal in the way most people refer to when they use that word. It's not like he is tired of his life and wants to die, most of the time he just doesn't care and does what he thinks is best for the mission. But still, maybe he is suicidal, the flashback took place rather early in the original timeline and just because Duo thinks he knows Heero is not suicidal, doesn't mean he isn't. I'm glad you liked the flashback scene regardless :)
Sue: I've been taken aback by the disaster as well. For me writing is big part of returning some normalcy to my life, but it was hard to do so after such horrible news. I'm glad that in spite of the horrible things that have happened in the world, you still found time to read my story and I'm extra happy that you enjoyed the chapter. I love your last comment about Heero talking out of his ass, but sounding like he is right, that is so true :) Thank you for your review :)
XxSpaceXCowgirlxX: Thank you for the triple review :) I'm so happy you seem to be enjoying it that much. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy Warheads and I hope to hear from you again :) Thanks again for your kind en enthusiastic reviews.
Author's note:
As reviewer Sue pointed out and surely everyone is aware of, something has happened recently that makes everything, from our deepest troubles to our highest joys, pathetically insignificant. Japan has been overcome by tragedy that defies description. The kind that I always naively wish never to hear from again, after the tsunami in Sri Lanka, Katrina in New Orleans and the flooding in Pakistan, to only name a few. Mother nature gives us everything we need and often we take even more than that. Sometimes, sadly, it seems like she's done giving and then she takes.
One of my best friends is in Japan right now for her internship. Waiting for her to answer my calls and emails was distressful. When she finally responded, my first reaction was relief. My immediate second reaction was grief. A lot of people will not have their phone calls and emails answered... So many lives have been lost and many more affected...
It felt very unimportant and silly to finish this chapter after having heard of the devastating earthquake and tsunami. I almost feel disrespectful for putting so much time and effort into something this redundant. My feelings were very mixed about posting this chapter. But I hope that reading the story brings you enjoyment. If you have been affected by the tragedy as I am, I hope it takes your mind off it, if only for a little while. Writing it has kindly done that for me.
Warheads
Part XXVI - White crane
That Monday was a weird day. A paradox. Because it was the first normal day in over two weeks...
The morning started early. I left the warmth of my bed, keeping quiet eyes settled on Heero as I blindly groped the room and closet for clothes. His wheeze was gone, his breathing silent; a dead clam. He was lying on his back, with his face turned away. Shadows and bangs obstructed my view, but I comfortingly knew his expression to be peaceful. Only in sleep though.
I stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind me. The thick curtains of the bedroom window had kept away all the light, but in spite of the early hour, the living room was washed in warm sunlight. I slipped into my coat, checking the pockets for the keycard and my wallet and then passed through the front door. To wake myself up I took the stairs down and outside the only person I saw was the mailman, delivering letters to the only few remaining people who refused to receive their mail digitally.
With my hands deep in the pockets of my jeans, absentmindedly plucking at the inner seam, I walked down the street almost suspiciously casually. I felt like a complete alien, an imposter. Back from a life that I tried to reject, but seemed to be inextricably woven into me.
I had walked this trail many times before, but after being plunged back into the world of soldiers and survival for the past two weeks, it seemed I would have to rebuilt all the comfort and confidence that I had previously acquired. I felt exactly the same as when the war had just ended. I was eager to shake that feeling, embrace the normality.
I stopped in front of the door of the bakery, nervous and hesitant and I entertained the thought of shrugging my shoulders, ducking my head between the collar of my jacket and going back empty handed. But the decision was taken away from me. The elderly baker walked to the front of the store, to neatly rearrange her products. She glanced up and froze when she saw me. Then all of a sudden her face broke into a smile and she hurried towards the door to open it for me.
I smiled at her sheepishly.
"You're back! You want breakfast?" She exclaimed excitedly. "I have your bagels ready. I always have your bagels ready. I knew you would be back." She shuffled through the back door where I heard her talking loudly and excitedly in a foreign language.
Her warm welcome eased away some of my discomfort.
She returned holding a familiar paper bag.
I accepted it and felt it was still warm. "Thank you."
Her smile widened. "Do you want anything else? Do you want cookies? Do you want bread? I have cake too. Do you want cake?"
"No, thank you. Nothing special. Today is just a normal day. Are you sure..." With my free hand I pulled my wallet out of my jacket, but as soon as she saw it her hands enveloped mine and she tucked it back into the pocket, out of sight.
"No money." She said, her kind eyes sparkling gleefully.
"Thank you."
As always - as usual - she had work to do, so she ushered me out of her little, traditional bakery and before closing the door behind me she said definitively: "I will see you tomorrow."
I could only nod, knowing she would accept no objections. I walked the way back home and upon entering the apartment I saw Heero sitting at the kitchen table, wearing clean sweatpants and a button-up shirt, hanging open, struggling to tie his shoes with his one available hand as the other arm, in the sling, could not reach down. I put the bag down on the kitchen counter and kneeled down in front of him, tying his shoes, after which I buttoned up his shirt. I could feel the tension in his body.
"This is stupid." He said, displeased with his independence.
"It'll get better soon." I didn't mention that it was already a great improvement that he could dress himself, it sounded so belittling. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you again?"
"Yes."
I prepared our breakfast with my back turned towards him, hiding my thoughtful face as I contemplated whether or not we were moving too quickly. I understood his reluctance to have me with him during physiotherapy. The therapist had him performing the most basic exercises, no more difficult nor straining than bending and stretching his leg - slightly - and maneuvering his arm around. Though Heero would never admit it, it was a strike to his pride. His body was capable of doing things no one else could claim to be capable of, but that had been temporarily taken from him. He didn't want me to see him in his most vulnerable and exposed state, I was sympathetic to that, knowing I would feel the same way if the situation was reversed, but sometimes the way we want things to be, is not the right way for things to be. Maybe it was too soon to let him go by himself, even though he adamantly insisted.
"Maybe I should come with you. It's only your second appointment." I tried as I put a plate in front of him.
"There is no valid reason for you to accompany me." He stated flatly, taking a bite.
I knew by the tone of his voice and the way he averted his face, there was no way of peacefully convincing him to let me go with him. I spite of my personal doubt, I didn't argue further and dug into my own breakfast, reveling the taste of the warm bagel as opposed to the frozen bread we had been eating lately. "Maybe I'm just trying to find an excuse not to go back to school." I joked lightheartedly, though there was truth in my jest.
"You don't want to go back?" He looked up with an endearing frown as he tried to understand me.
"I'm just a little nervous. I like doing the "regular teen thing", but after the past two weeks it's hard to go back to lunchboxes, algebra tests and paper airplanes, it all seems so damn insignificant in the great schemes of things. It's a completely different mindset." I explained, though uncertain I could ever make him understand.
We finished breakfast without further conversation and as I cleared the dishes I watched Heero limp into the office. He was becoming quite handy and nimble with his crutch. I walked after him and saw him sit down in his seat and boot up his laptop. I put my hands on my hips and sighed to catch his attention. He quirked a questioning eyebrow at me. "You're on leave. That's means you don't work." I explained. There was something about seeing him retreat back into this tiny office and disappear behind the screen of his laptop that frightened me. Like he had one foot dangling over the edge and the fall was a spiraling way down a path we had already taken.
"What am I supposed to do?" He asked pathetically.
"Anything you want!"
He frowned and looked back at his laptop. "But I want to work."
I leaned forward and pushed the screen down to the keyboard. "Anything you want. Except work."
Heero's frown only deepened. "What does that leave me with?"
I chuckled. "Watch TV. Take naps. Ponder the meaning of life..."
"I have no particular interest in any of those options."
"Okay..." I looked around the room and my eyes settled on the row of books I had borrowed from the school library for my classes, among which Colony Literature, French and Arts and Crafts. I bend over to scan the titles on the backs of the thick books and with a smirk hooked my finger onto one of them and plucked it from the shelf. The book made a loud thud as it landed heavily on the desk in front of him.
Heero scrutinized the colorful book cover while I walked over to the printer and got out a stack of plain white paper and placed it next to the book.
Heero glared at me. "Zen and the art of Origami?"
"Yeah, it's supposed to be relaxing." I tilted my watch to face me and blinked at the time. "I gotta go, buddy. You have fun with that." I grinned and leaned in for a playful, small kiss of his lips - parted in surprise. I grabbed my backpack and hurried out the door, my feet moving in a quick jog not because I would otherwise be late, but because I shouldn't leave myself time to change my mind. Pulling the door shut behind me was bitter, but I continued at my rapid pace without looking back, convincing myself that some time apart would be good for us, space to be ourselves again, individual entities. But I dreaded the separation of our beings, not liking that I was going back to a life that he was no part of and that he was going to a life I was no part of.
I arrived at the gate of the school yard just as the crowd was pushing to get through the doors into the building. The bell signaling the beginning of the first period still echoed. I remembered my way to the right classroom, but still it felt strange. Like my feet knew of a destination my mind had no knowledge of.
Teenagers bustled through the narrow hallways, their fashionable sneakers squeaking on the ill-colored linoleum floor. Nearing the end of the hallway the crowd got smaller and quieted down. I slipped through the doorway into the classroom, passed the teacher who welcomed me after my long absence and reminded me to stop by the administration desk.
Someone in the back of the classroom squealed.
I twisted my head around and was suddenly, for lack of better words, glomped. I smelled strawberry shampoo in the blonde, curly hair. I chuckled and hugged her back before prying her off me.
"Yer back!" Sookie, Queen of stating the obvious, said and pulled me to our neighboring desks.
"Yeah..." I sat down, groaning at the hard, wooden seat that I landed in. It felt surreal to be back but Sookie assured - to the dismay of the impatient and old-fashioned teacher - that I would soon be completely up-to-date. Though not a fan of gossiping I listened to her presentation of elaborate and detailed rumors and observations with a smile, my eyes sometimes following her hands as she wildly gestured around herself.
Her stories continued and reached their climax as we met up in line at the cafeteria. As we fought other students for scraps of the most edible dishes, she informed me with overt content that Aiden had misstepped once more, with serious consequences; a week of suspension and a month of lunch-duty. Whilst giggling my Southern friend pointed a colorful fingernail at a particularly chagrin girl in the back of the open kitchen, hiding her hairnet from sight. Sookie seemed delighted when I inquired about the reason Aiden had misbehaved, she took me by the arm for a veritable "show and tell". She guided me through the masses of students and approached a table. I waited for her to say something, but when my eyes settled on the students seated at the table I realized no explanation was required.
Sitting with his legs thrown over Hunter's lap, cupping his face as they met in a passionate kiss, was Aston. Surrounded by a selection of jocks and cheerleaders who didn't seem to be bothered by the sight in the least.
I sputtered something incoherent, making Sookie burst into laughter and pull me back to our regular lunch place, outside under the tree. Once there I managed to compose myself and blurted: "I've been gone for two weeks and there is a new world order!"
"Well, teenagers..." Sookie mused, eating her lunch with her hands. "They can change on a dime given there's someone to prompt 'em to turn. Hunter is like a God in this place, they'd rather change the way they believe than the person they believe in."
"So... Gay is okay?" I asked, baffled by the display that I had witnessed.
"By God no! Though that would be a nice slogan. Some people never had a problem with gays but pretended to, to fit in, now it's all upside down inside out. The people who do have a problem with gays pretend they're okay with it to fit in. Monkey see, monkey do." She shrugged. "I'm just enjoying it while it lasts. As soon as Hunter loses a game things'll change again. People need only one rational excuse to hate ya irrationally." She caught the straw from her small pack of milk with her lips and slurped up the last of the drink.
"High school is so disturbed."
She smirked. "Amen."
The bell rang and we returned to class, going our separate ways. I looked at the clock on the wall above the digital smart board and compared the time with my wristwatch. It was just past noon and I knew Heero would be arriving at the Preventer HQ. That brought me a heavy feeling in my heart and in my gut, drawing my focus elsewhere, making the Spanish rambling of the teacher even more incomprehensible than usual.
All of a sudden there was a loud bark going through the classroom with my name attached to it: "Preste atención, señor Maxwell!"
"Yes." I stammered, but at the high rise of her penciled eyebrow I realized my mistake. "Si, señorita."
She nodded and continued to address the class about the grammatical pitfalls of the upcoming chapter.
I sighed and lowered my eyes to my textbook, squinting at all the unfamiliar words and signs, like inverted question- and exclamation marks. Aside from a matter of pride and heritage, I didn't understand the necessity of all these different languages we were supposed to learn. Not many students would discover this, few would ever cross RUSA borders, with strict travel and immigration laws, but I had traveled across the world and with my minimal - more or less non-existent - expertise of foreign languages I never had any trouble making myself understood.
I grumbled at myself. Only two weeks I'd spent away from school and already I was second-guessing the system, just like I had in the beginning. I felt like I had awoken out of a coma and had to learnt to speak and walk all over again. Whether that was because I was inept at this normal life, or simply didn't care for it, I did not know. It confused me. All I knew for certain was that I was suddenly immensely annoyed by the guy in front of me shooting spitballs at a girl in the front row, and the two cheerleaders passing notes to each other under their tables, accompanied by giggles and blushes and the teacher reprimanding me like I was a child. Everyone was so caught up with themselves, the proud center of their own universe. None of them even knew that kids barely older than them were going into secret missions woefully unprepared, because they - as one of few - appreciated peace and the effort it took to protect it.
The day dragged on and I dragged my feet keeping pace with it. During math I observed Aston, who paid me no heed - apparently having completely overcome his affection for me. He wasn't paying much attention to anything the elderly teacher mumbled into his old-fashioned chalkboard. Instead he was bent over a notebook, doodling purposelessly, but in the seemingly random scribbles of black and blue pen I detected a pattern, a name. Hunter. His infatuation was endearing. I could only hope Sookie was wrong, that things would not take a turn back for the worse.
I looked down at my own notebook. At my irregular handwriting neatly between the lines, no script beyond the borders. I clicked my pen on and off a few times and wiggled it playfully between my fingers.
The teacher spoke to his class, with his back turned to all of us as he wrote. "We can determine our own confidence intervals of certain percentages with critical Z-scores outlined in table D in your books. I want you all to write down the standard formula for confidence intervals, which is your mean X, plus and minus the margin of Error. Write this down everyone! There may or may not be a pop quiz next Friday, who knows!"
All students bent over their desks and put their pens to the paper. As did I. But I did not note the formula. I placed the tip of the pen at the top left corner of the page and with deliberate motions I wrote neatly: HEERO and added a whimsical heart experimentally. I titled my head as I scrutinized my creation. In a suddenly overpoweringly silly mood I wrote his name again and this time shaped the O into a heart. I chuckled, because it was stupid, but at the same time it solidified something. There it was in writing, my love for Heero Yuy, but the expression on paper came so epically, pathetically short of the actual feeling, it made me chuckle again and harder.
"I see mister Maxwell is amused by the margin of error."
The whole class turned around to face me, causing an irrational blush to come to my cheeks and my hand inadvertently covered the twin names at the top of the page.
"No need to be embarrassed! I get quite excited from ANOVA. But that is next week."
The bell rang and in an instant all bodies rose out of the seat and started towards the door.
"Remember everyone!" The teacher called after them. "Next Friday. Pop quiz or no pop quiz. But if there was a pop quiz I'd probably focus on Z scores. Z scores everyone!"
I shook my head at the man's antics, he was desperate to crank op the class' average. I was nearly at the door when he coughed and said my name, calling me back.
I turned around and at his gesture approached his desk. "Yes?"
"You've been gone for a long time..." He said, his eyes peering at me through this glasses.
"I'm still ahead on the assignments." I pointed out.
"I know, I know. I was very impressed with your research paper. I was merely wondering if everything is okay. Principal Murphy of course informed me of your adult, emancipated status and the fact that you dropped out during the war. Our school has a great financial support system for students who live on their own."
"I don't live alone. I have a roommate and he has a good job, so he pays for everything." That admission had a sting to it that I felt in my heart. Spending Heero's money had always caused me guilt. After the uncovering of his lie, even more so. Blood money.
"Okay. That's fine. I just thought I'd check." He smiled at me kindly.
"Thank you." I walked away, feeling uncomfortable with his interest in my personal life that I wish to keep personal. His intentions were good, honorable, much like Sookie he acts out of general love and a desire to help, but sometimes I just wanted to lock the front door behind me and have it be just me and Heero, tucked away in our hole-in-the-wall apartment. It felt like I didn't need anything other than him to sustain my own life. Food, shelter, education, friends... I would wipe my life clean of them, erase every trace of them, if he ever required me to do so.
That couldn't be healthy, I realized, but I smiled anyway.
My final period of the day was P.E. With astounded eyes I watched a surreal scenario unfold. The group was divided by gender. The girls were directed to the hockey field and the boys were split over four teams and tossed two basketballs. We jogged towards the twin basketball courts. Most of the guys in my on either team I knew very little of. One of the few I knew by name was Luke and the only reason I remembered was because he was abnormally tall and emaciated looking. With just a tiny hop he could dunk the ball. Unfortunately he was not on my team. The familiar face that was part of my team made me grumble in pubescent despair. Danny. The narrow-minded follower who can't distinguish between friend and foe.
There were horrendous yellow vests by the side-lines so we could clearly separate the teams, but such an argument ensued over who was to wear the ridiculous canvas monstrosities that one of the nameless boys prompted the suggestion of one team having to take their shirts off.
Being more physically developed and not at all insecure regarding my appearance, I had no problem with the decision that my team would be the bare-chested team. However I was conscious of the fact that the exposed skin could lead to conflict between the heterosexual boys and myself. That is until shirts went flying and in the distance I saw the girl's game of hockey come to a halt and various gazes and grins were aimed our way. And all of the males' attention was sidetracked to beyond the court.
A blonde at midfield jumped up and down and waved at me.
I waved back at Sookie. Noting she was quickly bored and trying to inspire her teammates to continue the game. Her "residual heterosexual desires" were limited in their capacity and endurance.
"Yeah, Ladies!" Danny yelled, hitting his chest like a gorilla. "Take a good look at this!"
I rolled my eyes at the repulsive display of testosterone that the others quickly joined.
"You should have bare-chested teams as well!" One of them yelled across the field.
Sookie, wearing one of the yellow vests, raised her middle finger.
"Come on guys. Let's play." I tried. I took the ball and started bouncing it on the concrete court. The sound immediately got their attention. We were joined by the coach who officially started our game with a sharp blow of his whistle.
The game was quick and edgy. Even though the girls had lost all interest, it was obvious most of the boys were spurred on by the vivid memory of their curious gazes, imagining that they were still looking. There was a lot of physical contact within and between teams; shoving and pulling. It was like a national geographic special on male dominance rituals in underdeveloped primates.
I steered clear of most of the action, especially at the times the coach was over at the hockey fields, as then the game got particularly feisty. Occasionally I managed to snatch the ball from someone and in spite of the impressive defense of the freakishly tall Luke I scored a couple of times. Every time thoughts of Heero surfaced, I pushed them away and focused on the game more strongly. Trying not to smother him and not have myself be consumed.
Despite the testosterone fuelled roughness of the game, it proceeded fairly. We played as a team, using each other as assets instead of individuals trying to be stars.
By the time the coach whistled, signaling the end of the match, my team was proudly ahead by four points, but we were quickly disappointed when the coach announced we would be running laps in preparation of the fitness test we had coming up. Dragging our feet and muttering under our breath, we approached the sideline to gather our shirts. I reached down for mine but saw it snatched away right before I could get it. I looked up at the thief, Danny, angrily, but he surprised me when he immediately handed it back to me.
"Here. Good game, dude." He said and he patted me on my shoulder as he walked past me.
"Thanks," I managed to call after him, stunned, "you too." Well, that was weird, I thought to myself. But I shrugged it off and joined the other guys and the girls on the tracks.
Sookie walked up to me and curiously inquired: "What did Danny say to ya?"
"Just complimented me on my game."
She smiled at me. "Pretty cool right?"
I frowned, not really sure if I agreed with her. "I don't know. I mean... it's not real. He still hates me."
"Well, let 'im! At least he's not bothering ya anymore."
"He wasn't really that much of a bother. Obviously, I have had to deal with worse. I guess I just like honesty, even if it's hurtful."
Our conversation was cut short as the girls were called to the other side of the track. To much protest from the ladies the coach announced that they will be starting half a track ahead of the boys, so they wouldn't have to keep up with the males. The goal for everyone was to run ten laps around the wide looping track and the girls started with a half lap advantage. Once the feminist ranting had died down, the race started. It wasn't originally a race, but boys will be boys.
I started off in an easy pace, a comfortable jog, while the other guys sprinted off at the start signal. I knew running ten laps at full speed was unrealistic. The coach had made clear none of us would be going home before we finished the ten laps. I decided it better to take more time, than to exhaust myself and not have the strength left to finish. The coach was not above making you crawl the final laps.
Into my third lap I passed two boys who were walking slowly, clutching their sides with their hands and panting like a woman in labor. This pattern continued. In my fifth lap I passed a small group who had dropped down in the grass lining the track. The coach was already walking up to them to force them to their feet. In my sixth lap I passed Sookie, the fastest of the girls. She stuck her tongue out at me.
The final two laps were hard on me, I had to slow down my pace. My shirt was sticking to my back with sweat, much like my bangs were sticking to my forehead. At the encouragement of the coach I picked up the speed again for the second half of my final lap and I was the first to cross the ten lap finish line. I walked leisurely around the track an eleventh time, knowing that a dead stop would only make my muscles ache later. I caught gazes laced with animosity from the boys, but their mouth contradicted their eyes as they complimented me on my success as they barely managed to pass me in a tired jog.
After my eleventh lap I was allowed to return to the lockers to shower, which I gratefully accepted. Crossing the field I peeled the soaked shirt off my body and enjoyed the way the wind cooled the sweat on my skin. But I did not linger, knowing that a cold shower would feel even better, especially when you don't have to worry about sharing the shower space with the other guys.
The cold water from the showerhead did not disappoint. I let out a moan of appreciation as it washed my skin. I combed my fingers through my loose, wet hair. I couldn't help but think about all the times I shared the spray of the shower with Heero. I could clearly imagine him pressed against me and my hands running over him in worship. Not being able to be intimate with Heero in the least had only amounted to stronger sexual fantasies. And I often had to excuse myself and take extra showers by myself just so I could relieve the build up of sexual tension in secrecy and not risk scaring him with the strength of my desires.
I started rushing through the shower ritual as I noticed I had gotten physically excited in spite of the cold water and really dreaded being caught by the other guys with an erection in the common shower room.
Think different thoughts. Think different thoughts. I told myself repetitively as I dried myself off mechanically and avoided only stimulated myself further. I chuckled at being such a typical teenager. It was silly. You fight wars. You kill people. You save people. And still you are subjected to the same things that every guy in his late teens goes through.
My situation was thankfully resolved when the first of the guys from my class started walking in. I was already in my jeans, sitting on a bench braiding my hair. It was still damp, nearly wet, but I still had to go by the administration desk and I was eager to get home quickly.
"Man, that sucked!" Most of my male classmates complained.
"And to think that for the test we have to finish twelve laps and we will be timed! They just want us to kill ourselves out there, drop dead from a heart attack or heat stroke!"
"Yeah!" The others agreed.
I ignored them and searched my bag, the bench and the floor for my elastic hair band, fumbling around with one hand as I held the end of my braid together with the other.
"Here." Eduardo, another guy I knew not to be pleased with my sexual outing, handed me the black elastic band.
"Thanks." I securely wrapped it around the end of my braid. I was acutely aware of Hunter at the far end of the room, getting dressed next to Aston after a quick shower. The other guys seemed to be perfectly aware of his presence as well.
"You did really good, Duo." One of them, whose name I didn't even know, said.
"Thanks."
"You'll probably get an A for the fitness test." He continued glibly.
"I uh... I'm not really good at cardio."
"You did better than us."
"Yeah, way better!" Another joined in.
"Thanks." I mumbled and turned my back to the group to put an end to the awkward, confusing and unnatural conversation, pulling a clean shirt over my head. I stepped into my sneakers without putting socks on and stuffed my belongings into my bag. I swung it over my shoulder and walked out of the locker-room. The plastic ends of my loose shoestrings ticked softly on the tile floor with each step. I was startled by Sookie, who appeared out of nowhere and threw her arm across my tall shoulders.
"Ew, yer braid is still wet." She teased and let go of me.
"It was a fucking freak show in there!" I exclaimed. Far away from the entrance to the gym I stopped and bent over to tie my shoes, explaining: "They were all so fake, being so goddamned nice to me."
Sookie sighed and shook her head. "I honestly don't understand yer problem. Isn't this better than getting bullied? Even Aiden is leaving me alone now."
"I don't like fake." I muttered displeased. "I don't like ass-kissing either."
"You don't?" Sookie asked with a wink.
"You know what I mean, Sooks. Come on, this is serious. It's like the opening scene of an alternative universe zombie slasher horror flick. Yeah, everyone is nice to you at first, but in the third act, when you have your guard down, they eat your brains out."
"Ya and yer movies..." Sookie commented with a shake of her head.
"Well, what I lack in personal experience I make up for with memorized movie scripts."
"And ya use zombie movies as yer reference?"
"Those American high school movies are just way too surreal..."
Sookie chuckled and followed me to the administration desk and stood by idly while I got the mother of all lectures from the clerk for being home sick as long as I had and not notifying the school. After what I can only assume was a psychological meltdown on her behalf, I signed a form that would solve all the paperwork issues and I had a week to forge a doctor's note to validate my lie of being struck by a severe ear infection.
I may have to amend my trademark phrase to: "I run and hide but I never tell a lie. Sort of..."
After walking Sookie to the bus stop and waiting for her to be picked up, I walked home, with my hands casually in my pockets but my pace quick and eager. In the lobby I waited impatiently for the elevator and when it took too long I decided to take the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I had a warm flush to my face by the time I reached my floor. I walked past the doors of all the neighbors I didn't know - had never even met - and slid the keycard through the slot of our front door. Inside the apartment air was fresh and cool, but my face only grew hotter and redder at the sight that welcomed me even more so than the chilled air.
Heero was standing in the middle of the living room, nonchalantly leaning on his crutch. I looked him up and down with my jaw agape. His bare feet were planted firmly on the soft carpet. My instantly hungry eyes traveled up bare, toned shins to a barrier of skintight spandex just above the knee. It was no secret that I loved the spandex shorts. The black fabric left nothing of the strong, perfectly formed thighs to the imagination. He was wearing the short sleeved, sky blue button-up shirt that I loved so much on him as it accentuated the gold hues of his skin and the ice crystals in his eyes. It was unbuttoned to reveal a defined abdomen and smooth chest. It wasn't hard to ignore the sling, the knee brace and the burnt ear when confronted with such an expanse of golden skin.
My stunned gaze finally settled on his face. Not only did I love the shorts and the shirt on him, I also loved his expression; relaxed but with the tiniest smirk and his colorful eyes narrowed sensually as they peered at me from under thick, black eyelashes.
My throat was dry but yet I managed: "Hi."
"Hi." He said and he tilted his head slightly as he kept looking at me while I was nailed to the floor by the doorway.
I was so distracted by his divine appearance, I briefly failed to notice a key feature. But after the completion of my second shameful look up-and-down his body, I aimed my gaze at his hair; darker, spikier and glossier than usual. "Your hair is wet." I stated dumbly.
"Yes." He responded. In the silence that stretched he seemed to lose some of his confidence to the claws of uncertainty. His expression became a little bit more self-conscious as he pointed out with a softer voice: "I showered."
"Oh." Wait. "By yourself?"
"Yes."
"Oh." I said again - so poetically eloquent - but this time through lips formed in a devilish grin. We stared at each other for a long time as a sense of discomfort suddenly took to us both. Finally, I chuckled sheepishly and noticed Heero seemed to be fighting an embarrassed smile himself. I walked towards him, but I supposed "stalked" would be a more accurate fit. I stood in front of him, honestly taken by his beauty. I reached out and touched his throat with the tips of my fingers, dragging them down to the hollow of the collar bone and then, after a brief stop, lightly down his chest. His skin was still damp and I could smell the familiar scents of his shampoo and soap. The way he was looking at me was intense. I saw trust and - if my eyes weren't deceiving me - desire. "How was therapy?" I whispered, wrapping a hand around his prone neck and pulling him closer.
"Fine." He said and I could feel his breath on my face.
"How was physio?"
He brought his face closer to mine, our lips almost touching. He seemed to be tempting me. "Shut up." He ordered softly.
I did. I leaned down and locked our lips together roughly, having no interest in talking for the time being anyway. I took in a deep breath through my nose before deepening the kiss. His lips parted for me without hesitation and his shy way of returning my kiss soon equaled the intensity and the hunger that drove me. His tiny, breathless moan between kisses encouraged me boldly. I brought both my hands down to rest on his hips and draw him closer to me. His arm in the sling in front of his chest prevented any direct contact between our torso's, but our lower bodies were flush against each other. Becoming more certain that he wasn't going to pull away from me as time passed, I encircled his waist his one arm, to hold him close to me and to offer him support in the absence of his crutch that had fallen to the floor during the process. I used my free hand to explore some of the golden, damp skin.
I was hard and my erection was evident as it was pressed against his hip, but I wasn't embarrassed nor worried, for - as I said - Heero's spandex shorts left nothing to the imagination and it was obvious he was enjoying it as much as I was. It seemed I hadn't been the only one to be plagued by sexual frustration during our brief but too long "no touch" period.
I bravely but reluctantly left his lips, curious to kiss other parts of him and see, hear and feel him respond. I trailed my lips to his ear where I placed open-mouthed kisses along the shell. I chuckled soundlessly when I felt him shiver and barely heard the appreciative sounds he made as he bit his lip. Apparently embarrassed, he buried his face between my neck and my shoulder. I allowed him some privacy to compose himself should he so desire and lightly trailed my hand up and down his spine, dipping lower each time. When my fingers touched the spandex on the downward stroke I didn't descent any further, knowing I should consider myself lucky for the leaps in intimacy we had already made and I wasn't going to push it. I patiently listened to his pants, my hand on his back stilled and I enjoyed the closeness rather than the physical satisfaction.
I felt him kissing the side of my neck a few times, his breath hot on my skin. He then pushed me away slightly with his hand splayed on my chest.
Through my pants I asked him, with genuine concern, if he was okay, leaving him to interpret the inquiry in any way he wanted.
"Yeah." He took his hand away from me and used it to bring the sides of his open shirt together. The long shirt covered up what the shorts could not.
"You sure?" I gently titled his head up by his chin to face me. I loved the way a red blush colored his cheekbones and his eyes were hazy and passionate.
"Yes." He answered more confidently and he showed me a tiny but reassuring smile.
I gave him a last kiss, small and sweet on his soft lips. "Thank you." I said and my fingers worked to button up his shirt.
"For what?"
"For being amazing."
We stared into each other's eyes for a while, enjoying the silence and the atmosphere as we both spiraled down from a pretty satisfying high. I was the first to break the quiet, asking him if he wanted something to drink.
"Water." He replied, to ensure I would not fetch him a bottle of beer. He moved over to the couch and sat down with a long sigh while I got us both a bottle of water.
I sat down next to him and we both savored the refreshing liquid. "So, how was your day?"
"Fine."
I snorted. "Gee, thanks for that elaborate description of your day."
Heero frowned. "It's an overall assessment."
"If I ask about something specific, will I get a specific answer?" I asked, looking at him.
"Likely."
"How did it go with Nettle?"
He opened his mouth but then shut it again. I smiled because I knew him well enough to know he was about to say "Fine", but managed to stop himself. He contemplated shortly and then decided on: "Quietly."
"You didn't say anything again?"
"No."
"So she didn't ask you again?"
"She asked me a few things."
"Okay. What?"
Heero frowned again. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to discuss this with you."
"I'm pretty sure you aren't, but I'm also pretty sure I'm going to pry it out of you anyway." I said teasingly, even though I was actually being serious.
"She asked me about some of my missions with the Preventers."
My turn to frown. I had expected her to be more interested in past, considering that his upbringing was the underlying cause of everything. "Like what?"
He shrugged. "Like how they went."
"And you didn't say anything?"
"No."
"Why?"
"She has my files and mission reports." He stated dryly. "It's useless to elaborate on a matter that is already in writing, in accurate detail."
I laughed. "And then what? Did she get pissed?" I didn't mean to voice my question in such a way that it was obvious I hoped the answer was yes, but sometimes I had ridiculously poor control over myself.
"No. She stopped asking me questions and just started writing again."
"Oh..."
"Why do you want to know all this?"
I looked away, sighing. "I just don't want to be left out. I don't like the idea of her knowing things about you that I don't know."
"She's a psychiatrist. If I am to accredit her profession, it seems inevitable that she knows things that you don't." He leaned in, his shoulder touching mine, causing me to look at him. "Lucky for you then I don't believe in psychology."
I kissed away the hint of a smirk on his lips. "Lucky me." I mumbled, satisfied and overcome with a delirious happiness.
As dinner time came round I sat Heero down at the kitchen table and ordered him to slice a variety of vegetables, while I riffled through a free-with-purchase cookbook looking for the Lasagna recipe that had my mouth watering at the sight of the images the other day. I prepared the onions and the meat at the stove. During the final twenty minute stage in the oven I set the table and did some small de-cluttering tasks around the apartment. I gathered my study books and walked them to the office, placing them on the shelf that bent increasingly far under the added weight.
I turned around and on Heero's desk I saw the origami book I had given him. It lay open and in blue lettering the page read: How to make a Japanese Origami Crane. The stack of white papers I had given him was practically untouched. But a pair of scissors and white clippings cluttered the desk. He had cut one of the rectangular papers into the desired, perfectly square shape, but the piece of paper wasn't square anymore. Delicately sitting on the open pages of the book was a small, crisp white crane, perfect in it's sharp angles and edges.
Even with one arm in a sling, the Perfect Soldier could master even the intricate art of origami in a single try.
I picked it up gingerly and placed it in my open palm, smiling at it. I walked it back to the kitchen and could only continue my goofy smile as Heero frowned at me. "It's beautiful." I said.
"The book said that if I fold one thousand cranes, my greatest wish will be fulfilled."
"Why didn't you?" I asked, though not seriously, as I took the crane to the dresser in the back of the living room and gently placed it on the dark surface by the two bolts. I smiled as I walked back to the kitchen and Heero answered:
"Because I don't believe in such superstitious things."
"Of course you don't." I responded in between chuckles. I peered through the glass front of the oven to check on dinner.
Heero surprised me when he continued pensively: "But even if it did work..."
I turned around and waited, watching his downward cast eyes, subconsciously holding my breath.
"I don't have anything left to wish for anyway." And he punctuated his admission by looking up at me with honest eyes.
I took in a breath and smiled, casting a glance at the feather-light paper bird. The white crane was a bridge between the untouched bolt and the damaged bolt, one built of much sturdier material than paper; hope.
That Monday was not a normal day. It was a special day.
I hope not to disappoint.