"Aaron...what are you ... oh my God." Warm, shaking arms pried my tiny body away from my parents, and I screamed and fought and bit and bled until something pricked me in the shoulder and everything fell into silence. Except that it didn't. It was supposed to, but the hands and the warm, living voice followed me, shaking...duo...duo...duo? What was that? Why can't you leave me alone, I cried, can't you see I'm going to them...Can't you see that I'm...
"...sleeping?" I mumbled as the dream shattered into a thousand biting slivers and I found myself staring into Quatre's worried blue gaze. From behind him, Wufei almost snorted derisively, winced, and contented himself with saying,
"Well, you *could* try it without the screaming part. Past misdeeds coming back to haunt you?"
"Shut up, Wufei," Trowa said quietly from his place at the foot of the bed. The other boy shot him a dirty look and stalked out of the room, muttering something under his breath that I couldn't catch.
"Ignore him, Duo," said Quatre with a concerned smile, "he was just as worried as the rest of us when we heard you call out." I shrugged awkwardly, not believing for a moment that Wufei gave a damn about me, except maybe for wishing I'd go get myself killed. I looked up at him, silent, as we both realized that his hands were still resting on my shoulders. His cheeks pinked, and he withdrew to the foot of the bed, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. My own face felt as if all the blood had long ago drained away, leaving the visage of a corpse. Duo, King of the Dead...that was me.
Trowa just stood there and stared at us both for a long moment. Finally, he gently tapped Quatre on the arm, "C'mon, he probably wants to have a moment to himself." I nodded thankfully, not trusting my voice to be steady. Quatre left reluctantly, with a long backward look. I dredged up a shaken smile to reassure him, and knew from the way he bit his lip that it failed miserably. The door closed with a whisper and I flopped back against the single, flat pillow, exhausted. I hadn't had that damn dream in years, and I'd *never* made noise before. I wasn't crying though...I never cried. I trailed a finger along my cheeks, just to be certain, and found them reassuringly dry, though cold.
Fuck. I let the hand flop back to the bed, trying not to notice the thin white line across its wrist. How was I ever going to play this off? I knew what would happen when I left the room. Wufei would probably make some stupid joke (payback's a bitch, chortled a tiny, gleeful voice), Quatre would try to find out what was wrong, and Trowa ... he'd *look* at me. Sometimes I hated my life.
Still, I couldn't stay in here for the rest of the semester, could I? With masterful timing, my stomach took this moment to remind me that I hadn't eaten for about 12 hours. It's unanimous, I thought with a sigh, and swung myself out of bed. My body felt heavy and stiff. I wondered how long I'd been out. Pausing to yawn and stretch first, I went out to face the music.
It wasn't until the bedroom door closed behind me that I realized that something was missing: the typing from the next room had stopped.
In the common room four, not three, boys awaited my entrance. I paused at the threshold. For once it was out of a feeling of insecurity, not the desire to make a dramatic impression on my ever-present audience. Eight eyes fixed on me, nonetheless. "Hi, guys," I kept the tone cheerful and shallow as I took in the final member of our little group. The first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were blue, but managed to be the complete opposite of Quatre's. They were like a winter's sky, hard but as deep as Heaven. They watched me without sympathy, pity, or any emotion at all. The sheer neutrality of that azure gaze annoyed me more than even Wufei's open hostility. With effort, I dragged my mind away from the boy's eyes and took in the rest of him. I got a vague impression of a grim, but handsome, face and unruly brown hair chopped short. Next to the mystery of his eyes, it all faded to insignificance. 'That's how I'd paint him,' I thought, 'with his eyes larger than possible, dominating his face, but with the shutters firmly thrown over those windows to his soul.'
I stood, lost in thought and planning, until Quatre cleared his throat. He looked vaguely agitated, and I thought with amusement that it was probably the first time in a while that one of his peers hadn't listened with utmost attention to his every word. Sheepishly, I asked, "Sorry, still a little muzzy. Could you run that by me again?"
"I said, that this," he gestured at the our final dormmate, "is Heero Yuy. He agreed to come with us."
I blinked. "Come where?"
"You really weren't listening, were you?" Quatre smiled to show he wasn't upset, "We're going on the shuttle to get some food, since Heero says that the Cafeteria isn't up and running yet, and it's after dark. You wanna go?"
"Absolutely!" My stomach snarled again, prompting a snicker from Quatre and what might have, maybe, under microscopic examination, been a smile from Trowa. As we left, Wufei grumbled nasally,
"We better go somewhere with a buffet, so Duo won't be too noticeable among the other pigs."
I shot back, "As long as that hideous schnoz of yours doesn't put me off of my appetite, that is!" He replied with something in Chinese that made Quatre, and surprisingly, Heero, frown. But since they didn't offer to translate (not that I *really* wanted to know), and I couldn't make a good comeback for something in another language, to any casual watchers we appeared to step peacefully into the night.
***********
"Somebody, please, please kill me..." I moaned into my pillow, as the alarm clock wailed next to my left ear. Groggily, I reached over and swatted it. The blind slap succeeded in knocking the clock off of the small side table to the carpet, where it continued to bleat. But now, I really would have to get up to shut the damn thing off. With a groan, I pushed myself into an almost vertical position, and swung my feet off the bed. My left big toe smacked into the corner of the clock and promptly began to do a little wailing of its own. I could just tell that this was going to be a wonderful day.
After wrestling the clock into submission and grabbing some clean clothes, I hobbled out of my room. Setting the clock at the ungodly hour of 5:30 in the morning had paid off: the bathroom was unoccupied. Eyes opened just enough that I didn't smash into walls, I hobbled into the cramped room to begin my morning ritual.
A couple of hours later, I was just finishing braiding my damp (but clean) hair when the first impatient knock came at the door. "Just a sec!" I called, as I looped the small, frayed rubber tile just below the last braid.
"Hurry up, Maxwell," came the muffled growl through the door. I made a face into the mirror. After three days of cohabitation, Wufei and I still were about one bad joke from murdering each other. We weren't consciously trying to irritate each other...I don't think we were, anyway. It's just that we had absolutely nothing in common except an unholy (sorry, Sister) stubbornness and quick tempers. I checked the tie one last time, then grabbed my stuff and awkwardly opened the door. Wufei brushed past me without a word, and I made another face at his back as he closed the door.
Heero was standing outside his door, leaning against it with shampoo and towels in his hands. He watched me silently. I shrugged off the odd feeling of anxiety that I had discovered radiated from the other boy like those cartoon stink lines. He watched *everything*, I'd realized, with the same disconnected intensity that I'd noted in our first meeting. Now I'm not one to judge, but it was getting *really* creepy. Somehow, I'd have to get him to warm up a little.
"Hey, Heero," I said, walking over and leaning on the wall next to my door. His eyes tracked me, but otherwise there was no indication he'd heard. Like I said, creepy. I tried again. "Wu-fang didn't steal the bathroom from you, did he?"
"No." He turned away to stare at the bathroom door. I looked too, just to make sure I wasn't missing something. Nope, just wood, and the faint sound of the shower. Well, hell. I know when I'm not wanted. I turned around and pushed open my door. As I retreated, Heero's voice stopped me in my tracks. "That was a good idea."
I craned my neck around. He was staring at me again. "What was?"
"Getting up early to be first."
"Oh. Uh, thanks?" I grinned at him, delighted to get a response from him, even if it was a fairly odd one. "I grew up in a dorm. If you think five people and one bathroom is tough, try thirty!" I tilted my head and waggled an eyebrow at Heero. My voice fell to a melodramatic whisper. "Hey, you aren't gonna try and beat me, now that I've told you my secret, are you? 'Cause I'm warning you, you'd have to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on me!"
Anyone else would have groaned at the painfully bad attempt at humor. Heero appeared to consider it seriously. After a moment, he shook his head. "I don't believe the lack of sleep would be worth it. My first class isn't until noon, anyway. I can wait." His eyes left mine, and focused on something behind me.
"Duo, Heero, good morning!" I yelped and nearly leapt out of my skin as the cheerful greeting chirped from right behind me. I almost fell on my ass before two hands, one from in front of me and one from behind, reached out to steady me. I glared at Quatre, and at Trowa who trailed behind the blond like an obedient puppy. They both carried little bathroom bags.
"Make a little noise next time, why don't you?"
"Sorry, Duo," Quatre said, not sounding sorry at all. Trowa just shrugged. "I was wondering, since both of you are here; you want to go get some breakfast together, after we all shower?"
I coughed to cover my sudden bark of laughter, and reminded myself again that Quatre did not have the dirty mind that I, myself possessed. He looked at me in concern. "Duo, are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Left over bit of toothpaste or something." I ignored his dubious look, and continued, "As to breakfast...I'd love to, but my first class is in," I pushed open the door at little more and tilted my head to look at the upside-down clock face, "Oh, shit. It's in fifteen minutes." I raised a hand in apology to the group almost dropping my wet towel in the process, "Sorry, guys, gotta run. How about lunch?" I said, as I dumped my toiletries on the bed and frantically hunted down some clean socks.
"I'm free at one," said Quatre and after a pause, "So is Trowa."
"Me too." That was Heero. He sounded reluctant...but with him, who could tell? At least he was making the attempt, right? I shoved my feet into my shoes, wincing as the toes scraped along the bottom.
"Great! See you guys then, okay?" I snatched up my portfolio and supply box, and sprinted through the common room and out the door.
It wasn't until I had reached the art building that I realized that my shoes were on the wrong feet.
"Somebody, just shoot me, okay?" I groaned as I plopped down into the hard embrace of the wooden chair. Everything from my neck to the soles of my feet hurt. Well, except for my hands. *Those* had gone completely dead about an hour ago. I glanced down just to make sure they were still there. Yup...they even looked human. Would wonders never cease?
Quatre sat across from me; his normally precise posture had wilted, and his head was bowed to his chest. He made an admirable effort to raise it at my plea, but finally gave up and murmured, "I guess your class went just as well as mine, huh?"
I nodded, then realized he couldn't see the gesture. "If that means that you were fed to a crazy, rose-addicted headmaster with a deep and abiding hatred of chairs and an opera fetish, then hell yeah." I think he smiled. "Where's Trowa?" I asked, "I thought he was supposed to eat with us?"
"I'm here," came a smooth voice from behind us, and Trowa sat beside me, carrying two trays. One, he pushed over to Quatre and after a moment, he slid the other to me. I nudged it back, limp-wristed.
"No thanks. Unless I bury my face it in, it's useless. I've been sketching for five straight hours. My hands," my voice rose in a tired parody of French, "dey are like ze put-ty." One corner of Trowa's mouth twitched, but he pulled the tray back without protest. He and Quatre began to eat, something that normally would have made me hungry--even if I were full. After Mr. Treize's idea of "warm-up" exercises, however, all I felt was empty. Now I know why all those artists are called starving.
"New perfume, Maxwell?" Wufei sneered as he dropped into the seat beside Quatre. I blinked.
"Huh?"
"You smell like flowers," Trowa remarked blandly from my left.
"Oh, that." I shrugged. "Treize has got this bug up his butt about them. He burned rose incense the entire class period. And he played opera scores. *German* opera scores," I said, and shuddered with the memory.
"*You* had class with the Headmaster?" Wufei said with an aggrieved expression.
"Hey, if *you* want to spend five hours sketching rose buds and dead sopranos, I'll switch, no problem. What do you have, anyway?"
"The History of Diplomacy, with Ms. Une." He grimaced, "And I'd almost take you up on that offer, if I didn't think you'd get me flunked."
I was too tired to bristle. Almost. "Hey, Wu-fang, I was just being polite."
He darkened at the nickname. "I'm not sure you know the meaning of the word."
"Guys!" We looked at Quatre. "Don't you think you're acting just a bit childishly?" Yeah, so what, I resisted the temptation to say. Instead I just sighed, and looked away in defeat. Across the room was a familiar face.
"Heero!" I called, and waved a limp hand. He took his sweet time filling his tray before he looked around. When he spotted us, he walked over and sat down carefully on Quatre's other side. And began eating. I cleared my throat. He took a bite from his apple. "Heero?" I said, and he looked up, a frown on his face. "And how has your day been, Duo?" I asked the air lightly. "Oh, just crappy, Heero! Thanks for asking!"
Heero scowled, as Quatre grinned wearily and Wufei shook his head in disgust. Oddly enough, all three reactions made me feel sort of cheerful. Probably just low blood sugar and pure exhaustion, of course, but I couldn't deny that somewhere deep inside, this felt sort of *right*. Like we were all meant to be together. Stupid, huh? I shrugged the feeling off with a self-mocking grin and motioned at Heero. "Never mind, man, just keep ignoring us. It's okay, we've got thick skins."
Heero looked down at his food, then suspiciously around at us. He then put the apple down with a long-suffering air. "And how has your day been, Duo, Quatre, Trowa, Wufei?"
Silence reigned for a long, shocked moment. Then the sound of four boys laughing filled the air like music. As we fell apart, Heero watched us with an expression so befuddled that anyone who glanced his way immediately cracked up again. Finally, he bit into the apple again, and chewed while watching us curiously. When we'd regained control, he swallowed and said with a hint of embarrassment, "And now you know why I prefer computers."
Quatre, red in the face from laughing, patted Heero on his shoulder. "We weren't really laughing at *you*," We weren't? "It was just what you said, and the way you said it." Heero shrugged, like it didn't matter and took another bite out of his apple.
Now I was feeling guilty. Again. This was getting to be a regular habit, and it really wasn't even my fault this time. While I sat there, massaging my left hand against the table edge and trying to think of something to say, we were interrupted by a sudden attack.
"Trowa!" A tall red-haired girl swooped past me and threw her hands around the green-eyed boy, hugging him fiercely. Far from reacting to this assault with the instant recoil of any sane person, his face broke into a luminous grin. I think the sight of that open smile stunned us all for a moment, because when I could speak again, not only had I somehow been bumped down a seat, but four other girls had materialized around us. "This is Trowa, everyone," the redhead proclaimed, with a possessive arm on his shoulder. He blushed as the girls cooed.
Obviously, Trowa had hidden talents. I looked at Quatre. "Who'd have guessed? A Don Juan in our very midst."
Trowa looked like he had a bad sunburn. He cleared his throat. "This is my sister, Cathy." Oh. Well, shit, and here I was hoping to pick up some tips. "Cathy, this is Duo, Heero, Wufei, and," he seemed to hesitate a second but it could have been my imagination, "Quatre." We nodded at each of our names, while the other girls appeared to be settling in to stay.
Cathy smiled at us, a little dubiously. "You must be my brother's dormmates. A pleasure to meet you." She pointed at a pretty blond who was eyeing Heero, "This is Relena," another blond with a cool and hungry gaze, "Dorothy," a close-cropped black haired girl in combat boots, "Hilde," and finally, a young Chinese woman who was embroiled in a glaring contest with Wufei, "and Meiran."
"We've met," Wufei and Meiran said, as the temperature dropped several degrees in their vicinity.
Everyone exchanged uncomfortable looks. Finally Quatre, ever the peacemaker, smiled and said, "Really? Are you in the same class?"
Meiran sniffed. "As if I would ever attempt to compete with His Highness, the most pigheaded, insensitive, sorriest excuse for a husband on the Earth or the Colonies!"
Husband? As one, our eyes went from Meiran's stiff form to Wufei's mortified glower, and back again. Oh, boy.
There are a lot of things one can expect to hear around the average school cafeteria table. To my knowledge, a marital spat was not one of them. I guess you can just chalk up to another of the unique and exciting learning experiences available to Timberlake students. Maybe they should put it in the brochure: "Sharpen your social skills by sharing in the timeless embarrassment of domestic disputes, no charge!".
Meiran and Wufei were still glaring at each other, and most of us were still trying to process this newest revelation about our roommates. Quatre came to his senses first, and looked away, blushing. Relena, Hilde, and Cathy were next, finding sudden and uncomfortable interest in their trays. I didn't find something more interesting to do until Quatre kicked me on the ankle. I winced, and it broke the spell.
The icy blonde, Dorothy, was still watching Wufei and Meiran. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, pupils dilated, and a smile flickered at one corner of her mouth. I'd seen that look before, on a runaway who everybody'd called Spacer. He'd carried a doll in his knapsack. One day a kid had made fun of him for it, and two of Spacer's buddies had worked the kid over with their fists. Spacer had watched them with that same expression. The cold fingers of memory slid down my back and I shuddered. Dorothy looked my way and her smile widened. I blew her a kiss. She sniffed and turned away.
That girl was a predator. Well bred and pretty, I was sure, but poison nonetheless. I wondered what she was studying. Probably Advanced Character Assassination. Maybe just Assassination. I gave myself a little shake, and tuned back into the melodrama around me. This time, though, I at least tried to be discreet about it.
Wufei had gone into full prick mode, and stared at Meiran with cold distaste. "I cannot believe you brought that up, here. We agreed. And we are not married."
"No, *you* had agreed," she shot back, her voice only barely controlled. "I don't recall you ever asking me about it. And according to the Clan, we *are* married. So there."
Wufei scowled. "I will not discuss this further. So if you are finished embarrassing yourself in public, I do have a class to prepare for." He stood and swept regally away from the table. Eight pairs of eyes (at least six of whom were trying to look as if they were doing anything else) turned to Meiran. She sniffed, chin out, but I could see taut muscles of her arms, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. I felt a certain solidarity with the girl; after all, he'd been an asshole to both of us. I picked up my napkin, wincing at the twinges of pain from my abused fingers, and offered it to her with a flourish.
"So," I said casually as she took the napkin with shaking hands, "Would you like him boiled, roasted, or fried? Maxwell's Revenge Service cooks to order."
One corner of her mouth lifted. From behind me, Relena said severely, "I think that's in rather bad taste, Mr. Maxwell." As we all chuckled, she scowled. "I didn't mean it like that."
"That's okay," Meiran said, truly smiling now. "He's too hard to swallow, anyway." She blushed slightly as the groans echoed around her.
"Well," I said, "With Wu-Fang gone, maybe we can actually have a quiet meal. So, how has everyone been doing in classes? 'Cause I tell you, I think this place'll kill me, yet..." I launched into a melodramatic reenactment of Treize's idea of teaching. Afterwards, Hilde revealed that she had Hawaiian Shirt (whose name turned out to be Howard) for her Engineering class, and her half-serious rant took up the remainder of lunch. As we broke up to go to our afternoon classes, someone touched my shoulder gently.
I turned around. "Thank you," said Meiran softly. I tried to shrug it off, but she shook her head. "No, really. I love Wufei...I really do, but he infuriates me. Um," she hesitated. "You've got Composition with Ms. Noin next, don't you?" At my nod, she slipped her arm in mine. "Mind if I walk with you?"
I blinked. "I...sure, why not? *I'm* never one to turn down the companionship of a lovely woman."
***********
The second class definitely went better than the first; Lucrezia Noin was a cheerful, determined woman who attacked her subject with enthusiasm. Thankfully for my aching hands, the class was mostly lecture and personalized critique. I'd never had my work really taken apart before. The Sisters were just overjoyed to see any of their charges doing something that wasn't illegal or immoral, and the Doctor had always spent more time focusing on realism and stroke techniques. I came out of the class feeling scoured, but light hearted. Beside me, Meiran drooped. "Hey, what's the matter?" I asked.
"Oh. It's just...I thought I was a little better than that."
"Don't sweat it, Meiran. It's her job to tell us how lousy we're doing." I grinned. "Besides, *I* liked your stuff." And I did. Meiran's stylized renditions of figures of Chinese myth and religion were very emotionally powerful, I thought. I thought that might be why Noin had spent so much time on them...in that kind of work, composition was everything.
Meiran smiled at me. "Thanks a lot. I liked yours better, though. They looked...real."
I waggled my hands at her. "That's because I've got the magic fingers," She giggled and slapped me playfully on the shoulder. I staggered dramatically, and things pretty much went downhill from there. By the time we'd made it to her dorm room, we were both out of breath from laughing and chasing each other through the evening gloom. I left her to the tender, giggling mercies of Cathy and Hilde, bending in an elaborate bow as I took my leave, before wandering back to my own dorm.
I liked Meiran...shame she was so completely stuck on Mr. Stick-in-the-mud. Ah well, I thought, as I tugged open the door to our dorm, no doubt things would work out. One way or the other.