Title: Ghosts
Warnings: 1x2, bad language, possible grammar mistakes -_-;;, lemon in later chapters.
SI/Martina:…this is going all..cute..muaha!
Duo:*Smirk*
Heero: You're making me look weak..
Duo: Aww, we all know you're a big softie under the..er..shell.
Heero: *Death glare*
Duo: O.o"
I woke up an hour or so later, in a fairly comfortable wooden bed, which was unusual for a boarding school. A cool draft was issuing from the still open window, and I shuddered in dismay, grimacing internally at Heero for leaving it open, as he was nowhere to be seen. The recollection of events that ran through my mind a few seconds later a top speed only adding to the quaking my body was going through.
But as soon as my ears had adjusted to sifting the different sounds out, I could make out the clattering of keys of a laptop. For once the sound wasn't agonizingly annoying.
"Nnn…Heero?" I rolled over where I was laying, getting my braid all tangled around my neck, and saw that Heero was sitting on the bed next to mine, busily working away at the computer which had been hooked up with all sorts of wires and cables. Most likely to hack into the schools main computer. I was surprised that this place had a main computer too, since it looked like something out of a medieval set movie.
Heero, obvious to reason, said nothing as he kept his vision focused on the coolly lit screen before him, colors shifting on a range of blue and aqua as the computer did it's work in infiltrating all our pre-decided data into the system. I didn't exactly mind much, I'd grown accustomed to the stone- cold treatment. But despite my mileage in the feeling of being totally rejected by him, it was still a sinking feeling that left you slightly depressed. And then, when he did speak to you, your world lit up with uncountable joys. For a quiet antisocial impassive, he's a bastard at stirring up emotion.
I took a tired look around the room. It wasn't half bad, actually, in contrast with all the other hellholes we'd lived in. On the contrary, it looked like one of the Winner estates. Except for the little detail of it being almost intolerably cold. Whoop-dee-doo.
Not to mention, that being cold and tired, but not able to sleep, makes me very restless. And a restless 'Maxwell' isn't fun to deal with. It leads to many questions. And possibly an attempt at blowing a random object up, if it progresses to that.
"Oi. Heero."
"Hn." Busy with his precious machine. I wanted to brutally smash and maul that plastic distraction. I hated it on the same level as I did the war on many occasions.
"Talk to me man!" And with that, a flailing of arms that sent me straight onto the rock hard floor below in a tangle of limbs. I had obviously miscalculated the strength of my arms at that particular moment in time. I let out a miserable groan where I lay, head bashed against the cold surface of granite rock, and heaved a sigh to enforce that I, was not entirely happy.
Heero peered over the edge of his bed; one eyebrow raised a fraction of a centimeter. Of course, he still held the computer tightly in his hand, so not to appear as if he actually gave a damn that I was suffering down there. I gave him the most pitiful look I could muster up, but it appeared more like an annoyed glare directed at the laptop.
"Help me up, will ya?" I pleaded, holding out one hand. I didn't notice until then that I was shaking. I seriously and truly could not keep my hand still. I must have looked like a nervous wreck, pale and ghostly, because his other eyebrow escalated to the same height as the one already raised.
"You look like a ghost." He stated calmly, giving me an indifferent look at the mention of the word 'ghost', though I'd thought he'd be scared to voice it. I obviously overestimated his fear. It didn't affect him. I suppose it's because he's a soldier. All emotions, he processes into something else. Fear, hate, anger, happiness, he transforms them a different matter to be used on the battlefield. Heck, he's basically made only out of feeling, the only difference being in the way he uses it.
And that's the thing, isn't it? How you use things? What good is knowledge if you can't use it, right? Maybe that's the way he's been trained. To turn all emotions into that perfection and destruction he can cause in war. To mold his humanity into the flawlessness of a machine, and more perfect still. Because a machine can't make it's own decisions based on what it sees, feels, and comprehends. It has to be preprogrammed, while Heero is the kind of machine that uses itself of both preprogrammed material, and that strange power he possesses. Where else could it come from but from pure human intuition and feeling?
But anyway. It may be a kick-ass skill to have in combat. But when the war is over…then what will he do? I feel sorry for him. It's as if he doesn't know that when the war ends, in essence, so will he…and I don't want that to happen. I'm won't let it happen.
I smirked up at him in the same second as the thoughts ran through my mind. The mind's an amazing thing, even I will admit it. Amazing, but cruel. Despite what the ancients thought, thought comes from the mind. Not the heart. It's a cute story though.
"Yeah? Maybe that's because I just saw one." I couldn't help but give him a subtle 'meaningful look' at that comment. Which I of course shouldn't have, because he abruptly turned back to the computer, and it was only because I was right next to him that I could see an almost invisible hint of annoyance traced across his face, for less than a second.
"You aren't gonna talk to me, are you." I asked, slightly bitter in the way I sounded out the sentence. He took a pause from the incessant typing, and looked up at me with calm yet cruel appearing eyes. Nothing ever changed with those eyes. But you could always interpret what he wanted. This time, it was for me to shut the hell up, and get out of his face.
"There is nothing to talk about." He almost snapped, returning to his laptop immediately. A blue icon, flashing dimly, indicated that Trowa and Quatre had made it safely to their dorms opposite ours. A red icon, showed Wufei had too. I wasn't giving up that easily.
"You were scared stiff when that thing appeared." I commented, dragging myself up from the pile I had landed in on the floor, and scooted across to his bed, shoving him over so I had some sitting space.
The numbers on the screen, made no sense to me.
He gave me a sour look, smirking slightly at my incomprehension of the binary code. Or as far as I could tell, it was a smirk. Perhaps it was just me looking at him from an angle. I wonder if he knows I look at him. I wonder if he knows that I'm always watching him, to make sure he isn't in trouble. I wonder if he knows, that in battle, I'm always watching his back. If he knows that out there that day, I was more scared for him than I was for myself.
"Come on, admit that you were!" If I had common sense, I would have known not to tickle him. If there's one flaw he has, it's his senses. Touch him in the side, between the ribs, and you get a very automated punch aimed straight at your face with a lot of force backing it up.
That was my second trip to the floor, as the energy put behind that punch sent me hurdling towards the cold tiled doom that was, the uncarpeted floor approximately half a meter down. I couldn't help but let a strangled whine escape my lips as my hand flew up to my now impaired eye, which I could almost feel going a tinge of bluish black, swelling up and closing.
I opened my remaining eye to see Heero glaring at me with a look that could freeze hell over and give Satan a phobia of everything associated with cold. I got the message. One. You don't tickle Heero, under any circumstances be they the deciders of life or death. Two. Never ask Heero a question involving things he doesn't want to talk about, or doesn't wish to admit to.
He glared at me until the piercing feeling his eyes gave me forced me to scramble up into my bed again, drawing the covers up over my head and burying my aching face under the pillow, staring into the darkness below the sheeted pillowcase. The clatter of keys didn't start up again until I was completely hidden from view, and I felt the freezing glare withdrawn from me.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he really wasn't affected at all by the 'thing'. Maybe it was all just my rich imagination, pretending that he needed me. I sighed inwardly, wishing that I'd stop creating hopeful scenarios. They were all just visions of something I wanted but couldn't have for a million tons of gold. I wanted him to need him. I wanted to be the person that the great Heero Yuy relied on for comfort. I guess he didn't need any, after all. Maybe 'Maxwell Duty' was justified. I had to keep myself from crying again. I felt hopelessly useless in his world of pixels and war. His computer and his Gundam. Those are the only two things he gives a damn about. I heaved another shaking sigh. I thought I'd seen what was behind the mask. The child that Heero really was, trapped within a cage of his own emotions, controlled to be used for the ferocity of war and combat. Perhaps his mask, went all the way to the core. Because he'd worn it for so long.
But the annoying little question 'what if', still remained clearly displayed in my mind. I peered out with my good eye, between the folds of my blanket. He was still sitting there, typing away, with a look as if he never tired across his face. And I wondered if he ever did, get tired that is.
My eye was sore and vulnerable, and slightest movement caused pain to spasm across my face. He had a ferocious punch. Most people would take at least a week to forgive him for doing that to them. I forgave him the moment his hand impacted with my face. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I can't let go of that perception that he's just like me. Human. A teenage human, shoved into the complex world of warfare before he could learn the beauties of life. Faulty in so many ways that you can no longer see the faults individually. That he needs someone to watch over him as well. To be there when he does get tired. No matter how long it takes.
Maybe it's because I love him.
A/N: Muaha…sappy…=P I like sap ^.^ Tree-sap is good too. Maple syrup! *cough* Now I need to and read some more cute-ish stuff so I can burst into tears and get funny looks from my parents ^.^ Ehehe…hope ya liked the chapter ^^
Warnings: 1x2, bad language, possible grammar mistakes -_-;;, lemon in later chapters.
SI/Martina:…this is going all..cute..muaha!
Duo:*Smirk*
Heero: You're making me look weak..
Duo: Aww, we all know you're a big softie under the..er..shell.
Heero: *Death glare*
Duo: O.o"
I woke up an hour or so later, in a fairly comfortable wooden bed, which was unusual for a boarding school. A cool draft was issuing from the still open window, and I shuddered in dismay, grimacing internally at Heero for leaving it open, as he was nowhere to be seen. The recollection of events that ran through my mind a few seconds later a top speed only adding to the quaking my body was going through.
But as soon as my ears had adjusted to sifting the different sounds out, I could make out the clattering of keys of a laptop. For once the sound wasn't agonizingly annoying.
"Nnn…Heero?" I rolled over where I was laying, getting my braid all tangled around my neck, and saw that Heero was sitting on the bed next to mine, busily working away at the computer which had been hooked up with all sorts of wires and cables. Most likely to hack into the schools main computer. I was surprised that this place had a main computer too, since it looked like something out of a medieval set movie.
Heero, obvious to reason, said nothing as he kept his vision focused on the coolly lit screen before him, colors shifting on a range of blue and aqua as the computer did it's work in infiltrating all our pre-decided data into the system. I didn't exactly mind much, I'd grown accustomed to the stone- cold treatment. But despite my mileage in the feeling of being totally rejected by him, it was still a sinking feeling that left you slightly depressed. And then, when he did speak to you, your world lit up with uncountable joys. For a quiet antisocial impassive, he's a bastard at stirring up emotion.
I took a tired look around the room. It wasn't half bad, actually, in contrast with all the other hellholes we'd lived in. On the contrary, it looked like one of the Winner estates. Except for the little detail of it being almost intolerably cold. Whoop-dee-doo.
Not to mention, that being cold and tired, but not able to sleep, makes me very restless. And a restless 'Maxwell' isn't fun to deal with. It leads to many questions. And possibly an attempt at blowing a random object up, if it progresses to that.
"Oi. Heero."
"Hn." Busy with his precious machine. I wanted to brutally smash and maul that plastic distraction. I hated it on the same level as I did the war on many occasions.
"Talk to me man!" And with that, a flailing of arms that sent me straight onto the rock hard floor below in a tangle of limbs. I had obviously miscalculated the strength of my arms at that particular moment in time. I let out a miserable groan where I lay, head bashed against the cold surface of granite rock, and heaved a sigh to enforce that I, was not entirely happy.
Heero peered over the edge of his bed; one eyebrow raised a fraction of a centimeter. Of course, he still held the computer tightly in his hand, so not to appear as if he actually gave a damn that I was suffering down there. I gave him the most pitiful look I could muster up, but it appeared more like an annoyed glare directed at the laptop.
"Help me up, will ya?" I pleaded, holding out one hand. I didn't notice until then that I was shaking. I seriously and truly could not keep my hand still. I must have looked like a nervous wreck, pale and ghostly, because his other eyebrow escalated to the same height as the one already raised.
"You look like a ghost." He stated calmly, giving me an indifferent look at the mention of the word 'ghost', though I'd thought he'd be scared to voice it. I obviously overestimated his fear. It didn't affect him. I suppose it's because he's a soldier. All emotions, he processes into something else. Fear, hate, anger, happiness, he transforms them a different matter to be used on the battlefield. Heck, he's basically made only out of feeling, the only difference being in the way he uses it.
And that's the thing, isn't it? How you use things? What good is knowledge if you can't use it, right? Maybe that's the way he's been trained. To turn all emotions into that perfection and destruction he can cause in war. To mold his humanity into the flawlessness of a machine, and more perfect still. Because a machine can't make it's own decisions based on what it sees, feels, and comprehends. It has to be preprogrammed, while Heero is the kind of machine that uses itself of both preprogrammed material, and that strange power he possesses. Where else could it come from but from pure human intuition and feeling?
But anyway. It may be a kick-ass skill to have in combat. But when the war is over…then what will he do? I feel sorry for him. It's as if he doesn't know that when the war ends, in essence, so will he…and I don't want that to happen. I'm won't let it happen.
I smirked up at him in the same second as the thoughts ran through my mind. The mind's an amazing thing, even I will admit it. Amazing, but cruel. Despite what the ancients thought, thought comes from the mind. Not the heart. It's a cute story though.
"Yeah? Maybe that's because I just saw one." I couldn't help but give him a subtle 'meaningful look' at that comment. Which I of course shouldn't have, because he abruptly turned back to the computer, and it was only because I was right next to him that I could see an almost invisible hint of annoyance traced across his face, for less than a second.
"You aren't gonna talk to me, are you." I asked, slightly bitter in the way I sounded out the sentence. He took a pause from the incessant typing, and looked up at me with calm yet cruel appearing eyes. Nothing ever changed with those eyes. But you could always interpret what he wanted. This time, it was for me to shut the hell up, and get out of his face.
"There is nothing to talk about." He almost snapped, returning to his laptop immediately. A blue icon, flashing dimly, indicated that Trowa and Quatre had made it safely to their dorms opposite ours. A red icon, showed Wufei had too. I wasn't giving up that easily.
"You were scared stiff when that thing appeared." I commented, dragging myself up from the pile I had landed in on the floor, and scooted across to his bed, shoving him over so I had some sitting space.
The numbers on the screen, made no sense to me.
He gave me a sour look, smirking slightly at my incomprehension of the binary code. Or as far as I could tell, it was a smirk. Perhaps it was just me looking at him from an angle. I wonder if he knows I look at him. I wonder if he knows that I'm always watching him, to make sure he isn't in trouble. I wonder if he knows, that in battle, I'm always watching his back. If he knows that out there that day, I was more scared for him than I was for myself.
"Come on, admit that you were!" If I had common sense, I would have known not to tickle him. If there's one flaw he has, it's his senses. Touch him in the side, between the ribs, and you get a very automated punch aimed straight at your face with a lot of force backing it up.
That was my second trip to the floor, as the energy put behind that punch sent me hurdling towards the cold tiled doom that was, the uncarpeted floor approximately half a meter down. I couldn't help but let a strangled whine escape my lips as my hand flew up to my now impaired eye, which I could almost feel going a tinge of bluish black, swelling up and closing.
I opened my remaining eye to see Heero glaring at me with a look that could freeze hell over and give Satan a phobia of everything associated with cold. I got the message. One. You don't tickle Heero, under any circumstances be they the deciders of life or death. Two. Never ask Heero a question involving things he doesn't want to talk about, or doesn't wish to admit to.
He glared at me until the piercing feeling his eyes gave me forced me to scramble up into my bed again, drawing the covers up over my head and burying my aching face under the pillow, staring into the darkness below the sheeted pillowcase. The clatter of keys didn't start up again until I was completely hidden from view, and I felt the freezing glare withdrawn from me.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he really wasn't affected at all by the 'thing'. Maybe it was all just my rich imagination, pretending that he needed me. I sighed inwardly, wishing that I'd stop creating hopeful scenarios. They were all just visions of something I wanted but couldn't have for a million tons of gold. I wanted him to need him. I wanted to be the person that the great Heero Yuy relied on for comfort. I guess he didn't need any, after all. Maybe 'Maxwell Duty' was justified. I had to keep myself from crying again. I felt hopelessly useless in his world of pixels and war. His computer and his Gundam. Those are the only two things he gives a damn about. I heaved another shaking sigh. I thought I'd seen what was behind the mask. The child that Heero really was, trapped within a cage of his own emotions, controlled to be used for the ferocity of war and combat. Perhaps his mask, went all the way to the core. Because he'd worn it for so long.
But the annoying little question 'what if', still remained clearly displayed in my mind. I peered out with my good eye, between the folds of my blanket. He was still sitting there, typing away, with a look as if he never tired across his face. And I wondered if he ever did, get tired that is.
My eye was sore and vulnerable, and slightest movement caused pain to spasm across my face. He had a ferocious punch. Most people would take at least a week to forgive him for doing that to them. I forgave him the moment his hand impacted with my face. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I can't let go of that perception that he's just like me. Human. A teenage human, shoved into the complex world of warfare before he could learn the beauties of life. Faulty in so many ways that you can no longer see the faults individually. That he needs someone to watch over him as well. To be there when he does get tired. No matter how long it takes.
Maybe it's because I love him.
A/N: Muaha…sappy…=P I like sap ^.^ Tree-sap is good too. Maple syrup! *cough* Now I need to and read some more cute-ish stuff so I can burst into tears and get funny looks from my parents ^.^ Ehehe…hope ya liked the chapter ^^