In The Night
Warnings: PWP, 1+2/2+1, 3+4/4+3, constant rambling, all the good stuff ~_^
Author's notes:
Hey Minna! Wrote this at about 4 am in the morning, so not that really good. Wufei-centered fic, I'll get the other pilots soon too. Yeah yeah, weird format. Comments and criticism is welcome, if not asked for, to 02_duo_maxwell@gundamwing.net. Love ya all, as always!
ShinigamiForever
In his mind, he could call them by their first names. Heero was always Heero, not Yui. Duo was always Duo, not Maxwell. Trowa was always Trowa, not Barton. Quatre was still Quatre. In his mind, there was a little room where all the kindness is stored. Where he remembers everything the other pilots had ever done for him. And when he is alone and unoccupied, he sits down, and smiles, and remembers.
At Quatre's estate, he was always alone. Now, it was no different. He was sitting in an armchair, reading. Duo and Heero were playing a video game, one with an aircraft destroyer. Quatre and Trowa were practicing a piece. He was the only one without a pair.
It was easy to forget how much he noticed. Some things that others didn't see and didn't think he saw, he did. The glint in Heero's eyes, the gentle brush of a finger, the brilliant smile on Duo's face, the laughter. Trowa's rare smile, a sweep of the hand across a cheek that was thought to be unnoticed, the gentle beam of Quatre's. All these things he saw, things that he would never be able to do.
But on the outside, he was still the cold and stern Wufei.
The one that sneered at women.
The one that ranted about justice.
The one that was a warrior.
The one that was the loner in their group and didn't care.
That's who he was on the outside. But inside, he didn't mind women.
He didn't care about justice.
He was hurt about being left out.
He wasn't a true warrior.
A true warrior didn't care, but he did.
And he was tired. Tired of pretending.
Tired of masks.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of silence.
Tired of loneliness.
But of above all, tired of being the only one from the outside, looking in.
Masks were for the scared. And he was scared.
Scared that if they knew him, they would laugh.
Scared of being hurt.
Scared of being weak.
Scared of losing that edge he had over them, constantly.
Scared of being the one person that would still be left outside, but then without the protective shield.
So no, they would never know. Besides, what would it matter? Heero had Duo, Duo had Heero, Trowa had Quatre, Quatre had Trowa, and no one gave a damn about him. The only thing he could do was fight.
And fight he did. He fought against love. And friendship. And warmth. And emotions. And mental breakdowns. Not to mention, the enemy itself. Him.
One day, when he was about to fall asleep, he heard Duo crying. And Duo never cried. Because Duo was happiness itself. But it was then he realized they all had masks. Trowa had his silence. Heero had his soldier façade. Quatre had his innocence. Duo had his happiness. But most of all, it reminded him of one thing.
That he had forgotten how to cry a long time ago.
A human that cannot show emotions is pathetic.
But he wasn't human.
He was a warrior.
And warriors knew no self pity.
No one would ever guess that he felt so much. And it was better that way. For emotions are what makes a person weak. But they are also what make a person strong.
The only way to live your life is to follow your emotions.
Unless emotions are something you can never have full grasp of.
Then you are left out in the cold, with no way to turn to but to keep walking.
Down the path of loneliness.
Where people forget that you're human.
He got up abruptly and grumbled something about taking a walk. Nobody noticed anyway. He walked outside, the summer evening air hitting him like a breath of fresh air.
The evening and stars don't know if you are really what you seemed.
He effortlessly climbed the wall, gradually making up to the roof. He lay down there, staring at the sky into its endless whirlpool of stars and darkness. It was quiet. Completely quiet. Silent
Until Quatre and Trowa start playing again. The music traveled out an open window, up to Wufei who was still on the roof. Together, the stars and velvet sky mixed together in with the beautiful symphony. Sad, but touching. If it could ever bring him to tears. If he were still capable of tears.
He heard talking. Duo. And Heero. He walked to the other side of the roof, the one that looked over the back yard.
The two other pilots were sitting on the grass. Duo, with his head on Heero's chest. Heero's hand softly stroking Duo's hair. Looking up. At the stars. The same stars he was looking at. The same stars, but so different to them.
Whispers. And he didn't feel like listening. He returned to the other side of the roof.
Laughter. Heero's laughter? Intermixed with Duo's.
Trowa's voice. And Quatre's. More laughter.
Suddenly, he realized how different people can be.
Because, in the night, Duo and Heero were lying on the grass, looking at the stars, arms entwined.
Because, in the night, Trowa and Quatre were inside, laughing and playing music.
Because, in the night, he was on the roof, looking at the same stars, but remembering he had forgotten to cry a long time ago.
A long, long time ago.
In a land faraway…
Why did that sound familiar?
There lived a prince and princess…
Who…
Who fell in love…
They encountered many challenges and difficulties…
But their love stayed true…
God granted their true love with eternal peace and a vast kingdom…
And they all lived happily ever after…
Except for him.
The lone warrior who sat on the roof.
In the night.
Looking at stars.
Alone.
And they all lived happily ever after…
The end…
He jumped off the roof in one swift motion and landed softly on the ground. The soft murmuring behind him signaled that Heero and Duo did not recognize his presence.
His feet started pounding against the grass. Running… running away. From everything. Everyone. Maybe into the dark of the night, where everything was okay. Keep running, Wufei, he told himself. Just keep running.
Don't stop.
Don't pause to wipe off the sweat on your forehead.
Don't stop to catch your breath, just keep running.
Ignore the cramps in your muscles.
Ignore the leaves and branches slapping around you in the forest.
Just keeping running.
And then for no reason he stopped. In the middle of the forest, a small clearing where the moon shone from above. He stopped, breath coming in huge gasps. And he looked up at the full round moon, the stars glittering sympathetically in the velvety, dark blue sky. And he yelled, frustration turning it into a call of anger.
Into the dark night.
Into the emptiness.
Into God.
Into Heaven.
Into the stars and moon.
Into the silence and mercy of the cold dark night.
A night were couples look at the stars in wonder.
And lonely warriors look at them in pain.
Into the night…
~owari~
