Title: I Wonder What They're Doing Now
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
Both Heero and Quatre stared in a dumbfounded manner for quite a while. All of a sudden, out of the blue, was Wufei. He was standing a mere four meters away at a Chinese take-out parlor. He received his food, taking it roughly from the frightened clerks hand, and turned around to lean against the counter, consuming his meal. He was unaware that two other people, who had stalled the line waiting for their food by about five people, were very closely watching him. It was Quatre who first opened his mouth to speak, as it often was.
"Fei?" he said in a shaky voice, not taking his eyes of the Chinese man. Wufei stopped mid-chew, a few noodles still suspended from his mouth. Some soy sauce dropped onto his crisp white shirt as he slowly turned his head, raising his dark eyes towards Quatre and Heero. By this time, the noodles dropped out of his mouth, and he assumed the same expression as the two spectators. His meal was completely forgotten.
"…Winner?" His eyes moved lower, across Heero's cold face. "Yuy?" He dropped his food into the trashcan beside him robotically. It wasn't very tasty anyway.
Heero nodded in the business type manner he'd practiced for a long time. He noticed his fingernails were dug into the armrests of his chair again, and simply wouldn't relax. If anything, he appeared to be horrified with facing Wufei. Possibly because of how abruptly it came about. Apart from Duo, Wufei was the person Heero least wanted to appear like this in front of. He'd seen Wufei's eyes traveling down to his disabled legs and snap back to his face again afterwards. It hurt.
On the other hand, Quatres stunned face lit up slowly, and another heartwarming smile spread across his face. He'd gotten over the first part of shock, and was now bubbling with laughter and tears, which one to respond to he didn't know. In the same way he'd attacked Heero with hugs, he did to Wufei.
"Winner! Off! Down!" Wufei threw his hands up in the air as Quatre glomped him around the middle a slight bit too tightly. Wufei sweatdropped, and gave up, realizing there was no way to pry the pilot off him. So he petted Quatres blonde head as if he was a dog.
"It's nice to see you too, Winner." Wufei smiled and rolled his eyes, and let Quatre continue his hug assault. He folded his arms and looked down at Heero, who could possibly have been green with hidden envy at him, for being able…to stand up.
"Hello, Yuy. Been a while." The Chinese said, and took a deep breath of relief as Quatre let him go. By now they'd attracted a whole lot of attention from the crowd, who was staring just as stupidly at them all. Heero could hear a faint whisper of 'Gundam Pilot' sweeping over the collection of people, and Quatre had obviously heard it too, he looked uncomfortable. Wufei took a swift look around, and started walking away from the parlor, motioning for the other two to follow. The eyes of strangers watched his retreating back, and the level of babble soon rose as Heero and Quatre followed after the Chinese. To speed him up, Quatre swiftly went up behind Heero and wheeled the chair out onto the walkway.
That was just the last straw for Heero. He grabbed the wheels and wrenched himself around harshly, forcing Quatre to let go. His arms ached from the effort he had to put into it. He fixed Quatre in a death-glare colder than any he'd distributed at any other time, and hissed through his teeth.
"I'll do it, myself."
With that, he turned around again and heaved the chair into motion, after Wufei, who had slowed to a halt and was waiting for them, hands in his pocket. Quatre stood with his arms limp at his side for a few seconds. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Despite how painfully obvious it was.
The voices coming from their meeting-place faded from their ears as the three pilots caught up with each other. Heero in the middle, purposefully pushing himself forward, with Quatre and Wufei at his sides. They walked in an uncomfortable silence. Quatre in particular, was feeling guilty. Wufei did well in saying nothing; he could see anger rippling across Heero's face. For the second time, it was Quatre who attempted to strike up conversation.
"Do you live here, Wu-man?" he asked quietly.
"I do, yes. I'm surprised I haven't seen you until now." He commented. Quatre shook his head slightly.
"I don' t live here. I came to visit Heero." He indicated with his head towards Heero, trying to make him participate in the small talk.
"You haven't made an effort to visit, Yuy?" Wufei asked, arching an eyebrow. He was very similar to Heero, yes. But he didn't have the same issues Heero. He could shamelessly seek his friends out if he wanted to. The thing was, he'd rather have them come to him. There was nothing wrong with that. It had no connection to his pride. He was just…Wufei.
"Hn" Heero put in helpfully, again suppressing the guilt that wrenched at his stomach. For being the one who appeared the least human, he was possibly the most. Because he had been denied being able to act human to begin with. Wufei snorted.
"Aa. Nothing has changed then." Quatre diverted his eyes to keep from noticing the pain that washed over Heero. He really didn't look well at all. Physically or mentally. Quatre couldn't' help himself. He let it slip out.
"Heero, you're not looking very well."
Heero just kept going as he if hadn't heard anything.
"You're pale, and sickly…you should go see a doctor." Quatre finished, edging away from his friend incase he erupted into a rage. Heero considered it for a while. He had been feeling even more miserable and weak than ever before, he knew that. /=/No…I'm not…'well'…/=/ he admitted.
Yet another minute of silence followed Quatres comments. Wufei and Quatre both waited in the answer, worried what it'd be.
"Maybe."
One could almost feel the tension dropping between the three. Quatre looked surprised, and smiled faintly, but let the subject drop. He'd been about to pull up the subjects of Gundams, but thought better of it.
"Wufei, you haven't seen Trowa around since…let's say…three years back?" his voice sounded guilty and pained. Wufei reacted just as Heero had, except he voiced his thoughts a bit more.
"Pardon? Winner!? You don't know where Trowa is?" Wufei sounded very surprised. He'd never really approved much of the other pilots being 'gay', but he'd gotten used to it. He was, after all, not homophobic. And the mere though of Quatre losing contact with Trowa was just to queer. Quatre flushed red and looked down at his shoes in shame.
He was openly ashamed. And he wasn't weak for it. Quatre was the strong one, if anyone was strong. He dared to show what he felt. He missed Trowa, and for what he'd told Heero, had done everything in his power to find him to no avail. For Heero, it would be so easy. It'd take a few clicks of the mouse and the tapping of some keys, and he'd be able to see Duo, any day he wanted. In the time Heero had finished with these guilty thoughts, Quatre had repeated the story of Trowas disappearance to Wufei.
"Hm. It's odd. I haven't seen him since the war." Wufei stated, staring up at the darkening sky. A few odd stars were shining through already, and the moon was weakly outlined. Quatre nodded solemnly.
"I'll find him though." He smiled, "I just have to try a bit harder."
That was just too much for Heero. Without as much as a word to the other pilots, he went off at an incredible speed for one bound to a wheelchair, down the walkway and was soon out of view. Quatre looked puzzled. He had no idea what was going on behind Heero's cold face. He didn't know how guilty and pathetically weak his friend felt. How angry he was. For his condition of paralysis, making him an excuse for a soldier in his opinion. For his friends, never having contacted them or even given a thought to dropping them a line now and then. For Duo, for hiding from him.
"What's with him?" Quatre asked, watching Heero's retreating back fade into shadows. He got up and was about to run after him, but Wufei grabbed his shoulder.
"From what I know of Yuy, I'm guessing he needs to be left alone"
Quatre paused, and nodded slightly. They both watched Heero struggle to wheel himself home again.
*
Well at home, Heero did everything with brisk ferocity. He dented the door when he threw it open, and left rough marks in the paper of the envelopes he picked up from the floor. Had Shinigami not been quick and agile, a rampaging wheelchair'd have squashed him.
He refused to let his feelings shine through. Why did he have to be so goddamn abnormal? His mind was meant to be oblivious to feelings. It was a fault, an error, to be so weak. Mentally, as well as physically. He threw the door shut again, and screeched up the ramp to his room, not bothering to undress or get ready, and pulled himself onto the bed where he collapsed, panting. He was tired. Exhausted, more like it.
His purpose had been used up completely. The war was over, and even if it wasn't, what could he do? He'd deserted his friends completely in hurt pride, forcing himself to forget them. He had no reason to live.
"Not only am I a cripple, beyond repair…" he said in a dead quiet voice to himself, "but I am the waste product of a war."
"I am no longer needed."
This was Heero. Someone with a life so harsh it'd taken all compassion out of him. But even science can't destroy the soul. He still had emotion, guilt especially. And it was wrong. It was an error in his perfection. He was meant to be the Perfect Soldier; it was that or nothing. He was created a machine of war. An android. And if he couldn't stay that way…
/=/ I'd rather die, than live a purpose-less life as a weakling/=/
And he snatched a razor off his nightstand, holding it to a pulsating vein in his wrist.
Warnings: Er..stuff =D *blinks* Find out for yourself ¬¬
Disclaimer: I do not own the pilots or anything related to Gundam Wing ¬¬ *mumbles about injustice* If Duos Pikachu plushie or Heeros cat Shinigami were to suddenly appear somewhere in this fic, that is mine ^^
Both Heero and Quatre stared in a dumbfounded manner for quite a while. All of a sudden, out of the blue, was Wufei. He was standing a mere four meters away at a Chinese take-out parlor. He received his food, taking it roughly from the frightened clerks hand, and turned around to lean against the counter, consuming his meal. He was unaware that two other people, who had stalled the line waiting for their food by about five people, were very closely watching him. It was Quatre who first opened his mouth to speak, as it often was.
"Fei?" he said in a shaky voice, not taking his eyes of the Chinese man. Wufei stopped mid-chew, a few noodles still suspended from his mouth. Some soy sauce dropped onto his crisp white shirt as he slowly turned his head, raising his dark eyes towards Quatre and Heero. By this time, the noodles dropped out of his mouth, and he assumed the same expression as the two spectators. His meal was completely forgotten.
"…Winner?" His eyes moved lower, across Heero's cold face. "Yuy?" He dropped his food into the trashcan beside him robotically. It wasn't very tasty anyway.
Heero nodded in the business type manner he'd practiced for a long time. He noticed his fingernails were dug into the armrests of his chair again, and simply wouldn't relax. If anything, he appeared to be horrified with facing Wufei. Possibly because of how abruptly it came about. Apart from Duo, Wufei was the person Heero least wanted to appear like this in front of. He'd seen Wufei's eyes traveling down to his disabled legs and snap back to his face again afterwards. It hurt.
On the other hand, Quatres stunned face lit up slowly, and another heartwarming smile spread across his face. He'd gotten over the first part of shock, and was now bubbling with laughter and tears, which one to respond to he didn't know. In the same way he'd attacked Heero with hugs, he did to Wufei.
"Winner! Off! Down!" Wufei threw his hands up in the air as Quatre glomped him around the middle a slight bit too tightly. Wufei sweatdropped, and gave up, realizing there was no way to pry the pilot off him. So he petted Quatres blonde head as if he was a dog.
"It's nice to see you too, Winner." Wufei smiled and rolled his eyes, and let Quatre continue his hug assault. He folded his arms and looked down at Heero, who could possibly have been green with hidden envy at him, for being able…to stand up.
"Hello, Yuy. Been a while." The Chinese said, and took a deep breath of relief as Quatre let him go. By now they'd attracted a whole lot of attention from the crowd, who was staring just as stupidly at them all. Heero could hear a faint whisper of 'Gundam Pilot' sweeping over the collection of people, and Quatre had obviously heard it too, he looked uncomfortable. Wufei took a swift look around, and started walking away from the parlor, motioning for the other two to follow. The eyes of strangers watched his retreating back, and the level of babble soon rose as Heero and Quatre followed after the Chinese. To speed him up, Quatre swiftly went up behind Heero and wheeled the chair out onto the walkway.
That was just the last straw for Heero. He grabbed the wheels and wrenched himself around harshly, forcing Quatre to let go. His arms ached from the effort he had to put into it. He fixed Quatre in a death-glare colder than any he'd distributed at any other time, and hissed through his teeth.
"I'll do it, myself."
With that, he turned around again and heaved the chair into motion, after Wufei, who had slowed to a halt and was waiting for them, hands in his pocket. Quatre stood with his arms limp at his side for a few seconds. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Despite how painfully obvious it was.
The voices coming from their meeting-place faded from their ears as the three pilots caught up with each other. Heero in the middle, purposefully pushing himself forward, with Quatre and Wufei at his sides. They walked in an uncomfortable silence. Quatre in particular, was feeling guilty. Wufei did well in saying nothing; he could see anger rippling across Heero's face. For the second time, it was Quatre who attempted to strike up conversation.
"Do you live here, Wu-man?" he asked quietly.
"I do, yes. I'm surprised I haven't seen you until now." He commented. Quatre shook his head slightly.
"I don' t live here. I came to visit Heero." He indicated with his head towards Heero, trying to make him participate in the small talk.
"You haven't made an effort to visit, Yuy?" Wufei asked, arching an eyebrow. He was very similar to Heero, yes. But he didn't have the same issues Heero. He could shamelessly seek his friends out if he wanted to. The thing was, he'd rather have them come to him. There was nothing wrong with that. It had no connection to his pride. He was just…Wufei.
"Hn" Heero put in helpfully, again suppressing the guilt that wrenched at his stomach. For being the one who appeared the least human, he was possibly the most. Because he had been denied being able to act human to begin with. Wufei snorted.
"Aa. Nothing has changed then." Quatre diverted his eyes to keep from noticing the pain that washed over Heero. He really didn't look well at all. Physically or mentally. Quatre couldn't' help himself. He let it slip out.
"Heero, you're not looking very well."
Heero just kept going as he if hadn't heard anything.
"You're pale, and sickly…you should go see a doctor." Quatre finished, edging away from his friend incase he erupted into a rage. Heero considered it for a while. He had been feeling even more miserable and weak than ever before, he knew that. /=/No…I'm not…'well'…/=/ he admitted.
Yet another minute of silence followed Quatres comments. Wufei and Quatre both waited in the answer, worried what it'd be.
"Maybe."
One could almost feel the tension dropping between the three. Quatre looked surprised, and smiled faintly, but let the subject drop. He'd been about to pull up the subjects of Gundams, but thought better of it.
"Wufei, you haven't seen Trowa around since…let's say…three years back?" his voice sounded guilty and pained. Wufei reacted just as Heero had, except he voiced his thoughts a bit more.
"Pardon? Winner!? You don't know where Trowa is?" Wufei sounded very surprised. He'd never really approved much of the other pilots being 'gay', but he'd gotten used to it. He was, after all, not homophobic. And the mere though of Quatre losing contact with Trowa was just to queer. Quatre flushed red and looked down at his shoes in shame.
He was openly ashamed. And he wasn't weak for it. Quatre was the strong one, if anyone was strong. He dared to show what he felt. He missed Trowa, and for what he'd told Heero, had done everything in his power to find him to no avail. For Heero, it would be so easy. It'd take a few clicks of the mouse and the tapping of some keys, and he'd be able to see Duo, any day he wanted. In the time Heero had finished with these guilty thoughts, Quatre had repeated the story of Trowas disappearance to Wufei.
"Hm. It's odd. I haven't seen him since the war." Wufei stated, staring up at the darkening sky. A few odd stars were shining through already, and the moon was weakly outlined. Quatre nodded solemnly.
"I'll find him though." He smiled, "I just have to try a bit harder."
That was just too much for Heero. Without as much as a word to the other pilots, he went off at an incredible speed for one bound to a wheelchair, down the walkway and was soon out of view. Quatre looked puzzled. He had no idea what was going on behind Heero's cold face. He didn't know how guilty and pathetically weak his friend felt. How angry he was. For his condition of paralysis, making him an excuse for a soldier in his opinion. For his friends, never having contacted them or even given a thought to dropping them a line now and then. For Duo, for hiding from him.
"What's with him?" Quatre asked, watching Heero's retreating back fade into shadows. He got up and was about to run after him, but Wufei grabbed his shoulder.
"From what I know of Yuy, I'm guessing he needs to be left alone"
Quatre paused, and nodded slightly. They both watched Heero struggle to wheel himself home again.
*
Well at home, Heero did everything with brisk ferocity. He dented the door when he threw it open, and left rough marks in the paper of the envelopes he picked up from the floor. Had Shinigami not been quick and agile, a rampaging wheelchair'd have squashed him.
He refused to let his feelings shine through. Why did he have to be so goddamn abnormal? His mind was meant to be oblivious to feelings. It was a fault, an error, to be so weak. Mentally, as well as physically. He threw the door shut again, and screeched up the ramp to his room, not bothering to undress or get ready, and pulled himself onto the bed where he collapsed, panting. He was tired. Exhausted, more like it.
His purpose had been used up completely. The war was over, and even if it wasn't, what could he do? He'd deserted his friends completely in hurt pride, forcing himself to forget them. He had no reason to live.
"Not only am I a cripple, beyond repair…" he said in a dead quiet voice to himself, "but I am the waste product of a war."
"I am no longer needed."
This was Heero. Someone with a life so harsh it'd taken all compassion out of him. But even science can't destroy the soul. He still had emotion, guilt especially. And it was wrong. It was an error in his perfection. He was meant to be the Perfect Soldier; it was that or nothing. He was created a machine of war. An android. And if he couldn't stay that way…
/=/ I'd rather die, than live a purpose-less life as a weakling/=/
And he snatched a razor off his nightstand, holding it to a pulsating vein in his wrist.