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The smoldering embers crackled within the small fireplace, simmering in the heat. Heero was balanced in a crouching position, steadily withstanding his stance with nimble poise, his leg muscles pulled taut, bunched together so he was gathered on his haunches. Jutting his palms out to meet the warmth of the flames before his frozen form, he bent his hands forth in an attempt to alleviate the cold. Slowly, he rotated his hands to absorb the heat emitting from the flames, blandly attempted to take his mind of the preceding events. His eyes wandered, drifting forward to the shadow of the flames dancing along the wooden floorboards. Was there something I missed? He thought to himself, before turning his gaze to the flickering light, studying the flames intently as if there were some unknown object hidden within the tumbling mass of embers. A fickle and fragile flame. Sallow light reflecting in his calm blue eyes, the roaring flames before him flashing briefly, shrouded his visage. With twilight approaching, shadows displayed intermittently against the hardwood floor, casting a mixture of darkness fended off by a pale glow of receding sunlight.
Trying to quell the pulsating adrenaline pumping within him, he fought back his feelings of detachment, yet, unavoidable; his thoughts wouldn't cease, and washed over him, settling like a beacon in his mind. These doubts resurface, smothering one's mind like a thick blanket. Despite his resolve, he couldn't drown out the recollections, which he would like not have been able to recall. Thoughts and memories jumbled in his brain, until the silence was stifled by noise. He stared forward, until his perception of the objects before him blurred and multiplied, allowing the tumult of his mind to overtake him briefly, and whether or not he was screaming, he could not rightly guess, the only sound that greeted his ears was the tinny crackling of the flames before him. Then, struck off guard, he stiffened; his ravaged nerves jarred from his momentum, as he hunched his shoulders back, and then plastered a hand against his temple, trying to relieve the stinging in his eyes, which still glittered with the reflection of the feverish flames. What had happened just then? Or more accurately, what happens now?
Slowly, he raised from his crouched position half heartedly, bunching his slender arms to enclose his waist. He still felt mildly chilled, or, perhaps, it was the internal cold, which wafted from the inside out. Shivering at the thought, he clenched his palms tighter around his ribs, and laggardly stepped back from the crackling fireplace, releasing a heavy sigh, detecting the strain against the rise and fall of his chest. Breath deep, the gathering gloom. Am I just to follow my instincts blindly? Am I just to try and stand it? It can't be so easy to give in. To turn my back would seem foolish, but to go blindly, is senseless. Adjusting his eyes to the near vacant floor, he leant down awkwardly, to collect the sopping wet garments scattered beneath him, fumbling to grasp the heap of fabric in his trembling fingers, his figure bent over his work.
Thankful for something to divert his attention, he gathered the remaining articles of clothing and draped them alongside the matching jacket, which still hung down upon his rickety desk chair, with the weighted water from the snow, now silently splattering clear droplets of water onto the wood floor. He paused hesitantly before the soaked coat, and repositioned the dripping fabric. It was taking poorly to drying, despite his efforts, and this dissuaded him. Reaching forward, he raised the jacket, which was swollen with the weight, and, to his surprise, he caught sight of a second garment, a flash of white before he reached forward, tugging the folded piece of cloth from the jacket. Puzzled, he gathered the article of clothing into his hands, fingers clasping the edge of his discarded shirt. He studied it for a moment, tapering his hands along the creases, before he carefully elevated his gaze, eyes falling forward to the end of the bed. Letting the garment slid from his solid clutch, he swiveled his head to the side, toward his now inhabited bed, gazing upon the still form of the occupant. Heero carefully maneuvered his step, his stride almost rushed, yet he was cautious as to not create any extra noise to disturb the sleeping figure before him. Reaching out, he grasped the cold metal wire of the bed railing between his fingers, and tentatively contemplated the one before him.
Duo lay positioned on his stomach, the comforter pulled up along the dip of his upper back, revealing a bare portion of his shoulder under the heavy blanket. His head was lolled ornately to the side against the matching ivory pillow, catching in noteworthy contrast to the pale pallor of his flesh, which, gratefully, had resumed some of its original color. His mouth was slightly parted wide against the material, his breathing shallow yet not so much restrained. His dappled, auburn hair was twisted and planished smooth against his back, spilling out onto the sheets beside him, yet it had become unraveled slightly to the midway part of the braid, leaving the bottom half strewn messily about him. His legs were entwined beneath the tumult of bedding, while his left hand had was placed beneath the pillow where his head lay, trapped beneath the weight, while his right, dangled off the side of the mattress, his fingers trailing inches above the floor.
Studying the sight before him, he twinged involuntarily, unwillingly facing his addiction, and he absently wondered how such an attraction had been allowed to endure. Perhaps, he wondered to himself, he was not inclined to abandon such feelings, for over the months they had only solidified. How does he except I will know what to do? He mused to himself.Then, without warrant, he had appeared once more, as mysteriously as the first instance, leaving him to once again sift and sort through such emotions he had so cleverly tried to conceal. He pursed his lips together, wanting to question so many subjects, if not to the one before him, to the teasing silence, in an attempt to seek relief. Stifling his musings, he swallowed thickly, his voice trapped in yearning, yet he refrained from disturbing the quieted atmosphere. Absently, he leaned forward, observing to himself, behind Duo's lidded eyes, they quivered, as if in some troubled dream like trance, and, unable to restrain himself, he snaked his shivering hand out to his temple, brushing the plastered locks from amid his eyes gingerly. He surprised when the formerly still figure shifted ever so lightly against the touch, and Heero backed away slowly, clutching his hand as if it had been stung, constraining the impulse to wake him, to receive the answers he desired, yet he contained himself.
Taking a relinquished step backwards, he slid earnestly into the wooden desk chair, stroking his throbbing temple amid his bangs, and folded his arms against his chest, and leaned back drowsily, feebly struggling to thwart the tired sensation threatening to overtake him. His eyes settled back on the bed, never moving from him. The fall was never so fearsome, but if I should fall, you're going down with me. And hard. He focused his view to the barren floor, before flicking his eyes back to Duo momentarily. It's a long way down, but it's too late. He lidded his eyes silently, surrendering to whatever troubled sleep may come.
....................................................................................................................
The smoldering embers crackled within the small fireplace, simmering in the heat. Heero was balanced in a crouching position, steadily withstanding his stance with nimble poise, his leg muscles pulled taut, bunched together so he was gathered on his haunches. Jutting his palms out to meet the warmth of the flames before his frozen form, he bent his hands forth in an attempt to alleviate the cold. Slowly, he rotated his hands to absorb the heat emitting from the flames, blandly attempted to take his mind of the preceding events. His eyes wandered, drifting forward to the shadow of the flames dancing along the wooden floorboards. Was there something I missed? He thought to himself, before turning his gaze to the flickering light, studying the flames intently as if there were some unknown object hidden within the tumbling mass of embers. A fickle and fragile flame. Sallow light reflecting in his calm blue eyes, the roaring flames before him flashing briefly, shrouded his visage. With twilight approaching, shadows displayed intermittently against the hardwood floor, casting a mixture of darkness fended off by a pale glow of receding sunlight.
Trying to quell the pulsating adrenaline pumping within him, he fought back his feelings of detachment, yet, unavoidable; his thoughts wouldn't cease, and washed over him, settling like a beacon in his mind. These doubts resurface, smothering one's mind like a thick blanket. Despite his resolve, he couldn't drown out the recollections, which he would like not have been able to recall. Thoughts and memories jumbled in his brain, until the silence was stifled by noise. He stared forward, until his perception of the objects before him blurred and multiplied, allowing the tumult of his mind to overtake him briefly, and whether or not he was screaming, he could not rightly guess, the only sound that greeted his ears was the tinny crackling of the flames before him. Then, struck off guard, he stiffened; his ravaged nerves jarred from his momentum, as he hunched his shoulders back, and then plastered a hand against his temple, trying to relieve the stinging in his eyes, which still glittered with the reflection of the feverish flames. What had happened just then? Or more accurately, what happens now?
Slowly, he raised from his crouched position half heartedly, bunching his slender arms to enclose his waist. He still felt mildly chilled, or, perhaps, it was the internal cold, which wafted from the inside out. Shivering at the thought, he clenched his palms tighter around his ribs, and laggardly stepped back from the crackling fireplace, releasing a heavy sigh, detecting the strain against the rise and fall of his chest. Breath deep, the gathering gloom. Am I just to follow my instincts blindly? Am I just to try and stand it? It can't be so easy to give in. To turn my back would seem foolish, but to go blindly, is senseless. Adjusting his eyes to the near vacant floor, he leant down awkwardly, to collect the sopping wet garments scattered beneath him, fumbling to grasp the heap of fabric in his trembling fingers, his figure bent over his work.
Thankful for something to divert his attention, he gathered the remaining articles of clothing and draped them alongside the matching jacket, which still hung down upon his rickety desk chair, with the weighted water from the snow, now silently splattering clear droplets of water onto the wood floor. He paused hesitantly before the soaked coat, and repositioned the dripping fabric. It was taking poorly to drying, despite his efforts, and this dissuaded him. Reaching forward, he raised the jacket, which was swollen with the weight, and, to his surprise, he caught sight of a second garment, a flash of white before he reached forward, tugging the folded piece of cloth from the jacket. Puzzled, he gathered the article of clothing into his hands, fingers clasping the edge of his discarded shirt. He studied it for a moment, tapering his hands along the creases, before he carefully elevated his gaze, eyes falling forward to the end of the bed. Letting the garment slid from his solid clutch, he swiveled his head to the side, toward his now inhabited bed, gazing upon the still form of the occupant. Heero carefully maneuvered his step, his stride almost rushed, yet he was cautious as to not create any extra noise to disturb the sleeping figure before him. Reaching out, he grasped the cold metal wire of the bed railing between his fingers, and tentatively contemplated the one before him.
Duo lay positioned on his stomach, the comforter pulled up along the dip of his upper back, revealing a bare portion of his shoulder under the heavy blanket. His head was lolled ornately to the side against the matching ivory pillow, catching in noteworthy contrast to the pale pallor of his flesh, which, gratefully, had resumed some of its original color. His mouth was slightly parted wide against the material, his breathing shallow yet not so much restrained. His dappled, auburn hair was twisted and planished smooth against his back, spilling out onto the sheets beside him, yet it had become unraveled slightly to the midway part of the braid, leaving the bottom half strewn messily about him. His legs were entwined beneath the tumult of bedding, while his left hand had was placed beneath the pillow where his head lay, trapped beneath the weight, while his right, dangled off the side of the mattress, his fingers trailing inches above the floor.
Studying the sight before him, he twinged involuntarily, unwillingly facing his addiction, and he absently wondered how such an attraction had been allowed to endure. Perhaps, he wondered to himself, he was not inclined to abandon such feelings, for over the months they had only solidified. How does he except I will know what to do? He mused to himself.Then, without warrant, he had appeared once more, as mysteriously as the first instance, leaving him to once again sift and sort through such emotions he had so cleverly tried to conceal. He pursed his lips together, wanting to question so many subjects, if not to the one before him, to the teasing silence, in an attempt to seek relief. Stifling his musings, he swallowed thickly, his voice trapped in yearning, yet he refrained from disturbing the quieted atmosphere. Absently, he leaned forward, observing to himself, behind Duo's lidded eyes, they quivered, as if in some troubled dream like trance, and, unable to restrain himself, he snaked his shivering hand out to his temple, brushing the plastered locks from amid his eyes gingerly. He surprised when the formerly still figure shifted ever so lightly against the touch, and Heero backed away slowly, clutching his hand as if it had been stung, constraining the impulse to wake him, to receive the answers he desired, yet he contained himself.
Taking a relinquished step backwards, he slid earnestly into the wooden desk chair, stroking his throbbing temple amid his bangs, and folded his arms against his chest, and leaned back drowsily, feebly struggling to thwart the tired sensation threatening to overtake him. His eyes settled back on the bed, never moving from him. The fall was never so fearsome, but if I should fall, you're going down with me. And hard. He focused his view to the barren floor, before flicking his eyes back to Duo momentarily. It's a long way down, but it's too late. He lidded his eyes silently, surrendering to whatever troubled sleep may come.
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