I stood there, neither shocked nor angry in the slightest. He needed
to go and have time to himself. He needed himself.
"Oh my Duo," I whispered, "may Allah - God - look kindly on and protect your soul."
They were simple words, yet they comforted me. I knew, or at least thought I knew, that for now Duo Maxwell would be all right. Smiling, I picked up the brush that lay forgotten on the beige carpet. Just then I remembered that I hadn't braided his hair.
As much as he needed his space, Duo still wouldn't want a frizz ball. Or at least that's how I justified my decision to walk over to his room and return the brush. Seeing as I like to be as well prepared as I can be, I ran through a few different approaches mentally: 'Smiling cheerily, "Whoops! You left this back in my room. Silly you!"' - yeah right. 'Reassuringly gazing into his eyes, "You - you left this."' Not to my surprise in the slightest, I didn't yet know how to approach Duo when I got to his door.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked. A solemn-faced Duo almost immediately appeared. At a complete loss for words, I simply raised the brush. He took it and placed it gently on his dresser without ever meeting my gaze.
My heart began to pound loudly in my head and frantic thoughts ran amok in my mind. 'Oh no! What did I do? He's always hated me; that must be it. He's afraid of me. Everything back there was just a joke. He doesn't love me.' Knowing tears were likely to come, I turned and started back towards my room.
"Quatre." His beautifully powerful voice hid the uneasiness I later realized he must have felt. Duo could do that. He could have talked anyone into the depths of Hell, had he the desire to. I turned around slowly, for some reason thinking that I would startle him if I moved too quickly.
He looked at me, really looked at me. I became belatedly aware that he hadn't called me by his pet name for me, Quat. Cold flashed through my body for a scant instant, and was replaced by a lingering heat. I can't remember being more scared, ever.
I knew it was important, though, and forced myself to focus on Duo. He pulled a strand of chestnut hair over his right shoulder and twisted it around his forefinger. After he realized what he was doing, he threw the hair behind him and looked up at me. A fire of determination danced through his eyes.
" I know I can love you better than that," he stated, half-pointing to my room.
A smile, genuine albeit not wholly happy, spread across my face. And then I felt myself crying again. I shook my head right to left, and for the life of me felt like I was four years old again. I drew in a breath and let it out as a quiet laugh. "No."
"Yes, Quat. You- you just don't deserve to have to cry. I don't wanna ever make you cry."
"Duo," I bit my bottom lip for a hesitant moment, then continued, "Duo, you can't say things like that. If you wouldn't ever make me cry, wouldn't ever let me see your pain, you'd be lying to me. Part of you, part of me - Allah, part of all of us - is our pain. It's probably a larger part of you than any of us. That's why I love you, Duo, and why I respect you."
Clearly confused, and on the verge of frustration, Duo blurted, "You love me because I suffer?!"
I smiled knowingly and shook my head no; "It's not that you suffer. I love and respect you because you are strong enough to deal with you mountains of pain, and still be the great person you are."
I looked into his eyes, and felt as though I was drowning in those endless violet pools. I saw there that he had known exactly what I meant; he just needed to hear me say it so he could believe it.
I didn't think that selfish; actually I think it's legitimate. If everyone I'd ever loved was taken from me, I'd need assurance - every once in a while - that I wasn't going to be left alone.again.
After a while, I saw Duo's posture change suddenly. Evidently, our conversation had turned into an awkward silence. I discarded the serious tone in my voice and asked, "So, how about that braid?"
We both laughed and walked into his room. I sat on the edge of his bed with my legs spread apart, then patted the bed space between them. Duo leapt to the dresser, grabbing the brush, then settled on the floor with his head resting on the spot I had indicated.
And I braided my beautiful Duo's hair as we sat in a beautiful sweet silence.
"Oh my Duo," I whispered, "may Allah - God - look kindly on and protect your soul."
They were simple words, yet they comforted me. I knew, or at least thought I knew, that for now Duo Maxwell would be all right. Smiling, I picked up the brush that lay forgotten on the beige carpet. Just then I remembered that I hadn't braided his hair.
As much as he needed his space, Duo still wouldn't want a frizz ball. Or at least that's how I justified my decision to walk over to his room and return the brush. Seeing as I like to be as well prepared as I can be, I ran through a few different approaches mentally: 'Smiling cheerily, "Whoops! You left this back in my room. Silly you!"' - yeah right. 'Reassuringly gazing into his eyes, "You - you left this."' Not to my surprise in the slightest, I didn't yet know how to approach Duo when I got to his door.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked. A solemn-faced Duo almost immediately appeared. At a complete loss for words, I simply raised the brush. He took it and placed it gently on his dresser without ever meeting my gaze.
My heart began to pound loudly in my head and frantic thoughts ran amok in my mind. 'Oh no! What did I do? He's always hated me; that must be it. He's afraid of me. Everything back there was just a joke. He doesn't love me.' Knowing tears were likely to come, I turned and started back towards my room.
"Quatre." His beautifully powerful voice hid the uneasiness I later realized he must have felt. Duo could do that. He could have talked anyone into the depths of Hell, had he the desire to. I turned around slowly, for some reason thinking that I would startle him if I moved too quickly.
He looked at me, really looked at me. I became belatedly aware that he hadn't called me by his pet name for me, Quat. Cold flashed through my body for a scant instant, and was replaced by a lingering heat. I can't remember being more scared, ever.
I knew it was important, though, and forced myself to focus on Duo. He pulled a strand of chestnut hair over his right shoulder and twisted it around his forefinger. After he realized what he was doing, he threw the hair behind him and looked up at me. A fire of determination danced through his eyes.
" I know I can love you better than that," he stated, half-pointing to my room.
A smile, genuine albeit not wholly happy, spread across my face. And then I felt myself crying again. I shook my head right to left, and for the life of me felt like I was four years old again. I drew in a breath and let it out as a quiet laugh. "No."
"Yes, Quat. You- you just don't deserve to have to cry. I don't wanna ever make you cry."
"Duo," I bit my bottom lip for a hesitant moment, then continued, "Duo, you can't say things like that. If you wouldn't ever make me cry, wouldn't ever let me see your pain, you'd be lying to me. Part of you, part of me - Allah, part of all of us - is our pain. It's probably a larger part of you than any of us. That's why I love you, Duo, and why I respect you."
Clearly confused, and on the verge of frustration, Duo blurted, "You love me because I suffer?!"
I smiled knowingly and shook my head no; "It's not that you suffer. I love and respect you because you are strong enough to deal with you mountains of pain, and still be the great person you are."
I looked into his eyes, and felt as though I was drowning in those endless violet pools. I saw there that he had known exactly what I meant; he just needed to hear me say it so he could believe it.
I didn't think that selfish; actually I think it's legitimate. If everyone I'd ever loved was taken from me, I'd need assurance - every once in a while - that I wasn't going to be left alone.again.
After a while, I saw Duo's posture change suddenly. Evidently, our conversation had turned into an awkward silence. I discarded the serious tone in my voice and asked, "So, how about that braid?"
We both laughed and walked into his room. I sat on the edge of his bed with my legs spread apart, then patted the bed space between them. Duo leapt to the dresser, grabbing the brush, then settled on the floor with his head resting on the spot I had indicated.
And I braided my beautiful Duo's hair as we sat in a beautiful sweet silence.