It was a cool night, one of those that whispered of autumn, the kind that smelled of rain and sent a chill frost over the ground. The water of the bay lapped quietly at the shore, breaking upon the steel supports of the old bridge. In a cloud covered sky, the wisps and rolls of the spun-silk parted for only a moment, and the rhinestone moon shone bright before it was covered again.
However it did not reflect on the dark eyes of the lone man-child perched on the rail of the rusty old bridge. He continued to gaze downwards at the water beneath him, as if searching its depths for answers. He did not know its temperature, or whether it would hurt should he fall. His balance wobbled slightly, his knees almost creaking to protest being bent for so long, but he did not cast out a hand to catch himself. His equilibrium returned to him quickly, and he refocused his gaze on the waters below.
The other's approach was calm, silent, calculated. But it did not go unnoticed.
He stood up from his crouch, and took the small step to the very edge of the rail, leaning out slightly to view the choppy swells directly beneath him. Should he jump, would he land there? Or slightly to the left as he favored his right foot?
"Yuy," he greeted the other man-child. They had both grown up too soon, had suffered the loss of their innocence at too early an age.
"Chang," his voice was nearly soft, something that must have taken him great effort, and his face smothered in shadow. It seemed to drown him in the blackness of the night.
"Why are you here?" He had come to this place, barren of life in these after-hours, seeking relief from his listless, useless existence.
"I saw a lonely figure upon the bridge. I came to see who it was." Heero had known exactly who it was.
Wufei sneered. "What? So you can play hero again?" If he could not save himself, what little was left of his honor would not allow someone else to do it for him.
His companion did not reply to the slight, but remained within his stony silence, except the silence did not seem quite so unforgiving anymore.
"Tell me, Heero," he looked over his shoulder, as if to punctuate his words, though he half suspected they would be lost in the darkness before they reached the other's ears, "What becomes of a warrior when there is no war to sustain him?"
A thin swirling cloud passed over the moon, casting a dim glow upon the two wanderers, illuminating them to the other's gaze like an eerie street lamp whose single bulb was dying.
It faded away, with the passing of the cloud, and nary a word between them. He had not been expecting an answer; he did not receive one. His mind and eyes meandered back to the small crests underneath his feet, the way the few city lights glinted off their silver peaks. Their rhythm mesmerized and fascinated him in a way few things ever had before. He leaned forward, vainly attempting to watch them travel out to sea before the tides swept them in again, vaguely wished he could join them. And vaguely, he knew he could.
"Sometimes-"
The voice caught him, startled him, left him floundering before he regained his balance. He turned to his companion, and watched him with wary eyes, surprised that he would speak in such a moment.
"Sometimes," His tone was strained, as if he had trouble smoothing the words over his tongue. "One warrior must seek out another, and within him, find comfort."
"What is it you want, Heero?" He kept to the edge, and used it as an anchor in the world of what-could-be. It was a solid ending to this sordid fairy tale of life, and one he could count on when he needed it.
His comrade wavered a moment, his jaw clamped shut firmly before it finally opened. For a single second, he remained silent still, but then- "I want you to come with me."
"What if I don't want to?" He felt defiant, understandable in the circumstances. He had had so much pain in his young life, he did not deserve more. Moreover he himself understood this, and was reluctant to take the card Fate would deal him next.
The other young man ignored his question. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his form fitting jeans and turned around, shrugging his shoulders within the loose jacket. "You have two choices, Wufei: You can take that step off the edge and end everything; your pain, your fear, your loneliness. Or you can come with me, and we can face it together, and maybe, just maybe, we can find a bit of happiness in it all. It won't be an easy road, but I can promise you won't be alone."
Contemplating Heero's words, Wufei turned back to the waters, ebbing out to the lonely, cold ocean. If he chose this, it would all be over, everything would end with minimal pain and he could finally rest in peace. It was solid, fail-safe, and easy.
The corners of his mouth curved upwards in a barely-there smile. When has a Chang ever taken the easy way out?
"Heero?" he called. The clouds shifted and gleaming moonlight spilled over the scene. The other boy stiffly spun around, both fear and hope warring visibly in his eyes.
Wufei hopped deftly off the rail, landing on both feet, bending his knees slightly to absorb the shock, and held out his hand. "Let's go."
-----
It started as a chaste kiss from Heero, reasserting the fact that Wufei knew exactly what his offer had entailed, but one thing led to another, and it quickly became something else altogether.
When morning light penetrated the window of Heero's apartment bedroom, softened by the worn once-white towel suspended over the window by two nails, it found two bodies huddled together under the thin blankets of the steel bed, comforted by the soft mattress and each other's heat.
Heero, ever the militant early-riser, woke first, despite the late—or rather early—hour when they had finally fallen into the oblivions of sleep, and watched his companion breathe slowly in and out. He smiled, and smoothed the skin along Wufei's jaw with his thumb and then across his cheek. The still-sleeping boy squirmed a little at the touch and squeezed his eyes together as he rejoined the world of the conscious. "'Fei, Wufei, wake up."
His eyes finally came open, one by one, and they stared blearily into the Prussian orbs above him. He seemed… confused—if only for a moment—as if he had not expected to wake beside the other youth. But then he remembered, and his brow creased.
"Do you-regret your choice?" Heero's voice faltered a little in the middle of the question at the look on the other's face. He had not been confident at all in his proposition.
Wufei blinked at him, re-recognizing the other's presence, digesting the question in the early morning haze. His brow creased further and he chewed on his lower lip, squinting slightly. Heero felt his heart skip a beat at the hesitation and suddenly it was so very important that Wufei not change his mind; so terribly, horribly, unbearably important and he did not know why.
But Wufei merely made himself more comfortable on the pillows, his loose hair (unkempt as it was) falling everywhere, and drew an arm about Heero's waist, his hand gracefully sliding along the smooth skin. Pulling him close, their abdomens pressed together and legs intertwined, he touched their foreheads together and peered at Heero through his lashes, before opening his eyes fully in a gesture of honesty.
"No. No, I don't."
Heero smiled slowly again, the corners of his lips sweetly curling upwards. He shifted his hand to cup Wufei's hip underneath the blankets.
"But," he continued, "I don't know if this is going to work."
Heero hugged him closer, worry playing openly in his face. He closed his eyes. "Are you—are we—" What would you call it? Would we be breaking up, he thought. Are we even 'together'? Despite their single night together, it did not seem an unlikely preference on Wufei's part. After all, he was not quite sure Wufei had been playing with a full deck when he found him on the bridge, whether from intoxication (though there was no evidence) or simply the gloom of the environment or even from the week he had spent missing. No, it was not unlikely at all. In fact, it was most likely that those few missing cards were what caused the Chinese youth to choose him over the chilly waters of the bay, and the bridge, old and rusty as it was, would always be there.
"No!" Lips pressed against his, stealing his breath and his heart all in one.
And Wufei was panting next to him; the hand previously encircling his waist was clutching his face instead. Heero opened his eyes, the other's fingers straining at his cheek, leaving red marks from the pressure.
"I—I never said I wouldn't try." Wufei's heart was still thudding painfully; the pounding consumed his chest and kept his breath short. When that soft, sweet smile had left Heero's lips, it was as if dawn had come without the sun. He wanted it back. "It doesn't really feel much better, but it doesn't feel worse." He thumbed the corner of Heero's mouth, hoping that smile would return, and when it did, a similar one mirrored itself on Wufei's own face. "I want to try. I think I need to try."
Watching his companion, Heero slid his hand from Wufei's hip to the slight dip of his waist and gave it a meaningful squeeze. "I think I need to try too."
They smiled at each other and leaned their heads forward to share a soft kiss, a meeting of lips.
When they parted, Wufei spoke, his lips still brushing lightly against Heero's. "Now that all of that's out in the open—"
"—breakfast?" Heero finished for him.
Wufei chuckled huskily as his stomach growled menacingly. He had not at all taken care of himself in the last week. "Yeah, why not."