Notes: Heero POV. I started writing this after a horrible bout of writer's block, so it may not be as good as the previous chapters, but it does include a confession of love and... drum roll please... a kiss!! Yay!
Notes2: www. palace.net/ ~llama/ psych/ injury. html is a real site (take out the spaces, it's the only way i could get it to show), and actually quite good. If you do self-harm, it's a good site to visit, it may help you understand what you're going through a little better. The information I got on self-harm being psychologically addictive was from someone's LJ, so I can't give a reference, but I did not write it and it is true. Apparently. And yes, I have an emergency box that I haven't actually had to open yet, but it's a good idea to have one. Anyway, enjoy and review!
The day passed slowly. Wufei had finally woken up and was definitely not happy, spending most of his time locked away in his bedroom. Trowa seemed to have hidden the fact that his chest and back were covered in bruises, so he got a lecture from Quatre while said blonde rubbed witch hazel on the bruises.
And Duo... was confusing. He seemed to have made some decision, while sitting with Wufei, but I don't think that decision really pleased him. He seemed very... unsure, hesitant, and just a bit scared. I think I understood why.
He had asked for help, and was apparently willing to accept it, to try and get better, but it wouldn't be easy. He knew that the only way he was going to heal would be to talk about every single one of his problems, he knew he'd have to bare his soul to me and pray I didn't judge him. He knew that we faced a long journey full of tears and pain and shame.
And as much as I wanted to start the healing, I gave him the day to adjust. I didn't exactly leave him alone, but I didn't really hover either, just letting him know that I was there. He seemed to appreciate that, and I caught him just looking at me a couple of times, but he quickly looked away when he saw that I had noticed. There was something in his eyes, some shadow of emotion, that I had a hard time reading.
After a very quiet, very uncomfortable dinner, Wufei decided to actually socialise with the rest of us. Sort of. He curled up in the corner of the living room and read a book while the rest of us watched the news.
I realised that I had never actually done any research on self-harming, and got out my laptop to start. If I was going to help Duo, I needed to know something about what he was going through. After logging onto the Net, I ran a search on Google for the term 'self-injury'. I got a total of 109, 000 results, and clicked on the first link, www .palace.net/ ~llama/ psych/ injury. html . The first thing that caught my eye was a questionnaire, and after a moment's thought, I downloaded it onto my laptop for a later date. It would be... interesting to see what Duo's answers were, but I knew the questions would be hard for him, and we had to go slow.
However, it quickly became obvious that this site was for people with milder problems than Duo, people who lived ordinary lives or had some singular trauma in their past. It would not be helpful to Duo, who lived anything but a normal life, and had repeated traumas in his past, present, and most probably, his future.
I left the site and went to find some more information, something that would better help me understand just how to help someone with Duo's extreme problems.
I'd been searching for half an hour before I finally found my answer. With one simple paragraph, I understood that Duo's problems were not going to be solved by a few heart-to-hearts.
'Self harm can be addictive. It can be psychologically addictive (especially if someone comes to rely on it as their only coping mechanism) and the body's hormonal responses to the action can be physically addictive. And okay, in this case, self harm may be (or become) the sole problem and stopping the self harm may stop the problem.'
Duo was addicted to cutting, just like a drug or alcohol. He was suffering from withdrawal. His body was being denied what it craved, what it needed to survive.
I glanced at Duo, studying his profile as he watched the TV. It was dark, but no one had bothered to turn on the lights, too engrossed in the vampire movie they were watching. The flickering light from the TV danced over his skin, sometimes highlighting his violet eyes, sometimes hiding them in shadow.
Did he realise just how dependent he was on cutting? I reasoned that he probably did, judging by his reactions when I had first taken away his blades, and how he reacted when he needed to cut but couldn't. He had to know that he was addicted. The question was, could he really beat the addiction? It wasn't as simple as alcohol or drugs, which are complicated enough, because he was cutting for a reason. Cutting was his way of coping, his only way of coping, and he had to find other methods of dealing with his life.
That made me pause and think. It was a fairly safe bet that it was his life as a Gundam pilot that was causing him to cut, right? Well, I was a Gundam pilot, too. How did I cope with my life? Why didn't I cut up my arms?
"Heero, you're frowning, is something wrong?" Quatre asked, and I glanced at him.
"No, nothing. Just thinking."
He nodded and let it drop. I looked at Duo again, and he quickly looked away. Why did he keep doing that? Why did he keep sneaking glances at me and then looking away as if embarrassed? Did he regret asking for help? Was he worried about how I would react to his problems? Did he still blame me for taking away his blades?
"This movie is completely pointless," Wufei growled, speaking for the first time since he'd settled down with his book. I saw Duo smile out of the corner of my eye, and knew that he was relieved that Wufei had spoken.
"Well, it's not really supposed to be all deep and philosophical," he quipped. "It's supposed to be something you can laugh at and joke about later. Or, it's supposed to be for young teens to see so they can make out and not worry about missing the movie. Either works fine."
"Young teens do WHAT?"
Duo snickered, and elaborated. "Young teens go to boring or completely crap movies that they really don't want to see because the theatre is dark and private and they sit in the back row and make out for the duration. They used to go to interesting movies with the intention of actually watching it, but then the guy, or girl if she was bold enough, would make some small move, perhaps put his arm around her, and they would snuggle, and they'd end up making out and missing the movie. So, after a while, they just go to crap movies. If they end up actually watching it, they can laugh about it later and shit, but if they don't, no harm done. Completely logical."
"That is complete rubbish!"
"So? That doesn't stop it from being logical."
Wufei muttered something under his breath, but didn't argue. I watched as Duo grinned and turned his attention back to the movie. I smiled slightly and turned my attention back to my laptop.
If Duo was now addicted to cutting, then stopping it could be more harmful than I had realised. I shouldn't have taken away his blades. He had to know that he was stopping cutting all of his own free will, and that I was not forcing him to do it. He had to do this willingly. So... I had to give him back his blades.
And if he felt the urge to cut, then I would just have to hope that I could distract him long enough to quell the urge. And if I couldn't, I would just have to make sure he didn't do too much damage. I remembered reading from the first site that sometimes it was just resisting the urge that was what mattered, that if the urge to cut was too strong, it was important to set limits to cutting, like how deep and for how long, so that you controlled the urge to some degree. That sounded like a good idea.
I also remembered reading about creating something called an emergency box, something filled with little things to do instead of cutting. The person, Kharre, suggested puzzles, crayons and pencils and a pad of paper, some music, some letters or printed-out emails to read, things like that. also, the person's SO or child or just a special friend was supposed to add something secretly, to surprise the person when they did open the box. It was only to be opened in an emergency so that it didn't lose its 'special-ness'. I would have to find a shoebox for Duo to use, but it sounded like a good idea.
"Heero, you look serious," Duo said, speaking to me for the first time, and I glanced at him. He was turned in my direction, but his eyes were focused more on my shoulder than my eyes. "Whatcha doing?"
I hesitated, but then decided to answer with the truth. "Research."
He blinked and looked at the floor. "Oh. About... my problems?"
The room went deathly still, filled with a tense silence, and I realised that the others were just as worried about him that I was.
"Yeah, Duo, about your problems."
"What... what did you find out?"
I glanced at the others and then back at Duo. "Are you sure you don't want to discuss this in private?"
Duo's head jerked up and realised for the first time, I think, that the others were listening. He blushed and walked upstairs without a word. I followed, laptop tucked under my arm.
He was in my room, sitting cross-legged on the bed, fiddling nervously with the end of his braid. He didn't look at me as I entered and I put my laptop on the rickety desk, leaning against the wall and looking at him.
He was the first to speak, as I knew he would be, though he still didn't look at me. "So what exactly did you find out?"
I hesitated, trying to find the right words. I didn't want to sound harsh or condemning, but I didn't want to sugar-coat the facts either.
"I found out that you use cutting as a coping mechanism, a way to deal with your troubles, and that you've become psychologically addicted to it. When you are unable to cut but need to, you have 'fits' because your body is suffering from withdrawal. Taking away your blades was a mistake on my part, and I'm sorry. To that end, here."
I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and found the five paper-wrapped blades, so tiny and innocuous as they lied on my palm. He blinked and looked at them, strange and dark thoughts sliding behind his violet eyes.
"I... I can have them back?" he breathed, his voice filled with something I was loathe to term wonderment and longing.
My heart wanted to say no, to keep the blades away from him, to stop him from doing himself any more harm, but my head knew that keeping them from him was a mistake.
"Yes, Duo, you can have them back."
He jumped up and snatched them away from me, closing his fist around them eagerly, all the while watching me as if I might take them away from him again.
"Why?" he whispered, and I sighed.
"Because you have to know at every second that you are doing this of your own free will. That I'm not forcing you to get better. You can cut, Duo, if you want, but I'm hoping that you don't. I'm hoping that when you do get the urge, you'll come to me and let me help you. To that end, there's an idea I want you to try."
Suspicion seeped into his eyes and he took a minute step back. "Oh?"
I smiled softly at the suspicion in that one little word. "Nothing like that," I assured him, and explained about the emergency box.
He frowned, chewing his lip as he thought about it. I waited patiently, willing to go along with whatever answer he gave.
After a few moments he glanced at me through his bangs, seeming very nervous and suddenly very young. "Will... will you add the surprise?" he asked in a quiet mumble, and I blinked. I had thought he would ask Quatre to add the surprise.
"Of course."
"Then... okay."
I smiled encouragingly. "Good. I'll find a shoebox or something tomorrow, okay?"
He nodded, still playing with the end of his braid. I watched him open his mouth, only to close it again and walk backwards to sit on the bed. He sat in silence for a moment and then looked at me again. And he asked the question I had been dreading.
"Why are you doing this?"
What could I say? I couldn't and wouldn't lie to him, but I couldn't tell him the truth either. I just wasn't ready to admit that loved him. You have to understand just how much the thought of admitting it terrified me. Ever since before I can remember I have been told that emotions are a useless liability, that emotions would only get me hurt or worse, that I should ignore them and just focus on my objectives.
But when I had met Duo, he had awoken something inside me, he had made me feel... alive, for the very first time. He had taken me out of the darkness that was the Perfect Soldier and shown me that I could be Heero, the fifteen year old boy. He had shown me life. And now... and now he had made me feel love. And I was lost. What did I know of love? Of caring? I was a terrorist, an assassin, a soldier. I didn't know how to love.
Duo was still waiting for my answer, and I realised that I had to give him the complete truth. He deserved to hear why I was doing this, and he couldn't have any doubts about my motivations.
So I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves and said in a quiet but firm voice, "Because I love you, Duo."
He blinked and stared at me, eyes wide with shock. I held my breath, desperately waiting for his response. My heart was thudding in my chest, my blood rushing through my veins, adrenaline coursing through my body. Would he reject me? Would he accept me?
After what seemed like an eternity, he stood up and walked the couple of steps necessary to bring him to me, standing barely inches away. His eyes searched mine, seeking... something, I'm not sure, but he apparently found it because he smiled a wonderfully soft, sweet smile. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.
I was lost.
His lips were petal-soft and delicious, and I lost myself in the taste and feel, drowned in the knowledge that he was kissing me. I opened my mouth and let him taste me, my tongue sliding against his and dancing with it. The kiss was long and sensuous and fantastic... and wrong.
I pulled away and took a stumbling step back, trying to calm my heart. He frowned at me, looking confused and unsure and very, very cute.
"Don't do that again, Duo," I whispered, hating the way my voice trembled slightly.
"Why not? You love me, don't you?"
"Yes. But... I don't want you to kiss me unless you love me."
His frown deepened and he looked at the floor before mumbling, "Maybe I do love you."
I shook my head, smiling softly at the picture he presented. "No, Duo. You don't. You can't. You can't love me until you love yourself."
He smiled bitterly and muttered, "What's to love? I'm a complete screwup."
"You're a strong, talented Gundam pilot and a stealth master. You are the only person who can make me smile just by being in the room. You are damned gorgeous and very intelligent. You know more ways of manipulating people than I thought existed. You are bright and lively and energetic and also very serious when the time calls for it. You hide a brilliant mind underneath a grinning façade that is more solid than a brick wall. You are a very complex person and I love spending hours on end figuring out just the smallest fraction of your being. You are NOT a screwup."
His breath hitched and he dared a peek at me through his bangs. I kept my face open and honest, willing him to believe just how truthful my words were. After another long moment (there seemed to be a lot of those happening) he looked away and sighed.
"I'm not sure I can do this, Heero," he whispered. "I'm just so... confused."
"I'm right here."
"Hold me?"
I took him into my arms without a word, and he relaxed into my embrace, his own arms coming round to circle my waist, pressing his body against mine. I wrapped him up with my warmth and my strength, shielding him from the painful things that were in the world, and knew that he would get better, because I wouldn't let him get hurt. He was mine, dammit, and I would NOT let him get hurt.
Notes2: www. palace.net/ ~llama/ psych/ injury. html is a real site (take out the spaces, it's the only way i could get it to show), and actually quite good. If you do self-harm, it's a good site to visit, it may help you understand what you're going through a little better. The information I got on self-harm being psychologically addictive was from someone's LJ, so I can't give a reference, but I did not write it and it is true. Apparently. And yes, I have an emergency box that I haven't actually had to open yet, but it's a good idea to have one. Anyway, enjoy and review!
The day passed slowly. Wufei had finally woken up and was definitely not happy, spending most of his time locked away in his bedroom. Trowa seemed to have hidden the fact that his chest and back were covered in bruises, so he got a lecture from Quatre while said blonde rubbed witch hazel on the bruises.
And Duo... was confusing. He seemed to have made some decision, while sitting with Wufei, but I don't think that decision really pleased him. He seemed very... unsure, hesitant, and just a bit scared. I think I understood why.
He had asked for help, and was apparently willing to accept it, to try and get better, but it wouldn't be easy. He knew that the only way he was going to heal would be to talk about every single one of his problems, he knew he'd have to bare his soul to me and pray I didn't judge him. He knew that we faced a long journey full of tears and pain and shame.
And as much as I wanted to start the healing, I gave him the day to adjust. I didn't exactly leave him alone, but I didn't really hover either, just letting him know that I was there. He seemed to appreciate that, and I caught him just looking at me a couple of times, but he quickly looked away when he saw that I had noticed. There was something in his eyes, some shadow of emotion, that I had a hard time reading.
After a very quiet, very uncomfortable dinner, Wufei decided to actually socialise with the rest of us. Sort of. He curled up in the corner of the living room and read a book while the rest of us watched the news.
I realised that I had never actually done any research on self-harming, and got out my laptop to start. If I was going to help Duo, I needed to know something about what he was going through. After logging onto the Net, I ran a search on Google for the term 'self-injury'. I got a total of 109, 000 results, and clicked on the first link, www .palace.net/ ~llama/ psych/ injury. html . The first thing that caught my eye was a questionnaire, and after a moment's thought, I downloaded it onto my laptop for a later date. It would be... interesting to see what Duo's answers were, but I knew the questions would be hard for him, and we had to go slow.
However, it quickly became obvious that this site was for people with milder problems than Duo, people who lived ordinary lives or had some singular trauma in their past. It would not be helpful to Duo, who lived anything but a normal life, and had repeated traumas in his past, present, and most probably, his future.
I left the site and went to find some more information, something that would better help me understand just how to help someone with Duo's extreme problems.
I'd been searching for half an hour before I finally found my answer. With one simple paragraph, I understood that Duo's problems were not going to be solved by a few heart-to-hearts.
'Self harm can be addictive. It can be psychologically addictive (especially if someone comes to rely on it as their only coping mechanism) and the body's hormonal responses to the action can be physically addictive. And okay, in this case, self harm may be (or become) the sole problem and stopping the self harm may stop the problem.'
Duo was addicted to cutting, just like a drug or alcohol. He was suffering from withdrawal. His body was being denied what it craved, what it needed to survive.
I glanced at Duo, studying his profile as he watched the TV. It was dark, but no one had bothered to turn on the lights, too engrossed in the vampire movie they were watching. The flickering light from the TV danced over his skin, sometimes highlighting his violet eyes, sometimes hiding them in shadow.
Did he realise just how dependent he was on cutting? I reasoned that he probably did, judging by his reactions when I had first taken away his blades, and how he reacted when he needed to cut but couldn't. He had to know that he was addicted. The question was, could he really beat the addiction? It wasn't as simple as alcohol or drugs, which are complicated enough, because he was cutting for a reason. Cutting was his way of coping, his only way of coping, and he had to find other methods of dealing with his life.
That made me pause and think. It was a fairly safe bet that it was his life as a Gundam pilot that was causing him to cut, right? Well, I was a Gundam pilot, too. How did I cope with my life? Why didn't I cut up my arms?
"Heero, you're frowning, is something wrong?" Quatre asked, and I glanced at him.
"No, nothing. Just thinking."
He nodded and let it drop. I looked at Duo again, and he quickly looked away. Why did he keep doing that? Why did he keep sneaking glances at me and then looking away as if embarrassed? Did he regret asking for help? Was he worried about how I would react to his problems? Did he still blame me for taking away his blades?
"This movie is completely pointless," Wufei growled, speaking for the first time since he'd settled down with his book. I saw Duo smile out of the corner of my eye, and knew that he was relieved that Wufei had spoken.
"Well, it's not really supposed to be all deep and philosophical," he quipped. "It's supposed to be something you can laugh at and joke about later. Or, it's supposed to be for young teens to see so they can make out and not worry about missing the movie. Either works fine."
"Young teens do WHAT?"
Duo snickered, and elaborated. "Young teens go to boring or completely crap movies that they really don't want to see because the theatre is dark and private and they sit in the back row and make out for the duration. They used to go to interesting movies with the intention of actually watching it, but then the guy, or girl if she was bold enough, would make some small move, perhaps put his arm around her, and they would snuggle, and they'd end up making out and missing the movie. So, after a while, they just go to crap movies. If they end up actually watching it, they can laugh about it later and shit, but if they don't, no harm done. Completely logical."
"That is complete rubbish!"
"So? That doesn't stop it from being logical."
Wufei muttered something under his breath, but didn't argue. I watched as Duo grinned and turned his attention back to the movie. I smiled slightly and turned my attention back to my laptop.
If Duo was now addicted to cutting, then stopping it could be more harmful than I had realised. I shouldn't have taken away his blades. He had to know that he was stopping cutting all of his own free will, and that I was not forcing him to do it. He had to do this willingly. So... I had to give him back his blades.
And if he felt the urge to cut, then I would just have to hope that I could distract him long enough to quell the urge. And if I couldn't, I would just have to make sure he didn't do too much damage. I remembered reading from the first site that sometimes it was just resisting the urge that was what mattered, that if the urge to cut was too strong, it was important to set limits to cutting, like how deep and for how long, so that you controlled the urge to some degree. That sounded like a good idea.
I also remembered reading about creating something called an emergency box, something filled with little things to do instead of cutting. The person, Kharre, suggested puzzles, crayons and pencils and a pad of paper, some music, some letters or printed-out emails to read, things like that. also, the person's SO or child or just a special friend was supposed to add something secretly, to surprise the person when they did open the box. It was only to be opened in an emergency so that it didn't lose its 'special-ness'. I would have to find a shoebox for Duo to use, but it sounded like a good idea.
"Heero, you look serious," Duo said, speaking to me for the first time, and I glanced at him. He was turned in my direction, but his eyes were focused more on my shoulder than my eyes. "Whatcha doing?"
I hesitated, but then decided to answer with the truth. "Research."
He blinked and looked at the floor. "Oh. About... my problems?"
The room went deathly still, filled with a tense silence, and I realised that the others were just as worried about him that I was.
"Yeah, Duo, about your problems."
"What... what did you find out?"
I glanced at the others and then back at Duo. "Are you sure you don't want to discuss this in private?"
Duo's head jerked up and realised for the first time, I think, that the others were listening. He blushed and walked upstairs without a word. I followed, laptop tucked under my arm.
He was in my room, sitting cross-legged on the bed, fiddling nervously with the end of his braid. He didn't look at me as I entered and I put my laptop on the rickety desk, leaning against the wall and looking at him.
He was the first to speak, as I knew he would be, though he still didn't look at me. "So what exactly did you find out?"
I hesitated, trying to find the right words. I didn't want to sound harsh or condemning, but I didn't want to sugar-coat the facts either.
"I found out that you use cutting as a coping mechanism, a way to deal with your troubles, and that you've become psychologically addicted to it. When you are unable to cut but need to, you have 'fits' because your body is suffering from withdrawal. Taking away your blades was a mistake on my part, and I'm sorry. To that end, here."
I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and found the five paper-wrapped blades, so tiny and innocuous as they lied on my palm. He blinked and looked at them, strange and dark thoughts sliding behind his violet eyes.
"I... I can have them back?" he breathed, his voice filled with something I was loathe to term wonderment and longing.
My heart wanted to say no, to keep the blades away from him, to stop him from doing himself any more harm, but my head knew that keeping them from him was a mistake.
"Yes, Duo, you can have them back."
He jumped up and snatched them away from me, closing his fist around them eagerly, all the while watching me as if I might take them away from him again.
"Why?" he whispered, and I sighed.
"Because you have to know at every second that you are doing this of your own free will. That I'm not forcing you to get better. You can cut, Duo, if you want, but I'm hoping that you don't. I'm hoping that when you do get the urge, you'll come to me and let me help you. To that end, there's an idea I want you to try."
Suspicion seeped into his eyes and he took a minute step back. "Oh?"
I smiled softly at the suspicion in that one little word. "Nothing like that," I assured him, and explained about the emergency box.
He frowned, chewing his lip as he thought about it. I waited patiently, willing to go along with whatever answer he gave.
After a few moments he glanced at me through his bangs, seeming very nervous and suddenly very young. "Will... will you add the surprise?" he asked in a quiet mumble, and I blinked. I had thought he would ask Quatre to add the surprise.
"Of course."
"Then... okay."
I smiled encouragingly. "Good. I'll find a shoebox or something tomorrow, okay?"
He nodded, still playing with the end of his braid. I watched him open his mouth, only to close it again and walk backwards to sit on the bed. He sat in silence for a moment and then looked at me again. And he asked the question I had been dreading.
"Why are you doing this?"
What could I say? I couldn't and wouldn't lie to him, but I couldn't tell him the truth either. I just wasn't ready to admit that loved him. You have to understand just how much the thought of admitting it terrified me. Ever since before I can remember I have been told that emotions are a useless liability, that emotions would only get me hurt or worse, that I should ignore them and just focus on my objectives.
But when I had met Duo, he had awoken something inside me, he had made me feel... alive, for the very first time. He had taken me out of the darkness that was the Perfect Soldier and shown me that I could be Heero, the fifteen year old boy. He had shown me life. And now... and now he had made me feel love. And I was lost. What did I know of love? Of caring? I was a terrorist, an assassin, a soldier. I didn't know how to love.
Duo was still waiting for my answer, and I realised that I had to give him the complete truth. He deserved to hear why I was doing this, and he couldn't have any doubts about my motivations.
So I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves and said in a quiet but firm voice, "Because I love you, Duo."
He blinked and stared at me, eyes wide with shock. I held my breath, desperately waiting for his response. My heart was thudding in my chest, my blood rushing through my veins, adrenaline coursing through my body. Would he reject me? Would he accept me?
After what seemed like an eternity, he stood up and walked the couple of steps necessary to bring him to me, standing barely inches away. His eyes searched mine, seeking... something, I'm not sure, but he apparently found it because he smiled a wonderfully soft, sweet smile. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.
I was lost.
His lips were petal-soft and delicious, and I lost myself in the taste and feel, drowned in the knowledge that he was kissing me. I opened my mouth and let him taste me, my tongue sliding against his and dancing with it. The kiss was long and sensuous and fantastic... and wrong.
I pulled away and took a stumbling step back, trying to calm my heart. He frowned at me, looking confused and unsure and very, very cute.
"Don't do that again, Duo," I whispered, hating the way my voice trembled slightly.
"Why not? You love me, don't you?"
"Yes. But... I don't want you to kiss me unless you love me."
His frown deepened and he looked at the floor before mumbling, "Maybe I do love you."
I shook my head, smiling softly at the picture he presented. "No, Duo. You don't. You can't. You can't love me until you love yourself."
He smiled bitterly and muttered, "What's to love? I'm a complete screwup."
"You're a strong, talented Gundam pilot and a stealth master. You are the only person who can make me smile just by being in the room. You are damned gorgeous and very intelligent. You know more ways of manipulating people than I thought existed. You are bright and lively and energetic and also very serious when the time calls for it. You hide a brilliant mind underneath a grinning façade that is more solid than a brick wall. You are a very complex person and I love spending hours on end figuring out just the smallest fraction of your being. You are NOT a screwup."
His breath hitched and he dared a peek at me through his bangs. I kept my face open and honest, willing him to believe just how truthful my words were. After another long moment (there seemed to be a lot of those happening) he looked away and sighed.
"I'm not sure I can do this, Heero," he whispered. "I'm just so... confused."
"I'm right here."
"Hold me?"
I took him into my arms without a word, and he relaxed into my embrace, his own arms coming round to circle my waist, pressing his body against mine. I wrapped him up with my warmth and my strength, shielding him from the painful things that were in the world, and knew that he would get better, because I wouldn't let him get hurt. He was mine, dammit, and I would NOT let him get hurt.