Four Thousand Fridays
A/N: And here I thought I was weird for having morbid inspirations during Valentine's week. Turns out I am not alone.
Febuwhump prompts that might apply: 'you deserve this', 'secrets revealed', 'can you hear me?', 'soft words', 'immortality'.
The three muses: A time management book, Rodin's the Thinker, Dante's Inferno.
Soundtrack: Anyone by Justin Bieber.
Once upon a time, Relena had insisted that vacation days were for one's own personal use. As in, for Heero to take his well deserved break. From her.
This is a story of what happened many, many moons after.
It was Friday and they were on a home date. Or as close to it as they ever had.
Heero sat in her living room, an unusual air about him. "I need to talk to you."
That sounded serious. Relena had planned to end her week in a different manner. A guaranteed good time. With him. She could make a case for it too, preferably non verbally.
"All right," she replied. There was a chance still, he would come around.
Relena sat by his side, facing him. Spine straight, blue eyes level. Having her full attention was a privilege, it never failed to make him feel special. It was a good feeling to have. Her, all to himself. But he couldn't afford to be distracted now. He had something vital to discuss.
Without preamble, he launched into his speech, "Now that we've established that I love you and can't live without you."
He had the line rehearsed in his head. But it was still truth, unvarnished.
She was stunned into silence. He pressed further.
Relena was an excellent debater, with an exceptional track record of winning most arguments. A man of few words as he was, Heero was determined to get his point across.
"I must take issue over the distance that you insist is healthy. I don't think it is of any use."
He went on to explain.
He, generally, functioned better with her than without. Objectively speaking, he was more responsive to pleasure – or pain – in relative proximity to her. Multiple people could attest to it. Mandatory solitary or social time with others was proven to be of much less consequence than what was considered as statistically significant.
There was no conditioning, classical or otherwise. No getting worse or getting better.
It was a moot point to send him away physically, if the rest of him wound up staying with her. In thoughts. In action, often behind the scenes. She knew he was more of a help than a hindrance. There were benefits from not having to go all round the house.
He broke it down line by line, point by point. With references, examples. She ought to hear him out.
"Are you listening?"
Relena had doubled over, putting her face in her hand.
"I am," she muttered.
Don't mind me, she wryly thought, just having an entirely minor crisis over you.
Here's hoping she appeared profoundly contemplating – instead of the nonsensical mess she was inside – over his sincere, if incidental, declaration of undying love.
At one point, she wished Heero would be a bit more forthcoming, a bit more open.
Now she thought it was better that he left a lot of things unsaid. Safer for her heart that way.
There was some time before she straightened up and looked him in the eye.
"This is about the discussion we had about taking breaks." It came out of her calmly, more a statement than a question. "On spending time for yourself."
Yes and no. "That," he acknowledged, "and in general."
Heero braced for a rebuttal, lining up his counter arguments for ready disposal.
I want you to be happy, Heero, she was prone to say.
To which he would answer, I can't be unhappy with you. It is in fact the other way around.
"I get it." Always several steps ahead, she graciously conceded, "Do as you wish."
The victory was... mildly dissatisfying.
"You don't see it the same way," he accused.
Relena gave him a once over. "A touch more specific, please."
"The first part," he clarified.
Her lips thinned. "This is a very morbid conversation."
She saw his face fell. The expression Heero wore was one of a poorly hidden disappointment.
Oh dear, he had taken it the wrong way.
She got on her feet and went to stand in front of him.
Taking his face in both hands, she said, "I do love you." A soft smile touched her lips. "And generally function better with you than without."
"You must know that," she soberingly added. Nobody else would do. No one would ever come close.
He did. But. "You can live without me."
There were conflicting emotions in her eyes. "Can I make you see it my way?"
He imagined facing mornings without her. The golden light of sunrise, the blue sky, the feel of the breeze. Everything she had taught him to appreciate.
How could he look at all the good, beautiful things in the world, without tasting her absence like blood in his mouth? To live, to endure. Long days, even longer weeks. Knowing he could no longer find a glimpse of her anywhere. That there was no respite. She couldn't mean to subject him to such an existence. She wouldn't be so cruel.
"No," he hoarsely spit out. He would do anything for her. But this one was beyond him.
She could see him struggle. For all she professed of letting him do as he please, on this one front, she still hoped he wouldn't.
Not that the thought was not cutting. To her, who had experienced a heartbreaking loss firsthand, the vision of living a whole life without him was paralyzing and frightening. Realistically so. She simply couldn't let him see how deeply it affected her, lest it made him more stuck in his ways.
I won't die on you. Wish she could promise him that. Wish he could promise her that.
Love conquered all. Yet mortals it was born from, there was one thing it couldn't overcome.
Till death do us part. This lifelong commitment thing was not easy.
But they were not dead yet. And would do everything they could, not to die an untimely death.
She bent down to kiss him. With luck, they would have long, happy years together. Life was not all pain and sadness and suffering. He might see it her way then.
"Well," Relena said, coming up for air a good while later. "If it makes you feel better, I miss you terribly when you are not around as well."
"Hn," Heero responded, touching his forehead to hers. "Acceptable."
A/N: The title draws from the premise that the average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short... Assuming you live to be eighty, you'll have had about four thousand weeks. Just putting things into perspective.