Heero's Angel

Ch. 3

By: Nena

"You shouldn't be doing that."

He glanced up at me, his messy bangs falling into his face, then looked back down at the knife in his hands. He grabbed the wooden end and stuck it into the plastic container, before reaching into the sink and grabbing another.

"Really, you shouldn't. You could…"

"Hn." He said, before putting the last dish into the dishwasher, shutting it with very little effort on his part. "I've got to do something."

I slid off of the counter and walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a golden glass that sparkled in the brilliant sun that shone through the window. Over the course of two days he had succumbed to gradually defying all acts of his normal inert behavior, allowing a soothing smile to grace his features in my presence, but only in mine. When we languidly strolled through the halls and jogged slowly across the massive green yard of my home he would hold onto my hand without the slightest hint of embarrassment, as if it were normal, as if it had consistently been what we had both longed for and felt our entire lives with an experienced progression of one whole being.

He poured me a glass of tea, and the dull brownness of it reminded me of Georgia, and at the same time, his hair. I do suppose that if he had grown up in America, he would have lived in Georgia. It was quiet and, although country and not as advanced and slummish as New York and Chicago and the big cities, it was particularly hard not to be called anything other than home, even after only one visit. He seemed to like it here, anyhow.

"Try not to do anything with sharp objects. You could get yourself killed, and we don't want that…now do we?"

"Sometimes."

His answer startled me and the glass fell from my fingertips and shattered to a million crystals randomly scattered across the kitchen floor and tea splattered against my white tennis shoes. I looked up at him and searched his eyes as they stared hollowly back at me, with an intensely familiar honesty that brought back many memories of war. He looked away then, smothering his features beneath a greyly-clouded face of indifference. He was hiding from me.

The thing with Heero is that his entire life he's never been really, comprehensively, listened to. Of course people listen to him when he speaks, because he hardly ever does, but they don't search the audaciously underlying truthfulness of it. He wants it to be that way, though. He wants people to think that they've understood him when they really have no idea of what the true potential of his words are. This is all, of course, assuming that he does, in fact, say something to you. Usually he just listens while someone else blabbers on about something that he has no real interest in, and he'll nod his head, or 'hn' them. I suppose it gets him through the day.

So I listened. Because no one else had the patience, or the time, or the interest, I listened. I had all three at the moment. He turned away from me and leaned over the kitchen sink, looking through a small window out at the back yard. I suppose we both seemed mildly content with the lack of sound, because neither of us made a noise. I stared at his back, a thin black t-shirt the only thing covering his flesh, the sculpted muscles underneath a weakness I did not allow myself to indulge in, because that was not what he needed. He didn't need a lover. He needed a strong friend, one whose faith went unwavering with God, one who could help hold him up when he fell emotionally, physically, spiritually…in any way.

The glass window smudged as his fingertips pressed against it, leaving fingerprints along the shiny surface. His blue eyes reflected in it but he seemed to be looking through it, out into the benevolent sereneness of my backyard garden, thoughtful of his disposition and my own. He needed someone to listen.

He turned around abruptly and swiftly walked over to me, grabbing my wrist and holding my hand between his determined and unaffected face and my own surprised one. An underlying thoughtfulness marred his delicate brow as his eyebrows pressed in concentration, staring at the back of my hand. My own pale one contrasted sharply with his own tanned, rough one. It wasn't a callous hand. Just stronger-skinned than my own, my nimble fingers warming as he intertwined his fingers within mine. He merely stared, running his fingers through mine, and it was then that I felt a slight indention of skin underneath the sliding of my fingertips. I paused and so did he, abruptly understanding that I had found his secret. I grabbed his tanned arm and flipped it over, him standing idly by with an unreadable expression on his face.

The cut was straight and narrow, as I has expected it to be. Right over main veins above his hand, the scar wasn't noticeable unless you were looking for it, but it was, in fact, there. I ran my fingertips over it lightly, and he shuddered. The next moment I found myself crying uncontrollably, the tears running down my face and onto his arm. They were hot and burned my eyes as they fell like rain, but no voice came out of my mouth. Not a sniffle, or a gasp. They were just tears.

He moved closer to me and put his arm behind my back, pulling his tear-stained one away and then placing it around me in an awkward embrace.

"Don't cry Relena."

I'm okay with sorrow. I'm usually able to suppress myself with the barest minimal amount, even when I receive the sympathy of my friends. I can keep myself at a distance. But not with him. I would never be able to hold back from him. I heard myself strangle out a whimper before burying my face closer into his chest, trying to hold back the cries that refused to be suppressed. The gentle rubbing of his hand upon my back kept me there in his strong arms.

"Please don't cry Relena…"

I could've lost him. He was able to survive anything, any person, self-destructing Zero…but if he really wanted to kill himself, he could have. He had tried but didn't succeed. I wonder what stopped him. Whatever or whoever it was, I know that there was, in fact, someone looking out for him. His angel.

He pulled me closer into himself, pressing my face into his chest, running his hand through my hair which I knew would eventually lure me to sleep. His heartbeat resounded consistently underneath my ear and I sighed. I had long since stopped crying when I felt a warm drop of something land on my forehead, and he drew in a staggered breath. He half whispered to me in the bright lights of our kitchen.

"I hate it so much…"

The words touched me. Of course they did, who wouldn't be touched by that? We were in the middle of accepting each other when I felt him stiffen, and I stared up into his eyes. They were wide, confused, and hurt. He reached over and wiped the liquid, which I figured were his own tears, off of my forehead, and as his hand came back up it was swiped with blood. I jumped out of his arms and immediately ran my hands through his hair, checking for any open wounds. I felt nothing, and he eventually grabbed my hand and held me still.

"It's coming from my tear ducts…" he said, rubbing his eyes painfully, "and I'm having trouble focusing my eyes on one thing." I placed my hand behind his head and he leaned against it, giving me a view of his face, and sure enough, there was blood running from the creases of his eyes, down to his chin. I wrapped one arm behind his back, and he stood up slowly. I heard the door open and Noin walked in and stopped, staring at Heero with concern etched on her face.

"Noin, I need you to call the doctor and ask him if he has any reasonable meaning behind Heero's bleeding from his nose and tear ducts. Tell him this is the second time its happened."

She nodded and quickly turned around and headed into another room. Heero grunted in pain next to me as he rubbed his eyes, one arm over my shoulder. I helped him up out of the chair. As we walked into the other room, he lost his balance and tried reaching for the wall. He fell towards it and tried to let go of me but didn't succeed in doing it. In fact, I fell gently with him, until I ended up sitting against the wall with my legs bent in front of me. He had fallen in an angle where he was still holding himself up with the wall, but in front of me, his head leaning over my bent knees. His breathing was heavy and forced. I lifted his chin, and he faced me with his eyes closed. My hand was the only thing keeping him up.

"Heero?"

He opened his eyes slightly and stared at me. I grinned, and so did he, covering up the massive headache I knew he must be having. We tried once again, and I pretty much dragged him to the couch in our living room. I sat on the edge and he placed his head in my lap and laid across the sofa uncertainly, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing or where he was. When we got settled his breathing slowed and he closed his eyes, but every once in a while he'd wince and another blood-stained tear would travel down his face.

"Let's play a game." I said softly, and he nodded his head, his eyes still closed.

"I ask twenty-one questions. You ask twenty-one questions. We take turns. Question number one…" I paused, trying to think of one.

"Favorite color?"

He grimaced. "I don't really have favorites," He said softly, almost inaudibly. Then, just as quietly, " What's your favorite song?"

"Hmm…that's hard. I guess I'd have to say something by Switchfoot. I love all of their songs," He smiled. "if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"

"My anger." He said, even softer than last time. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Think about you." I said, comically, a blush rising in my cheeks. He laughed softly. "Just kidding."

"No you weren't." He said, a grin still on his face. My blush only deepened.

Noin walked in, her face pale. She still had the phone in her hand, but wasn't speaking into it.

"He says it could be some leakage…or, tissue damage. He's not really sure, to be honest. He's never heard much of anything like that before." I saw the worry lines on her forehead and nodded at her, and she turned and went back upstairs.

I looked down at Heero, but his face was again unreadable.

"So…what are you going to do after college?"

"Think about you." He said, a grin once again reappearing on his face.

We continued asking each other questions. About God, about each other, about feelings, future, life in general. He slowly slipped in and out of consciousness (I'm not sure if it was purposely or not). I was too, but only because it had been a long, long day. I didn't know what else to ask after thirty minutes, and I laid my cheek against his forehead. The words left my mouth before I even realized I had spoken.

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah." He whispered into the silence.

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I'm so, so, so, sooooo sorry this took so long. I'm just….busy. That's all I can say. I'll try harder. I think I'm gonna go with the shorter chapters thing. This once took me forever.

Oh, by the way, I don't own Gundam Wing. Reviews, anybody? I like this chapter, even if it did take me…one…two…three…four…who-knows-how-many-months to write.