Through Your Eyes
CHAPTER THREE: WHAT JUSTICE CANNOT FIX
'Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see.'
-Billy Joel
They can believe what they want. I, however, see the truth.
And that truth is a simple thing—for no matter how much they believe he hides, he wears no façade. He wears no mask, bears no secret, knows not the meaning of pain.
He is a simple boy who smiles too wide and laughs too much, who knows nothing of war despite the battles he fights.
He is too wild, too carefree, too cheerful to be the broken person they try to make him out to be. So many times they have tried to convince me, to just "look beneath the surface."
What surface? There is no surface, no depth to him. He is a mirror or a pane of glass—what you see is what he is.
Perhaps I am too judgmental. I am well aware of the differences in our upbringing—or rather, his lack of one. I was taught to be kind, courteous, and quiet, to respect my elders. I was taught everything the only heir of a great Clan was to know.
He was obviously given no such luxuries. And I condemn him for it, even if I should not, condemn him for being who he is.
Don't I have the right to? What man—what boy, for he is no man, laughs in the midst of war? Laughs in the face of battle, of death, of the screams of men who plead for mercy?
He has no honor. He has proven this to me many times over. And just as many times, I suppose, he has proven that he does. A kind word, a gentle hand, a shoulder to lean on, or one of the few blessed moments when he is quiet and looks so sad.
But that sadness is what brings forth my rage once more, brings forth the burning desire to scream at him, to demand what right he has to look so sad and broken when he has never known sadness or pain in his life.
Even if he was not brought up with the rigidity that I was faced with, it is quite obvious that he has not known what we have known. He most likely had a family—in fact, probably still has one, one that even if they don't have much, he can go home to and pretend for just a little while that he's not in the middle of this bloody war.
Sometimes, though it makes me sick, I want to break him. To wipe that grin off his face, smother his laughter, destroy his family and see how he feels when he has nothing.
Think me judgmental if you wish, but I stand by these words. They are, after all, the truth—no matter what they try to make me see. And nothing can change that. I cannot change that—cannot change who he is, only see it and try to let him know that at least someone is not fooled by his idiocy.
There is no justice in this world. None at all. For if there was, everything would be the black and white it once was, not this endless shade of gray—and they would all see that there is no façade to see through, no mask to be broken—only a laughing, smiling fool.
I actually saved this once it was done and left it for a few hours rather than reading it over and posting it, because it irks me. This is probably my least favorite one—it was difficult to write, because I honestly love Wufei, but for this series he needed to be the black-and-white, no nonsense, justice loving character GW originally portrayed him as. And I still don't like it. But there has to be someone who refused to see any depth to Duo. Thanks to Anonymous Void for giving me inspiration for this chapter.
Keep an eye out for the next installment—What Silence Cannot Fathom.
DISCLAIMER: I hold no claim to Gundam Wing or any related franchises. You know what belongs to me, and the quote belongs to Billy Joel.