My Funny Valentine
by Veste Notus
//My funny Valentine//
There was Duo. Always Duo. He could take a rainy day and spin it into a jazzy number you could never forget. He could brighten a room with a single grin. Ironically, he could get his ass kicked with that grin. Irritating to the point where I can't live without him; loud to the point where other sounds are too quiet; always singing, even if it’s a little off-key; there was always Duo.
And then there was me, but I was never fully there. A rainy day would stay just that when I was feeling merciful. Most rainy days I’ve seen pour either transmission fluid or blood. Rooms would darken with my glares and no one would dare make reference. Audacious in my isolation; always silent in my steps and breath; never letting tune nor note pass my lips; I was never there.
The paradox was almost too much. The sheer irony of such black-and-white contradictions could make me laugh. Was it fate that I felt this way? Was it obvious that I would fall in love with him? Is God genuinely *that* predictable?
I supposed that I had no other choice. Instead of resisting, I accepted my fate and embraced it. If I were to fall in love with anyone, it might as well be my complete opposite, my funny Valentine.
//Sweet comic Valentine//
Able to crack smart-ass jokes as if they were simple smiles, Duo had a way of making me hate him like no other. It began, typically with deep, searing hatred. I couldn’t stand him. Every quip or sentence was as irritating to me as a million mosquitoes, draining my blood and poisoning what was left behind.
But somewhere in the poison and the bitter stings we inflicted upon one another; somewhere in all the sarcasm and cynicism, there was something. Something different. Something… I could never place my finger on. Our verbal jabs became mental competitions, which became personal battles to impress the other, which became friendship, which became love.
//You make me smile with my heart//
Only for him. I wouldn’t let anyone else see. I was afraid of what might come if I did it too often, or in front of too many people. But with Duo… I could smile and mean it. It wasn’t the same as his maniacal grin, but then again, even his real smile wasn’t the same as that damn homicidal grin of his. If I’d known earlier his façade, his crazy grin to hide his soft smile, I’d probably have fallen in love sooner.
Not to say that I wasn’t smitten by him. Oh I was smitten alright. And consequently, I was in deep smit. I would endanger my life and the mission to save his (more frequently becoming) incompetent ass. Speaking of asses looking becoming… Hn… Only Duo.
There was always Duo, my funny Valentine
//Your looks are laughable//
We went to what I later learned to be a ‘gay and straight’ bar one night to celebrate a victory of ours. We all ate and drank together like friends and spoke to one another just so. But Duo and I ate and drank like lovers and spoke like strangers. Eerie was our behavioral contradictions. But I digress…
Someone made a pass on Duo. Some drunken man whom needed shave like he needed a new pair of tennis shoes, which was really badly on both counts. He dared touch Duo, *my* Duo. I told him this right before I knocked him out cold to the frozen linoleum floor. All Duo could do was watch and blink. He looked so adorable that way, his cute face in such contorted astonishment at my little act. I couldn’t hold back the laughter. It just bubbled up and brimmed over my surface.
Duo asked me later what I told his harasser. I answered ‘How dare you think of touching my Duo!’.
“Why did you say that?” he asked me.
“Because you didn’t want it.”
“Not that, Heero.” He looked back at me with a half-pout and wide eyes. “Am I ‘your Duo’?” I gave it some thought after he asked me.
“Yes. You compliment me exactly.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“That’s not what I mean, Heero…”
//Unphotographable//
“Well, what *do* you mean?” He looked away quickly, as if watching my eyes were an illegal practice. I couldn’t help but try to catch his eye. Looking into those amethyst orbs was like a forgotten art, and I planned to reinvent it and bring it back into the world if I could. “Do want to be mine?”
He looked up quickly at me, stunned. He took a sharp gasp of an inhalation and exhaled shakily, “W-what do you mean, Heero?” I wish I could have captured that moment.
Time froze like the ice outside on the night’s winter streets. His face was slightly flushed, and his eyes were softly frosted in a way that even a photograph couldn’t capture. Simple inefficable, ah but he was breathtaking.
//But, you’re my favorite work of art//
~*~
//Don’t change on hair for me//
We became lovers that night, lovers of the body and of the heart. We took each other in and complimented one another. When I awoke the next morning, I was alone. I crept through the safe house in search of the one I’d confessed my love to hours earlier in the dark silence of the night.
And I found him, outside in the rain, a knife in hand, braid in the other..
“Don’t.”
“Why not? You don’t care.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You were drunk. You took advantage of me.” That cut deep.
“I thought you wanted…”
“I did!” he yelled in an almost choked sob. “So badly, Heero! But not if it meant nothing! I didn’t want it if you only loved me for ‘lack of better judgment’!” He slumped over and sobbed on my shoulder. I naturally brought him close to me and stroked his hair reassuringly.
“Please, Duo… please…” I gently stole the knife away from his open hand and in its place rested my own hand. “Don’t cut it…” I swallowed hard. “Not if you care for me…”
“What, so you can have a nice long braid to pet while your drunk?” he whispered bitterly. “What’s the use, Heero.” He pulled away from me and started to depart, but my hand held his wrist still.
//Stay little Valentine, stay!//
I brought his head down, his lips to my own. I stole his breath quickly while he took mine. When we broke, my eyes spoke novels to his. I needed him to know. There was always Duo. He was always there, and so now was I.
//Each day is Valentine’s day//
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