If Only in a Melody
by Veste Notus
The city lights awoke Duo from his dreams. It’d been so long since he recounted getting sleep. He let himself breathe through his mouth and exhaled the poisoned air through his nose.
Coughing on a tear that had gotten its way past his defenses, Duo rolled onto his side, meeting the edge of Wing’s seat. He looked up to find Heero standing in front of him, piloting his gundam while Duo rested.
It had been a long day for both of them.
After minutes of blue silence and red hush, Duo’s fluttering eyes picked up new flavor of Heero he’d never quiet seen. Something about him…
Heero’s strong arms flew across panels of buttons, dials, levers… It was watching art in motion. Every move Heero made was specifically calculated, anticipated, and executed. It was like watching a grandfather clock in motion, still flawless after hundreds of years.
But this… This was something different, and therefore inherently special to Duo. He saw a human nature within the mechanical movements. He smelt the robotic transmission fluid, but tasted the human sweat.
For once, Duo realized who Heero was, just by watching him mutely from Wing’s perspective. Heero was a human, first and foremost. He sinned like humans, he bled like humans, and he cried like humans, though the thought of Heero crying was enough to put a grin on Duo’s face.
“What are you smiling about?” came his callus voice.
“Just thinking…”
“Oh? About what?” Duo never found himself in such a situation. Was Heero starting a conversation with him? He’d thought for the longest of times that Heero’s main objective was to force Duo to shut the hell up.
“Have you ever cried, Heero?” came the question. As he piloted Wing, back turned to face his braided partner, Heero’s mouth opened and closed. He couldn’t respond.
After giving perhaps too much thought to the situation, Heero finally let go. Without turning around, Heero allowed Duo to catch a glimpse of the boy taken away too early; of the child no one ever knew or loved.
“I had a father and mother, Duo. I had a family. A family who loved me. I had a dog, a toy airplane, and a place to come home to. I had home cooked meals made with love. I had a life that I never wanted to give away.
You could say I had it all, Duo. You could say that I had everything a boy could want, but still I was not content. I was restless, Duo. I craved something more. Despite my young age, I desired to break away. I desired to be free from all that was commonplace and trite.
Often times I’ll wake up from a nightmare, regretting the path I took…
My dog, Faith, was my only companion. I don’t recall having a name, Duo. I can’t remember if it was really Heero after all, or if J changed every aspect of my name.
My parents took me on a company picnic. My father worked on L1’s Functional Operations Team. My mother laid out the yellow and white checkered blanket, and the three of us, with Faith by my side, would eat our lovely sandwiches, the crust cut just how I like it.
I had an apple from the tree we sat under. My father lifted me onto his shoulders and my mother warned me that it was too dangerous. I plucked the shiniest red apple from that great tree’s branches. I polished it with my green sleeve and sank stark white teeth in its tough interior.
My Faith ran away. I lived through winter. I lived through the hospital visits and the funerals.
My parents died of a disease they couldn’t see or catch in time. It was cholera, Duo. My colony was almost wiped out by the deadly plague that had descended upon us.
When I recount that, I think of you. You must have liked L1, for Shinigami stayed by my side, replacing my Faith and giving me a false sense of hope in a time of darkness.
I didn’t cry when my parents died, only weeks in between one another. No… I didn’t cry at their funerals.
I didn’t cry when Faith ran away, when I scraped my knee for the first time, or when the first bullet pierced my skin.
I didn’t cry when I died for the first time, at my own self-destructing hands. I didn’t cry when war began, and I won’t cry when it ends.
I’m not callus, Duo. I promise. I’ve cried once, Duo.
I cried when my mother sang to me. I cried when she lulled me to sleep with a haunting melody. When she parted her thin wine lips and poured from them bitter tears and song, I allowed myself to cry.
Does it surprise you? I cried silently. I’ve never cried out loud. I suppose that’s typical? It would make sense that *I* never cried out loud.
I’ve never… never cried with anyone since my parents died. All I have now is their memory. A faded, distant, unhelpful memory that only dulls with time.
I cried when I had everything and feared I couldn’t keep it. I should have appreciated it while it was there. I now cry for the everything I’ve lost but always love… still love…
I cry for the lost dream. I cry for the freedom I’ve traded for the bondage I longed for as a child. I was so ready to ‘break free’ from whatever it was that was keeping me back that I hardly noticed the bounds chained to my wrists.
I don’t cry very often Duo.”
“I can tell Heero.”
Heero and Duo rested in saffron stillness for a time, registering the words Heero had just spoken. So Heero cried. He was becoming more human to Duo, so much so that Duo reached out to touch Heero’s arm, ever so lightly. He was real. He was flesh and blood.
His flesh was torn and his blood was spilt. They were the same. They could breathe as one, sing as one.
They could fly as one.
Counting the shooting stars, Duo looked out with newly opened eyes. Gradually he was discovering more and more about Heero, and therefore himself.
“Heero, have you ever flown?”
“I have, Duo.” Heero turned around to face Duo. “But my wings have been broken long ago.” Duo sat up and straightened his collar.
“I flew, Heero. I flew and I cried. I laughed and I danced in the air.” Heero gave a nod.
“One day, I’ll join you up in the clouds, Duo.” Heero felt something warm on his hand.
“Today, Heero?” Duo lightly squeezed Heero’s hand.
“I can’t say, Duo. I can’t say.” Heero’s eyes met Duo’s. Instantly, he began to feel a familiar stinging behind his eyes. It was as if Duo tore down every wall he put up. Heero let the tears pass over his eyes and roll down his cheeks.
Heero let himself cry. And suddenly, Heero began humming again.
It was a broken hum, a light hum. It was a purple coated melody of angst and fears. When he had finished, the two boy’s hands were tightly intertwined and both pairs of eyes were stained a soft blue from salt.
“My mother sang that to me.” Heero admitted, wrapping himself in Duo’s arms.
“Thank you, Heero.”
The lights rushed past the boys as they sat together, Wing stuck on autopilot. It did not matter where they were from or what they had seen. After stories of death and attempted suicide, that evening had been an eventful one.
The boys deserved a much needed stress-relieving sleep. In one another’s arms, they fell asleep again, tune on lips, song in heart.
Heero wouldn’t have told anyone his story. No one had ever asked before. Slowly, Duo was growing on him, and he was learning to grow on Duo as well. After his parents had died, he’d lost his dependence and reliance on anyone but himself.
Heero was learning to change, be it good or bad. He simply hoped that he would not regret the path he was leaning toward taking. He did not want to be lost in his memories any longer.
All this time he’d wanted to remove himself from the melody. Now he wanted to sing along with it; to dance. Now he wanted to fly.
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