musings 3 - of waking dreams

***

I dreamed that I was thrown from a crag
by one who held my will in servitude,
and all but fallen to gripping jaws
of a wild beast in wait for me below.

***

I shoot up in bed, unable to foget my menacing and haunting dreams. Dreams that come to me in the dead of the night when we used to lie together and whisper our thoughts to each other.

You do things to me that no one else has ever done. -i-

You have moved my heart. A heart that had been programmed out of me at the behest of a sealed world amidst the stars. You burn me as though my heart is upside down and I am no longer breathing except in that dream world.

These dreams haunt me, but only late at night. Only when the light I fake during day time without you is extinguished in the utter darkness of the room.

You used to hold me. Always I would feel the encroaching darkness and you would subconsciously tighten your arms about me, or put your arms about me. You caused it to flee, you murdered the darkness with your light.

I dream, dream a tortured dream of when we were together.

Sitting here like this, with him vaguely attempting to retain a patient countenance, is rather exhilarating.

Being here, like this, with him at arm's distance, is really comforting.

His mindless chatter is not nearly as annoying as I used to lie to myself that it was, and I cannot help but realize the finer points about him.

If there are any.

One need not talk, when he is near. One need not think either, and I suppose that could be a downfall. But that is probably why one can lose oneself with him. It's probably why I haven't killed him yet.

It's probably why I... I...

I find it easy to fall into his ever-so-blue eyes because he does not expect anything.

He would be the perfect date.

For a girl I mean. FOR A GIRL.

*SIGH*

Can't escape the truth forever, I suppose.

I love the braided baka.

With anyone else rejection is possible, a hurtful rejection that pains the soul and makes one vicious and angry. With Duo it seems somehow utterly impossible.

That he could hurt me is simply unbelievable. He is far to kind and much too attached to me to sever our connection irrevocably.

"Hey, Heero? I'm talking to you!"

Do you ever know why I don't answer you or acknowledge what you say, darling?

"Aren't you paying any attention to me?"

He sighs. I turn and look at him.

"Is somethin' wrong?"

I would laugh, but I cannot show my emotion to the baka.

"You're lookin' at me."

"You asked for attention, Maxwell. I was already paying you that. What more do you want?"

Did I say that out loud.

"Constancy of affection, of course."

"Baka no braid."

"Hey, hey, don't call me that."

"Do you even know what it means?"

"Of course I do."

I turn back to the laptop, doing what I always do, writing what I always do. This has become an obsession. He isn't complaining about my lack of response anymore. Babbling suits him, it once suited me, but I was trained out of it.

Damn the person who killed her, damn my father, and damn my heart for falling in love with the BAKA. I guess I can't call him that anymore, being in such state as I am.

I will tell him.

I will not.

He knows.

He must know.

I haven't pushed him away like I have everyone else.

He could know.

He might know?

Ok, so he doesn't know. So the fuck what? He doesn't need to know.

"Heero, you look lost in thought there, can I help?"

"I suppose I could leave you alone."

"Hn."

"Or not."

"I love those long, involved responses."

"You're the only one who talks to me like this, and, and I like it," damn him for his voices. And his mimicking.

"Hn."

"Sorry 'bout that, you know how I get sometimes. You won't break me in half? Good."

"Hn," if it is possible to sound aggressive while saying that I am.

"Um...no, I wasn't trying to... I mean, rape is a bad thing. You really shouldn't..."

"Hn," what the fuck? Rape is the farthest thing from my mind.

"You should get that fixed. It seems that all you're saying is 'Hn.' "

"Shut up."

"Oh, touchy touchy. Sorry to invade on you're self-depreciation, sorry to try to..."

"If you don't shut up I might do something we will both regret."

"Oh, really?"

"Shut up."

He looks like he is about to hit me. That would be a bad thing. I don't want to have to hit him back. Black and blue would clash with his eyes. I hate it when that happens. Girls' faces should be normal colors unless they have Leukemia or Cancer or some flesh consuming disease that renders one pallid. Like Relena, Hemophilia and a cut are perfectly valid reasons for wearing blue or green make up.

"Heero, what are you thinking about?"

"The many ways to kill you."

"No, seriously."

"Writing a _How_To_ guide on assassinations and perseverance in the supreme annoyance."

He looks hurt, and those magnificent eyes are shinning. Damn this war. He begins to cry, and I fold the screen of the laptop to an angle.

SNIFF, SNIFF "You ignore me, and really do want me dead, don't you?"

SIGH "Have I seriously tried to kill you lately?"

HUH "You're looking at me. You're talking to me, and trying to comfort me."

SIGH "Pretty much."

DEAR GOD "You actually...care...?"

SIGH I get up and return to the computer table.

I pull the screen up to its original position and save the document. I continue to type and Duo continues to stare at me from where he is curled up on the bed. I inwardly cringe that it's mine and we'll have to share tonight.

Why did I have to do that?

The sun is going down outside and I cannot help but see the way the refracted light lights his face and hair.

Damn his hair. It looks so soft in this light. But it also looks on fire.

Damn his countenance, he's staring at me again. I can feel his gaze on me, but it is different this time. It is questioning, summing up, debating. Just when I think I'm going to scream, his eyes move away.

Damn his scrutiny.

Damn...

I don't want to damn him...I want to....

"Heero, do you ever feel isolated?"

"Hn." If it can be positive, it is.

"Like because of who you are and what you do no one can get closer than arms' distance?"

"Yes."

"Like people who want to try and get close will only end up being hurt so much that..."

"That it's better off for them to be without you?"

"Yes. I..."

"I understand what you are saying."

"Heero?"

"Yes?"

"I'm tired."

"Hn."

"Heero?"

"Yes?"

"I'm cold."

"Hn. Put on another blanket."

"There aren't any more of them."

"Are you under all of them?"

"Yes."

"Hm."

I really don't need to finish this _right_ now. I shut the screen and put it on standby. The covers are thin, I note as I slide under them and into the bed. The sun's last rays are spilling over his face as I scoot in next to him.

The light catches his face like it is a prism and I see the deep blue of his eyes, the rose blush of his cheeks, and the warm orange of the reflection in his hair. No, blue and black should only be in his eyes. They are enough to stop even I.

He is mumbling something, and turns his back to me. "Thank you, Heero," he murmurs.

"Duo."

He is shock still, and he turns his head to me carefully, "Yes?"

"It is cold."

He smiles. I scoot up next to him, and he can feel the chill simmering off of my skin from sitting at the laptop. He gently begins to rub my arms warm, and when he is done he wraps his arms around me.

"Better?"

"Yes. Comfortable?"

"Entirely."

We smile, and he catches mine because his face is next to mine. He looks up, but I quickly scowl to hide the happiness.

"Why, Heero Yuy, I do believe you just smiled."

"Hn."

"Oh, don't give me that, lover boy, why were you smiling?"

"Hyoun."

"Hyoun? Who's that? What's that?"

"Hn you."

"Hn you?"

Stop being coy, Maxwell. Damn your childishness.

"Me?"

"Hn." I snuggle a little deeper into his arms, and we are brushing together. He flushes bright red and I cannot tell if it is because of acceptance or rejection. But he pulls me closer and so I don't worry about it.

"I love you, Heero. Or whatever is your first name."

I stiffen, and he starts to let go. I hold him to me and whisper, "Funny, I feel the same."

He starts to cry and I stop his whimpers with a kiss.

Wondering why you do what you do is useless, I suppose. So wondering why I have done what I have done to you when I swore that I would no longer hurt anyone for any reason is useless as well. Wondering if I can live without you, or if there is life without you despite my staggering in the steps of the imitation of what is called life means as little to me as the waiting gun that will end all semblance of practicing the dance steps I am staggering.

The music means nothing. I mean nothing.

Food tastes of oblivion. Everywhere air tastes like copper. Everyone and everything tastes of thoughts and inner grievances.

I feel what I must feel. As though I have felt something all of my years of being programmed and now I feel nothing.

Except my loss of you.

***

A fathomless abyss is human pain.
Whose eye has ever pierced to its black depths?
To the shadowy gulf of times that are
no more incline in your ear...

***

Don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters, but the ideas, yes, the ideas do belong... somewhere.

-i- song reference to Sheryl Crow. from cd Tuesday Night Music Club.

musings 4-6 deal with other characters from gundam wing.