Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Different Circumstance (Arc) ❯ #11 - Cloven ( Chapter 11 )

Heero sat alone at the familiar bar, only half-listening as the music flowed through him, soft, slow, a dull beat in his veins.

 

He'd managed a brief nod at the familiar face whose name he couldn't quite recall. As if she'd read his mind, she'd smiled and introduced herself when she put his drink before him earlier. She was Noin, and he was 'the one who left with 'Fei a few months ago, right?' He'd stared at her for a good long moment after that, until she'd politely cleared her throat and left.

 

He could barely see Duo in the dim light; the editor had insisted on coming with him. The memory of their argument flashed through his mind, and unconsciously, he clenched his fist around his glass.

 

“I don't care what you think, Heero. I'm going along with you to make sure you don't screw up again.”

 

“I won't 'screw up,'” he'd snapped defensively.

 

“You did before,” Duo reminded him, and Heero had fought the urge to punch the other man.

 

Instead, he'd been surprised at his own pleading, and was ashamed to remember it now. “Let me speak to him alone. Please, Duo.”

 

They'd had yet another staring contest, before Duo had reluctantly obliged with a narrowed gaze and a silent warning that he'd step in if Heero made one wrong move.

 

And so he sat here, staring mindlessly at his drink, his other hand tapping restlessly on his cell-phone. He'd called the apartment, and there had been an awkward moment when he'd realized that it wasn't Wufei on the line. But Trowa had murmured that he'd pass the message on, and Heero had asked to see Wufei here, at the place where they'd first met, tonight.

 

It seemed appropriate. It'd been here that he'd first fallen.

 

He looked up abruptly just in time to catch Noin's welcoming smile, and a second later, there was the soft rustle of someone slipping into the tall chair beside him. He turned, with no small amount of trepidation, and was vaguely surprised that nothing had changed.

 

Wufei always wore his hair back, and had his glasses on, when he went out. It made him look severe, it made him look older, it produced an image of stern intellectuality. Heero reflected absentmindedly that the style was probably unconscious, and yet wholly appropriate. By now, he knew how sharp and brutal that tongue could taste, knew how those eyes could burn and smolder in anger or desire...yes, Heero knew all too well. Helplessly, his gaze was drawn to the small, almost-tender smile curving the corner of Wufei's lips. Wufei never really smiled like that—

 

“Noin?” Wufei called, waving and raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music. “The usual, please?”

 

—Wufei never really smiled like that, not at anything, or anyone. He was too dry, too hardened to smile as if he was caught up and lost in the pleasures of a moment. But for an instant earlier, that brief flash of teeth had changed and softened the planes of Wufei's handsome face, lightened it into something young and almost happy. He'd only just begun to see another side of this man.

 

It made Heero ache, to think that Wufei might have smiled often like this before, a long time ago.

 

Brought to this point, face to face, he'd thought he'd know better than to continue wanting something that he had no right to want. Until now, he'd denied everything, steadfastly refusing to bring emotion into the equation. He'd ruthlessly stifled anything that might have given him cause to care.

 

And yet, even now, he failed in what should have been his closure, his repentance.

 

Unbidden, his hand rose of its own accord, as he blindly followed the urge to pull that smooth black hair back and let it ripple through his fingers...

 

“Is something the matter?” Wufei was looking at him, a faintly quizzical on his face. And for endless seconds, Heero couldn't say anything; his mind remained an utter blank.

 

Then he pulled himself together, forced his control back. Purposefully, hatefully, hardened something inside, something that threatened to crack and break under the onslaught of his will. “I'm ending this.”

 

The words were strong and cold.

 

His heart felt strangely like it was being ripped out of his body.

 

“Ah.”

 

It was ridiculously painful, how swiftly Wufei's expression closed, how that rich, low voice now held an oddly flat quality to it. “It's about time.”

 

Something shattered inside Heero.

 

From there, everything seemed to move in slow motion. The bar seemed to be getting darker, and Wufei had turned away, and Heero longed to stand and step forward and gather Wufei back in his arms but there was no strength left in him. It was surreal. It was fuzzy.

 

And Heero didn't know how he did it, but he thought he managed to excuse himself before all but throwing himself out the door, not caring if Duo saw fit to follow. He stumbled once in the darkness, and he cursed under his breath, hoping against hope that the uncharacteristic, dangerous hotness burning behind his eyelids wouldn't show. Heero wouldn't allow it for himself, this grace. This most weak of all weaknesses.

 

His fingers fumbled for the car keys; he felt like a drowning man. He was out of breath and full of regret, and it was so agonizing that it threatened to tear him apart.