Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Reason For Me ❯ Part Two: Chapter Three ( Chapter 6 )

Title: A Reason For Me
Author: Prynesque
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, angst
Pairing: 1x2
Rated: R
Warnings: Potential (though unintended) OOC, some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV, possible Australian-isms.
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me - just so long as I get to hear from you.
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).
Notes: This story is AU. It's set in modern-day Chicago and I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste!

Author's Notes: Argh! I'm ticked off! Excuse me while I vent. I've just returned from my WWII history lecture where I had the extreme displeasure of the company of a particularly nasty breed of asshole (pardon my French). He spent the entire hour telling the rest of us that Hitler was wrong about the Holocaust but that he did have a point about "locking up all those queers". Hmmmm, excuse me while I hit you over the head with my trusty spade, you arrogant bigot! Grrrrr.

Ahem… *clears throat* Sorry about that, just had to get it off my chest (It's amazing the human capacity for hatred and intolerance. Scary, too). Right, so back to the story then? Wow, you guys better feel special that I'm putting this chapter up so quick after the last one. I've had a fit of… what's the opposite of writer's block? Non-writer's block, I suppose… anyway I've had a fit of that and this is the result. I think the fact that I have two essays I should be writing is probably what inspired my bout of enthusiastic fanfic writing (watch the master procrastinator at work), but hey, who's complaining?

Anyway, enough dallying, let's just get on with the bloody story, shall we? Hope you enjoy and, of course, please review if you get the urge.

Part Two - Chapter Three:

Heero

There is an uncomfortable crick in my neck, partly from tension and partly from the awkward position I find myself in.

I'm sprawled across the couch; one leg is draped over the arm rest and the other is dangling over the side, my bare foot just brushing against the rug. My head has fallen to the right during my sleep and is now hanging rather painfully off the side of the couch. I feel somewhat like an abandoned rag-doll.

Waking to find myself inelegantly adorning the sofa is not an uncommon event in my life. I'm ashamed to say that I probably spend at least half my nights on the couch having fallen asleep whilst working.

However, even in my bleary-eyed state, I'm instinctively aware that work is not the reason I find myself sleeping out here on this particular morning. It takes me less than a second to remember why I'm not sleeping in my own bed… less than a second to remember that the most beautiful thing I've ever seen is currently occupying said bed… less than a second to realise that I would give anything to be sleeping beside him right now.

Duo fell asleep about an hour after he'd emerged from his shower. We'd been talking about my work; he seemed interested, although I'm not entirely sure whether it was genuine curiosity or merely a desire to shift the focus of discussion away from himself… either way I was happy to oblige.

His head slowly drooped, his chin coming to rest on his chest, and his eyes fluttered closed. It was probably one of the sweetest sights I've ever seen. I wonder what Duo would say if I told him that?

I sat on the couch for a full half hour, just watching him sleep before I gathered him up and took him into my room. He was heavier than I was expecting. He looks light but he's all lean muscle and wiry strength. His weight was comforting and when I reached my bedside, I was reluctant to let him go.

And even now as I sit on the couch in my living room, the sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains, I can still feel his warmth and solid presence in my arms.

You don't know how much I wanted to curl up in that bed beside him. And I did think about crawling in next to him… but in the end I decided that too much time had passed since the last time we shared a bed. It felt like we were too old for that now, like it would just be too awkward.

Not to mention the fact that I wasn't entirely sure I'd be able to control myself. You see, Duo takes temptation to a whole new level. Even after five years I'm still as attracted to him as I was that first night, more so even.

It was such a shock to see him standing on my doorstep. After Friday night, I fully expected that I would never see him again; he was so determined not to accept my help, not to allow himself to be vulnerable or weak.

Part of me is over the moon that he came to me in spite of all his misgivings, but part of me feels guilty, like I'm being selfish, making things harder for him.

I still want to help him, but I'm realistic enough now to know that I probably can't and that he wouldn't accept it even if I could. But I'd just like to be there for him. I want him to know that he can come to me for whatever reason… for a shower, for a place to sleep for the night, for company. Anything. I just want a chance to be with him, even if only for the briefest of moments.

My legs are stiff as I slowly stand, and I feel ungainly and uncomfortably rigid in my jeans.

I stretch languidly, working the kinks out of my aching muscles; they groan in protest at first, but then they warm up and I relax as my body finds its own comfortable balance.

I cross the room and pull back the curtains. They brush silently across the hard wooden floorboard as they are drawn back to reveal my prized balcony. I twist the handle and the bay doors swing effortlessly inwards.

The pale early morning sun streams in, bathing my face in a soft warm glow. I don't move to cross the threshold; instead I just stand in the doorway, leaning against the solid wood frame, and allow the sunlight to play around me.

I turn slightly to glance back into the room behind me. My gaze finds the clock just visible in the kitchen. It's nearly 7:30am.

Slowly I close my eyes, taking deep steady breathes, and then my body starts to move, almost of its own volition, as I start my day with a Salute to the Sun.

Trowa was the one who initially got me into yoga. I was sceptical at first; the only physical conditioning I did at the time was weight training and I was suspicious of those leotard-clad women I had seen at the gym and the strange ways they contorted their bodies.

But one morning I was staying with Quatre and Trowa after a late evening and I stumbled upon Trowa in the living room practising his meditative stretches. I was immediately entranced by the graceful way his body moved, the incredible strength and control he possessed.

And he began to teach me. At first I was hopeless. It was quite a shock to finally discover something I wasn't naturally good at. But that just made me more determined.

It took several months of practising every morning, but slowly I began to improve and now it feels completely natural… just another part of my morning routine, as normal as brushing my teeth.

I'm calm and relaxed as I straighten up for the final time, allowing my arms to drop back to my side and my eyes to open again.

And suddenly things are very clear. Normally at this point of the morning, I would beat a hasty retreat to the shower and I would wash quickly and efficiently. I would dress and eat my breakfast and then I would leave the apartment in time to catch the 8:15am train to work.

But today, I'm suddenly feeling very disinclined. I creep across the living room to my bedroom door, pressing my ear against the smooth wood, listening for… I'm not sure what.

Slowly I turn the door knob. The door opens a crack, just enough for me to peer in. A thin beam of sunshine is coming in through the gap in the curtains, illuminating Duo's form.

He is curled up on the left side of the bed, the covers are bunched up around his waist and one pillow has been knocked to the floor. His fingers are splayed across the empty bed beside him and his rope of hair twists languorously across the pillow. He is not wearing the t-shirt anymore and my gaze flickers across the bare shoulder that is visible. I lick my dry lips unconsciously.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically and ever so often he turns slightly to bury his face further into the pillow, tiny murmurs of contentment slipping past his lips.

It's so beautiful that my breath catches in my throat. I drink in the sight until I'm drunk on it and I have to close the bedroom door before I lose myself completely.

By now it's five minutes to eight. If I hurried, I could make the train on time… but that would mean disturbing Duo and that is something I don't think I could bear to do.

Internally, there is a battle raging. My ruthless work ethic demands that I leave for the office while another part of me, more susceptible to pangs of the heart, demands that I stay and relish the time I have with Duo, even if he is asleep and in another room.

The outcome of the war is unusual but perhaps not altogether surprising given my current state of mind. And so for the first time in my life, I reach for the phone.

I have to wait for a good ten minutes, the phone ringing in my ear, before it's answered. "Tanaki Industries, Cynthia speaking. How may I help you?"

I picture Cynthia in my mind. She is soft and round and gentle with wispy blonde hair framing her face. She is always nervous around me because once, when I had just arrived, I yelled at her and I made her cry. I've always felt guilty about that even though she had been in the wrong. I've often considered apologising, but I doubt I ever will.

She sounds slightly breathless; she has probably only just arrived at the office and had to run for the phone.

"Hello, this is Heero Yuy." I can almost feel her blushing down the phone line. "I'm calling to say I won't be in today. Can you reschedule my appointments for later in the week?"

"O-of course, Mr Yuy," Cynthia stammers.

"Thank you. And when Relena Peacecraft inquires, would you be so kind as to tell her not to bother calling me at home because the phone will be off the hook?"

Cynthia hesitates for a moment and then I hear the scratch of her pen as she records my message. "Of course, Mr Yuy," Cynthia says again, sounding slightly more confident.

"Thank you. Good morning," I say mechanically. I replace the receiver before she can reply and then I lift it again, leaving it resting off the hook on the kitchen bench.

There is a strange tense feeling in my stomach; I am not accustomed to taking the day off and it doesn't settle particularly well with me.

But I resolve to forget it and by the time I've put the coffee on, I have and my mind is once again filled with deliciously Duo-centred thoughts.

11am has just ticked past and I'm halfway through writing a report to Tanaki Industries' partners outlining the current status of my team's project, when I hear the creak of a door opening.

I look up in time to see Duo appear in my bedroom doorway. He looks rumpled and drowsy. His eyes are still half closed and there are wisps of hair escaping the braid that hangs down over his shoulder.

He is wearing my t-shirt again but as he stretches sensuously, it rises revealing several inches of smooth skin.

I swallow and force my gaze back up to face. He blinks once and then twice before raising his fingers to his eyes to rub the sleep away.

By the time his hand falls back to his side, he is looking more alert and he seems to realise where he is.

His eyes meet mine across the empty living room and his mouth opens ever so slightly in surprise and then it curves into a tiny smile.

He steps into the room and then pauses. "You know, I had almost convinced myself that last night was a dream," he says after a moment. I know what he means and I nod with a smile.

'Thanks for letting me stay. I guess I just kinda fell asleep," he massages the back of his neck nervously.

"Yes, I carried you into my room so you would be more comfortable," I tell him, saving my report and shutting down my laptop as I speak.

He looks slightly taken aback by my comment and I wonder how he thought he'd gotten into my room. "Um… thanks. Where did you sleep?" he asks.

"On the couch," I wave my hand vaguely in the direction of the sofa as I stand.

"Shit, Heero, you shoulda just left me there. I didn't mean to kick you out of your own bed," he looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"It was fine, I didn't mind. I've slept on that couch many times before," I say, trying to reassure him but not entirely convinced of my success.

"Right. Still… you coulda stayed… I mean, it's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

My head snaps up as he says this and I wonder if he has thought about that night as much as I have. He refuses to meet my gaze though, staring resolutely down at the floorboards beneath his feet.

"Well, yes… but I didn't want to crowd you or anything," I say, my voice little more than a whisper.

He finally lifts his head and we just stare at each other for several moments. Eventually I clear my throat awkwardly. "Would you like some breakfast?" I ask.

He smiles and then the smile becomes a grin. "God, yeah, I'm starving!" His stomach rumbles at that moment with perfect timing and he smiles sheepishly.

I lead him into the kitchen. "There is cereal and toast and fruit," I tell him. "Or I could do eggs or something," I suggest.

"Nah, cereal is fine. Better than that, really. I don't have a fridge at home so I don't often get to have stuff with milk, yanno," he says.

I nod and then turn away, reaching for a nearby cupboard. "I've only got muesli, I'm afraid," I say, placing the box down on the kitchen table.

"That's cool, I wasn't really expecting you to be the Fruit-Loops type, anyway," he grins, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

"Fruit-Loops?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Yeah, they're these little loopy-things. Pure sugar, probably. One bite and you can practically feel your teeth rotting," he laughs and then stops suddenly. "They're really quite disgusting, I guess," he says, although I'm not convinced he means that.

I file this information away in my mind. Duo likes Fruit-Loops. Even though I might not see him ever again after day, I instinctively know that next time I'm at the supermarket, I'll be buying Fruit-Loops. Just in case.

I set a bowl and spoon on the table and let Duo serve himself while I fetch the milk. He eyes the carton hungrily and then douses his muesli liberally.

He hums in contentment as he munches his way through the soggy cereal. I smile as I seat myself opposite him to watch.

He licks his lips as he drains the remains of the milk and then he looks up at me. He hesitates. "Um… can I?" He indicates the cereal box hopefully.

I push it across to him. "Of course."

He grins and replenishes his bowl eagerly. We sit in silence while he finishes his second bowl and finally he sits back looking content.

"Thanks. That was good muesli," he says.

"I know. It's my favourite. I couldn't find it anywhere in Chicago so I had to get Wufei to send me some from New York. He seemed rather bemused by the fact that I was calling him at midnight to ask him to send me muesli," I chuckle quietly to myself remembering Wufei's dubious tone.

Duo joins in my laughter. "Wufei's the severe-looking one with dark hair, isn't he?" Duo asks a moment later.

I nod, slightly confused.

"Oh, there's a picture in your room… of you and Wufei and… Quatre's the blonde, right?"

I nod again, surprised that Duo has remember their names after all this time. "That's one of my favourite pictures. I'm not especially photogenic and for once I don't look murderous."

Duo laughs and the sound sends ripples of electricity up and down my spine. The tingles stay with me for many minutes afterwards.

"So, would you like anything else?" I ask Duo.

"Nah, I fine, thanks Heero," he replies. He pauses and then, "Actually, can I have some toast?"

I smile. "Of course," I say, standing up.

He slides effortlessly out of his chair and is at my side before I barely have the chance to register him moving. His hand finds my shoulder, pressing gently and guiding me back into my seat. "It's cool, I'll get it," he tells me. Even after he has turned away to the toaster, I can still feel the warmth of his hand on my collarbone.

He slots the bread into the toaster and then stands back. His gaze flits around the kitchen once. "Hmmm, knife…" he murmurs, opening the nearest drawer. "Hmmm, not knife," he says a moment later when the contents of the drawer is revealed to be an assortment of odds and ends, including several rubber bands, a box of matches, two candles and a peculiar utensil that Sally gave me when I moved but that I haven't yet established the function of.

"Top drawer over there," I tell him.

He crosses the kitchen behind me and I hear the sound of the drawer sliding open. "Ah, knife," he says and I turn in my seat to see him holding up the knife triumphantly. I stifle my laugh with my hand.

He finds the butter in the fridge but then turns back to me questioningly. I'm about to open my mouth to tell him where the spreads are but he holds up his hand. "No, don't tell me, I'll find it."

I raise one eyebrow but he looks so adorable that I don't have the heart to spoil his game.

He searches through each cupboard methodically and when he finally reaches the furthest cupboard he withdraws the peanut butter.

"Figures it'd be in the last frigging cupboard," he says in mock annoyance just as his toast pops.

Duo is spreading his toast with butter when he looks up and catches sight of the clock on the microwave. "Shit! It's nearly half past eleven!" He exclaims. "Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, turning back to me.

"I called this morning… took the day off," I tell him.

An odd little smile crosses Duo's face. "Why?"

"I looked in on you and you seemed so peaceful… I thought you probably needed the sleep and I didn't want to disturb you," I say.

The smile is replaced by an unreadable expression. "Thanks." Duo pauses for a moment and then the smile is back. "You're right. I was exhausted. Slept like the dead, though. Your bed is really comfortable. Solid, but comfortable." For some reason there is a slight blush on his cheeks as he says this.

"It's a futon," I reply, cursing myself for my apparent inability to hold a conversation.

"I'm sorry you had to miss work," Duo says after a moment.

"I don't mind. Besides, I've worked for Tanaki Industries for nearly fours years without having a day off, I think they owe me one."

Duo grins and then turns back to his toast. He has wolfed the lot in about 30 seconds and so he leaves the plate on the counter and returns to the living room. I follow him automatically.

I'm just about to seat myself on the couch when Duo turns to me. "Tell me about these pictures?" he asks, indicating the snapshots I keep on the mantle.

I smile and skirt around the table to stand beside him.

Duo picks up the first photo and hands it to me. Wufei and Quatre and I are standing on the steps of the library at NYU. Quatre is laughing while Wufei and I look especially disgruntled. Our graduation gowns are flapping in the wind and we are each holding our mortarboards to our heads to stop them from flying away. Wufei's hair has come loose and is flying around him in black swirls. I suddenly find myself wondering if that's what Duo looks like with his hair down.

"That was our Graduation Day. It was so windy and cold. We'd been standing out there for what felt like hours waiting for Quatre's sister, Iria, to take the photo. Wufei was about ready to kill her by the time she took the bloody thing." I laugh. It had been a good day even if Wufei had spent an inordinately long time grumbling intermittently about his hair and/or the weather.

Duo smiles. "Quatre looks nice," he comments, leaning closer to me and peering over my arm.

"He is," I manage to croak, Duo's proximity playing havoc with my senses.

I replace the photo as Duo hands me another one. "Who's the tall guy?" he asks me.

I look down at the frame in my hands. It's two photos, both of Quatre and Trowa, taken just seconds apart. I remember the day I took them instantly.
In the first photo they are posing for me. Trowa is standing behind Quatre, his arms around Quatre's waist. Quatre's head is turned slightly so that he is looking up at Trowa. There are the beginnings of a grin on Quatre's face while Trowa just looks serene, gazing down at the blonde in his arms.

In the second photo, the pose has been broken. Quatre is leaning forwards slightly, laughing, his blonde hair falling across his eyes, and Trowa is staring right at the camera looking bemused.

"That's Trowa," I tell Duo. "Quatre's boyfriend." Duo looks up at me as I say this, surprised. He hides it quickly and I continue. "He's a sub-editor at the New York Times. Very nice. Very quiet."

"Like you," Duo says, smiling down at the picture.

"Yes, I suppose a bit like me," I respond with a smile of my own.

"They look very happy together." Duo sounds almost wistful as he speaks.

"They are." I'm fairly sure I'm sounding wistful myself.

Our eyes meet and we both smile as Duo takes the frame from my hand. Our fingers brush briefly before Duo sets the frame back down on the mantle.

Duo picks up another one. "That's Wufei, but who's the chick?"

Wufei and Sally are sitting at the kitchen bench in our old apartment. Their shoulders are pressed tightly against each other and their heads are bent together so that their foreheads are touching. Neither is smiling; they both look very serious and intense… and yet very content and calm. I've always liked that photo. I think it's a good reflection of their relationship.

"Wufei's girlfriend, Sally. It's the kitchen in the apartment Wufei and I shared in New York. Sally moved in with him when I came to Chicago. They used to sit like that every night, studying. Wufei was doing Law and Sally was at Med. School." I break off, remembering the nights when I would come home from work, and I would cook dinner while Sally and Wufei studied.

"So, you're the only one without a partner?" It's more of a question than a comment and I look up when Duo says it. For a second I think I see a tinge of hope in those eyes but then it's gone; it was probably a trick of the light.

"Yes, I'm the only one without a partner," I reply, softly. Duo nudges me with his elbow slightly. I'm not entirely sure what he's trying to say with that gesture but I'm grateful for the contact anyway.

There are only two photos left on the mantle piece. Duo reaches for the first. I like this photo. Trowa and I are in his and Quatre's living room, standing in Warrior Two position, our legs and arms spread apart, looks of intense concentration on our faces.

It was just after I had gotten confident with my yoga and Quatre had snuck up on us.

"Trowa and I were doing our yoga and Quatre crept up with the camera. He took the photo and the sound startled Trowa. He fell over and then knocked me over. Quatre took another photo of the two of us in a jumbled mess on the floor. I'm surprised he could hold the camera straight, he was laughing so hard. I've got that photo somewhere but I'm too proud to display it in public," I tell Duo.
Duo laughs, his shoulders shaking as that gorgeous sound escapes his lips. "I definitely think I'd like Quatre," he says absent-mindedly.

I think about this for a moment. Yes, he's right. I'm sure the two of them would get on very well together… once Quatre was satisfied that I was safe from harm, that is. I always thought I was the protective one out of the two of us, but Quatre can be equally as fierce when it comes to the happiness and well-being of his friends.

"And that's my family," I say before Duo can ask about the last photo. It's a professional portrait, taken just before I moved to New York. The four of us are standing in unnatural poses; none of us are smiling. My mother and brother look wooden and my father and I just look cold and stern. It's not a flattering photo of any of us really but for some reason I've always felt compelled to keep it here with the others.

"Well, you all look like a cheerful bunch, don't you?" Duo jokes. I laugh. "What are they like?" Duo asks a moment later.

"My mother is gentle and passive. Very kind. She was always very perplexed by my lack of social skills."

Duo laughs at this. "You have her eyes," he tells me a moment later.

I lean closer to peer at the photo. Yes, I suppose he's right. Funny that I've never really realised that before.

"My father is the opposite; very domineering. He has very high expectations and is not a particularly easy man to live with," I continue. "And my younger brother Shinji… he and I were never really very good friends. He's 17 now and thinks he's the centre of the universe. Of course, the fact that my mother treats him like he is doesn't exactly help. They still live in Boston. I haven't seen them for a couple of years." I stop suddenly, feeling very guilty and write myself a mental memo telling myself to call my mother.

"You've got quite a family," Duo says quietly, indicating not just my relatives but my friends as well, and I realise that he's right. "You're very lucky." I almost miss Duo's words they're so softly spoken.

I'm suddenly overcome by a moment of boldness and I take his hand gently in mine. Neither of us says anything for several longs minutes… it's enough to just stand together in my living room holding hands, words aren't needed.

The moment ends as moments always do and we go out and sit on the balcony. Our legs dangle over the side and the wind blows through out hair, lifting Duo's braid off his shoulders so that it flies behind him like a banner.

It's so peaceful and calming; I'm struck by the thought that this is what perfect feels like.

The day unfolds below us as Chicago goes about its business. Sometimes we talk… about silly, inconsequential things like my work or the weather and sometimes about bigger, more important, more intimate things like our dreams.

But mostly we just sit side-by-side in silence. I don't feel compelled to break the silence. For me, just being with Duo is enough.

It's six o'clock by the time we move. It's starting to get dark and the breeze is picking up, leaving us chilled and windswept.

"I should go," Duo says as I hold out my hand to him and help him to his feet.

I knew this moment would be coming, but now that it has, I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready to let Duo go again.

I'm overcome by the urge to wrap my arms around him and plead with him to stay. I know I won't, partly because I wouldn't want to put him in that position and partly because I'm afraid to hear his answer. Instead, I just nod miserably and lead him back into the apartment.

"Would you like another shower?" I ask, desperate to keep him here as long as I can.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm just gonna get dirty again," he says. Suddenly he blushes and his shoulders droop despondently.

I'm feeling rather like that myself. The sudden reminder of what Duo does every night hits me with the force of a steam train. I had almost forgotten, almost convinced myself that the outside world didn't exist, that it was just him and me here in this little apartment. It's depressing and painful to realise that it's not.

I hover in the living room while Duo disappears into my room to change. When he returns he's wearing those tight denim jeans again; they cling to his hips. He looks so dejected and I'm fairly sure that painful sensation in my chest is my heart shattering because I can't help him.

When he finally looks up and meets my gaze, the shutters have come down again and I can no longer see into his eyes. I can no longer tell what he's thinking or feeling just by looking at him.

He clenches his jaw determinedly and I follow the movement helplessly. He nods once. "I have to go. Smokey and Joe'll be wondering where I am."

I nod but I can't bear to lift my head to meet his gaze. I simply stare down at the floor, hoping this'll all go away and it'll just be him and me on the balcony again.

"I won't come back. I can't…" his voice cracks but he clears his throat and plows on. "But thank you so much for last night and today. It was a nice holiday from my life."

I look up only when I feel his presence right next to me. He grasps my hand briefly. I don't return the squeeze because I'm afraid I won't be able to let go if I did.

And then suddenly the sound of the door closing echoes around the apartment and I'm alone. Again.

I'm feeling a sudden urge to crawl into my bed and cry. But I don't. I close my eyes and take long deep breaths. I clear my head and when I open my eyes again it feels less like the world is going to collapse in on me.

It's strange. I feel miserable and ecstatic all at once; miserable because Duo is gone, but strangely euphoric because I at least got to spend those few precious hours with him. I'll always have those memories, and that's comforting enough to ease the pain ever so slightly.

The next morning I practise my Salute to the Sun but I'm so distracted that I nearly fall over. I can't stop myself from wishing that Duo was still in the other room sleeping.

Earl the Doorman nods to me as I appear in the lobby from lift. Just as I'm passing him, I hesitate.

"The man that came to visit me last night…" I begin.

"He wasn't on my list, but he did seem very desperate to see you," Earl interrupts. Desperate to see me? For some reason my heart beats faster at that thought.

"Thank you. If he comes back, he probably won't… but if he does, let him in," I say.

"Of course, Mr Yuy. I'll put him on the list. Duo Maxwell." His pen scratches on the paper as he records Duo's name. Maxwell. I didn't know that was his last name. I'm ashamed to realise that I didn't think he even had a last name.

"Thank you," I say again, realising that Earl has finished his task and is looking at me expectantly.

"No worries, Mr Yuy. Have a good day," he nods cheerfully to me as he opens the door.

"You too," I reply absent-mindedly as I exit and slowly make my way to the train station.

My morning work suffers from a distinct lack of attention. For some reason, every time I put my fingers to the keys of my computer and every time I lift my pen or answer the phone, I find myself thinking about Duo.

He persistently invades my thoughts. It's a relief when I can escape to lunch and try to drown my thoughts in the cafeteria chatter.

I've just succeeded in shifting my mind away from Duo when the thud of plastic against plastic jolts my attention away from my lunch and I look up to see Relena sliding into her seat opposite me. Moments later, Dorothy has seated herself as well.

I turn back to my salad. I can feel their eyes on me, penetrating and curious, but I refuse to look up.

"So, where were you yesterday?" Relena asks eventually, breaking the stalemate.

"Mars," I mutter acerbically.

"Come, come, Heero now's not the time to start growing a sense of humour," Relena retorts. Her tone dares me to look up and I do, in spite of myself.

At first, her smile is triumphant but then it morphs into one of kindness and concern. "So, where were you?" she asks again, gentler this time.

"Yes, yes, do tell," Dorothy remarks indifferently between sips of coffee.

"At home," I reply succinctly, gripping my fork tighter.

"Because?" Relena prompts.

"Because I felt like having the day off," I say.

"Heero Yuy just felt like having the day off?" Dorothy inquires with false politeness. "There has to be more to it than that. You haven't had a single day off in the three and a half years you've worked for this company," she comments.

"You've read my file," I accuse.

"Of course, I have. I've read everybody's file," she states silkily.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I respond rhetorically and Relena laughs.

Dorothy ignores me. "It's my right, as Mr Tanaki's personal attaché, to know all the gossip." She smiles toothily and I'm reminded of a shark.

Relena appears to be caught between her polite and diplomatic sensibilities and her curiosity. Finally she raises one delicate eyebrow and leans forward ever so slightly. "Such as?" she whispers, curiosity obviously winning out.

"Well, aside from knowing that Heero is a workaholic who never takes a holiday, I know that you, my dear Relena, were instrumental in getting one of your Harvard professors sent down because he was sleeping with his students, that Cynthia from the front desk was rejected from all of the colleges in this state, that Marie in Advertising has been divorced four times, that Darryl Hanover cheated on his MIT entrance exam, and that Roger Barker was once arrested for lewd behaviour with a minor… who was male and a professional, if you catch my drift." Dorothy sits back in her chair looking pleased with herself.

As soon as the word 'professional' oozed off her red-painted lips, I cringed internally at the revulsion in her tone. I can't help thinking of Duo and now I'm feeling the distinct urge to wipe that smug look off Dorothy's overly made-up face.

I'm suddenly struck by just how insidious this woman is… the way she betrays the secrets of her workmates without batting an eyelid.

Relena on the other hand looks wide-eyed. "Roger Barker is gay?" she whispers. "I thought he was married?"

"He is," Dorothy smirks.

Relena tries unsuccessfully to hide her smile. "Well, who'd have thought? It's always the ones you least expect," she giggles and I'm suddenly disgusted with the pair of them, with Dorothy for being a bitch and with Relena for getting sucked in by her.

I clear my throat pointedly and try to pour as much abhorrence into my expression as I can. Relena immediately looks abashed, blushing a pretty red colour. Dorothy just shrugs and returns my gaze evenly.

I slowly rise from the table and make my exit. I can feel Relena's eyes still fixed on me and I can picture the look on the face, a mixture of guilt and secret amusement.

I retire to my office for the rest of the afternoon but I work slowly and distractedly; twice I have to re-draft the same letter. My thoughts have just come right back to Duo and I can't stop thinking about him. It suddenly occurs to me that I have a very long road ahead of me.

And I sigh heavily.

It has been a week and a half since Duo's visit and I'm beginning to lose hope. I think I was secretly expecting him to come back. I don't know why. He did say he wouldn't, after all. But I still dared to keep a tiny part of me reserved in hope… just in case.

But evidently, I was wrong. See? This is where dreaming gets you. Miserable and alone.

I stir my cocoa inattentively, slopping half of it across the kitchen counter. It's strange, but since Duo's impromptu visit, I've found myself unable to drink anything but hot chocolate.

And I've even started eating Fruit-Loops. I initially bought them on the off-chance that Duo returned but then I was curious and tried them just to see what they were like.

Duo was right; they're disgusting. Pure sugar and in bright colours that shouldn't be seen on something you're supposed to consume. But they're strangely addictive and I find myself eating them every morning, leaving my imported muesli dejected and uneaten. It's like I feel closer to Duo by eating and drinking the things that I associate with him.

I've also found myself studying the photos I have, running my fingers along the frames that Duo once held in his hand.

God, if I get any more pathetic… actually, I'm not entirely sure it's even possible to get more pathetic than I am right now.

I sigh heavily and reach for a cloth to wipe away my split cocoa. As I slowly run the damp sponge over the counter, I make a conscious decision to pull myself out of my self-imposed slump. My work and my mental state are suffering and it's about time I pulled myself together.

I leave my empty mug on the bench and wander into the living room. I sink down onto the couch but have barely sat there for five minutes before I feel compelled to move again. I'm so restless and it's only as pace in front of the fire for the second time and look up to see my photos that I realise that I'm lonely.

I return to the kitchen and pull myself up to sit on the counter. My legs swing restively back and forth across the cupboard beneath me. I reach for the phone.

"Hello?" Trowa's voice is smooth and deep and I feel an almost overwhelming relief at the sound.

"Hey, Trowa, it's Heero," I sigh into the receiver.

"Heero!" Trowa sounds surprised and pleased. "I haven't talked to you for ages."

I feel slightly guilty now and I suddenly realise that I never called Quatre back after his last message on my answer phone. "Sorry, I meant to call you guys back, but I guess I forgot. Anyway, how are you?"

Trowa chuckles lightly. "Not bad, I suppose. We have a new editor-in-chief and he's being particularly vile to me because of my sexuality. Quatre's working too hard, as usual. And his sister Mayada has practically moved in with us since she and her husband separated. All in all, not a particularly good week but, touch wood, things will get better."

I smile as he talks. It always strikes me as odd that he and I are much better at having a verbal conversation over the phone than we are in person. I suppose that's because we can't rely on non-verbal means of communication.

"But enough of all that drama. How are you?" Trowa asks. There is a slight shuffling noise which I assume is Trowa sitting down.

"I'm… fine." I try to sound confident but I'm sure Trowa has picked up on my hesitation.

"Really? You don't sound especially fine," he says and I can hear the doubt in his voice.

I suddenly feel compelled to tell Trowa all about Duo, about all my fears and doubts and wants. Of all my friends, I think Trowa would probably be the most understanding or the least judgemental. But I don't tell him. For some reason, the words stick in my throat and in the end, all I can say is, "Just a bit lonely, I guess."

Trowa murmurs understandingly and then he chuckles. "Well, don't tell Quatre, he worries about you enough as it is. He'll start hounding you about coming home."

I laugh as well and suddenly I'm feeling a whole lot better. "Thanks, Trowa. It's nice to hear your voice."

"You too," Trowa replies and I can hear the smile in his voice. There is a sudden muffled sound from Trowa's end and then I hear Trowa's voice, softer and further away this time, "Welcome home, mon petit. I'm just on the phone to Heero."

"Heero?" I hear Quatre's voice in the background. "How is he? Can I talk to him?" I smile. Whenever I hear Quatre's voice, I have to smile, he has that effect on people.

"Hello, Heero?" Quatre's voice hums down the phone to my ear.

"Hey, Quatre…" I begin but stop when I hear Trowa's voice in the distance.

"Well, that's nice, isn't it? My partner comes home and it's straight onto the phone to his friends. I don't get a hello or a kiss or anything." He sounds like he's trying not to smile.

Quatre and I both laugh. "I'm sorry, Heero, hold on a minute," Quatre says.

I hear the sounds of them kissing and I'm struck by a sudden pang as I realise how much I'd like that. Of course, it doesn't take long for my mind to leap from there to who in particular I'd like to do that with, but I block those thoughts immediately. I'm supposed to be getting over Duo.

Quatre laughs as he returns to the phone. "Sorry about that, Heero."

"It's fine. A man has to do what a man has to do," I joke, trying to make my voice cheerful.

Quatre laughs again. "It's wonderful to hear from you. I was starting to get worried. I mean, you're usually fairly lax about returning your messages but nearly two weeks is bad, even for you," Quatre teases.

"Sorry. I meant to call, but I was busy… with things. And you don't have to worry about me."

"Of course I do! You're my best friend and I miss you. Besides, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't worry."

"Well, I'm fine," I reassure him.

I'm fairly sure Quatre doesn't believe me because he 'hmmmms'. A moment later he says, "I dare you to say that again and sound remotely convincing." He pauses and then says, concern evident, "Are you sure you're alright, Heero? You sound a little off."

"No, I'm fine, just a bit lonely. Better for talking to you and Trowa though," I assure him.

"You could always come back to New York, you know," Quatre points out.

I smile as Trowa's words come back to me. "I know," I say, even though a significant part of me is willing to stay in Chicago forever on the off-chance that Duo might reappear, even 50 years from now. "I like it here, though."

"We'll have to come and visit you sometime, then. Drive the blues away in person. Sally graduates soon and so she and Wufei could probably get some time off, too." I smile. I love the way Quatre starts to make plans as soon as he has had an idea.

"Well, it would be nice to see you all," I say. "How are Wufei and Sally?"

"They're fine. Sal's in the grips of her finals and it's quite a shock to see her so tense. Wufei has been coming to dinner with us so that she has some quiet time to study." Quatre laughs. "I'm sure they'll both be very relieved when she graduates and becomes a fully-fledged doctor."

"And you're OK? Trowa said you were working too hard."

"Oh, he did, did he? Well, he always says that." I can almost picture Quatre waving his hand dismissively.

"Only because it's always true," I respond.

Quatre harrumphs. "Oh fine, gang up on me, why don't you?" I can hear Trowa chuckling in the background and then the sound of Quatre throwing something at him.

It's almost painful to realise how much I miss them but I'm still feeling happier than I've felt since Duo left.

"I should probably let you go. I just wanted to check in and return your call," I say, somewhat reluctant.

"Oh, OK. You can call us any time you like, Heero. We love you and we miss you, so don't be a stranger!" Quatre sounds like he's trying to be stern, but it isn't really working.

"I'm sorry, I'll try and call more often," I tell him.

"That's better!" Quatre laughs.

"OK, I'll talk to you soon."

"Good. Bye, Heero." In the background I hear Trowa calling his goodbyes as well. I smile as I hang up the phone.

I let my legs swing back and forth a few more times and then I slide down off the counter.

I was successfully diverted by my phone call, but now I'm feeling restless again. My eyes find the clock; it's half past ten. I consider calling Wufei and Sally but I stop, my hand half way to the phone; I don't want to be one of those people who call their friends in the middle of the night expecting them to chase away their loneliness. I contemplate settling myself in the living room to watch TV, but then I dismiss the idea and move through to my bedroom and start getting ready for bed.

I've just finished brushing my teeth and washing my face and am halfway through pulling my pyjama pants on when I'm startled by a sharp knock. I tumble forwards, my hand finding the mattress of my bed and breaking my fall.

I straighten up. My heart is suddenly beating so fast I'm afraid it'll give out. Slowly I pull my pyjamas up over my hips, knotting the tie firmly. My breathing has evened out now but my heart feels like it's lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my throat.

Nervously I exit my room and cross the lounge to the front door. My hand pauses on the door handle. Could it possibly be…? I cut that thought off. I know who I want it to be but I don't allow myself to hope, trying to prevent some of the disappointment I'll feel when it doesn't turn out to be him.

There is another knock and I jump. I take a deep breath and pulling back to the bolts I open the door.

Violet-blue eyes stare up into mine and I forget to breathe. At first Duo's face is expressionless as he gazes back at me but then something flickers behind his eyes and the mask cracks.

Suddenly he's looking nervous and upset and confused and uncomfortably desperate. He looks tired and worn. His jacket is hanging carelessly off one shoulder. The pocket of his shorts is torn, suspended helplessly by a few threads, and the laces are broken on one of his high heeled boots. In that moment, it takes all my strength not to gather him in my arms.

He dithers slightly, his mouth opening and then closing. I stand back and he crosses the threshold, gently brushing past me.

I close the door and turn to face him, leaning against the solid wood behind me for support.

We stand again in silence. For some strange reason, this is more awkward than the first time. I feel uncomfortably aware of the fact that all I'm wearing are a pair of thin cotton pyjama pants.

We don't speak. Duo turns slightly towards the bathroom. I nod and he disappears. It's only when the bathroom door closes behind him that I remember to breathe again, and oxygen floods my lungs painfully fast.

The sound of the shower running jolts me out of my daze and suddenly I'm smiling harder than I ever have in my life. This bizarre, irrepressible grin has broken out across my face and for the life of me, I can't seem to get rid of it. I'm not sure I realised it was possible to feel this happy.

I enter my bedroom, pulling open my chest of drawers, searching for the clothes he wore last time. They are neatly folded, slightly separated from the rest of my clothes, waiting for him to return.

I leave them on the bed and then I withdraw a second t-shirt and hastily pull it over my head. I exit again, closing the door behind me and sit myself on the couch.

And I wait. I no longer feel restless and I no longer feel lonely.

It's a good forty-five minutes before Duo appears again. He looks fresh and clean. But although his skin is a slightly healthier colour, pink from the hot water, there are still shadows under his eyes that betray his exhaustion. His hair is still damp from the shower but it pulled back in its customary braid, the occasional drop of water falling from the tip and soaking into his t-shirt.

He hesitates in my bedroom doorway and then slowly he smiles. "I'm sorry to just show up like this," he waves his hand vaguely.

"You said you weren't going to come back," I say softly, looking up at him from my seated position.

"I know."

"So why did you?" I hope I'm not sounding accusing; I just really want to know what changed his mind.

"I don't know." He scratches his jaw and my eyes follow the movement of his fingers. He looks torn and uncomfortable so I take pity on him.

"It doesn't matter." I pause and then, "I'm glad you came."

His answer his so soft I nearly miss it; I'm not even sure he intended me to hear it. "Me too."

"I was just about to go to bed," I tell him, my fingers plucking at a loose thread on my pants. I trail off and then start again. "Would you like a drink or something?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I don't want to keep you up. You probably have work and everything tomorrow," he says. "Plus I'm so tired myself I could sleep standing here." He smiles slightly, blinking slowly.

I stand awkwardly. "Sure. You can take the bed; I'll just grab a blanket."

He catches my arm as move to pass by him into the bedroom. "Nah, it's cool. I mean, you shouldn't have to sleep on the couch…"

"It's fine, I don't mind," I interrupt, frozen by the sensation of his hand against my bare skin.

"We can share," he says, ever so quietly.

I stare down at him, suddenly aware of the extra height I have over him. He looks so very small and unsure right now.

My mouth is dry and my heart is thumping again. Share a bed with Duo? Oh God, this is the Powers That Be teasing me, isn't it?

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He nods, shrugging. "S'not like we haven't done it before," he says and then blushes at his choice of words. I'm fairly sure he's not the only one who has gone pink with embarrassment.

This feels so stupid. We're grown men, for Christ's sake. We should be able to share a bed without melting into a puddle of awkwardness.

"OK," I find myself saying. I move away from him, turning off the lights as I do a tour of my tiny apartment.

And suddenly I'm standing in front of him again and this is it. I follow him into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me.

Duo hesitates and then crawls up the futon and slides under the covers; the movement is so alluring and it takes all my strength to force myself not to get hard.

"I'll be right back," I tell him and I escape into the bathroom. I use the toilet, trying to get my pulse under control. As I wash my hands I realise that I'm shaking slightly.

Duo is curled on his side, facing inwards, when I return. I hesitate slightly and then move towards the bed. Normally I'd take of my t-shirt, but I'm not sure I'd survive having Duo so close to my bare flesh and not be able to touch him. I almost can't believe I'm doing this as I slowly pull back the covers and slide in beside him.

It feels strange having someone next to me. I've had a few sexual partners in the past but we never got to the stage where I was comfortable enough to allow them to sleep the whole night with me. It just felt like to much of an invasion of my personal space.

But Duo lying beside me, his warmth seeping across the mattress towards me, the sounds of his breathing lulling me towards sleep… this feels right.

I turn slightly, trying to make out Duo's features in the darkness. He is shrouded in shadow but I can just see the brightness of his eyes in the gloom, staring back at me.

I desperately want to ask him why he came here, why he looked so miserable and hurt on my doorstep. My mind conjures images of horrible things happening to him, things that I can't protect him from. I swallow uncomfortably and I have to look away.

I stare up at the blackness above me, trying to curb the instinct to curl myself around him.

"Thanks, Heero," his voice reaches me through the darkness. His hand finds mine under the covers and squeezes gently before retreating.

"Anytime," I croak, trying desperately to keep my hormones in check.

Slowly, his breathing evens out and he is asleep. I allow myself to roll over again and shuffle ever so slightly closer so that I can see him through the gloom. He looks so peaceful… all the tension, the restless energy is washed away, leaving a calm, gentle figure lost in slumber. It's beautiful.

I smile to myself, and then I roll onto my stomach and allow sleep to claim me as well.

Author's Notes: Eh, voilà! At least we've got them back in the same bed… it's a start. I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as I can (which probably won't be that long if I know my complete aversion to doing my work for uni).

Anyway, a big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I love you all. And I wrote this chapter whilst listening to Nora Jones after being inspired by one particular review.

Speaking of which… one last thing… review?