Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ die Breifs zu ein tot chinesisch Mann ❯ Kapital III ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: If it was ours, we wouldn't be writing a disclaimer, now would we?

A/N: Two chapters in two days? Don't get your hopes up people, it's probably just a fluke.

Warning: Relena, OOC Hilde, YAOI (1x2, past 5x2), grapefruit.

The title (hopefully) says <<The Letters to a Dead Chinese man>>. The chapter titles (for those of you who are interested) are just <<Chapter One>> <<Chapter Two>> and so forth.

<8~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello Wufei,

I am soooo hung over it's not even funny. I feel like Trowa's circus is practicing inside my head. I know exactly what I had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, 'cause it's come back to visit. I'm too hung over to even make coffee. Stop laughing at me. Maybe Heero will make me some coffee.

I knew that would make you stop laughing.

Yes, Heero is in my shoebox of an apartment. I'm surprised too, I didn't think two people could fit in here. I suppose you want to know how and why Heero's in my home. Well, it all started at the party. It was a great party at first. There were a lot of people and the Subway Series [1] was on. There was pizza and BBQ and even Chinese food. Anyway, everyone was having a great time when Relena started to be really pushy with Heero, hanging all over him and stuff. Then Hilde decided she wanted me and started acting like Relena. So Heero and me split. We ended up at a pool hall. You'd think the Perfect Solider would be good at pool. You'd be wrong. Heero is even worse at pool than you are. The funny thing is, the drunker he got, the better he got. Seriously, that's the only way you could tell he was toasted. Then again, I wasn't -am not- in any position to talk. I don't really remember the rest of the night, except for brief flashes of Heero. His mouth on mine, accidentally smacking him in the face, him tripping over something in the dark, the taste of the sweat in the little dip of his collarbone, the coldness of the lube on his heat…

But you don't want to hear about that, do you? You have an imagination, use it. And your vast past experience. I'll tell you one more thing, though. I'll never use spit for lube again, no matter how desperate I am.

So now I'm home, with an incredibly hot guy asleep in my bed, and I'm writing a letter to my dead former lover.

Somebody call the little men in white coats to take me away in their butterfly net to the pretty place with the pinky purple walls the exact color of Prozac. [2]

But first let me have my coffee.

Still missin' you,

Duo

*~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~*

[ 1] The Subway Series, according to Alex's cool little bro', is when the Mets (Muralsa: Mets Rock!) play the Yankees (Aki: Go Yankees!)(Alex, Will, Tohshi and Mort: We're leaving now!)

[2] The walls in the psych ward of Detroit Mercy(?) are that color. It's supposed to be calming.

Alex: I find it scary.