Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Duo: Reflection on the Thing They Call Life ❯ Food for Thought ( Chapter 3 )

Standard Disclaimers: Gundam Wing is not mine. Don't rub it in.
Warnings: Duo's POV, Duo psychology, language, shonen ai, 1 + 2 + 1
A/N: If you're still with me that means one of two things, you like it, or you're morbidly curious about what else I'll come up with. I'm glad either way. I hope that by the end of this, at least one chapter will really ring true for you. Thank you for reading. Also, thanks, as always, to my faithful helper, gunnmsangel.


Duo: Reflections on the Thing They Call Life
by Solanum Dulcamara


Chapter 3: Food for Thought

Sometimes people can't say what they want to with words. The phenomenon of "action messaging" can work in many different ways. For example, the guy who has the locker next to you in gym smells less than pleasant, and you drop some deodorant into his duffel when he's not looking... not subtle, but effective. On a more uplifting note, you want to let a hard-working mom know that you appreciate her, so you do the dishes so that she won't have to. It's the little things, you know?

I, myself, rarely have trouble expressing what I'm feeling with words, whether I feel like shit or infuckingcredible. But in my experience, I feel that I've become an expert on reading what I like to call "love gestures." Don't start snickering. I don't necessarily mean romantic love. There are many kinds of love. Try Greek, three major types of love: philos or brotherly love, eros (you guessed it, erotic/ romantic love), and agape which is the unconditional love of God (don't get me started). Anyway, many kinds of love, many ways of expressing them.

Solo, for one, was horrible at expressing himself. He could organize the neighborhood kids into a food heist, but he's bottled up and ignored his feelings for so long that he could barely recognize let alone talk about them. But one time I got sick and he stayed with me the whole time. He got the gang to do food runs and whatnot while he nursed me back to health. He didn't say anything, but I was able to rest, secure in the knowledge that he cared about me.

Sometimes Heero reminds me of Solo. He's just starting to observe his own emotions, so he often has trouble expressing them.

About six months after Heero moved in, we lost a guy at the garage and I had to start working longer hours to help pick up the slack. At the time, I usually cooked because Heero didn't have muck experience in the area... not that I'm a culinary master or anything. Well, the long hours and late nights sent me home tired, and I often returned bearing little excitement about cooking. After about two weeks of this, I came home to the smell of burning. Perplexed, I opened the door to the flat and found Heero in our little kitchen surrounded by a cloud of smoke, staring angrily at a roasting pan of what I think was chicken, but was charred beyond recognition. He turned to me with a confused and deflated expression when her heard the door. He said he was sorry and looked so sad...

That's when I started to cry. The little things always get me. He began apologizing profusely and told me that the rice was still good. That's when I started laughing. Then he looked more confused than ever, so I said, "I love you, too."