Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Emancipation ❯ Home ( Chapter 2 )

Emancipation

Thanatos-Aire

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II. Home.

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Trowa greets us quietly as usual when we arrive well past midnight. It had been the same, twenty-two times before. He opens the door, takes our bags, hugs us tightly though briefly, and shoos us into the bathroom.

It is disheartening how the ritual has become easier. It has been committed to memory. There should not have been a reason to allow that. But tonight is the last time we shall have to do this, and I am grateful.

As I wash Duo's hair, watching him sleep relaxed in the tub curled up under the foam of lilac bubble-bath, Trowa appears like the ghost he is. Silent and quick, I'd swear he's actually popped up before my eyes from literally nowhere before if it weren't for the fact that I know it's impossible.

He is barefoot as usual, in dark jeans and a black turtleneck tonight. He looks good, though a bit guarded. I think maybe Trowa is itching for interaction -- Duo and I've been gone since yesterday morning; he must be feeling a little lonely. He sits on the lidded toilet beside me where I squat on a low stool, and reaches out to pet my hair. “Dinner?” he whispers, his other hand sliding down into the tub to find one of Duo's and squeeze it.

I shake my head. “Duo is tired. Tonight was his last… I think it would be best if we let him sleep a full night.” He blinks, searching my face intently. But my expression is blank bar the crease in my forehead. Damned worry-line.

Trowa nods quietly though, his fingers tangled in my hair and Duo's own long digits. I know even with my face void of anything at all, he can still read me. He's better than Duo, though I think it's not because we're closer but because he and I share the same masks. Duo too has one, but his is different, and we have a harder time reading him because we are so used to our own. Most days lately, the three of us can put our masks away when we are alone with each other; tonight is different. And we unconsciously understand that.

We sit together for several minutes, silent and reflective. Trowa helps me rinse and towel-dry Duo's hair and body and we carry him together to the second bedroom. He braids the wet tresses as usual while I fold the blankets over the pale body so marred with scars.

We are the same, Duo and Trowa and I. No family, no home, our childhoods were merely years of survival made worse by other people. Older, stronger, twisted people who hurt us badly. Maybe that is why we are comfortable only with each other, safe and secure in each other's company. We are the same. We understand. Maybe that is why we are together. Though, I don't think people mean getting over being abused and nightmare-ridden when they say lovers should share common interests and experiences.

Tonight, Duo has finished ridding himself of those who hurt him the worst: Soldiers for the Alliance who burned his orphanage, forcing him back to the street without even a friend; corrupt cops who traded years worth of jail-time because of his thieving for a go at his broken body, demanding trysts randomly on the street and blackmailing him with it; bureaucrats who turned the other cheek when his schools were shut down for lack of funds, forcing Doctor G to take time from his combat training to teach Duo math and reading; doctors who refused to offer discounts on the medication to prevent and cure the plague that killed his penniless gang, causing his `siblings' and father-figure to die in his arms in derelict alleys.

He has taken from everyone who has taken from him, has freed himself from their tight hold. Perhaps tonight he will find peace in his sleep instead of the common nightmares.

Tonight, maybe Duo's scars will finish healing. And tomorrow -- maybe, hopefully -- tomorrow, I'll be able to help Trowa with his own liberation.

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to be continued