Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Growing Up Girl ❯ Chapter 14

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Growing up Girl

by Jake (FarTooMasculine)

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Warnings: This story contains things that may be offensive to those without an open mind. I wouldn't recommend it to those of a younger age, either, as it contains adult stuff. Please bear with me as I kick my writing ability out of proverbial hibernation. It's been a while. This story contains transsexual issues. A lot of them are based on my own experience, switched around to reflect what it's like for a female, born male.

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Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me.

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I went in the bathroom and took a shower, after telling Heero that I'd ordered a pizza and giving him some money to pay for it. I couldn't answer his question. Not yet. As I stood there bathing myself, I thought up questions I needed to ask. I realized the things I needed to know.

When I left the bathroom, wearing fresh, clean clothes and a towel around my head for my hair, Heero was still in the bed, a pizza sitting next to him. My lamp was turned on. We were both adjusting to the dull throb in our heads that light caused. I sat down next to him, opening the pizza box to grab a slice. Heero grabbed one, too. He had waited for me to return before eating.

I was halfway through my second slice before I decided to start the conversation that we needed to have. "Heero...?"

He pulled the pizza away from his mouth and stared at me, asking "what?" with his eyes.

"If..." I lost the words and struggled to find them again. "If I were to go with you this weekend... to see your parents... what would that mean?"

He glanced around the room nervously, looking confused. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Come on, Heero. Think about it for a minute. A guy taking a girl home to meet his parents?" I hoped he'd gotten the idea of what I was trying to say. I didn't want to have to be too blunt about it.

He smiled and shook his head before looking at me. His eyes were soft. I'd never seen him look at me like that before. It made me feel... complete. "How about you take it however you want to take it?"

"And if I want it to mean that we're in some sort of 'serious relationship'?"

He shrugged. "That's fine."

I tried my best to get the subtle hints he was sending. He stopped looking at me and started picking at the blanket nervously. His pizza slice was forgotten in his hand. I realized he was shy. He was too shy to ask me formally and was doing it in a roundabout way. I suddenly felt a surge of emotions over that. I leaned closer to him.

"I'd love to meet your parents, Heero." He smiled and leaned in a bit, tilting his head as if he would kiss me. I watched his eyes, his lips. He hesitated.

I closed the distance between us.

It was nothing more than a short, quick, pizza-tasting kiss, but it felt wonderful. We both nervously went back to eating our pizza.

After Heero's fourth slice, and my third, we both had full, content bellies. I was ready to go back to sleep. I didn't know why, but I felt generally tired. The stress, the emotions, the pain. All of it had gotten to me.

Heero left the room and got us both glasses of iced tea and napkins. We drank a bit, cleaned off our hands and faces, and curled back up under the blankets. I set the pizza box on the floor and Heero turned out the light.

He was awake, and I wanted to curl up beside him again. There was no more than an inch of space between us, but it felt like an ocean of distance. I mentally grumbled to myself about my reluctance until I felt Heero sliding closer to me. He rolled on his side and put his arm around my middle.

"Are you awake?"

He said yes and held me tighter. Happiness came over me. He was holding me. He had taken the first step and was holding me. I turned to face him and wrapped my arm around his waist and buried my face in his neck. Like some sort of burrowing animal.

He pushed the towel off my head and ran his fingers through my wet hair. And we fell asleep like that, curled up with one another; happily curled up with one another.

We slept through the night and woke up in each other's arms. I struggled to remember what day it was as I went out to the living room. The entire weekend was blurring together for me and I still had a slight headache. I turned on the television, hoping to catch a news program. Heero followed me not soon after, the pizza box in his hand. He was eating a slice of it. Cold. "That's disgusting, Heero."

He stared at me strangely, mouth full of old, cold pizza. "What?"

"That pizza was sitting on the floor all night." He shrugged and took another bite, sitting down on the couch next to me. He was still shirtless. I flipped through the channels. "Do you know what day it is, Heero?"

Even he had to take a moment to think about it. "Should be Sunday." I relaxed a bit. I'd had a fear that it was already Monday and I'd be late for work. Tension relieved, I settled back onto the couch, trying to find something on tv. I ran my fingers through my hair a bit, pulling apart tangles. Some of it was still damp; the rest of it was wavy as hell. Heero finished off the pizza, probably figuring I wouldn't want a slice. I hadn't wanted a slice.

The day was spent casually. We laid around and watched television. Sometimes we'd curl up with each other. I used his lap as a pillow and he played with my hair. He used my lap as a footrest and stretched out on the couch. We watched cartoons and music videos and ate popcorn and potato chips. When nighttime rolled around, the sun setting over the distant horizon, we decided to order chinese for dinner. We ate chicken fried rice and egg drop soup and beef and broccoli stir fry out of cardboard cartons. Heero wielded his chopsticks with ease and grace. I used a fork.

We went to bed after the 10 o'clock news. Once again, we fell asleep curled in each others' arms. I slept heavily and woke fully rested as my alarm went off. Heero was already gone by the time I woke up. I was worried until I found the note next to my alarm clock.

"Gone to school, then work. Be back around 10. Heero."

I got dressed and went to work. The day flew by. For some reason, I never really found myself getting bored. I was in a constant state of happiness and anticipation, wanting to get home and see Heero. I knew he wouldn't be there to greet me, but I couldn't wait to sit around and wait for him.

The day ended. I rode home on the bus. I kicked off my shoes in the living room and curled up on a corner of the couch to watch television. I'd left the door unlocked and when he came home, around ten just like his note said, I peered over the back of the couch at him. We smiled at each other. After a while, we went to bed.

I fell back into a new pattern. The same thing happened every day.

When the weekend rolled around, Heero was up and dragging me out of bed at 6am. I felt groggy and lethargic because I was used to sleeping in on Saturdays. Heero already had all of his clothes packed up. He'd kept them in his backpack since the day he'd left his home because I was too shy to clear out a dresser drawer and tell him he could use it-mainly because I wasn't sure just how permanent these living arrangements would be. I threw a few things into a large bag I'd acquired from who-knows-where and went about getting ready. I didn't take very long, and when I stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed but looking tired as hell, Heero was surprised.

"I thought girls took forever to get ready?"

"Not this one," I said simply, wondering if I should be offended. Was he implying that I was somehow masculine in the rate at which I dress myself? I realized it was stupid to even bother thinking like that. Heero took my bag from me and we went downstairs to the bike. His face only had one bruise left on it, I noticed. I wondered how long the trip would be as I quickly braided my hair. "I probably should have asked this earlier," I started as Heero climbed onto the bike, "but where do your parents live?"

"Down south. In Kingsland."

My head fell back and I rolled my eyes. "Good God, Heero. That's very down south. That's practically in Florida."

He shrugged. "Shouldn't take more than an hour and a half."

"Now I see why we got up so early," I whined, climbing on the back of the bike and snatching the helmet from Heero. I slammed it down on my head, wrapped the strap of my bag around my torso, and grabbed his waist. He started up the bike and took off. I felt like I was ready to fall asleep right there.

The sun took its sweet time to climb fully over the horizon, but eventually the dull gray of early morning gave way to the bright sun of day. I'd never ridden with Heero on the interstate with other cars around. It was a new and surprisingly frightening experience. We were probably going more than 100 miles per hour and Heero drove the bike like he'd been riding it since birth. We weaved between cars, flying from one lane to the next. The wind whipped at my braid, making it wave tauntingly to the people we flew past. I smiled. I felt alive. I'd never gone so fast.

Eventually, the bike faded into the right-hand lane and we got on an off ramp. Kingsland wasn't exactly a large city, but it wasn't very small, either. We went down a few streets that I didn't bother to pay attention to. The sounds of the highway quickly faded as we drove slowly through a residential area. All of the houses looked exactly the same. Eventually, Heero pulled into a driveway, shut off the bike, and removed his helmet. "We're here."

I took off my own helmet and stepped off the bike. I felt nervous. Very, very nervous, and almost excited. I was going to meet his parents. I wondered what they'd be like. I was worried that they wouldn't like me. I was scared that I'd forgotten to pack clean underwear.

Heero's mother came out of the front door. She was a tiny woman with dark black hair pinned up in a bun and small, dark eyes. She was Asian, I realized. "Heero-kun!" she said excitedly, arms spreading wide as she walked up to him and embraced him in a tight hug. She broke into a flurry of quick Japanese that surprised me. I was even more surprised when Heero responded in his own fluent Japanese. He introduced me in Japanese. I looked at him, feeling lost. I didn't know any of the language.

Luckily, his mother also spoke fluent English, with only a slight accent. "Duo Maxwell? You are a very pretty girl." She smiled at me and gave me an unexpected hug. I reluctantly returned it. "I'm Emara; you can call me mom if you like."

I glanced over at Heero, who just shrugged and grinned. His mother asked him something in Japanese. Heero looked embarrassed and answered shortly before heading towards the front door. His mother and I followed. She walked beside me, smiling and shooting me looks. "You are my son's girlfriend?"

I gulped and glanced ahead of me. Heero was walking through the front door and hadn't seemed to hear. I smiled just a bit. "I guess so." It felt good to say that, and it was then that I realized just how much I did want to be his girlfriend. His real girlfriend. I wanted to be in a serious relationship and have him admit to it without any kind of shyness.

Heero's father was sitting on the sofa, watching television. He had a beer in one hand and was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a tank shirt. He was a very large man. I realized he was even larger than I'd thought when he stood up to greet me, nearly shoving Heero, who was standing in front of him, out of the way. "This your girlfriend?" he asked in a deep, bellowing voice. He had a stomach like a barrel and arms like thick pieces of meat and gigantic, hairy hands. I realized Emara had lowered her head.

Heero glared at him. Heero's father stared at me. "She's a pretty one. And I was under the impression that you were gay."

My mouth fell open slightly. Heero came to my side and grabbed my arm, leading me down the hallway. His grip on my arm was a bit tight and I pulled away from him. He was seething. "We'll sleep in my old room," he said blankly, pushing open the door and walking inside. It was a bare bedroom with nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a lamp. Heero threw his bag on the floor and kicked it into a corner.

I sat on the bed, sitting my bag down, and watched him. He paced a moment before sitting down on the floor, fingers interlaced in front of his face. He stared out the window.

"I take it you and your father don't get along very well."

"He's not my father," Heero spat acidly. I raised my eyebrows. He looked at me and took a deep breath to calm down. "Mom wasn't married when she had me. That's why I have her last name, Yuy." I nodded. "I was about seven when she married that jerk out there." He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "His name is Jack," he said simply, probably just feeling that it was necessary to inform me, not that he wanted to.

"Honestly, I didn't know you were Japanese."

"Well, only half. You couldn't tell?" He smirked slightly. I peered at him, trying to see it. I'd never noticed the slight slanting of his large, dark blue eyes. That, his name, and his small frame, was probably the only thing that would lead you to realizing it.

"Jack Jr!" His father's voice came into the bedroom like an uninvited specter. "Get your skinny ass out here and help your mom with lunch!"

Heero rolled his eyes like he was ready to just leave. "He calls me that, by the way," he told me, looking very agitated. "Says I'm an American and should have an American name."

I felt sorry for Heero. I know that was probably the last thing he wanted, but I felt it anyway. And I had thought that my parents were bad. Heero stood up and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a corner of the bed's headboard. He was wearing another white t-shirt with rolled up sleeves. I wondered why his father called him skinny. He may have been thin, but it was all toned, flexing muscle. I stood up and followed him out of the room, sticking to the walls and hoping his father wouldn't see me.

In the kitchen, his mother was cooking a japanese meal. I had come to offer my help, but I realized that I didn't know what any of it was, and helping with it was out of the question. There was a grilled cheese sandwich in a pan. Maybe I could help with that.

"Need any help, ma?"

She glanced back at Heero and smiled, "No, I think I've got it." Then she noticed me. "Oh, Duo. You come with me. Heero, don't let your father's sandwich burn." Without questioning it, Heero took over cooking.

Confused, I followed Heero's mother into her bedroom. She opened the door to the closet and turned on the light. "See box way up on top? Can you reach?" I was taller than she was, surprisingly, but it was still a stretch to grab the box she was pointing at. It was the box of a pair of large mens' work boots. I handed it over. She sat down on the floor, feet underneath her. I realized that I'd seen something like that before, either in pictures or movies or both. It was like in those Japanese tea ceremonies, with the women all dressed up in kimonos, their faces painted white. Instead of tea, though, there was a shoe box in front of her. She lovingly opened it as I sat down in front of her, indian style. I peered into the box. There were photos inside.

"These are pictures of my Heero. You want to look at?"

I smiled a bit as she took a few out and handed them over. I remembered Heero from when we were younger, but she didn't know that. The first pictures I saw were him as a baby. There were pictures of him with his mother, who looked very young at the time, the scenery around them strange, buildings like nothing I'd seen in America. I realized they were taken in Japan. I looked up at her and saw the wrinkles around her tired-looking eyes, the graying hair. She was a beautiful woman. I realized that she was where Heero got all of his attractive features.

I flipped through more pictures. He looked happy in all of them. Heero at the beach, Heero in a pool, Heero playing basketball as a young child with people who were much older, Heero riding a horse, Heero on Halloween, dressed as a soldier, Heero with other children at a birthday party. It was outside, in a back yard. Everyone was sitting at a picnic table, presents piled high nearby. Heero was standing off to the side in that picture, looking at the other children gathered around the cake. He looked introspective, not smiling, almost sad. I stared at it for a long time.

"That was from his seventh birthday," his mother said sadly.

I stared at it. I would never have imagined that it was his own birthday party. He didn't seem to be the center of attention that most children would be. "He looks sad."

Emara nodded slowly. "I had been married only a week. They never got along well."

I peered closer at the picture and noticed a shadow on his face. It took a moment to realize that it wasn't a shadow-it was a bruise. I started looking through more pictures. He was no longer smiling in any of them. Jack was beside him in a lot of them. There were some of Jack teaching him things: Heero being taught how to change the tire on a car, bruises on his arm, Heero as a young man, being taught to use a shotgun out in the woods, a bruise on his face, Heero dressed up in his military school uniform, standing at full attention, Jack beside him, pointing, probably telling him what he was doing wrong. There was one of the three of them at an amusement park. Heero had his arm around Emara, but wasn't smiling. Jack was on the other side, and Heero was glaring at him. Then there was one of the three of them in front of this very house, a sign stuck in the ground beside them, a big red "sold" sticker on it. It looked like a demented version of the painting "American Gothic." Heero had a black eye.

I felt a lump in my throat as if I were ready to cry. I wanted to say something about the bruises in all of the pictures. I wanted to say something about the fact that he was never happy after that man entered his life. Looking at Emara, the sad look in her eyes, I knew it was pointless. She knew it all. She'd probably heard it all before. It wasn't my place. I handed her the photos.

"Heero is a kind person," she said quietly. I watched her replace the lid on the shoe box. "Jack can not find out." I stared at her, confused, wondering what she was talking about. "That's why I showed you these. If he finds out about you, he will never allow me to see Heero again."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Finds out about me?"

She looked at me, eyebrows lowered. She looked more concerned than angry. "Duo Maxwell went to school with my son," she said plainly. I lowered my head, feeling ashamed to be who I was. Ashamed and embarrassed. His mother knew my secret. "He talked about you with me, once. Never told anything to Jack, but I knew. I'm happy for you, Duo, for finding who you are. But if Jack knows, there will be problems."

I felt numb and lost and still very embarrassed. She put her hand on my shoulder. "I'll... make sure he doesn't find out." Her hand moved to my face. I looked up at her.

"Do not feel bad about it. It's a good thing."

I realized that, even though she could speak English, she didn't have the largest vocabulary. She used simple words to express what she was trying to say. She wasn't attacking me or accusing me. She didn't see any problems with me being who I was. By showing me the pictures, she was letting me know that Jack was not a nice man, and the last thing I should do would be to cause problems between them. I nodded.

Heero appeared at the doorway. We both looked over at him. He noticed the box. They started to speak back and forth in Japanese. Emara got up gracefully and walked out of the room. "Lunch is ready," Heero said.

I stood up and walked towards him. "Why didn't you tell me, Heero?"

"Tell you what?" He asked, agitated. I looked away. I didn't even know what. Why didn't he tell me that he was abused as a child? Why didn't he tell me that his mother knew about me? Why didn't he tell me anything about his past? Why did I have to come here and find out from his mother the way I did? Why didn't he warn me that his father was such a creep?

He turned around and began walking down the hall, towards the dining room. I followed him, still feeling numb. It was the only thing I could do.