Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of Textbooks and Temptations ❯ Old Habits Die Hard ( Chapter 5 )

Standard Disclaimer: Do I need to keep writing these? Not mine. No profits. Etc.

Warnings: yaoi, lime, language, general nerdiness, mild angst, Duo's POV

Beta: Harmonie Des Anges

A/N: Thank you to all who have read and especially to the reviewers. I know it's been awhile since I've updated and I'll try to be better about it. Truthfully, this will probably be the last Gundam Wing fic that I write, as I've moved on to a new fandom. I don't plan on abandoning this fic, however, and will see it through to the end. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


Of Textbooks and Temptations
by Solanum Dulcamara

Chapter 5: Old Habits Die Hard

Sometimes, I really have to wonder how I let myself get into these situations. I came over here to break up with Walker, I really did... but somehow ended up staring at the ceiling while he huffs and puffs his way to completion. Apparently, he had a long day and needed to "unwind." I suppose sex is as good a means as any for relaxing, but I prefer flannel pjs, a pint of Ben & Jerry's, and a brat pack flick, myself. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Not that I really could've resisted Walker. When he wants it, he wants it, and it expedites the process if I go along with it from the start... much easier and more painless for everyone. Besides, it gives me time to think about things. Like, tomorrow I've got to do the reading assignment for Philosophy. I need to stop by work to pick up my paycheck. And I can't forget to try to replace that ridiculous Art History class. Besides that I should be free. Maybe Quat and I can go shopping.

Ugh. Walker's going into full porn mode... which means I have to perform a little for effect. "Oh yeah. Mm. Ah." There. That and a few clinging grasps to his back should do it.

Yep. He's done and collapsed on me as usual. It's not remotely sexy or romantic. He's heavy and sweaty. I gently help him ease off, so I can breathe.

"Duo, do you want..." he begins a little sluggishly. He's always sleepy after sex.

"Nah. I'm good," I cut in quickly. I've never come during sex, and he usually "gives me a hand" afterward. I wonder if it's really as wonderful as they say... a during-the-act orgasm.

He's going to nap now. He'll probably wake at 11:00 PM or so, ravenously hungry. I'll go hang out with his roommate in the meantime. We'll talk later.

I dress and make my way down the hall to Zechs' room. I enter without knocking, as is the norm. Seeking refuge in my boyfriend's best friend's bedroom is pretty much my post-coital ritual. Isn't that fucked up? He's on his bed, drawing and listening to the Sneakerpimps. Without looking up, he asks, "How'd it go?"

I should've known Zechs would realize something was up. We're good friends that way. "I made a strategic retreat," I mutter, sitting in his recliner as "6 Underground" starts playing. He nods in understanding and continues sketching. Sometimes I can almost see myself dating Zechs... almost. We're definitely dorky enough for each other. Don't let his smooth as butter persona and would-be rock-star, Nelson twins looks fool you. Zechs is a 100% dyed-in-the-wool comic book/ role-playing/ sci-fi and fantasy nerd. In fact, the whole reason for his long tresses was cos-playing Legolas at the last Mega-con(1). There's an interesting story about that convention, involving two high school girls, one doing ninja rolls while stalking him, the other following the first muttering threats about a leash and muzzle. (2) Wish I could've seen it. That's also where Zechs met his girlfriend who is, apparently, just like me, if I were a female with short purple hair I've yet to meet Noin, but she sounds more like Hilde than me, to me anyway. But what the hell do I know?

Zechs and I talk while he works on his newest comic. He's made me into a super hero character named Impact, with awesome cosmic powers, like the Silver Surfer, but better. (3) His own character (he has one for himself, of course) is named Rook and has a bevy of abilities that I'm still a little foggy on. Anyway, we talk about school, movies, music, work, everything. We talk at length with little concern for subject matter in a comfortable way that I can't with Walker even after almost two years of dating. Isn't that pathetic?

The time passes quickly, too quickly for my taste, and I look up to see it's almost 11:00 with a resigned sigh. As I stand to leave, Zechs says, "You know we'll still be friends, right?"

I'm a little heartened by that, and nod as I make my way back to Walker's room.

He's in the bathroom, when I get there and I waffle over whether or not to wait till after he eats. Shit. I'm procrastinating again. He comes out of the bathroom and is as startled by my sudden presence as I am by his. Yuck. He didn't wash his hands. He's looking at me expectantly. I guess "need to talk" is written all over my face.

I sigh and start the conversation in exactly the way I promised myself not to, "We need to talk." He frowns, but I surge forward, "Have you really thought about our relationship lately? About whether it's based on mutual attraction or if it's merely a convenient habit?"

"What?!" he protests, "I really like you!"

"Yeah. I like you, too. You're a cool guy and I like you, but that's where it begins and ends," I shrug unable to express my feelings or lack thereof any better.

"But what about what we just did?"

Oh dear God. I gave him the "one-last-go-for-old-time's-sake" without realizing it. How clich&#233 am I? "We had sex, Walker, because you wanted to."

He looks confused and crestfallen, I feel like a shit. I'm really no good at breakups. Not that I have much experience. We stand there looking at each other for what feels like an eternity before he speaks again.

"So, what? Do you want to take a break? Or you need some space? Or what?"

I knew he was going to make this as painful as possible. I like Walker, I really do. We'd probably make good friends. And after a year and a half with a person, no matter the circumstances, you're rather emotionally invested in their well-being. But I'm just not willing to sacrifice my happiness for his. I guess that's how you know that this definitely isn't love. I sigh, unable to stop it, before I answer, "No... no. Slow down. What I'm trying to say is that we should... I mean... I don't... dammit... I'm more or less, breaking it off." More or less? Oh how my eloquence abandons me in times of need. Isn't that always the way?

He just kind of blinks at me and repeats "breaking it off," as if testing to see if the words taste as bad as they sound. He could've just asked me, and I would've gladly told him that they do.

Another period of painful silence passes between us and I suddenly find myself in his arms. He's holding me tighter than he ever has, in a grip that's just on the other side of uncomfortable, but not quite bone-crushing. That was unexpected, and I'm at a total loss as I wrap my arms around him in return. It takes me a minute to recognize his breathing is slightly off... a little shuddery. Well, fuck. I made him cry... I've never seen Walker cry. I'm a total ass.

Somewhere in me I wish I could summon some tears of comfort or something. But I can't. Tears would be too close to an expression of remorse or regret and I feel neither... only the utter indifference of finally making a difficult decision and having its weight lift off your shoulders. But for Walker, I can, with ease, offer soft sounds of comfort. He's strong and he'll find someone who can truly appreciate him. It's better for both of us, really.

As his breathing returns to normal, his clenching hold loosens and he steps back without making eye contact. "I should go," I suggest, fidgeting in the tension. He nods once and opens the door for me. The hallway to the front door looks especially long today. I make my way through it, absently noting that I probably won't be seeing these walls again anytime soon. As I turn the knob, he calls from his bedroom doorway, "See you around campus."

I have to smile at that. So Walker: always the optimist. "Yeah. See ya," I reply over my shoulder as I leave.

I drive back to Quat's and my place on autopilot. I don't remember a minute of the drive and am distantly glad I made it home in one piece.

I enter the apartment with a niggling sense of discomfort. Quatre is, of course, still out. It's only midnight after all. The problem is, I can't remember the last time I was in our apartment alone at night. If Quatre wasn't here, I always stayed with Walker. maybe I could call Wu... Shit. He had plans with Treize tonight. Breaking the Walker habit is going to be more difficult than I thought.

I need distraction until I can fall asleep. Right. Step one: scavenge in the pantry for comfort food. Success: Keebler Soft Batch cookies acquired. Step two: find something familiar and comfortable to watch. Scanning the DVD racks, I decide upon Gravitation. The misadventures of Schuuichi are mindless enough to provide blissful distraction. Half a bag of cookies and five episodes later, I'm ready to scrape myself off the "last year sofa." Quatre's family redecorates yearly and we get our pick of the cast-off furniture because his older sister, Iria, is cool.

After a quick cleanup, I redeposit my suddenly weary body in bed. Quatre's still not home yet, but I'm not worried. It's only around 2:00 AM after all... staying out till at least 3:00 AM is pretty much par for the course. He'll come home after breaking some boy's heart and stumble into bed. And tomorrow he'll be there with me, like always, and we'll go shopping and he'll tell me about his escapades of the night previous.

With these comforting thoughts, I let my eyes travel over my darkened room one last time. They catch on my jeans draped over the chair at my desk, or more specifically, on the folded bit of paper peeking out of the right back pocket. Heero. My stomach is struck by simultaneous warm flutter and icy ache. Anticipation? Nervousness? Dread? Crap. This is complicated, and I just broke up with Walker. I pull the comforter over my head decisively and will sleep to come.


1. Mega-con is a big nerd-fest held annually at UCF. Sci-fi, fantasy, anime, comics, you name it, they've got it.

2. Moll-kins and Shiji, you know who you are!

3. Silver Surfer: Marvel comic character created by Stan Lee and John Buscema. For more info visit: http://marvelite.prohosting.com/surfer/