Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Real You ❯ Real You ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Real You
Rating: PG, mostly 'cause… I don't read that much G myself… and there's one… death threat! Guess.
Warnings: hints at shounen ai (1+2), contemplative first-person
Notes: This is the product of two days of boring classes. As is, I'm kind of happy with it. Words from Staind's "Outside." Standard disclaimers for song and characters/situation/show apply now for all parts.
Feedback: C&CC appreciated here or at lil.dreamer@excite.com


They're at it again. A smile lights my inner face at the antics of the boy, but I don't let it show on the outer. I never let them see that face.
I never let them see me.
No. I let them see what they want.
But back to the fun. He's running around like crazy. A chicken with its head cut off, I believe is the American expression. Something he might say.
Teasing, pestering, annoying, laughing, unashamedly beautiful. Yes, I freely admit that. Of all my companions, he's the one I think of when I hear someone say, "There's just something about that boy."
Three of them run around the living room now. His teasing must have worked. The fourth watches; an unseen smile graces his eyes. No, he won't show it. That's not his way.
But I know, and he knows, and the object knows. "Object"? What happened to "companion"? For this I choose the other. The object of his affections.
I digress, lost in my thoughts, brought back to our haven in this world of war and woe by a small shriek of panic from the marauder.
They don't notice me watching. I wonder if they ever do.
But I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I watch, but more importantly, I see.
I feel his eyes flicker over me, for a moment not on the three. I turn the page of the book I pretend to read. One must keep up appearances, correct?
They often believe me lost in a world far from here. Perhaps I am, sometimes. All the same, I like to think I'm so much more a part of this world than they are.
Do I presume too much?
I can see through you
See your true colours
Maybe, or maybe I know them too well. Take the first. It is his eyes I feel on me now. He is the one I suspect knows the truth about my activities. But he is also the least likely to interrupt. Ours is a companionship, nay, a friendship, based on respect. Respect for one another's individual traits.
He's finished his game. No more taunting, much to the obvious relief of the two. But there is something undeniably wrong when he's not bouncing around, not in one of our faces.
We both recognize, condone, his flaw. He wears an interminable mask, and under it, all he wants is someone to let him know he's still alive, to give him a bit of the hope he needs to prove to himself that he's somebody, no longer nobody.
Which is possibly why he's found a new plaything. Ignoring his two exhausted former chasers, he accosts the silent watcher.
'Cause inside you're ugly
Ugly like me
They read like a play, my companions. Any second - Ah, there it is - the Gun.
"Omae o korosu."
The hurt appears at the edge of the mask, visible only to, I suspect, the one of us who knows him as well as he knows himself. I wonder, does the other even know what he does to his love? Does he realize he takes a little of that hope away every time such words leave his mouth?
Does he realize he's killing him?
I search his own mask. He does.
But as I said before, this is a play. In a play, there are lines, actors, studied roles.
They have their parts down.
And he doesn't know how to break free from the cycle, how to become the author, the playwright.
I can see through you
See to the real you

@@@
Um, yeah, I'll get back to work on my old stuff soon. I've just got sucky school to deal with. This isn't necessarily how I see the Gboys (It's so clichéd!), but I like it anyway. If I ever post the GW/SM fusion I've been working on (Hey! Don't give me that look!), you'll see that. *g* ~Dreamer

Part 2
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