Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Smile ❯ Smile ( Chapter 1 )

I don't own Gundam Wing, I'm not making any money off of this.  It's just a way for me to vent my creativity and pass the time at a boring job.  Feedback is appreciated.  This should be considered a rough draft, and any suggestions will be helpful to making this fanfic better.  Thanks.

 

--M.

 

Every morning is the same.  I wake up, get dressed, do the usual morning routine and head downstairs for breakfast.  I'm the last one up, as per usual.  I heard the guys talking about it once, saying how lazy I am.  According to them, I'm pretty much useless.  Always smiling, laughing, and joking about everything.  They think I'm childish, “He doesn't take anything seriously.” Heero complained about me a few days ago.  Apparently, trying to make light of the situation jeopardized the mission we had.  I was paying attention, Heero, but nothing was happening at that particular moment and I was bored.  Sitting in the cockpit of a Gundam for six hours isn't the most entertaining activity.

 

They don't understand me, none of them do.  Not even Quatre, and he's the “perceptive” one.  When they look at me, they see a joker, the idiot with the braid.  An annoying, little fool that tries to get them to live like a normal fifteen year old; they just think its Duo being a nuisance again.  I'm not what they see.  If I ever stopped smiling, I think I'd lose it. I'd fall apart and end up hurting myself or someone else.  

 

They don't get that the smiles, jokes, and laughter are lies to cover up the pain I feel.  Sometimes, I really believe that if I smile and pretend everything is okay, then it is.  I can laugh, and make believe that I'm not fighting in this war.  That I'm not one five children chosen to pilot a Gundam; to fight in battles that no one should ever have to fight. 

 

--I don't like thinking about that; too many bad memories attached to this war.  I guess it's made me bitter.  Then again, losing everyone you loved kinda does that.  Scars you for life, fucks you over.  Whatever.  None of us are going to come out of this war with a clear conscience.  Trowa's been dealing with his own personal nightmares all his life, I think he'll survive something similar to the way he does now.  The nightmares come and go, he's quieter than a dead puppy, and doesn't trust anyone but Quatre.  I guess it's good that he has one person in his life that he can rely on. 

 

Quatre's going to have a lot to deal with; he feels sympathy for every single person he kills.  He has the most nightmares out of the five of us, but everytime he cries in his sleep, Trowa goes rushing to help him.  Quatre doesn't get shaken awake or pushed out of bed when he's trapped in a nightmare.  He's pulled into an embrace, sheltered in Trowa's arms until he wakes up.  He's lucky to have Trowa.  No one's supposed to know that they're together yet, but we all do.  It's one of those unspoken things.  Blatantly obvious, but we all pretend we're oblivious.  Those two are probably going to spend the next fifty years of their lives just helping each other cope and get through the nightmares and memories.  Eventually, I think they'll be two deliriously happy old geezers sitting in a gazebo in rocking chairs having tea and scones. 

 

Wufei'll end up working in the military all his life because it's the honourable thing to do.  He's  prick now, so I don't really think that time will change that.  He might get married, then again, he's constantly putting down women.  I, personally, think he's gay.  I hope he finds someone someday.  Despite being a bitchy, little bastard, no one deserves to be alone. 

 

Heero is the one I worry about the most.  Ironic, isn't it?  The perfect soldier is the one I see as the most vulnerable.  When the war is over, he won't have a purpose for living.  The whole reason J trained him to be “the perfect soldier” was to be the ultimate weapon, and as sad as it is, J succeeded.  I wonder how long he'll stay alive after the war ends and the world no longer needs, Heero Yuy. 

 

As for me, I'll smile.  And laugh, and tell a joke or two.  Possibly make fun of Wufei's stick-up-his-ass attitude, make one last attempt in coaxing a smile out of Heero before heading on my merry way.  Without the war, I don't know how long I'll stay alive either.   

 

I can hear the guys talking as I push open the kitchen door.  I turn on that shit eating grin of mine, and give a loud, obnoxious “G'morning!  What's for breakfast?”  Because that's what they expect of me.  Heero glares at me, Wufei frowns and mutters something that sounds like “Idiot,” Trowa's expression doesn't change, but I can tell the gears are turning in his head.  Quatre's the only one that bothers to say “Good morning” back.  The usual morning scene, such is the exciting life of a Gundam pilot.  I laugh to myself as I pour some cereal into a bowl, which earns me with a glare and a warning to “Shut up.”  That's love, man.

 

I hate mornings.  We get a lot of our missions in the morning.  Right now, we're at a nice safe house, it's easy to pretend I'm not a soldier.  The mission always comes right at the time I'm happiest.  I start feeling like, maybe it's not so bad, that maybe everything'll be okay.  Then, bang, a mission comes, and I'm off somewhere with one of the guys for who knows how long.  A boarding school where I'm immediately pegged as a “trouble maker” and all the pinched face teachers give me that classic warning, “I'm keeping my eye on you” or some cramped, leaky cabin out in the middle of nowhere that's freezing cold and uncomfortable and no matter how hard I try or how many clothes and blankets I hoard, I never get warm.  It reminds me of when I was younger on L2.  I was always cold on the streets, blue lips, finger tips, and toes and pale, pasty skin.  I dislike being cold more than anything.  The first year I was out on the streets with Solo's gang, I'd get so cold at night that I'd cry.  Nothing would shut me up, and it pissed the older kids off. 

 

“Oi,” Solo said, smacking the back of my head lightly to get my attention then grinning at me. “boys don't cry, kid.” 

 

“Why not?” I asked, scrubbing at my red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks.

 

“Eh, `cause we have to look strong like nothing's gonna hurt us.  We got people depending on us, kid.”

 

“I'll smile, Solo.”  I said, grabbing his wrist and flashing a quick grin up at him.

 

“Eh, `zat so?”   Solo ruffled my hair. “You promise, kid?”

 

“I promise, Solo.” 

 

I think what Solo told me every time I get into a bad situation.  I remember what I promised, and Duo Maxwell never break a promise.  “Boys don't cry, kid.”   Right, Solo, boys don't cry --

 

--“Huh?”  I asked with my mouth full of cereal.  Quatre sighed, and asked me not to speak with my mouthful.  I guess I'd gotten lost in my thoughts and Quatre'd asked me a question.  All four of them were looking at me strangely.  I swallowed.  “Can I help you?”

 

“Duo, are you alright?”  Quatre asked looking concerned.  He always reminded me of someone's mother when he did that.  Like, as soon as I tell him I'm fine he'll smile and start chatting merrily, as if nothing had been wrong in the first place. 

 

“Yeah, I'm fine.”  I said, grinning at him.  “Why?”

 

“You just seemed upset about something.”  He said, still frowning in a concerned way.  “Are you sure nothing is bothering you?”

 

“Nothing's wrong, Q.”  I answered flashing him a smile before starting to eat my cereal again.  We finished breakfast in silence, because none of them ever talked to each other much, and if I try to fill up the deafening silence with my chatter I'm punched and told to shut up. 

 

Sometimes I like to think that my smiles and façade of being a happy teenager actually help keep the guys sane.  And it might, they've never told me.  But, see, boys don't cry, so I have to smile.  I promised Solo.  And I'm afraid that if I ever stopped smiling, I might start crying and never be able to stop.