Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Tokyo Lights ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

 

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Tokyo no hikari

 

Tokyo Lights

 

 

Summary: 1x2, AU: Heero and Duo work the bugs out of their relationship while on a vacation. (Changed from the earlier summary because 1. I didn't like it, 2. Someone complained that they weren't having sex in every sentence, 3. It wasn't attracting attention anyway.)

 

Warnings: sex; implied non-con later on down the road; not exactly PC.

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

18 Hours Left on the Aero-plane

 

Why do airplanes have the worst wallpaper and chair patterns? They remind me of my grandmother's house (the one that's barely breathing in Misery - er, Missouri). She's the same one that's married to a dead Nazi and the one that wanted to have me sent to an ex-gay camp called Love In Action. If I ever did attend, I probably would've been strapped down and had my testicles electrocuted at the sight of a naked man. They actually do that, you know! In some churches, they call it a type of physical and spiritual “healing.” Well, I say that anything that kills my little soldiers isn't healthy - and I think Jimmy agrees.

 

That's probably why Hilde never understood why I was Catholic in the first place. She even said that, if we ever had a kid, she wouldn't let it step foot inside of a church. That wasn't the reason I stopped going to church, though. I stopped because church started to seem a bit… mundane after a while. And yeah, the concept of God is a bit hard for me to accept sometimes. So I stopped going. But she doesn't understand that not all Catholics are fag-hating, Jew-burning, KKK members. In fact, very few actually fit that stereotype. I would know - I attended church with the people for years on end.

 

Granny, on the other hand…

 

Yeah, Grandma Poppy-Dale isn't exactly my favorite granny in the world. But, hey, she's family, right?

 

12 Hours Left on the Aero-plane

 

I really hate airplanes now.

 

I mean, sure, this airplane is pretty cool - there are these screens in the back of the seats where I can play games and watch movies - I've seen War of the Worlds (amazing), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (boring, weird, and a waste of my time - even though I've got a lot of time to waste), and A Series of Unfortunate Events (cool, though during the middle of the movie it had to change channels, so everyone that was watching it missed a little bit of it). There are comfy pillows and blankets, sexy Japanese stewardesses, and rice and beef meal things that taste okay.

 

But after being on an airplane for abut six hours, my brain is about to seep out of my ears and nostrils. I. Can't. Freak. Ing. Take. It. An. Y. More.

 

Plus the bloody airports could only find a flight that goes all the way back to Chicago and onward to Japan!

 

Yeah. I'm really, really starting to hate airplanes; and I'm starting to understand why the blasted pilot ran away in the first place.

 

10 Hours Left

 

“Heero.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'm bored.”

 

The grunt thing.

 

“Tell me what we're doing when we get to Osaka.”

 

“I've told you five times now.”

 

“I don't care. Tell me again.”

 

He sighs, looks like he's about to cuff me one or strangle me, then bites out with effort, “We get to Osaka. We go to a hotel. We go sightseeing. We go back to the hotel. We take a bus - ”

 

“Okay, what about the sex?”

 

“Osaka, Duo. When we get to Osaka.”

 

“Sir? Are you a foreigner?”

 

A stewardess stops beside our aisle before I can respond to Heero. I would've responded even though she was there, but Harry gave me an icy look. I guess he figures the airplane on the way to Japan counts as Japan - so, of course, no talk of sex or public displays of affection or anything.

 

The stewardess has long black hair, dark brown eyes, a pair of twins that I shamelessly admire, and a nice pair of legs covered by stockings. In short, she's a walking wet dream.

 

“No. But he is.” Heero holds out a hand and she bows and gives him a slip of paper. “Thank you,” he nods his head back in return.

 

“Stop drooling,” he mutters bitterly as he puts the paper onto my open tray.

 

“What's that for?” I ask when I tear my eyes away from her ass.

 

“Fill it out,” he answers.

 

“Why?”

 

“It's something all foreigners must do,” Heero answers simply. I glance down at the paper, and before I can ask for one he puts a pen down on top of the slip of paper.

 

“Thanks,” I grin cheekily at him.

 

A small smile flits across his face and he goes back to reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

 

7 Hours Left

 

The slides over the window are supposed to be closed so that the airplane will remain dark so that people can sleep, but I can't help but open it a few inches, just to look at Siberia, which is far beneath us. I can tell we're over Siberia because those screens - yeah, the ones in the back of the seats - give maps and show where the plane is and how much longer it'll take to get to the destination.

 

I could become blinded by the sun from staring at the ice for too long - and I mean literally. It's all white, with a few grey mountains, and the sunlight is being harshly reflected against the ice. Can you imagine being down there butt naked? You would probably freeze to death instantly.

 

Imagine if our plane crashed and we somehow survived the impact, like how 309 did. We would starve to death before we could freeze to death. Hell, after all of the rice and beef plates and pretzels and nuts are eaten, we would probably start eating each other. Even Heero and I might have a full out battle to the death -

 

I snap the slide down. Yeah, after being on an airplane for eleven hours, you definitely do start to go crazy.

 

 

5 Hours Left

 

“Let's play a game.”

 

“What kind of game?”

 

“Um, I don't know… I guess we can't play Truth or Dare since we're in Japan - ”

 

“We're not in Japan.”

 

“ - on the plane to Japan, and there aren't any bottles for Spin the Bottle… I Spy will get boring after a while… Oh, hey, I know! Let's play a game Hilde taught me once.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay. Um, these questions might seem really weird and random, but there is a point! All right. What's your favorite color and why?”

 

“Red. It's passionate.”

 

“Red? I thought your favorite color was green!”

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“Oh, I don't know - because you wear it all of the time, maybe?”

 

“Just because I wear a certain color doesn't mean it's my favorite. Next question.”

 

“… Uh huh. Whatever you say, man. Okay, what's your favorite animal and why?”

 

“Hermit crab - what's so funny? It's independent and - strong. Duo, if you don't stop laughing, I'm not going to answer any more questions.”

 

“Okay, okay. Sorry - okay, I'm serious! All right, what's your favorite body of water and why?”

 

“Er - the Caribbean Sea, I suppose.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It's beautiful. Deep.”

 

“Deep?”

 

“Deep.”

 

“Right. Last question! You're in a white room with nothing in it but white walls. No windows, no doors, no nothing. Just… white walls. And a white floor - and ceiling! How do you feel?”

 

“Intimidated, I suppose.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don't know. I don't care. What was the point to the questions?”

 

“Well hold on! Jeez. Okay: favorite color is how you view yourself; so you think you're passionate. I can definitely understand that one,” I smirk. “And favorite animal is how people view you; so people think you're a hermit crab - ”

 

“Do you think I'm a hermit crab?”

 

“No. Why would you ask such a thing?”

 

Ahem.

 

“Body of water is how you view sex; so you think it's beautiful and - er - deep. Whatever that's supposed to mean. And the white room is how you view death. So you're intimidated by death.”

 

The grunt thing.

 

I mock him. “That's all you have you say? Didn't you have any insight to yourself?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Jesus, Yuy, you're boring.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Yes! Really!”

 

“Then why are you here with me?”

 

“Hey, whenever someone offers you something that's free, you take it!”

 

Heero rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his smirk. “I could make you pay me back.”

 

“Whoever said I wasn't going to?” I leer. “Besides, I know Relena paid for everything.”

 

“I paid for the tickets.”

 

“But Relena gave you the money.”

 

“It's still my money. I could've done whatever I wanted with it. I didn't have to invite you along.”

 

“But you did! Because you `ruv' me,” I laugh when he turns away and blushes. I love making fun of his accent.

 

 

3 Hours Left

 

ChristJesusAlmighty.

 

You know when you're half-asleep? It's like you're on a separate dimension or something. You don't know whether you just dreamed something or whether it really happened.

 

Hilde and I used to lie around like that all the time. She's a woman, you know; and women like to be romantic. I don't, but it made her happy so I would do it anyway. We would… cuddle (I hate that word.) And half the time, we didn't know whether we were awake or asleep.

 

“Duo. Duo, wake up.”

 

“Hm? What? Just give me a sec - ”

 

“We've landed.”

 

“What?”

 

“We. Have. Landed.”

 

Indeed.

 

Osaka e yokoso!

 

Christ. Heero was right. It's bloody cold in Osaka, even with the heaters on in the `port. (I eliminated “air” from “airport” because I don't want to think about that one-syllable word for a loooooooong time.)

 

I savor the musky jacket he hands to me, as if I'm a starving homeless man and the jacket is a one-way ticket to an all you can eat buffet. Heero starts to walk away, dragging his ugly red roller suitcase after him, and I follow, heaving my bag further up my shoulder. I should've gotten a roller carryon too; this thing is too damned heavy.

 

I suppose I should describe my surroundings: the first thing I see when I step off of the scary black thing that connects planes and `ports is a bunch of bluish-green glass walls. It smells like a freshly cleaned and pressed business suit. Near by, there are a bunch of teenagers that are definitely younger than me; yet they're smoking and drinking Asahi beer. But it isn't the illegal cigs or the beer that catches my eye.

 

“Stick close,” Heero says to me, as if he's afraid I'll get lost - which would be easy, I suppose. A sea of men and women in tidy business suits are swarming the place, after all. “And stop staring!”

 

But can he really blame me? One of the girls in the group of teenagers has two braids and some how got them to stick straight up into the air, like a pair of antenna. She has make-up smeared all over her face, like a little kid that had gone through her mama's make-up kit again; she has neon green tights underneath a pink and white polka-dotted skirt, and a black gothic tank top with a bleeding angel and some Japanese characters. Her knee socks are yellow and red striped, and she has on cowboy boots that are baby blue.

 

“Duo!” he hisses, and I look away with a start.

 

“Heero, do you see her - ?”

 

“Don't stare,” he repeats firmly as we walk further away. I force myself not to.

 

After getting through the ridiculously long line in Customs and picking up our luggage, we make our way to a huge lobby-like thing.

 

A gigantic flat screen TV with a mini, pink robot in it is singing loudly in Japanese and advertisements start popping up everywhere, like pop-up advertisements do when you're surfing the web. There are benches everywhere, and a few stands. It's buzzing with Asians - in fact, I think I'm the only American there (and maybe even foreigner).

 

I can't help but think that they really do all look alike, no matter how politically incorrect it is to think so. I think it might be the similarly shaped eyes. I might even lose Heero in the crowd if I'm not careful. I follow him to the sliding doors and -

 

HOLYJESUSMOTHEROFMARY.

 

It.

 

Is.

 

COLD.

 

My balls instantly shrink. Heero smirks at me as if to say, “I told you so,” and I can only shiver and trail after him into the biting cold as he finds a taxi for us. I'm half-asleep at this point, and Heero has to keep nudging me in the car so that I don't fall asleep. He wants me to see Japan my first night there, not the inside of my eyelids.

 

 

Author's note: Don't panic. Didn't I tell you that everything would start to come together? That's why this, of all other stories I've written, is my personal favorite. It's not traditional. Tell me what you think - whether it's bad or good, I accept any type of commentary. I'm trying to build my writing technique, so I would love any type of advice.