Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Isolated Rain ❯ Intersection #03 - Little Wing ( Chapter 3 )

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

Love is mearly madness, Heero thought as he took a wiff of his cigarette, breathing in it's toxins as he let loose the soothing smoke from his lips. He had taken up the addiction two years ago, and he hasn't regretted taking up the "unforgiveable" sin he committed since then. For a person that killed infinite lives, he had nothing else to live for, so why not torture the body and soul that did all the atrocities? It was his body and he could do whatever he damn well pleased with it. Sure, he could try every drug in sight and drink alcohol until he puked, thus making him dead the next morning due to an overdose of numerous demons. However, Heero wanted to keep that to himself. He didn't want anybody knowing where he was. Not even his friends.

Heero smirked with the cigarette hanging at the tips of his lips. Clouded prussian blue eyes wandered back to the darkness of his mind, unlocking a sacred vault that held all of the memories he cherished. He could just imagine Quatre yelling at him like a mother hen about the dangers and diseases from smoking, yet estatic he could meet his friend again. He could see Trowa hovering over Quatre like a father filled with wisdom and intellegence, his emerald green eye narrowed definately, but if he could see the other eye underneath his unibrow, Heero knew he would see twinkles of merriment and excitement. Duo would probably be making jokes and scolding at the same time, being obnoxious and considerate as ever for the well-being of a best friend. And Wufei, like usual, would be saying that smoking is an injustice and somehow, someway, would blame smoking on women.

I wouldn't really be surprised, he mused, taking another wiff of his cigarette as he leaned his head back into the leather cushioned chair. If he would ever meet up with him again, they probably wouldn't even notice him at all. For instance, he's not the five foot, one inch lanky sixteen year old hacker anymore. He's the six feet, four inch Adonis-structured twenty year old hacker that smokes. Even if he introduced himself as Heero Yuy, they still wouldn't believe him. Maybe after a couple of tries and saying the infamous, "Omae o korosu" line with his trusty gun coming out of nowhere, then they'll believe him, hands down and without a doubt. No one alive can immitate the things he does. Never can, never will, never ever.

But should he live... for Setsuna?

Setsuna, the thought whispered into his mind, willowing inside that made him cherish the word instantly. He smiled inwardly, wondering how and what she was doing at this very second. He remember her so vividly, like a dream on a sunny afternoon in August. Silky long black hair that echoed waves of the nightfall, sparkled and twinkled stars in forest green gleem, her fair mocha colored skin that he wished to touch, and pouted, full garnet red lips that seemed to give away a scent of raspberries that he just wanted to kiss. All of her was a perfect woman in his ideal view, but what astonished him entirely was her eyes. The garnet eyes matched his eyes entirely. Two different colors -- prussian blue and garnet red -- yet they held total obscurity. His held lonliness, stoticism, and nonchalant. Setsuna was different completely. Those garnet eyes of wisdom, those garnet eyes of myst itself, those garnet eyes of death.

Yes, he could see through her. Even through the clouded fog that nestled comfortable inside her eyes, Heero could pierce straight through it entirely. After years of warfare, he could detect the sight and twinkles of death inside anyone's eyes. But why her? Why Setsuna? She seemed carefree, she was an innocent. But he couldn't deny the instincts and intellegence he weld. Meioh Setsuna was more that what met the eye, Heero could tell the minute he asked her about her past. She hesitated, wandered off into another world, a pure blank look clearly overshadowing her garnet eyes at the time. He slightly smirked when she did that. Assumptions had been made proclimations.

However, he could tell from Setsuna she couldn't do the unthinkable. She couldn't love him. For whatever reason it was, Heero didn't know and wouldn't know. Unless Setsuna weld it to be, he couldn't know. Sadly, Heero couldn't either. He was a soldier, a perfect soldier to be exact. No, with more approximation -- he was, and still is, The Perfect Soldier. Emotions would kill him, eat him up alive. Sure, some emotions were rational. Mirth, sadness, and hope -- three emotions he could at least cope with. But mercy? Rage? Love? No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have anymore emotions rule his life. Three was enough for him. Setsuna would only be a friend, nothing more, nothing less.

In a way, they were one in the same.

"Fuck, this is giving me a damn headache," he muttered underneath is breath, rubbing his temples slightly. After thinking so hard after what seemed like hours on end, Heero sat up from his chair, grabbing the keys to his apartment, and walking out of the living room to the front door. Opening it up, he slammed it behind him, locking the door in a swift motion. While doing so, he flicked the charred cigarette from his lips which landed perfectly in the puddle next to him, while he took out another one. Lighting it up with his blue oil lighter, he walked down the sidewalk, deciding that he would go somewhere that could at least erase his mind of everything. A day out, since The Jazz Messangers were closed today. He lurked into his side pocket on his right, taking out his Aiwa portable CD player and radio with connected black Sony headphones. Flipping the switch to on, he started listening to the radio while placing the headphones over his ears, wiffing the cigarette placed delicately on the tips of his lips.

This had become a custom to Heero ever since he "disappeared" after the incident with Mariemaia. Music seemed to be the only thing that held the shattered pieces of his soul together. He didn't care what type it was -- jazz, blues, classical rock, J-pop, techno, eletronica, oldies -- it didn't matter to the soldier. Fiddling around with the radio tuner, he kept on searching for a good song to listen to. Anything to get his mind off the things rambling and running around in his mind. Minutes later, he found a good song on. He didn't know the title, and he hadn't hear it before, but it was so soothing and it caught his attention immediately.

While hailing his arm for a taxi, he listened to the song.

// Well she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running round
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind //

As a yellow taxi pulled up to him, he took another puff of his cigarette and threw it to the ground, then placing his Aiwa portable CD player back into his pocket so that it wouldn't get wet anymore. He opened up the door, getting into the taxi and sitting on the cushioned leather seat. With alert eyes, his eyes wandered towards the man's license on the right, finding out the man's name was "Louis D. Romero." Spainard, he thought instantly, not even looking at the man's features. In the corner of Heero's eyes, he locked his prussian blue orbs with the man's forest green eyes.

"And you are headed where?" Louis asked with his thick Spanish accent, the car going back onto the road again.

"Anyplace where I can relax," he replied, turning up the music.

"Tokyo Dome it is then," the driver muttered underneath his breath, going onto the freeway once again.

// When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It's alright she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me, anything
Anything... //

The scenery changed every second, faster than what he could count or fathom. It didn't matter to Heero at all though. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, even though he was trying not to think. Trying wasn't the exact term to describe what he was doing, but it was close enough. It was the constant thought of the present he sent to Setsuna only hours ago, but what seemed to be days in Heero's view. Over and over again he kept on imagining Setsuna's look on her face when she read his card. He still couldn't believe he wrote the card. It was something extremely not like him, like he had changed into a manevolent creature of emotions within twenty-four hours.

Outside his window, he looked to see one lone raven flying above in the murky clouds, it's gleeming dark coat of feathers upstaging the tempest above. The wings look like Setsuna's hair, he mused, smiling at the rememberance of the mysterious woman. He blinked once, realizing what he was thinking a second ago. Frowning internally, he wanted to punch himself for even thinking that way. No more emotions for The Perfect Soldier. Especially the most dreaded feeling of all. He couldn't put himself through the pain, and he couldn't do the same to Setsuna. What if another war broke out again? What if he had to go protect Relena and the Earth Sphere? What if he died and left Setsuna all by herself? All the worries, all the questions, all the doubts -- he couldn't answer them. There were none out there for him to find.

I can't love her, he thought, determination seeking in entirely.

I know she doesn't want to either, he thought again while sighing inwardly.

And I guess, that's all we can do to survive life itself, he thought thrice, looking at the raven still.

It was then that another raven, just as dark and as outstanding at the other, fluttered next to the one Heero first saw, the two synchronized as if they were one. With his sharp, keen vision, he could see the color of their eyes. One was a lyrical shade of blue and the other was a lucidious shade of red. Garnet and prussian, he thought, the mirth he held that only Setsuna had seen seething through his prussian blue crystals again. Maybe it was a sign, maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was fate or destiny or just simply apart of life.

He would never know.

// Fly on little wing,
Yeah yeah, yeah, little wing... //

"Fly on," he whispered, smirking with undeniable passion in his eyes.