Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Only You ❯ Chapter 2

The next day's dawn was bright and hot. Duo's jaunty step distracted Heero as he trudged beside him in the heat, hands thrust deep into pockets. The other pilots had left L2, returning to their lives. Heero couldn't imagine leaving. He felt like there was something he needed here. No, he realized, not some thing but some one. They all had a lot of healing to do, he knew. But somehow, when he was with Duo he felt less broken. Better. Calmer. Cared for?

With a start he realized that he was staring directly into Duo's wide amethyst eyes. Duo had one hand on each of Heero's shoulders, and was looking at him expectantly. "Um," Heero managed with an apologetic look.

Duo released him and rolled his eyes, flinging his light brown braid over his shoulder with a shrug. "Hee-ro, I've been talking to you and you haven't heard a word that I've said. Now, I know you don't hang all over my every word normally, but really! What are you so deep in thought about?" The tone was teasing, but the concern under it was apparent.

"Nothing," Heero muttered, deep blue gaze cast to the ground. Suddenly Duo's fingertips gripped his chin firmly, tilting his face up until he was eye to eye with Duo. Duo looked serious.

"Heero. You can't always bottle everything up inside." The boy paused, and Heero had a feeling he was thinking about the little girl. "It's not healthy. You've got to talk to people about what's going on in your head, you know?" He looked at Heero searchingly from under his unruly bangs, and loosed his grip. They fell into step together again, walking down the dusty path. "Seriously, Heero. You should have an outlet, talk to someone, keep a diary, or something."

"I have a journal," Heero admitted quietly.

Duo spun toward him in surprise. "What? You keep a diary?"

"No," Heero growled. "I have a journal." He stressed the word. "Want to make something of it?" He made a fist and flexed his muscle in mock threat. Duo snorted and ignored it.

They reached the salvage yard and wove around several rusted-out vehicles on their way to the garage. Heero perched on a worn counter in the garage while Duo rummaged in a cooler for a cold drink. Pressing the cool can to his forehead, Duo asked suddenly, "So can I read it?"

"No!" Heero scowled as Duo smirked at him. "It's personal, baka."

"C'mon, Heero. I just want to know you better." Duo's voice took on a wheedling tone as he popped the top of his soda. He drank deeply, smooth throat moving as he swallowed the sweet drink.

"It's got poetry in it," Heero mumbled, almost too softly to be heard.

"Hey! Are you implying I don't have an appreciation for poetry? I like poetry just as much as the next psychotic sixteen-year old ex-mecha pilot! Just listen to this." He shot a quick grin at Heero, eyes sparkling mischeviously, as he straightened and cleared his throat.

"A Gundam called Deathscythe Hell
couldn't navigate so well.
They said `Land on Earth'
but for all he was worth
when he tried to land, he just fell."

Duo bowed deeply to an imaginary audience, while Heero chuckled. "Baka," Heero said. "That was terrible."

"I'm injured!" Duo joked, clutching a hand to his heart. Finishing his soda, he suggested that they get to work. The boys spent most of a hot dry day sweating under the sun, unloading and moving salvaged materials. It was tiring work, and by five they decided to call it quits even though there were a couple of hours of light left. Heero muttered something about taking a walk. Duo nodded absentmindedly as he sorted some small parts on a counter. Looking up a moment later, his eyes fell on a plain black book that had been left on the corner of the counter. Duo picked it up reverently and ran a fingertip over its smooth spine. "I didn't think he'd really …."

He opened the book, smiling at the trust Heero had shown to him, and gently thumbed through the pages. A lot of people thought Heero was cold and impersonal. Duo had seen through that facade, though. Heero was just a boy. He wasn't perfect; he wasn't unfeeling. He just didn't know how to express himself. He didn't know how to live, now that the war was over.

"The boy who didn't know how to live," Duo murmured to himself. He moved to a chair in the fading sunlight, cradling the book carefully between his hands.