Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wishful Thinking Book Three: Replaying the Unsaid ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimers: Gundam Wing is not mine. No copyright infringement intended. I am not making money out of this. Original part of the fiction is the property and is copyrighted to the author.
Category: AU, shounen ai
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: 1+2+1, eventual 1x2x1
Dedication: This is for Emmy-chan. Also, thank you to my beta-reader, Menz-chan for helping me with this. To everyone: Thank you for the glomps, the thwaps, the encouragement, and the love. ::huggles:: And for not sending assassins after me within the week. :) Oh. And this is set SEVEN YEARS after.

Title: Wishful Thinking, Book Three: Replaying the Unsaid (Chapter One)
Author: AJ Maxwell ( webmaster@weluvduo.zzn.com )

The Indigo, lunch time

Oh God I missed this place! Well, not the hotel, because I'd rarely been in this place in all the eighteen years that I'd lived here, but the surroundings outside. I used to pass by the city in going to school, which I attended for both my grade school and high school education.

I used to think that I'd be insane if I ever thought that I'd attend the nearby university, because I'd lived and breathed this place everyday and every night for eighteen years and I'd be damned if I wasn't sick of it already. That's what I thought when I was suddenly, and *rudely*, I might add--ripped off from the place that I knew--Solo and I.

It wasn't just me who my dad and mom forced to quickly fly to another *continent*, which isn't a neighboring continent to where I am now. Solo, my brother, also had to drop all his subjects when we got to Dad's house--er, mansion, or whatever. As for me, I had to skip graduation day, graduation speech (I called Quatre in the car about the poem that I had to read, telling him that I'd e-mailed it to him with my laptop, and that I'd been lucky that Solo let me in the hurry that we were in. I also told him about what happened, and that I'd be back the next week, but that wasn't the case), saying goodbye to my friends, report card day, and vacation with my friends. I didn't mind when I found out why, though.

Y'see, my old man's really rich with this vineyard of his and cattle farm...well, my old man *was* rich, which brings me to the reason why he suddenly had an untimely need for his sons.

That year, in the middle of March, Mom had to leave Solo and me because Dad had asked her to visit. (They're divorced, okay.) Bro and I didn't know the real reason why she suddenly had to go running to his side, but we didn't argue about it anymore.

The afternoon before my graduation, Mom called and said that we had to fly over at the soonest possible moment because it was really urgent. Solo received the call and had packed my things already, so when I arrived, dreading my cooking task for dinner and feeling as if my lungs were being dragged behind me on the ground, he told me that we had to go, that it was urgent and that he'd explain on the road.

Dad was dying then... cancer. Mom was frantic that we couldn't make it on time, that we wouldn't be able see each other one last time.

It was a weeklong affair. No crying, just happy stuff. The crying came in on the big day itself, but I don't want to elaborate further.

I was really glad that I went, even if I had to miss my graduation day, because I'd missed Dad--his jokes, his laughter, his presence. He used to live with us, you know, in this place, even if he had hectares and hectares of green land and a hulking house, because according to Mom, too much space was stifling. (Heh, good ol' Mom.)

Even if what I only heard were his slightly pained chuckles and his slowly fading presence, I'd willingly miss a hundred graduation days. I bet it's also the same with Solo.

Speaking of Solo, he's staying at the farm. I've always known that he wished that he could've stayed with Dad, but I never said anything about it. I'd also sometimes wished that I was staying with Dad, but one look at Mom made me shove the idea.

As for myself, I'm back here, but not because of personal reasons.

Seven years do a lot to a person, and what those years had done to me--

"Hey, Duo?" Hilde, my sort of publicist, calls at me from the door, "Aren't you going to touch your food? The reporters are going to be here in a minute, and it'd be a while until it's finished."

I draw back the curtain, "Just seeing the sights. I'll eat now. Thanks."

She closes the door. I better eat. There'll be lots of questions and there's also a book signing so I really *must* stuff myself first before I do some wallowing. I'll do some past-digging later, maybe drop by Quatre's if he's still around, or maybe see old classmates; see how they're doin'...

I flip on the TV while I eat, and my gaze brushes over my latest novel. It's my fourth one ( my third bestseller!! ^_^), and the front page's dedication is bound to raise more personal questions.

This is how it goes:

~HY,

Your cameo appearances
In dream-spun movies
Prove that my soul
Misses you.

DM~

Yeah, yeah, I know. "Duo?!?!?! You're *STILL* hung up on Yuy?!?!?!??!?!" I *know*, okay? Ya don't hafta tell me something that I know with my very soul. I'm still hung up on him--so what? *Don't* accuse me of being such a lovesick sap; I know that, too.

°¤.¤°

"So, Mr. Maxwell, it says here that this novel is one that is closest to your heart. Would this be, say, autobiographical?"

Damn it! I hate it when they do that. First questions always leave me stunned. "Uhm..." I cough. Dammit, "Yeah it is," I blurt out, "But it's not necessarily *closest* to my heart. Everything that I write is *from* my heart and soul, so there isn't really anything that's closest, or not too close, or far." I nod amiably to the reporter, "And please call me Duo. Everyone does."

"Alright, Duo."

"Duo," fires another one. "I'm just curious about the title. Can you please explain why it's entitled 'Replaying the Unsaid', when technically, there is nothing to replay because there's nothing there."

I grin. This is so much fun! "That's just it, y'know. The novel is about unrequited love, and since I did admit that the novel is sort of autobiographical, I am just telling the story of the unrequited love. Since it already happened, I'm just 'Replaying the Unsaid'."

"So, if this is just *sort of* autobiographical, as you put it, how much did you change, and are there drastic changes from the truth?"

"I changed the names, places, and there are also mild changes and drastic changes. For example, I changed my name, but you'd know soon enough who I'm supposed to be in the novel, because I also inserted my original poetry. I won't elaborate on how drastic the changes are because that will already be telling the globe of my whole life story. But the novel basically conveys what happened," I answer, then afterwards I drink some water.

"We'll pause for a short break. Fifteen minutes," Hilde announces.

°¤.¤°

The reporters mill about, as afternoon tea/coffee is served. Hilde comes up to me with a cup. "Here. I noticed that you're kind of frayed. Still not used to this?"

I take the tea gratefully and answer, "It's always the first question."

"Yeah. They can be so perfectly blunt but that's their job, you know."

"Yeah." I take a sip.

"By the way, there's someone who's been trying to set up a one-on-one interview with you, a reporter from The Grey, saying she knows you and that you'd say yes to the interview," she informs me.

I raise a curious eyebrow. "Name?"

"Chang Meiran. Ring any bell?"

My eyebrows knit together in concentration. Meiran...Meiran...Chang. Chang Wufei. Meiran. Wufei, Meiran. "Oh god, they're married?!!" I exclaim, a brilliant smile suddenly lifting my face. "But of course! She was my editor back in high school! Wow. Tell her I'm free any time. As soon as possible."

Hilde smirks at my sudden chipper mood. "Whatever you say. Lunch interview okay for tomorrow?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Sure! That'd be great! Thanks, Hilde!"

She just looks at me weirdly, saying, "I think you should cut down the coffee."

I just blink at her innocently, "But this is *tea*!"

°¤.¤°

I eagerly go out to take a walk in the park, just several blocks from the hotel. Man! As nice and smooth as that press conference went, I still need some fresh air.

I wonder who I might see today.

Hmm...scratch that. I'll just admit that I hope that I'd see someone that we all know, thanks to my eternal pining. There's this feeling of anticipation inside of me, this hot and cold roiling feeling that manages to steal my breath for a few seconds.

I used to feel this way, too, during my time at the farm. The view of rolling cattle might do some peaceful unknotting in my head, but it can be damn boring that my thoughts had tended to turn another way, towards the more turbulent thoughts.

And Heero Yuy whips up more than a storm.

I see that there are new buildings here and that there are more cars. Booming population, I must say, compared to seven years before. Now where the hell is that park?

I take my booted feet onwards, letting my slightly rusty memory guide me. I must be a sight to all these afternoon people. Still favoring the all-black attire.

I look like I stepped out of a modern day action flick with my knee-high black leather boots, black jeans, and black longsleeved shirt that has its three top buttons free, showing the gold chain of my cross pendant. Contrary to my past lifestyle, I now wear a watch, which has cross-shaped minute and hour hands.

I walk further, turning at random corners that I think I remember. At last, I reach my destination.

There, on the tree that I used to sit on and write, are the carvings of:

~Wishing to be drenched with Prussian blue rain

DM to HY~

. t o b e c o n t i n u e d .