Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wishful Thinking Book Two: All Boxed-Up ❯ Chapter 3

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 get-together fic
Rating: PG
Pairing: 1+2+1
WARNINGS: some OOC-ness, toothache-inducing sap
Dedication: This is for Emmy-chan.
Notes: The poems that will appear in Heero's POV are all still by Duo. Remember Duo's poems in Heero's box? Duo's poems appear in his POV because he loves Duo's poems and that he can also relate to them. In this part, we go back to their freshman year. ::winks:: I was supposed to start on fifth grade, but I changed my mind and rewrote it again. This way we get to the graduation day *much* quicker. :)

Title: Wishful Thinking, Book Two: All Boxed-Up (Chapter Three)
Author: AJ Maxwell ( webmaster@weluvduo.zzn.com )

~Estranged, now we are
And ice fills my heart, encasing my nerves with its painful chill;
I lean against my window's glass, already worn by time,
As I watch the memories pass me by.

I yearn to grab time by its shirt lapels,
And drag it, back to the good days
Where there is always the heart-warming presence of the sun,
And where the rains are always pleasant--music to my wilting spirit.~

--Shinigami

I am a bit surprised to see this in the literary section of the high school's official publication. News of Duo being part of the school paper already haven't reached me yet, but I just have a strong feeling about this one. I haven't read a lot of Duo's works, but from the tone of this, I just know that he's the one who wrote this.

I am well aware of Duo's fascination with death, what with all the dark poems that he had written a year ago, and Shinigami means 'God of Death'. I wonder what made him write this. I really am curious...Does he feel these things? Does he actually believe in what he writes, or is everything just pure imagination? I have these questions in mind as my vision searches for his bent, isolated form on one of the stone benches. It is already an hour past dismissal time, and I hope that he is still on campus.

I take another step nearer, looking over a growth of bushes in the garden. I just hope that I don't step on a twig, or Duo might think I'm some loser or something if he catches me peeking at him like this.

Suddenly, there is a gust of wind and it carries a noise that sounds like a mournful, surprised yelp. I duck behind the bushes, wishing with closed eyes and tight fists that Duo won't discover me here. I hear a rustling sound rolling nearer and nearer, and then the wind stops.

I open my eyes to find a sheet of paper with something scrawled on it. I haven't really thought of it; my brain is just not working then all of a sudden the paper is in my hands sliding into my pocket. I quickly run away, not looking back and not daring to make a sound.

~I peer into the picture frame in my head
The one in Prussian blue marble adorned with silver, glittery things,
And I wonder about what you've been doing lately;
I miss you in a way I'm not sure why.

I've seen you everyday but never seen you;
Always behind that facade, that wall that you erected around yourself;
So perfect outside, you invite detectors of
Sweet imperfection.

Are you playing basketball, or are you reading a book?
Or maybe you've found someone--someone not me to read poetry to you,
With you, and~

Shit. Duo had been writing this when the wind blew and it flew from his grasp. It was he who yelped--how he must have felt so frustrated in looking for this in the garden. It's beautiful, but it's unfinished. I don't know if I want to give this back to him, though. I sure don't want him to find out about...well, you know. He would question my motives and ask why I didn't give it back to him in the first place, or why I even picked it up and ran off with it. And during the questioning I won't be able to say a thing, and he will think that I'm just some moron who can't do anything better with his time, and then he might think of me badly. No, definitely no. I can't return this to Duo. I feel guilty about it, but I just can't let him know. Heero Yuy, you amaze me sometimes. At least I have another addition to keep in my box.

I read it again for about four times more, then I inspect his handwriting. If he keeps on writing like the way he does then one day he might tear a paper with it. The letters are bold and clear, and the pen used is a black sign pen whose tip is thicker than the ones people normally use. Just like him, I think. He has a uniqueness that just draws people to him and leaves a lasting impression.

I'm dreaming again. I better start on those algebra problems and the other reading assignments. I take out my box from underneath my bed and open it, poised to keep the piece of treasure in it when I finally notice something. The paper is a receipt from the library. Overdue fine for ten days. I don't know why this makes me smile.

I wonder whom he wrote this for...

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