A Gundam Wing AU Story by Aki Midori
Pairings: Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner, Chang Wu Fei and… (yeah, I’ll make this complicated for him… )
Rating: PG for shounen ai
DiSClaIMer: Gundam Wing is owned by Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino. I’m using them merely for pleasure and, of course, to share the lu~rve. :3
Warnings: Shounen ai (boy-boy love), gratuitous use of bad language
This story has been gathering molds for so many years now, so I figured it’s time to breathe life into it. Originally, it was supposed to be a SenRu (Sendoh x Rukawa) fic, but recently, I can only imagine Heero and Duo in this story. I’m going to be abusing my artistic/creative license with regards to the angelic / celestial / life-after-death themes, so please bear with me as I go along. So, enjoy, everybody, and I hope you’re not missing Commodore Wilkins too much. ;)
More importantly, I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude and warmest huggles to hostilecrayon for being insane enough to take up ‘Wing’s’ beta-job. Thanks for all the encouragement, heartwarming praises, and most especially, for listening to this story’s voice. This chapter came out much better after you were done with it. Thanks so much!
To everybody who hasn’t read her stories, especially her ‘Growing Up’ arc, what the hell have you been doing with your life? I’m inviting you to read her stories if you want to laugh, cry, choke, breathe, and just simply fall in love with the beautiful pairing that is Heero Yuy / Duo Maxwell. (*Swoons* ^.^)
Let’s celebrate 1x2x1 love, everybody. ^__^
-Chapter Two: Reminiscence-
Heero Yuy frowned as he struck the last note of his guitar.
For some reason, everything seemed so odd today. Granted, he did wake up on the wrong side of the bed, but that was probably because he was too busy tossing and turning, clinging desperately to the remnants of a vague dream.
He couldn’t really remember the specific contents of his dream, but he could recall feeling warmth spreading through his body. It felt as if he was being hugged from behind, and to be honest, it was a feeling he sorely missed. He was just reveling in the comfort of the embrace, when suddenly, something so bright flashed across his eyes, and the next thing he knew he was ripped or ‘torn from’ the safety of the warmth he desperately wanted to keep.
The last thing he saw before he was pulled back into reality was two orbs of amethyst, watery from tears that had yet to fall.
That was a very, very strange dream indeed, and it left the day sorely lacking of something.
"Are you done being a musical idiot now?"
Heero Yuy looked up from where he was absent-mindedly fiddling with his guitar to glare at the tall, lithe man who entered the music room. A fall of auburn hair fell across half of Trowa Barton's face, effectively hiding his handsome Latin features. It was his latest favored hairstyle, insisting that it gave him a 'mysterious, sexy look'. Heero thought it worked, because Trowa's fan base nearly tripled in numbers, but instead he just told his friend that it made him look like an 'idiot anime character'.
Trowa's lips curled up into a noticeable smirk as he teased Heero for what probably was the fiftieth time that day. "You've made seventy-two mistakes in three hours. That's quite a lot, even for a loser like you."
"Shut up, Barton," Heero snapped. He saw the subtle glint in Trowa's one visible verdant eye, and suddenly understood the barb for what it was. It has always been Trowa who could pull him out of whatever self-induced misery he drowned himself in. He grinned as he adjusted the guitar on his knees and took Trowa's bait.
"We both know who the loser here is. You've made eighty-six mistakes in two hours, all because you couldn't get your eyes off Quatre's ass."
"And what a fine ass it was," Trowa purred, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. He knew his mission was accomplished when Heero's sharp laughter reverberated throughout the practice room. "Seriously, dude. What's up? You've been out of it since this morning."
Heero sighed and gave up trying to convince himself- and everybody- that he was concentrating on his music. "I had a dream last night."
"So? Everybody dreams sometimes, dude." Heero and Trowa's heads snapped up at the voice of their bassist and long-time friend, Chang Wu Fei. The man was wearing a smirk that was as annoying to Heero as the one Trowa was sporting at the moment. His slanted eyes, labeled by the media as 'blacker than night and more intense than sin', sparkled with something akin to mischief as he ran his hands across his untied shoulder-length raven hair.
"How special was this kind of dream that you would spend so much time mulling over it?" Wu Fei pressed. His grin turned positively feral as a wicked thought crossed his mind. “Or maybe I should ask ‘how /wet/ was this dream’? If you're sexually frustrated, you only had to ask, dude. I have a lot of conta-"
"Quiet over there. I believe Heero was trying to explain why he's such a failure today," another voice teased from the doorway. Quatre R. Winner, keyboarding and genius mixer, leaned casually against the door frame as he patiently waited for Heero to continue. Heero noted the subtle blue highlights on Quatre's golden hair, complementing his aqua blue eyes. He stood a little taller than Wu Fei, but his slighter build and 'angelic features' had the media dub him as the 'fallen angel' of the group, given his track record of petty bar brawls and a million other minor offenses due to excessive, but minor pranks inflicted upon the unsuspecting public. Only his influential name, coupled with Trowa's quick thinking and undying devotion, and the public's impassioned support prevented him from permanent residency at the local penile institution.
Heero didn't know whether to roll his eyes or to feel touched at his band mates' concern for him. Really, he didn't screw up /that/ much today. They were exaggerating as they wont to do every time he felt like drowning into one of his 'Emo-Moments', as Wu Fei fondly called them. He couldn't blame them for being overly-concerned, though. For all that everyone knew how much of an anti-social bastard Heero truly was, he knew that he'd been way beyond unbearable these past few weeks.
The four of them had been together since they were in junior high school. Heero didn't have a lot of fond memories, but most of them include the four men whom he has spent most of his adolescent and adult years with. They'd come a long way from throwing spaghetti at each other over lunch, through being respected officers of the student council, dorm mates and partners in crime during college, and currently, the most popular rock band in all of Asia, probably the entire world.
How could he have felt as if something was missing? How could he have missed the big, gaping hole that suddenly ate at his heart when he wasn't looking?
"Heero? Are you alright, man?" Wu Fei asked, his smirk turning into a frown.
"Hey, you know you can talk to us about anything, right?" Quatre sat down next to him and patted his shoulder. Heero did not miss the feel of something sticky coming in direct contact with his skin, but he chose to ignore it anyway. "But please don't tell us that you've mysteriously gotten somebody pregnant, because Zechs is /so/ going to kill you."
"Maybe he needs to get laid?" Trowa suggested. Wu Fei nodded vigorously from where he stood.
Heero laughed and peeled the 'Dora the Explorer' sticker from his nape. "No, I did /not/ get somebody pregnant, and no, I do /not/ need to get laid. I told you already, I keep having this strange dream, but every time I wake up, I can’t remember anything at all."
“You’re sure you don’t remember? Quatre asked. “If it could bother you this much, then it must be something important. You rarely let anything get to you, Heero. Maybe this is serious.”
Heero noted the frowns that were slowly creasing his friends’ faces. He shook his head in a futile attempt to shake himself off whatever funk he had fallen into and gave his friends a small smile. “Don’t worry yourselves over me. I’ll be fine in no time. Maybe I just need a breather.”
“Meaning you’re going out.”
“Yes, Daddy Trowa. I’m going out.”
“Heero, you damn well know that you can’t go out,” Wu Fei said. “The fans will eat you alive once they recognize who you are.”
“Well then I’ll just have to take a low profile now, won’t I?” Heero grinned and produced a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses from somewhere behind him.
“And you think that /that’s/ going to miraculously change your entire persona into this new, unrecognizable twat from nowhere?” Wu Fei retorted, one eyebrow quirked as if to say, ‘Go ahead, moron. See if that will work.’
Heero merely grunted and donned his lame disguise. He gave his bemused friends a small wave of good-bye before he left the large music room. He didn’t even spare anybody a glance as he walked along the marbled hallways of Wing Music Industry’s building. If it were any other day, Heero would stop by to appreciate the endless supply of paintings and sculptures that adorn the halls of the highest, most sophisticated building in Tokyo, but today, even the newest addition of paintings in the West wing went unnoticed as he stalked past them. He walked briskly past the grand lobby, and out into the crowded streets of the bustling city.
Heero growled as he trudged along the streets of the latest city his band was based in. He really didn’t have any reason to feel cranky. He had good friends, people loved his band, Zero’s latest album ‘Akushu’ was a phenomenal success, and he was free of the chains of whatever bullshit past he had desperately tried to run away from. His life was looking up, and everything that was happening to him at the moment was way more than he ever hoped for.
He had everything. Friends. Fame. Wealth. Success.
What right did he have to feel as if his life was sorely lacking? What right did he have to complain, when he already walked past several street beggars whose lunch probably consisted of salvaged trash and spoiled left-overs?
Yeah, he had no reason to be cranky, save for that dream. That one, elusive dream that seemed to haunt him every single night.
He didn’t really understand why he /had/ to remember it; he just felt like he /needed/ to know what it was about. There was somebody there in that dream and damn if he couldn’t remember who it was!
The only thing Heero was able to remember was the pair of amethyst eyes. Well. That was certainly helpful. He’d never really known anybody with amethyst eyes, and it wasn’t as if he was the type of person to discern what color people’s eyes are. Heero sighed as he picked his pace and headed for the park. Maybe a little bit of peace and quiet would help clear his mind.
Three hours later found Heero sleeping underneath an aged oak tree in a secluded area of the park. Trowa smiled as he took in his best friend’s sleeping form. He was supposed to drag Heero back to the studio for practice, with the hanging threat against his precious manhood should he ever fail in his mission, but looking at his friend’s peaceful state right now almost made him want to brave Quatre and Wu Fei’s rage just so Heero could catch up on his much-deserved rest.
He grinned as he pulled the pair of mini-cymbals from his pocket and smashed them together near Heero’s ear.
“Son of a bitch!” Heero cried out as he jolted up in shock. Trowa nearly fell on his ass laughing at Heero’s bewildered expression. “God damn it, Barton! The hell was that for?”
Trowa swallowed the last remnants of his mirth, lest he be faced with the wrath of the indomitable Heero Yuy. “I was operating under strict orders. Quatre and Wu Fei told me to use any necessary means to drag you back to the studio, and knowing your near-awesome ability to sleep like the dead in the most peculiar of places, I decided to use the most effective method to pull you back to awareness.”
“Giving me a heart attack is the most effective method to wake me up?” Heero narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but his efforts to intimidate were only met with an amused smirk.
“Sorry, guy, but you are so not my type.”
Trowa fell into another fit of laughter as he tried to dodge Heero’s half-hearted attempt to punch him. It was a good thing that he could still get a reaction from his friend. It meant he wasn’t so far gone into whatever funk he’d fallen into. He sat down next to his glowering friend and gave him another playful shove before finally settling down.
“What’s this about, Heero?” Trowa was nothing, if not brutally honest and direct to the point.
Heero shook his head in annoyance. “It’s that damn dream.”
“Who was in that dream?”
“You think if I knew, I still would be this cranky?” Heero snapped.
“Bitchy is more like it,” Trowa retorted. “You’re on perpetual PMS, and Heero’s that’s not like you. Yeah, you can delude yourself that you’re this ‘reticent, cold, and aloof’ guy and have your fans shrieking in ecstasy whenever you flash them your ‘cold, blue glare’, but you’re never this grouchy, even on your worst days.”
There was something firm in Trowa’s reprimand that made Heero bite back his sharp rebuttal. He knew then that his actions for the past few weeks have finally been getting to his band mates. He sighed out in frustration and kept his tongue instead.
“Listen, Heero,” Trowa started, “I know absolutely nothing about this dream of yours, but I was thinking that maybe… just maybe, dude, it has something to do with that mysterious dedication you wrote in our latest album. It has something to do what you named our album.”
“Akushu,” Heero murmured, lost in his thoughts. “It means ‘handshake’.”
“Who was it, Heero?” Trowa pressed. “To whom did you dedicate your part of the album to?”
‘That guy,’ Heero thought. He couldn’t ever forget that guy, even if he tried. He was unique, with his long, chestnut hair tied back in a tight braid that reached past his waist. He was a transfer student to his private school, formerly a ward of the state, adopted only recently, but he never had any trouble settling in. People gathered in swarms around him, drawn to his gregarious personality. Heero loathed him on sight.
Heero has gained the nickname ‘Ice Bastard’ during his adolescent years because of his cold, and sometimes unrepentantly distant attitude. He had mellowed down over the years, and maintained the reticent image only because fans ‘totally go for those kinds of cool guys’, as Zechs put it. He did a lot of growing up with the help of his friends, which is why he was currently a lot more human than he used to be.
That guy with the long braid was everything Heero hated back when he was in high school. He was brash, he was outgoing, he flirted all the time, and partied all the damned time. Everything about the guy seemed so shallow. Heero was surprised to find out that his scores were actually as high as his, and that he was even on academic scholarship, supported not only by the school administration, but also by the State.
How could he be both outrageously extroverted and academically brilliant at the same time? Heero, then plagued with teenage angst and insecurity, couldn’t fathom how a walking oxymoron like that guy could exist.
One fine day, three months after he transferred into Heero’s school, the guy with the long braid walked up to Heero and introduced himself. He held his hand out for a shake, but being the asshole that he was, Heero only gave him a condescending glare before walking away.
Still, there was something about the way he held himself- his purposeful stride, his steady gait, his bearing, all are in contrast with the carefree smile that he usually wore and the bright spark that never quite left his eyes. Before long, Heero found himself looking up from where he was signing the documents that Wu Fei constantly made him read, only to watch the guy as he entertained another batch of friends. Heero remembered how the guy seemed to be everywhere. There was seldom a time where Heero did not see that guy, and always, he was surrounded by a group of people. He always had something funny to say, amusing stories to tell, something spectacular to do. He used to sing out loud in the middle of the hallway, and danced like a professional performer in the cafeteria during lunch. Sometimes he would just spout a few lines from a popular Shakespearian Drama in the middle of a boring lecture, livening up the entire class.
Before he knew it, his eyes would constantly search for the guy whenever he entered a room, hoping that he would catch another glimpse of those bright, amethyst eyes that seemed to twinkle whenever he looked at Heero.
Wait a minute. “Amethyst!”
“Amethyst! He has amethyst eyes! Trowa, I think he’s the one who I’ve been dreaming of for so long! You’re right!”
“Who?” Trowa asked, getting more curious he watched a myriad of emotions splayed across Heero’s face.
“Do you remember the transferee who used to be so popular at school?” Heero asked.
“The guy you wanted to push off Rockefeller’s rooftop way back when?”
Heero laughed. “Yes! That guy!”
“What’s he got to do with you?” Trowa’s brows furrowed in confusion as Heero gave out another laugh. “Have you been cavorting with long-haired sexy brunettes behind your friends’ backs?”
“Shut up, Trowa. I haven’t seen him in years,” Heero snapped good-naturedly. “Remember that time where I used to be such an asshole? I hated him for everything that he was, because he was the person I wanted most to be.”
Trowa gave Heero a small nod, encouraging him to continue.
“He was funny, outgoing, smart- everybody liked him-“
“Everybody liked you, too, Heero.”
“Only because I was this ‘cool, aloof, genius’ Vice President. You know how much that image sells, Trowa,” Heero said, his lips turned upwards in a smirk. “Everybody liked that guy. Even I have grown to like the guy.”
“But you warded off his only attempt to befriend you,” Trowa reminded him.
“Yes, and there’s never been a day since where I didn’t wish for that scene to replay itself, so I would have the chance to do it right,” Heero said. “I wanted to be his friend, Trowa. There is something about him that amazes me, but I was too much of an asshole back then. I never got the courage to undo whatever damage I caused.”
“I never knew you were feeling that way,” Trowa softly said, his eyes warm with something akin to regret. Heero smiled and nudged Trowa with his elbow in a small attempt to comfort him.
“I never told any of you,” Heero replied. “I was, I don’t know. Ashamed, I guess. Ashamed of the way I acted when he tried to befriend me. Ashamed to admit that I was wrong. Probably too proud to step down from my ladder and humble myself to repair the drift that I alone created.”
“That was when you started to slowly change,” Trowa recalled. “I knew it didn’t happen overnight, but I could see that something spurred you to change from the arrogant asshole into what you are today. I thought that it was because you finally realized that your brother was right-“
“That too,” Heero said, cutting Trowa off. Trowa relented, knowing that Heero’s brother was still a sore topic, but he still waited for his friend to continue his explanation. When Heero didn’t speak any further, Trowa finally asked the question that has been plaguing his mind ever since this whole mess with Heero began.
“Who was that guy, Heero? To whom did you dedicate the album to?”
The steady stare that Heero gave his friend was nothing short of intense, Trowa felt compelled to look away, lest he get sucked in.
“The guy with the amethyst eyes,” Heero said, his voice firm and steady and strong.
“What’s his name, Heero?” Trowa asked, his breath stuck in his throat.
“Duo Maxwell,” Heero replied. “His name is Duo Maxwell.”
Again, many thanks to my wonderful beta, hostilecrayon, who patiently nitpicked the the minor misgivings of this chapter. To the readers here, at the lj comms, y!groups, and everywhere else, thanks for the enthusiastic and heartwarming feedbacks! I'm sorry this chapter took so long! ^^; I'll try to work faster. Meanwhile, I would really love what you think so far.
- Current Location:ze batcave
- Current Mood: blah
- Current Music:Fahrenheit - I Have My Young