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A Stagnation of Love (rewrite)	By : shinigamiinochi Category: Gundam Wing/AC > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2207 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing AC or the characters from it. I am making no money from this story

Chapter List
- 33
- 34
- 35
A Stagnation of Love

Chapter 7

Part 6
　

That spare key quickly became one of my special treasures and I was more paranoid about it being lost or thrown out than anything else that I owned, with the exception of Quatre's CDs and the jacket that he had given me. I carried it with me everywhere and I found myself taking it out of my pocket or book bag to look at it once in awhile, unable to really believe in its realness.

Heero seemed especially eager that Friday in trying to convince me to stay the weekend again. He didn't need to try hard at all, I desperately wanted to do it, but my father roped me into coming home after school that day to mow the lawn. The best that I could do was promise my friend that I would spend my free time on Sunday with him, but his disappointed just tore at me. I resented my father for that, especially how smug and satisfied he had looked when he had told me to do it. I wondered at that. Him being vindictive was pretty typical when he was in a particular mood, but why? What had I done that he felt he needed to punish me for with something subtler than a beating?

I pushed it out of my mind and waited hopelessly for Sunday to arrive. My father didn't make it easy on me. As soon as I got home from work Friday night, he was on my ass to do chores around the house that he usually did on his days off. I was exhausted, but I obediently did the dishes, scrubbed the sink, and washed the kitchen floor before my mother walked out of the bedroom and walked towards the fridge. Her face was pinched with pain and, thinking about it, I realized that I hadn't seen her once in the last two weeks without that look on her face. Her headaches were definitely getting worse.

She shot my father and me a lethal glare and opened the fridge like she was angry at it, too. She had walked out of the bedroom with her mug, the same that she often used when she wasn't drinking whiskey right from the bottle, and I assumed that that was the entire reason why she had left her bedroom at all, that she needed a top off. I watched, perplexed, as she refilled her mug, not with any alcohol, but water. She took a sip from the mug, her face twisting into one of complete reluctance, like she was just forcing herself to drink the water and it tasted horribly bitter.

"There's no juice in here," she snapped at my father as he sat at the kitchen table, watching me scrub the inside of the microwave as he drank a beer, like I was some great entertainment, that damning, smug expression on his face, "Can't you at least do some goddamned food shopping if you're just going to lounge around here?!"

"You're one to talk," he sneered back at her, "Why can't you make yourself useful around here, bitch, and make dinner? Oh, that's right, I don't want to be fucking poisoned."

She turned from him, a look of complete hatred on her face, and chugged the last of the water from her mug, slamming it down on the counter. I calmly put away the cleaning supplies that I had been using, my body tense as I waited for the perfect moment to flee. I knew what was coming, and I didn't even need the uncomfortable aura in the air, like a thin veil of static, to warn me.

"Can't even make his own dinner," my mother muttered under her breath, "No wonder why you were fired. A pig in a uniform would have filled in your position just as well. They never would have even noticed the difference."

My father surged off his chair and threw his beer bottle at her. Showing the kind of reflexes that she normally never seemed to have, she ducked and cried out. I was already running for the stairs at that point. There was no way in hell I was going to get caught in that crossfire. I thought about trying to help her, but I all too keenly remembered what had happened the last time I had tried to get between them. I hadn't been able to stop him from beating on her that time, either. Besides, as I ran into my room, I didn't hear her crying out, just the two of them screaming at each other and things hitting one of the kitchen walls. I wasn't going to go through this, not that night. Fuck the both of them, I thought with anger. Fuck their constant fighting and their hatred for each other and whatever the hell was going on with my mother, I didn't have the ability to deal with it anymore.

I didn't really think about what I was doing, I just shoved what I would need for work and homework tomorrow into my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, not even caring to change out of my pajamas. It wasn't exactly hard sneaking out of the place. When I ran back downstairs, my mother and father were still screaming at each other. My father had my mother by the front of her shirt and there was already a dark bruise on her cheek. Glass littered the floor of the kitchen and my father's right foot was bloodied.

I froze for a moment, my father's back to me and thought about trying to help my mother, even knowing that my dad was going to beat the shit out of me if I tried to, but when he pulled her in by her shirt, she reached back and grabbed at the frying pan that I had put on the drying rack, swiping at him with it. I watched in horror as it nearly hit him right in the head, missing by scant inches. With a roar of rage, he tried to make another grab for her, but got hit by the pan in his hand that time. I ran for the door. I was too tired of all of this, all of the anger and constant battles, to be their collateral damage again.

I shoved my sneakers on my feet and escaped, unscathed, into the brisk, early morning air. I hopped on the first bus that I found and got off on the closest stop to Heero's house. I walked the rest of the way there and soon found myself standing on their front porch, staring at the closed door. It was four in the morning and I hadn't even thought about it when I had gotten onto that bus, where I was going and what I was doing. I had just fled there, the only place that I had to feel safe. I thought about turning around and walking to the park to find a nice bench to crash on, but it was too cold out for that. In my pocket, I clenched my hand around the spare key that Mr. Yuy had given me. He had said that I was always welcome, right, to go there whenever I needed a sanctuary? So... so they wouldn't get mad at me for showing up all of sudden, right? I gripped the key tight, so tight that I could feel my hand start to bleed.

So much warred inside of me as I stood there in the dark. My self-sufficient nature, that thing that always kept me from asking other people for help, that thing that would have me walking to the hospital on my own or try to refuse it every time Heero tried to offer me free food, battled fiercely with the part of me that desperately wanted help, wanted to walk into that house and lean, just a little bit, on someone stronger than I was. I didn't want to be helpless and weak or vulnerable, I couldn't be. But right then, I didn't want to be strong and independent, either. I was stuck in this nether space between the two, unable to stand up on my own and unable to reach out. I yearned for someone to tell me what to do.

I unlocked the door and walked inside, quickly entering the security code before it could go off. I immediately heard the clicking of Kanuck's nails on the hard floor as he came to investigate who had entered his domain.

"Hi, boy," I whispered, hoping that he wouldn't bark and wake anyone up.

He just wuffed softly and I felt his tongue lick at my hands. The dog followed me as I navigated the dark house until I found the couch in the living room. I shrugged off my jackets and all but fell onto the couch. Is it wrong that my thought when I laid down on that flat surface was 'home sweet home', and it wasn't with any kind of sarcasm or bitterness, but actually relief? To my pleasant surprise, it didn't take me long to fall asleep and while I did wake up a few times out of nervousness and once because I needed to use the bathroom, my sleep wasn't interrupted by any nightmares.

Being woken up by Heero calling my name five hours later was a pleasant experience. When I opened my eyes, the difference between waking up there and waking up in my own bedroom in my own home were so drastically different that it was almost like a physical shock. From the smell to that soft, gentle awakening... I wasn't jolted awake, and I had this pervasive feeling of comfort as I looked around the living room, sunlight beaming through the skylight. It was akin to spending hours out in a chilling snow storm, and then jumping into a hot shower. But the best thing was Heero, kneeling right in front of me and for a moment, all I could see was the blue of his eyes.

"Hey," he smiled at me, making me feel completely incapable of movement.

"Mmm," I mumbled and suddenly registered that, at some point in the morning, someone had put a blanket over me. I was all too happy to sink into it, relishing in the warmth of the house over how cold mine had been the previous night.

"Have a good sleep?" he asked and whatever response I might have sleepily been able churn out immediately fled my brain when he reached over and brushed my bangs out of my eyes.

I stared at him, wide eyed at the gesture, my heart suddenly racing. He blushed slightly and retracted his hand quickly. He seemed to blush a lot, I was noticing, but I couldn't recall him doing that before we had become friends.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Yeah, I slept well," I brushed off his weird behavior, "Sorry for crashing here, I just... this morning was kind of... rough at home."

"Don't mention it," he stood up, giving me room to sit up and get off the couch, "My dad said that he told you to come by whenever you like. He was glad that you decided to sleep here this morning. I was going to make some oatmeal. Would you like some?"

"Sure," I nodded, folding up the blanket and putting it back on the couch, "Are your parents going to be eating with us?"

"Oh, they're not here," he told me as we walked into the kitchen together, "My grandfather on my father's side fell off a ladder this morning."

"That's awful!" I exclaimed, "Is he ok?"

To my confusion, he laughed.

"Oh, he's fine, mostly, He bashed up his leg pretty good, but he didn't break it. My Nanna - er, grandmother called my dad to come over and try to convince him to go to the hospital. My grandfather is pretty stubborn. He's too old to be doing work on their house, but he still insists on doing things like cleaning out the gutters, which is how he got hurt. My parents just went there to talk some sense into him."

I shook my head at that, biting my tongue to keep from remarking that stubbornness must be a family trait. Not that I was anyone to talk. I set the table while Heero heated up the oatmeal, which turned out to have cinnamon and blueberries in it, and the two of us had a nice, quiet breakfast together.

"Do you have work again at four today?" he asked as he washed our dishes.

"Yeah," I confirmed, "but I don't have anywhere to be before then."

I felt a twinge of fear at the prospect of not going back home that day. I knew that my father had chores for me, and in the mood that he was in, if I didn't come back, he was going to get pissed. But even though that fear was instinctual, I realized something. It was a terrible thing, and incredibly dangerous, but I realized that I just didn't care. I didn't care about his anger and his punishment. I didn't want to go back home to... to that. Even though I knew that he was going to kill me for it, I just couldn't do it. The more that time went on, the more I was finding myself of incapable of dealing with all of it. I could blame Heero and the serenity of his home for making it harder on me to deal with my home life, but I had been feeling it for awhile. Tiredness. Apathy. That feeling that I was careening towards the edge of some great cliff. At that moment, I felt like it was only Heero's hand that was keeping me from falling into it.

"It's a bit warmer out today. Would you like to throw the ball around?" he asked me.

"Ball?" I asked in confusion.

"I mean play catch," he amended, "You could use my father's mitt."

"That's ok. I'm miserable at it," I told him.

"I could teach you how to play," he suggested, "since you taught me how to skate."

I hesitated. The thought of embarrassing myself in front of him made me shy, but he seemed so eager and I had to admit that I wanted to do things like that with him. I think that he could have asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing and I would have agreed just for the chance to spend more time with him. Besides, he had already seen me at my worst in gym class, how could throwing a ball around be any worse?

"Alright, just let me shower and get dressed first," I said and was rewarded with a beaming smile.

I took my back pack upstairs with me and showered and dressed, grabbing my jackets from the hallway closet where someone had hung them up. Outside, Heero was waiting for me with two mitts and a well used baseball. As promised, it was a little bit warmer out than it had been before, but not by much. Someone had swept all of the snow off of the patio and some of it had been cleared off of the grass right in front of it, giving us a nice area to play in, far enough from any windows. Not that I thought that I was that clumsy, but it was nice to know that I wouldn't have to worry about damaging anything.

Heero let me have the first throw, and I can admit that it was abysmal. While the ball easily reached him, to say that I missed him is a vast understatement. Aiming has never really been my strong suit.

"I'm sorry," I flushed darkly as he had to run to go get the ball before it completely disappeared into the snow, "I told you, I'm shit at stuff like this."

"That's ok," he chuckled, walking back towards me, "I think I can see what your problem is."

"You can?" I blinked stupidly at him.

"Yeah," he walked behind me and when I tried to turn to follow him, he grabbed at my shoulders, keeping my back facing him, "For starters, you're facing where you're aiming with your chest, which a huge no-no. Second, your right foot is forward when it should be your left. Here," he kept his hands on my shoulders and angled my body the way that he wanted.

I did as he said, moving my left foot out, but then his chest was suddenly right at my back and his hands were touching my arms and all coherent thought fled me like a frightened flock of birds.

"Good," his warm breath washed over my ear, making me shiver, "You should always have the person you're aiming for be at your left side, since you're right handed. Now," he placed the ball in my right hand and, gently grabbing my right wrist, manipulated my arm so it was drawn back, "You also didn't have your arm back enough. You should always bring the ball behind your ear, and bend your elbow pointing backwards."

He let go of me, leaving me feeling overheated and shaky as he walked back where he had been standing before.

"Try it now," he called to me.

Still flustered from him touching me like that, still feeling his body heat mingling with mine, I threw, trying to keep the pose that he had put me in. The ball still missed it's target, but this time it had come a lot closer and Heero had been able to catch it.

"Better!" he complimented, "You're still a bit stiff, but if we keep practicing, you'll get the hang of it."

He threw the ball back at me. His pitch was nothing like the one that I had seen at try outs, for which I was grateful, and the throw was pretty casual. But I still reacted the same way I did when anyone threw something at me; I moved to the side and deflected it off my arm instead of catching it neatly in the mitt like Heero had done.

"Are you ok?" Heero became frantic when he saw the ball hit me, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no," I rubbed at my arm. It ached a little, but it didn't really hurt, "I'm sorry, I'm awful at this..."

"You're not awful," he scolded, "You have really fast reflexes, actually, faster than a lot of the guys on my team, but you're just... reflecting wrong. I noticed that you do the same thing when we play dodge ball and sometimes volleyball, if the hit is too fast. You're panicking before the ball even reaches you. You just need to calm down, stand your ground, and use the mitt instead of your arm."

I decided not to tell him that the reason for those quick reflexes, and my reaction to his throw, that I was all too used to things getting thrown at me, things that, if I tried to catch most of those things with my hand, I would seriously injure myself. It's really not that easy to override 16 years of instinct. But I tried, and failed most of the time. An hour later, I was still pretty awful. My aim was getting a lot better, but I only managed to catch a handful of Heero's throws. Halfway through, I had gotten better in not moving, but it was still hard remembering to try to catch the ball instead of deflecting it. Even when I did remember, I often let the ball fall out of the mitt. It really wasn't as easy as he made it look.

"I'm so terrible at this," I sighed when we finally decided to take a break.

"I told you, you're not," Heero smiled, taking his father's mitt from me, "You're just not used to it, and you got pretty good at the end there. You'll do better next time. Come on, I think you need to relax a bit."

Next time. If he had been anyone else, any of the boys that had been forced to pair off with me in gym class every time we played softball, he would have never wanted to try to do that with me again. But this was Heero, and I didn't know if it was just because he was too stubborn to give up on me or he actually enjoyed this, but I found myself oddly looking forward to that 'next time', even if it meant continuing to embarrass myself.

"When did you first start playing baseball?" I asked Heero as we walked back into the house.

"You know, it's funny," he smiled in this sentimental, wistful way that made my heart flutter for a moment, "I remember the time that my father put a baseball in my hand for the very first time. I can remember what he was wearing, the feel and weight of the ball, but I can't remember when that actually was, how old I was or the month, only that it was spring time and it was hot and humid out. But I do remember that I was pretty young, maybe four or five. He taught me how to catch and throw, and when I was old enough, he taught me how to bat as well."

"So, is baseball like a family tradition or something on your father's side?" I remembered him saying that the bat that he had been using for years belonged to his grandfather.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a tradition, but my father and grandfather were really into it. My grandfather was a professional baseball player and while my father was never serious about it, he played on his school's various teams all through college. Even though he gave it up to pursue psychiatry, he taught me everything he knew. It just became this thing that was just for the two of us, you know?"

"Not really," I murmured and felt a very sharp pain in my chest. If I had been alone, I might have given in to it, but every time Heero saw me cry, the shame nearly killed me.

My friend stopped walking half way up the stairs and turned to look at me, his expression very somber.

"You and your dad... you don't have anything like that, do you?" he asked sadly.

I smiled, but it was bitter. Something special that me and my father shared? Discounting our recent relationship and our equal fits of rage, what did we have in common? He was athletic and I was a book worm. He liked working on cars and watching football and drinking with his friends. I was happy just burying myself in a book or listening to one of my blues CDs or cooking in quiet.

"My dad and I have never been..." I chewed on that thought, "close, I guess. We haven't always been at each other's throats or anything, but even though there are some moments that we had together that I cherish, there's nothing consistent. He would take me for drives or we would have picnics near the train station when I was really little, but the older that I got, the rarer those things became. When I was young, my dad worked a lot. When he was home, he was tired and stressed from his job and dealing with bills. A lot of the time, he just didn't have the patience for me or my mother. A good day for him was if he could come home, grab a beer and watch television while we left him alone, so long as there was dinner waiting for him."

"And when he did have time for me, we often didn't see eye to eye on anything," I sighed, remembering my sadness as a kid, always knowing how disappointed my father was that his only son didn't do anything that he liked, we couldn't even talk about sports, "I was just as much obsessed with books as I am now. I was always happy when he would take me to the library and I could sit there and read. I loved the quiet of the place, that smell that can only be from old books and printed paper, but my father was always bored and hated going there. After awhile, I would just feel guilty and go by myself."

"My father never understood why I liked places like that, why I preferred reading to watching a match with him or joining a sports team. He used to say that there was something wrong with me, that I had screw loose. He tried to teach me how to play football once, when I was little, but he just got frustrated at me when I couldn't throw the ball right, so he gave up. When he finally figured out that that wasn't going to change, that I wasn't going to wake up one morning and love sports or be interested in the things that he was, he just kind of gave up on trying to do things with me. He would still spend time with me, once in awhile, if the mood came upon him, but it was less often."

Heero looked like he had just kicked a puppy and someone was calling him out for it, or he had swallowed something excruciatingly bad.

"That... that's awful. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I'm an asshole. I didn't mean to make you sad," he apologized, looking away from me guiltily.

"Don't be," I managed to smile more honestly, "I like hearing about your childhood and your relationship with your father. Just because I never had something like that with my own, it doesn't mean that yours is a bad thing. It's nice. And I do have some good memories from my childhood, things were just... complicated. My relationship with my parents is just different than yours."

We resumed walking up the stairs, but when we got to the second floor, my friend looked like he was chewing on something unpleasant.

"Was your father always... I mean, when did he..." he blurted out and then shook his head at himself, looking incredibly frustrated and embarrassed, "I'm sorry, that's really rude..."

I knew exactly the question that he was darting around, his curiosity and concern warring with his tact. I wasn't annoyed by it, it was an honest question and it wasn't like it was some huge secret that my father hit me. I had admitted that to him before, never thinking for a second that he would given a shit about it, let alone that we would become friends and it would matter. To his credit, he had obviously not told anyone about it, so what would be the harm in talking about something that we were both aware of, but just didn't acknowledge?

"I don't mind you asking things like that," I confessed to him, "It's really not that big of a deal and it's nothing that I'm embarrassed about. My dad's always had a short fuse, but I guess it's gotten a lot worse compared to when I was little. Back then, he was less stressed, so he would just smack me a bit if I misbehaved. He just gets really wound up over things, especially money, and he hates his new job, so it's easy to piss him off."

It felt kind of good, talking to Heero about those things. Quatre and I had only touched on it a handful of times, and it had always been Quatre who had brought it up, always after he had seen the after effects of a bad beating. We had never casually talked about it like this, mostly because I had worried that he would try to stop it.

"Don't talk about it like that," Heero looked devastated, "Don't talk about it like it's this... this tiny matter, like he's making you clean the gutters or something. Hitting someone because he's angry... especially his kid, is fucked up! People like that don't deserve to have children, they deserve to be locked up where they can't hurt anyone but themselves!"

I was taken aback by his passion as he spoke, how vehement and earnest he was. For a moment, I was afraid of the same thing that I had been afraid of when Quatre and I had talked about my father's abuse, that Heero was thinking about doing something about it, but if he did, there was nothing I could do to stop it at that point.

"It's not like I don't think that it's wrong," I shrugged, "Maybe when I was a kid, I thought it was normal, but when I got older, I figured out pretty quickly that my family is... not exactly functioning. It's just the way things are. My dad takes out his problems on my mother and me, we're poor, life sucks. Those are just facts that I have to live with. I can't change my father anymore than you can change Zechs. Even if I could get him to stop, it's nothing different than I'm getting at school, so what's the point?"

"The point is that you shouldn't have to deal with it from anyone," Heero argued, "You most definitely shouldn't have to deal with it from your father! Maybe Zechs is beating us up at school, but I can go home and put that behind me for awhile."

"What I'm trying to say is that, for me, it isn't a big deal. I've been living with this a lot longer than you have, and while it sucks, I'm used to it. Besides, I'll be eighteen in a year, I only need to worry about it until then," I pointed out.

He shook his head at me.

"It isn't right," he said stubbornly, but I could tell by his tone that he was going to drop it, at least for now.

We spent the rest of the time that I had before work playing video games together. Heero introduced me to some shooting games, but I found the racing game to be a lot more enjoyable, so we stuck with that for a couple of hours. It was oddly nice and relaxing, doing something rather mindless like that. I could almost forget why I had gone there and what was going to be waiting for me when I got home.

"Can you stay tonight?" Heero asked shyly when we were done playing.

"I..." I almost blurt out that it was fine, that I would be happy to stay, but my sense of self-preservation overrode my desires, "I probably shouldn't. I have a lot of chores to do at home. If I keep putting them off, my dad is going to get pissed."

I hated myself for saying that, for being so frightened of my father that I had to go running home when I really didn't want to.

"You know, if he ever... " he struggled with what he was trying to say, "If he tries to... you can stay here."

"I know," I smiled weakly at him, loathing him a little for giving me that kind of temptation, "and I'm grateful for that, but I have to go home sooner or later. There's no point in making him angry just because I don't want to be there. But I'll come over after work tomorrow."

"Hold that thought," he suddenly blurted out and all but ran out of the room.

I blinked in bewilderment at his quick exit, wondering if I had said something to piss him off, but he just as quickly came back in. He sat back down next to me on the couch and shoved a small box into my hands.

"Here. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but since you're here, I might as well give it to you now," his voice was nervous, his speech quick and almost frantic.

I stared down at the box. It was plain and black, not wrapped or anything, but I felt weird just holding it.

"You... bought me something?" I asked in a small voice and felt my chest clench when he nodded.

Heero had bought me a gift? Why would he do something like that? No one had bought me anything since... since Quatre had died. Even Trowa had never actually gifted me with anything. My initial response was to give it back to him and insist that he take whatever it was back, but I couldn't make myself do it for some reason. A part of me was uncomfortable with the thought of my new friend buying anything for me, but another part was overjoyed to have something from him. I swayed back and forth between those two feelings, unsure of what to do.

"You don't need to buy me anything," I murmured lamely.

"This wasn't really about needing to," Heero smiled gently, "I wanted to, after you came over here to study that day."

"I already told you that forgive you for lying to me," I said, "I don't need a gift because of that."

"That's not the reason why I bought this," he told me, "I just thought that it would be useful."

"What is it?" I asked nervously, unable to think of a single thing that would be useful to me in that kind of context.

"Just open it, dummy," he laughed.

I sighed and lifted the lid on the box. When I saw what was inside, I just kind of stared at it in shock, like I thought that if I kept looking at it, it would change into something else.

"I can't take this!" I exclaimed and tried to give him back the box.

It was a cell phone. Not one of those horribly expensive smart phones or a blackberry, just a flip phone, but it was still expensive to me.

"Yes you can," he assured me.

"No, it's too much money. Look, I know that you get an allowance and all, but I can't accept this. I don't need a phone and I don't need you spending all kinds of money on me!" I argued vehemently.

Why would he do something like that? Spend all that money on me? Maybe money wasn't as sacred to him as it was to me, but that was no excuse for that! I felt relief when he took the box from me, but he took the phone out of it's case and shoved it into my hand.

"I'm not an idiot," he told me, his blue eyes hard and full of the stubbornness that I was coming to expect from him, "I know that you have a rough time at home, and when you agreed to come here to study, it was mostly because you didn't want to go back there and you needed to get away, to be around people besides your parents. And I know that it bothered you that I wasn't there, not just because I had lied to you.

"You're going to take this cell phone because the money I spent on it doesn't mean a single thing to me and just because you think that you don't need it or it makes you uncomfortable, that doesn't mean that it's some kind of chore to do nice things for you. I wanted you to have this, not as some kind of act of charity, but because I want you to use it. I want you to call me, even if you can't come over, just because you need someone to talk to. I don't care if it's four in the morning. If you're upset or... or if your dad's hurting you and you need help, I want you to use this, ok?"

I looked from him, his blue eyes bright and earnest and full of emotion that I couldn't even begin to decode, and down at the phone. Such a little thing. For me, it was too much, and not just the cost. What he was offering me, it was just too much. But like that spare house key, I found myself reaching towards it, wanting it despite my better judgment. A link to Heero... another connection. I wanted that very badly. I wanted to be able to have something to look at and remember that I wasn't alone, that someone cared. Comparing that to my concerns about costs and getting gifts from someone that I was only just starting to get to know made me seem petty.

He reached over and closed my hand around the phone. For the very first time, with his hand wrapped around mine, I noticed just how pale and thin my wrist and fingers were compared to his.

"Look," he said in this soothing tone, "just take it. If it really bothers you, consider it a Christmas present."

That was right, it was near Christmas, wasn't it? That sort of thing had completely skipped my mind. I hadn't needed to think about buying or making anyone a present since Quatre had died.

"I can't get you anything..." I murmured in protest.

"You don't need to buy me anything," he smiled warmly at me, "I didn't buy you this just so you would give me something in return. But if you really want to, I'm sure you can think of something. Teach me some more ice skating moves or something, it doesn't have to be some flashy, expensive thing. I like just being able to spend time with you. Oh, that reminds me, I have one more thing."

He fished around in his pocket and brought out two little animal figures, attached to black cords. One was a dog that looked remarkably like Kanuck and, to my surprise, the cat looked an awful like Pepper.

"They're cell phone charms," he explained with this bright, excited smile, "The place that I bought the phone from said I could pick out one for free. I saw the cat and well, it looks a lot like your kitten, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I said, still a bit amazed at the sheer coincidence of that, a set of charms that looked just like our respective pets.

I reached out and plucked the dog from his hand and tied it to my new cell phone.

"I thought you would want the cat?" Heero asked in confusion.

"The way I see it," I said very shyly, keeping my eyes fixed on the charm so I wouldn't have to see his expression, "you bought this for me to remember you by, right? Besides, I have your dog to thank for a lot of those times we met on the beach. Hell, the first time we properly met, your dog was the one who introduced himself to me first."

I dared a glance at him and found him blushing.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Heero pulled the same move that I had, looking down at the cat charm, "A few of those times, I wasn't really walking my dog or even looking for a place to hang out. After awhile... well... I went to the beach hoping that I would run into you."

My heart did this weird, fluttering thing at his confession, like it might stop beating at any second. I watched with a great deal of satisfaction as he tied the cat to his own cell phone.

"Um, do I need to take this to a phone store to get it activated or something?" I asked him, finally accepting that the damned thing was actually going to become a fixture in my life.

"No, I took care of that," he informed me, "The phone number is in the box on a piece of paper. You're on our family plan, so don't worry about having to pay for anything."

"Heero!" I couldn't help but get flustered at that, "Do your parents know that? I can't make them pay-"

"It was their idea," he interrupted, "When I told my dad that I was thinking of getting you a phone so you could reach me more easily, he mentioned it. It's not much of an additional cost for them and they don't mind. Don't worry about it."

I sighed heavily. I had the distinct feeling that if I kept trying to protest against this, I was only going to lose.

"There's nothing I can say to convince you that you're doing too much for me, is there?" I muttered in resignation.

"Nope," Heero replied cheekily, "So deal with it."

"Fine," I sighed even more heavily, "But saying that I owe you one is an understatement at this point."

I tucked the phone in my pocket and the box into my book bag, then, feeling incredibly bold, hugged Heero briefly.

"Thank you, for everything," I said sincerely.

His face was beet red when I let go of him.

"I told you, it's no problem. But I expect you to use that!" he mock scolded.

"Yes, sir," I grinned and despite all my hesitance in finding myself a new cell phone owner, I vowed that I would.
*****
I didn't actually touch my new cell phone all night. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I had a cell phone, something that I had always scoffed at and believed was pointless for me to have. Hell, it was mind boggling that I had someone to freaking call. Everything that had happened so far that day seemed to surreal to me. I just had to keep telling myself that something like that wasn't the big deal to Heero that it was to me, that he didn't need to scrimp and save for weeks to afford something like that. That didn't make the gesture any less for me, that he would want to spend his allowance on me, but it helped to lessen my guilt.

I kept the phone in my pocket while I was at work. We weren't allow phones while we were on the clock anyway, but I was too paranoid about it getting stolen to put it in my locker. I would have to guard it when I was at home, too. My father could never know that I had it. He wouldn't just destroy it out of pettiness, he hated the things. Just knowing that I had one would piss him off. When I took my lunch break, I took it out of my pocket finally and studied it, but I didn't try to use it. I had never used one before and I didn't want to break it, so I didn't want to even turn it on before I read the manual. I just examined it, seeing where all the buttons were on the outside of it. When I looked at the little husky hanging from it's cord, I felt this stupid sappiness fill me.

I felt exhausted as I walked home, despite the lengthy sleep I had had that morning. I felt like my day had been going on forever, between my parents' fight, the day that I had had with Heero, and work. What made me feel even more tired was knowing that I wasn't even remotely done with it. I was probably walking home to a trap and tried not to think about just how pissed my father was going to be when I got home. He had wanted me to unclog the kitchen drain, take out the trash, mow the lawn, wash his car, and clean the bathroom that morning and I hadn't done any of that. I could take care of the sink, trash, and bathroom before I went to bed, but the rest was going to have to wait until the sun came up. But I was going to make damned sure that I had everything done before I started my construction shift so I could head to Heero's right after.

To my utter relief, when I got home, my father was nowhere to be seen and my mother was asleep in their bed. At that hour, it could only mean one thing: he had gone off drinking with Pat and probably wouldn't be home until sometime late Sunday. That meant that I could go right to bed and just get up early in the morning to do my chores. He would never know the difference. It also meant that I could go to sleep and not have to worry about him being there.

The second I got upstairs to my bedroom, I stripped into my pajamas and pretty much fell onto my mattress. I wasn't prepared at all for this feeling of... dissatisfaction to fill me. Normally, I would be overjoyed that my father wasn't home and could enjoy just lying in the peace and quiet of my room. But that night, I felt... I don't know. Uncomfortable, I guess. Unsettled. It was like changing your pillows or waking up and finding your sheets twisted up. I had this sense that something wasn't right, something was off.

It took me several minutes to really figure out what it was. I didn't want my bed or my bedroom. I, whether it was my body's sense of comfort or just some kind of emotional attachment, wanted the couch that I had fallen asleep on that morning. It wanted a quiet living room with sun filtering in through a sun window. I wanted a light floral smell and a sense of familiarity and peace, not my dusty, attic room and my flat, old mattress. The room that I had slept in for almost seventeen years wasn't comforting to me anymore. The only thing that was, was the feeling of my kitten's warmth as she trotted out from her hole to lay on my pillow next to me. Everything else... well, it wasn't alien, but it wasn't right, either.

How could it be possible that the place that I had felt was alien to me had become my sanctuary, the place that I longed for instead of the place that had been my home my entire life? Had I really become used to that couch and that house so quickly? I didn't know, but just laying down in my bed made me feel restless, like I couldn't get comfortable. I had the sinking, terrible suspicion that it was going to be another night with no sleep for me.

A sudden, high pitched, chiming sound startled me. It was a completely different sound from my alarm clock and for a moment, I was baffled trying to figure out what it was until I realized that it was coming from where I had tossed my jeans. I reached out my hand and groped blindly for them in the dark of my room, fishing my cell phone out of the pocket when I found them. Sure enough, the display on the outside of the phone informed me that I had gotten two new text messages. I had had no idea that the phone had even been on and charged.

I flipped the phone open, expecting to find a text from Heero or an impersonal message from whatever carrier his parents used, but when I opened each message, which was actually pretty easy to figure out how, to my surprise, they were both from Heero's parents.

'Welcome home, Duo,' read the first, 'I hope you're enjoying your new phone and not staying up too late. Don't hesitate to call us if you need to. Put this number into your phone contacts so you can get a hold of me more easily. Heero's mother is going to text you hers as well. Have a nice night.'

I felt tears sting my eyes at Heero's father's message, but it was the text from his mother that finished the job, making them fall down my face.

'Duo, this is Mrs. Yuy. Don't forget to put my number into your new phone. If there's anything you would like for me to make for you tomorrow night, please don't hesitate to text or call me! Dinner will be ready when you get here. Good night, sweetie, pleasant dreams <3'

They had stayed up so late, just to make sure that I had their phone numbers... just to make sure that I could contact them if I ever needed to. I clutched the phone to my chest desperately as I cried into my pillow. It felt warm. 'Welcome home,' and 'good night'... I could almost feel Mr. Yuy ruffling my hair and pulling my covers over me, like he had before. Those messages... it was like... it was like I had a real family.
*****
For once, my little crying fit didn't last for long and I chalked it up to just melancholy, or my being tired. I remembered when I vowed to never cry again after Quatre. After everything that's happened since then, that promise seems so laughable. I would love to be able to never cry over this shit, to never have things, both the things that make me feel awful and the things that make me feel wonderful like those text messages, bow me over. But I have no control over it. My emotions seem to be getting more volatile as I get older instead of less.

My prediction of my ability to sleep that morning came true. I laid on my mattress for a couple of hours, sometimes staring at the ceiling and loathing myself for being unable to drift off into even a nap, and sometimes staring at my phone, thinking about how I had come to have it, all these new changes in my life and how, even though they were undeniably for the better, they were just as violent and overwhelming as the bad changes.

I don't know if I can say that they're anymore welcome. I've lived a certain way for so long, I got used to things. It's been more than three years since Quatre passed. Almost four, really. In a way, I've gotten used to being alone. Trowa was a nice reprieve from that, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, compared to what I have with Heero, after all this time, I can finally see how lacking my relationship with him had been. I had done more than one thing that I now regret to keep him in my life out of loneliness, but now I have to ask myself, what exactly was Trowa doing for me? Keeping my feelings of isolation at bay, kissing me, just being with me?

But now, when I think about him, what comes to mind aren't those things. What immediately pops into my head are all the times that we fought, all the times that he made me feel like shit, trying to force me to do things that I didn't want to do. Making me have sex with him and when I didn't want to do that again, trying to rape me... Knowing now what's that like, to be raped by someone that you knew, someone you had once cared for, a part of me hates him. He never managed to do that, and I know it's just my father's abuse that has those feelings all twisted up, but I can't untangle them.

More than my sexual issues with my ex-boyfriend, I realize that Trowa wasn't just bad for me romantically, he was a pretty shitty friend. I had called him that because I hadn't had anyone else, but compared to Heero and Quatre, it's hard to even put him in that same category anymore. I had always been waiting on him, for his phone call, for his scraps of attention. All the times that we had gone out together, it had been on his terms.

We had never talked about anything serious. When he had known that I was sad, that something was upsetting me, he had just moved on and ignored it. At the time, I had thought that that was what I had needed, to ignore my problems, to have someone who could help me do that. I had forgotten what it felt like to have a friend, a real friend, to talk to me and try to make my feel better. I forgot what it felt like to feel sad and have someone who cared about me ask me what was wrong and hug me or talk me through those bad feelings.

I had become accustomed to loneliness. That sounds terrible, but it's just a fact. Even when Quatre had been alive, I had gotten used to being dependent only on myself. Do you know how hard it is to have someone in my life all of a sudden that I can rely on? And not just one person, but three? Three whole people who, not only told me that I was welcome in their lives and to go to them if I needed help, kept giving me things? Kept... kept trying to take care of me? For most people, that would be a wonderful thing, and it is, but it's also weird and strange and not something that I can wrap my head around. How do you get used to something like that, to suddenly having a safety net when you've been in free fall for most of your life?

Those thoughts weighed me down and made it completely impossible for me to sleep. I gave up the ghost around four in the morning and decided that, if I was going to be miserable, I might as well get things done at the same time. I got up and went to work on my chores, cleaning the bathroom first and then making my way to the kitchen. By the time the sun started to rise at six, I had gotten all of the chores done inside of the house and made my way outside. Pat and my father had obviously either walked to whatever bar or bars they had hit last night, or taken Pat's car because my father's was still in the drive way.

I washed the car and quickly mowed the lawn with our little, hand mower. It didn't take a whole lot of time considering that we didn't have much of a lawn to mow. I couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of upkeep the Yuys had to do on their property, unless they hired someone for that. I was immensely relieved when I finished everything. Now, if my father threw a fit when I came home late that night, it wouldn't be because I disobeyed him. It's the little things that matter, right?

I ate a small breakfast, not really feeling like eating anything. I had that feeling you get when you know that all your body wants is to be horizontal, but I knew that even as tired as I was, it wouldn't really matter. I was thankful that I had a shift at my construction job that day instead of the factory work. The repetitive motion of unloading cargo would have made me feel even worse, but that day we were fixing someone's roof after it had started to leak from the most recent snow fall. It turned out that they actually had a large patch of rotten wood, which wasn't surprising given that it was an older home. Tearing out the rotten materials was exactly what I needed to feel more awake.

It decided to snow as I got on the bus after work and I couldn't help but swear under my breath. It hadn't even been that cold this morning, but the temperature had steadily dropped during the day. If I had known that it was going to snow, I wouldn't have bothered with mowing the lawn and washing the car, but at least I had gotten them done before it had gotten too cold. The wind picked up by the time I got to the north end of town and I huddled into my jacket, wishing that I had thought to bring my scarf. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, though. It was old and tattered, one of the many things that I needed to replace eventually.

Heero was waiting for me on their porch, wearing his own winter jacket.

"You're covered," he remarked with a small laugh, dusting the snow off my jacket as I tackled the small pile on my head.

"Yeah, it really started coming down when I got off the bus," I complained.

The snow fall was still nothing compared to some of the snow storms we got, but the flakes were thick and coming down fast. The fall would end up being short lived and done with in a few hours, thankfully. When we got all of the snow off of me, we went in. The heat in the house hit me in a pleasant wave. After walking outside in the 28 degree wind chill, I could have curled up right there in the foyer and been quite happy.

"You look awful," my friend suddenly observed as I took my shoes and jackets off, "You didn't get a lot of sleep last night again, didn't you?"

It wasn't really much of a question, I was sure that the lines under my eyes and my tired expression told him everything he needed to know.

"I actually didn't get any sleep," I confessed with a shrug, not seeing the point in lying about it.

"Your parents fighting again?" he guessed.

"No. My father wasn't home last night. I just couldn't get to sleep. I have some sort of insomnia. It happens to me every once in awhile," I told him.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he frowned in concern, "if this is a reoccurring thing."

"No need," I brushed him off, "They'll just prescribe me with sleeping pills that I really don't want to take or give me useless advice like to drink tea before bed. It's been going on for years, it won't kill me."

Heero shot me a dubious look like he thought that I was full of shit, but he let it drop. His parents commented on my tiredness, too, but I managed to deflect their concerns in the same manor. We ate a hearty meal of steak, home made cole slaw, and green beans, with cup cakes for dessert. Mrs. Yuy just laughed in a conspiring way when I accused her of trying to make me fat. Heero and I spent the rest of the night together watching movies and finishing our respective homework. Monday would start our last week of school before winter break would start, which was a grand total of two weeks.

I look to the rest of the month with equal parts elation and terror. Cons: more time with my father, more spare time in general, the weather, more chores, Christmas, and oh yeah, my math final, which is the kind of stress that I really don't need at this point in my life. Pros: more time with Heero, Christmas, less time worrying about Relena and Zechs, and no more stress about homework until next semester. I don't know where I lean on the subject, but I have to admit that the prospect of being able to hang out at Heero's house without having to worry about school was a plus.

Walking home with Heero and Kanuck is quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world. I can't even really describe it, there's just this feeling of... joy and contentment walking the streets with him and these moments where he says good night to me, like he really means it. That happiness is always cut short when I walk into my house, but that doesn't mean that I don't treasure it. I was incredibly tired when I came home last night, even though it was only 10:30, so I was very glad when my father didn't so much as give me an ugly look when I walked through the kitchen as he drank a cup of coffee, looking like miles of bad road. He didn't look drunk, but in the after effects of a rough weekend, nursing what I assumed was a particularly bad hangover. I crept past him silently, not even turning the light on at the steps in case he could see it. I would not give him a reason to fly into a rage, even over a headache.

Even so, I wasn't surprised at all when he crawled into my bed a couple of hours later while I struggled to sleep. It had been a couple of days, after all and while he had gone longer between these fucked up 'visits' to my bedroom, never on a weekend and never after going on a bender with his pals. Just like always after spending some quality time with Pat, my father was rough, but not like he had been the other day when he had scratched me, he just seemed frustrated and pissy. I just laid there and took it, careful not to make him angry or give any kind of emotional indication that what he was doing bothered me.

When he finally left me, feeling used and worn and like I either wanted to start crying or punching something, I laid there for a little while, so tired that I actually debated with myself about whether or not I was going to clean up after his mess, but the thought of having that nastiness in me disgusted me, so I got up and cleaned it all up with a towel that I threw angrily into my hamper. I missed Heero's home. I didn't want to fucking be here. I didn't want my parents. I didn't want my whole goddamned life.

I threw myself down onto my mattress and clutched my pillow to my chest, burying my head into it, but it just reminded me of how nice it had been to lay down on Heero's bed, the smell of him on his pillows and how it had felt when his father had ruffled my hair. I wanted to cry, to find a way to let out all my anger and melancholy, but I didn't have the strength anymore. I was too worn to do anything but lay there in the dark and close my eyes, hoping that sleep would take me as soon as possible so I didn't have to be there.

I actually started to drift off into some semblance of sleep, restlessly but still better than what had happened the previous morning, when I heard my bedroom door open. Immediately, and painfully, I was wide awake again, my heart pounding with fear adrenaline as I realized that he was coming back. I, oddly, hadn't heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, but I knew that it was him, it had to be, there was no one else. I hadn't actually fallen fully asleep yet, so I knew that it had only been maybe ten minutes. Had he come back to fuck me again or was he going to hit me or do some other terrible thing to me? I felt someone kneeling on my mattress behind me and tensed to the point that I thought I was going to snap a muscle, I was strung so tightly.

"Duo?" my mother's voice was the very last thing that I had expected to hear.

At first, I hadn't even thought it was her. Her voice sounded wrong. It took me a few moments to realize why her voice sounded so off. She sounded worried, frantic, and desperate all at once. I had never heard her sound like that for my entire life. Hell, I can't even remember the last time she had come into my bedroom. Why the fuck was she there now? What did she want? To gloat? She had to know what had just happened, what her husband had just done. At the very least, she had to smell it, I knew that I could. Did she want to rub it in my face, tell me that I had gotten what I deserved?

"Oh god, Duo," her voice, usually so full of bitterness and contempt when she addressed me, was full of anguish.

When she touched me lightly on the shoulder, I flinched harshly from her, not wanting anyone to touch me, not that soon after... 'Go away', I wanted to scream at her, 'just go the fuck away and leave me alone.' But she didn't go away and my lack of responsiveness didn't seem to deter her at all. I felt her lie down behind me and wrap her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Like a wild animal, my initial instinct was to try to break free, but I was too shocked by her actions to do anything at all. She hadn't hugged me since I had been a toddler, and I'm not even sure if those memories are real. I couldn't even claim that she was drunk and doing things that she wasn't aware of because she absolutely did not act like this when she was intoxicated and I didn't smell even a drop of alcohol on her. To my ever continuing shock, she began to sob into my shoulder, her tears quickly soaking into my shirt.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I'm so sorry... I couldn't do anything.... I couldn't protect you... please, please forgive me... I'm too weak, I can't do a thing... I'm sorry..."

Her rant devolved into this jumble of nonsense words that I couldn't hear above her sobs. A storm of emotions assaulted me. Anger for what she was saying, as well as a great deal of bitterness. Was this all just because of her guilt? Because she knew that she should do something about her husband raping me, but didn't care to, so this was all she could do to feel better? Did she really think that I could forgive her for that, or were her words actually honest and heartfelt? Did she really loath herself for not being able to protect me?

I hated her for this, for having her arms around me and begging for some kind of absolution, absolution that I sure as hell had never been given by her. I hated her for disturbing me, for making my heart weak. Because as much as I loathed her and wanted her to leave me alone, some part of me ached as I felt her wrap herself around me. Some weak, vulnerable part of me that was still very much a child wanted to sink into her embrace, that part of a person that can feel comforted just from a single touch from their mother. That part of me, although it could not concretely remember that touch, knew it was her and wanted to seek out that affection.

But I didn't want it. I couldn't. How could I? After all this time... I was trying so hard to bury all this pain inside of myself, to move on and separate the rest of my life, my life at school, my life at work, my life with Heero, from the horrors that visited me when I was in my room at night. And now, my mother was trying to take that from me. I didn't want that from her. But I did. Oh, god, I wanted so badly to pretend that everything in the last sixteen years had never happened. I wanted to pretend that this woman, my mother, was what I had always wanted. But she wasn't. She could say that she was sorry and beg for forgiveness, but I had to remind myself that this was the same woman that hated me, the same person that had told me that she had never wanted me, that I had destroyed her life.

Anything she felt now, in the small hours of the morning, would fade like so much mist in the light of day. Maybe she could handle that, live with that, but I couldn't. I couldn't let her in, even for a second, or it would kill me when she ripped it back out of me. I could have yelled all those things at her, I wanted to, but I just closed my eyes. Her arms around me were comforting at the same time that they were damning and suddenly, I found it too tiring just to stay awake. I thought that I could hear her heartbeat, frantic but strong, and it was that sound that quickly lulled me into a deep sleep.
*****
When I woke up this morning, I decided that it had just been a dream. A very weird dream. I had slept for a long time, for me, and I just chalked it all up to a long sleep after a bout of insomnia. It didn't matter if the spot next to me on the mattress was warm and still smelled like her, that was obviously just my imagination. It was just a stupid dream, created from my loneliness and my yearning to have the kind of relationship with my mother that Heero had with his. That was all. I got up, got dressed, and rooted around in my hiding spot in the floor for my secret stash of money.

There wasn't a whole lot in there. I was still pitching in for bills where I could, minus the money I had spent on getting some winter clothes and appropriate work clothes for my new job, minus having to buy some new textbooks after Relena had trashed a couple of mine again. But I still had a small, tidy sum left. I plucked a twenty out of the box I kept my money in and put it in my pocket. Pepper was getting low on food and I couldn't put off buying it anymore. I didn't have time to do any chores for Mrs. Liddle to exchange for more food, so I would just have to stop off at the pet store on my way to school. As much as I would love to do it after school, the threat that Zechs would steal my money was too great.

I filled Pepper's bowl with the rest of the food that I had left and went downstairs, planning to just eat some toast on the go so I could get to the pet store in time. To my shock, when I walked into the kitchen, my mother was there. It was only six thirty in the morning, there was no reason at all for her to be up, unless she was making herself breakfast. But I quickly noticed that she was cutting up a banana to put into a sandwich. She hated bananas.

"What are you doing?" I heard myself demand with an oddly defensive tone.

She whirled, obviously startled and as quickly as she glanced at me, she glanced away again, looking incredibly nervous and unsure of herself, like she was trying to complete some alien ritual.

"I... I thought that I would make you some lunch today," she said with this shyness that was completely out of character for her, "... since I got up early this morning..."

And just like that, all of the rage and bitterness and hatred that I had felt for her last night came flooding back to me, destroying my carefully constructed defenses and the delusion of a dream that I had wrapped around myself like a shield.

"Who the fuck asked you to do that?!" I yelled at her, making her flinch, "You can't just pretend to be my mother after sixteen fucking years of acting like I don't exist and treating me like crap! I don't want your guilt or your affection or your making sacrifices for me when I know goddamned well that you hate me! You're just doing all of this to make yourself feel better, not because you give a shit about me!"

She looked so small as she backed up against the counter, shrinking away from me and looking so pale, her light grey eyes wide. But what angered me even more was seeing, not fear in her eyes, but guilt and hurt at my words. I fished out the twenty dollar bill from my pocket and slammed it down on the kitchen table.

"Do yourself a favor and go out and buy something to drink," I snarled, "and stop kidding yourself into thinking that anything you're doing right now is for my sake. We both know what you really love, and it isn't me!"

I stormed out of the house, not wanting to hear if she had any response to that. I slammed the door behind me as hard as I could, vindictively hoping that I woke up my father with all the noise. I made it an entire two blocks away from the house before I realized that I was crying.
　

End Part 6
Author's Note: Still plugging along with this chapter, which probably isn't even halfway done *sigh*.
Thanks again to everyone who has read, especially to those that have reviewed and favorited or followed. As always, while I'll keep writing no matter how many reviews I get, they do give me the self confidence and inspiration to keep going at this rate ^_^
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A Stagnation of Love (rewrite)