I don't want to close my eyes.

His presence warms me, his even breathing soothes my mind. Outside, silence reigns, even though I hear one or two radios telling the people of our recent mission.

I don't want to sleep.

My body is tired...so tired of the day's events, yet I fight it off. Moments...moments like these are very rare.

It has been the same during every mission. We would meet, if we have to, with our other colleagues, although sometimes it is only he and I. We would challenge our enemies, an organization called OZ We would fight and nearly always get killed.

Yet as the day discloses, we would break apart, each man going his own way.

But he and I would silently stay at one place. At night, he would slip next to me, and I would let him lie in my arms. We would explore each other, always in mind that it is always the first time...the only time...the last time.

I would fight fatigue...just to watch him, just to make sure. I would begin to wish I said something earlier to him, to make him understand. But when I start, it would be captured in my throat.

I don't want to close my eyes.

If I do, the dawn will come faster, the morning breaking sooner.

And I would awaken in bed, sheets tangled in my body, naked...al alone.

The birds would sing of their early glory.

And I would bury my face in my hands to cry.

~ * ~

Perhaps it is loneliness that drives us. We are too desperate. Like two rocks frantically clinging to a thin thread, very careful as to not fall to that endless void called Reality.

Maybe it is because we balance each other. He, the silent one; I, the talkative one. Or maybe because we complement each other too much. Basically, we are the same. So distant and grown cold of the deaths and killing we have done in the past.

But one person falling apart cannot save another just like him.

I begin to see him in a new light, a stronger rope I can cling to. I begin to look forward to missions, hoping he would be there. Never mind the constant deaths, nor the dull ache of my heart after he leaves.

Those nights would be enough to bind me together until the next time.

~ * ~

My fingers fall fleetingly on his flat stomach, quietly listening to his even breathing. His eyes are close; he is asleep. The only regret I have in his unconscious state is that I cannot see the beauty of his blue eyes. And even in that splendor, I still find them cold.

Quietly, I lie on his bare chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

I know, I know why now. I know why that girl keeps on following him, even when I realize he doesn't want to. I know, because I feel it, too.

Silently, I look up again and place a kiss on his jawline. Steady breathing, quiet breathing.

"I love you, Heero," I tell him solemnly.

And I sleep once more, praying to God that, for once, he will still be there when I wake.

~ * ~

But when I fling my arm carelessly and almost fall out of bed the next morning, I realize that it is futile to keep on hoping. Another wave of loneliness washes over me and I shudder involuntarily. Hunching up and rubbing my bare shoulders, I look around.

On the bed, there is a note.

I am afraid of what it will stay. I am afraid to read.

Don't.

One word, enough to drive me to the edge. Enough to make me realize the he knows.

~ * ~

This morning is no different from the others.

The birds are still singing outside the window. The bed is still unmade and dirty. The children outside are still shouting as they play. My body is still unclothed. My hair is still messy and tangled.

And I...I still sit on the disorderly bed, my face still buried in my hands to cry.