What Words Could Never Say
Part Three
By: Kitty E.
Heero's eyes snapped open at the demand of a shrill electronic cry.
Before he had even started to blink, his hand shot forward to slam
down on the alarm clock beside his bed with somewhat excessive force.
He hated that alarm clock, each morning it woke him with what had to
be the most obnoxious noise in creation, but he hated the fact he
needed it even more. At one time he would have risen naturally at
five or six a.m., but he hadn't been sleeping well at all recently,
not since he left Quatre. The name came unbidden as always, no matter
what he had fallen asleep thinking about, no matter what it was he
dreamt, Quatre's name and image returned to him the next day and
taunted him with their absence. He stared blankly at the ceiling,
going through a long list of well rehearsed justifications as to why
he had to go to classes today and not to L4. He was getting good at
convincing himself, and he wondered if soon it might actually stop
hurting to wake up alone.
He went through his morning routine in a suffocating silence, the
only sounds that of inanimate objects, the sink, the shower, the
bristles of his toothbrush, and the rustle of his clothes. No human
voice bid him good morning, no one marked his passing as he stepped
out of the dorm and into the courtyard. He hefted his satchel onto
his shoulder, and began walking to the science wing for his physics
class. A storm front had moved in during the night, he had sensed the
change in temperature and humidity the moment he left the building. A
hard gust of wind blew leaves against his shoes, and dust into his
eyes, forcing him to stop briefly. Black, heavy clouds were appearing
from behind the old brick school, slowly pushing out the sun, and
blue sky.
"Heero."
He stopped almost in mid-step, a familiar voice calling his name,
but then so many people said his name like that. He didn't dare turn
around, For once, please God, let it be Relena.
"Dammit, Heero, turn around. I deserve an answer." It was Quatre,
his soft voice with an angry edge he'd never heard before, the voice
of the betrayed.
In one fluid motion he spun about, Quatre was standing at the end of
the side walk, four feet away, hands clenched into tight fists. His
turquoise eyes were upon him, staring into him, and already shining
with unshed tears. "Heero, how could you�" he began, but stopped,
swallowing hard. "How could you just *leave* like that? No good-bye,
just an empty bed and a note." He paused again, suppressing words of
hurt, and anger in exchange for a sensible question, the only one he
really wanted answered. "Why did you do it?"
"If I had wanted you to know, I would have told you," Heero replied
evenly. He couldn't believe he was actually choosing to hurt Quatre,
but it was necessary cruelty, there was no other way. He had known
Quatre would look for him, too much had happened between them to end
it with a note, but he had needed time to prepare for this. Time to
cut the ties between them, to kill off the private dreams they
shared.
Quatre bit his lip, still smarting from Heero's cold rebuttal. "How
can you�" he trailed off as another student moved passed him, trying
to look as though he wasn't interested but showing clear
disappointment when Quatre failed to continue. "Is there some place
we can talk?" he asked when the other student was out of earshot.
"There's nothing left to say," Heero said firmly, desperate to
leave. He felt almost sick, stomach churning in nervousness, and
tension, chest and throat constricting until it became hard to
breathe. Nothing he thought or did eased the pain, and there was no
way to ignore it. "Nothing lasts forever."
Quatre's brow furrowed with remembered bitterness, recalling similar
words from a heartless note. "You keep saying that, but you won't
tell me why! The only reason it ended so quickly was because you were
so damn eager to kill it off! You didn't even give us a chance!"
Heero reeled slightly under the full flood of Quatre's emotions,
fighting the involuntary urge to do whatever it took to see Quatre
smile. He still can't see, I'm not talking about now, it's later.
Damn it, one of has to be realistic. "Quatre, do you know what it's
like to not have a home?" Heero asked.
Quatre met his gaze again, eyes filled with a kind of reserved
compassion as he slowly shook his head. "No, I guess I don't."
Heero's frown was pulled a little tighter when he realized Quatre
didn't want to understand, didn't want to believe there was a reason
they couldn't be together. "I do," he said, bitterly. "I've never had
one, ever. You offered me one, and I wanted to take it, badly, but
what happens when you and I can't share it anymore?"
Quatre's mouth opened, but he could think of nothing to say. In one
moment, he at last understood why he'd spent four months in
confusion, and anguish, why he'd been treated as though he were
nothing of consequence, why Heero had betrayed him. Heero had left
before he could be abandoned again, left him before the likelihood of
a break up could be realized. He had no answer, no guarantees, only
naive promises of an undying love he couldn't even bring himself to
say against such an argument.
There was a lengthy silence in which nothing but the wind spoke,
tearing through the trees, and ruffling their hair. Quatre sighed
heavily, and tried to salvage the scraps of his hope. Looking Heero
in the eye, he tried to say. "It doesn't have to be th-"
"It does," Heero insisted, cutting him off. "And that's only one
reason why. Quatre, it's not that I want this, it's only ... there's no
other way that I can be. You should find someone else."
"I don't want anybody else," Quatre said quietly. The anger, and
feelings of betrayal he had come with were lost in the gravity of the
moment. He could feel Heero pulling further and further away with
each passing moment, but he was helpless to reach out and catch him.
Nothing he could do or say could recapture him, and he was fast
beginning to realize that.
"Trowa," Heero suggested. Quatre felt something for the other pilot,
however basic or reserved, it was there. He had always known it,
though Quatre himself seemed unaware.
"What does Trowa have to do with any of this?" He was confused, this
was more like a bad dream than real life. His own emotions were
ripping him apart, and yet Heero seemed unaffected, calmly talking of
the end.
"He needs you �" Heero began to turn as the clouds opened up, and a
heavy rain began to fall. "I don't need anybody."
"That's not what you said!" Quatre's desperate statement made him
pause. He looked back to where Quatre stood unmoving in the rain. His
voice was shaking as he asked, "You lied?"
Heero's mouth opened, one word would end it all, but it would be a
lie. It had taken so much to say it, could he take it back? "It
doesn't matter, it's already over." He couldn't lie, but he could
reveal a brutal truth which worked just as well. The moment he said
the words he could tell they had gone straight to the bone.
Quatre's hands went limp, falling free from their tight fists, and
something slipped through his fingers, landing in the puddle beside
his feet. "Fine!" Quatre shouted back at him, voice echoing against
the brick walls of the now empty courtyard. "Fine!" he said the word
viscously as he kicked the object by his feet away. "That doesn't
mean anything, we never meant anything, it never existed. If that's
what you want, fine, I'm sorry I ever thought you loved me." He
turned on his heel, and began to walk away, taking only a few steps
before breaking into a run.
Heero watched him leave, his entire body trembling now that there
was no one to fool but himself. His eyes fell to the sidewalk when
Quatre cast one backward glance before slamming the car door, and saw
the small black box Quatre had left behind. He stooped to pick it up,
recognizing it as a jewelry case, the kind used to hold a ring. He
held it in his hands for a long time, contemplating whether he should
open it, or launch it as far away from him as possible. The rain had
already penetrated his jacket, and was soaking through the thin,
white dress shirt he wore beneath quickly as he slowly opened it.
Quatre had come for more than an answer, the thin gold band within
proved that(1). Despite four months of desertion, and being several
worlds apart, Quatre had still meant to take him back. Now it's
over, Heero thought. Quatre's offer of love, of a home, of
everything he ever wanted, except permanence was retracted.
Involuntarily, his hands squeezed about the small box, snapping the
cardboard, and tearing the velvet. The ring fell free, rolling away
into the grass. He thought about moving to retrieve it, but instead
he stood, leaving the ring, and all it meant to both of them behind.
He came into Physics-310 soaking wet, and twelve minutes late, but
to the entire class there was nothing else wrong. Heero Yuy didn't
cry over broken hearts, and especially not over his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quatre stared blankly out the window of his car, breathing heavily
and trying to avoid the thoughts that would make him cry. It seemed
unavoidable now, but he wanted to wait until he was alone to let go.
He was still one chauffeur, and a hotel lobby away from solitude, and
so he wrapped himself tighter in the coat he'd thankfully left in the
car, and tried to fall away from himself.
He didn't think anything could hurt like that, not his father's
death, not Trowa's disappearance. Nothing could compare to the kind
of torture of having Heero dismiss the feelings which had meant
everything to him. He felt stupid, he had thought Heero had left
because of the demons in his past, thought that showing how badly
he'd been hurt would remind Heero of the feelings they had both
admitted. In his arrogance, he'd never suspected Heero would have a
reason, to leave him, let alone several.
He realized he'd been holding his breath, and let it out in a slow,
shuddering sob. So where does it go now? All this love I have for
him? Does it die, or fade? Will it always be with me? He closed his
eyes tightly, And you still didn't say good-bye.
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(1) - No, not a wedding band, Quatre's not that crazy. Had they
gotten back together it would have been a symbol of a promise.
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