Jealousy by Agent Midnight
Standard disclaimers apply

Heero POV

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That obnoxious yankee is staring at me again.

He shouldn't be concentrating on me.

He should be concentrating on class.

If he asks me for my notes so he can copy them later, I am going to be royally pissed off at him. I turn my head very slowly to see if I can catch him in the act, and sure enough, his head quickly turns and his eyes zip to the chalkboard at the front of the classroom.

I can almost feel the growl of annoyance forming in my throat as I feel his eyes flick back towards me. Watching me. Like he always does. I sneer and turn my head, and this time he is obviously so distracted that he doesn't notice me shift my attention to him.

He looks startled, and slightly scared.

I'm glad.

He sighs quietly, studying my face, and willingly turns back to the front of the class. I watch him until he takes out his notebook and begins writing. From my position, I can't be too sure that he isn't just drawing and wasting paper, and I'm a little anoyed to say that I wouldn't be surprised at all if I looked into his notebook later and saw stick figures and clouds.

Damn yankee.

I turn back to the front of the class and notice that the teacher has carelessly moved on with the notes, erasing the one's on the board. I grimace and I realize that yet again that idiot made me miss class notes.

That bastard is always causing me trouble.

Half an hour passes, the bell rings and I stand up, knowing what will happen in a few seconds. An arm wraps around my shoulder and I level a glare at him; He smiles.

"Soo, now that class is over..what do you want to do?"

I wish he would go away, that's for damn sure. Sometimes I would seriously enjoy five minutes of peace without him yapping in my ear and telling me what had happened to him during his other classes. Granted, I don't tell him this...

I've seen him upset before; made me feel like I had kicked a little boy's puppy then told that same boy that Santa wasn't real and never had been.

When he's hurting, he throws on this real big-eyed, poutey-lip look that makes him appear younger than he is. The sad thing is..he isn't faking it. He truly gets upset when I won't pay attention to him.

Once I ignored him all day, and I came back to our dorm room and he was sniffling and whining on his bed. Made me feel like a real monster; I made the idiot cry. Making him cry is like making a woman cry. All I could do for him that night was tell him that I was sorry and I didn't mean to upset him. In actuality, I didn't mean to upset him. It just happened; it's my nature.

I stare at him now and see hope shining in those impossibly large eyes; he wants attention, and he wants it from me. A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it and I grab my things. He cheerfully follows me to the classroom's door, and I lead him down the hallway. We stop by my locker and I toss the books I don't need in there. I take my Biology textbook and my backpack, and I'm ready to go back to our room.

He chatters about everything that is present in his mind, and asks me questions that he knows I won't offer a reply to. He grins and continues, occasionally stopping to shout out to a friendly face in the hallway. I grumble as those friendly faces shout back, equal cheer in their own voices. I wonder how people can be so happy at times when I can't find a way to be happy at all.

People stare as we walk down the hall together; most of them gazing at me. I know what they're thinking, too: 'How can those two be considered friends? I don't see why anyone would want to be friends with someone so quiet as that boy. He just isn't nice at all. I tried talking to him once..he didn't even try to talk back. Duo sure is nice, though...He's probably being nice to that boy so he doesn't feel so lonely. Good for Duo, then. Helping people in need of friends.'

It's disgusting. My fellow classmates tease me a lot, most of the boys throwing off-hand comments at me about my being anti-social. Sometimes it's hard knowing Duo Maxwell. As a result of knowing him, I have to face the comparisons that people make between myself and Duo.

'Duo's nice...Heero's not.'

'Duo's sweet...Heero's not.'

'Duo's a great guy...Heero's not.'

'I sure wouldn't mind getting to know Duo.'

'Duo would make a great friend.'

'Duo would make a great boyfriend.'

'I don't see why Duo likes Heero at all.'

'Maybe I should ask Duo out.'

'Duo and I would make a great couple.'

'Duo sure is sexy.'

Duo this and Duo that...blah blah blah..

They are all liars. They've never tried to get along with me. It's always Duo. They've never tried to become my friend. They don't want me as a friend. They know how close Duo is to me, and they pretend. They pretend to be interested in knowing me at a fleeting chance that it will make Duo like them more. They all want it to seem like they are interested in what Duo is interested in. And, by golly, if Duo Maxwell is interested in me, then everyone else will try to see what Duo sees!

I roll my eyes at me own thoughts and glare at everyone who dares make eye contact with me. They look away quickly, and I can't help but feel briefly satisfied at their semi-frightened looks. Duo notices my antics and a peal of cheerful laughter fills the hallway. I grimace yet again and pull out my room key as we reach it.

I open the door and try to slam it on Duo, but he senses what I was wanting to do, and he puts his arms out and blocks the door from closing. He enters, a shy smile gracing his features now, his eyes sparkling. He closes the door and turns to face me.

At his slightly-sympathetic look, I know I must be sulking, but I can't make myself stop.

"Hey, ignore them." He says, softly.

I turn away from him and plop on my bed.

"I'm serious, man, they don't know what kind of person you are. They are jumping to conclusions." He smiles. "They don't see what I see."

I snort and pull a pillow over my head.

If the damn yankee would shut up for a few minutes, maybe I could stop this splitting headache before it gets too terribly bad. No luck there.

"Man, you gotta stop paying attention to our classmates. They're used to cheerfulness, and they can't adapt to the kind of personality change you bring into this joint. Plus, I like you the way you are...don't forget that."

I feel weight plop down next to me and he tugs at the pillow. I grasp it tighter, and he finally yanks it free and chunks it to the floor.

"You're throwing a temper tantrum."

Liar.

"You're acting like a kid, man."

Stupid lying yankee.

Doesn't now what he's talking about. If anyone acts like a child, it's him.

"Say something, please."

I shake my head at him.

"Please. Don't ignore me cause you hate this school."

I close my eyes and turn my head away from him.

"Babe, please." He whispers.

I sigh and open my eyes, staring at him like he was the devil himself coming to take away my soul. I sneer at his calm expression and try to roll out of the bed. He grabs me and holds me tight, eyes challenging me.

"What bothers you so much about what they say?"

He doesn't get it, does he?

"Please, I want to help you. You've never had this problem before."

I wonder how he would feel if I told him that I was jealous of his personality and care-free attitude. Would he be happy if I told him that I envied him? Would he lie to me and try to comfort me if I told him I wanted people to like me the way they like him? Would he laugh?

No.

He wouldn't.

I speak quietly to him, "They like you for who you are."

He blinks gently at me, urging me to go on.

I close my eyes again, dismissing him from the conversation, and I hear him sigh loudly.

"Dude, I give up..."

I open my eyes again, and see him smiling down at me.

He leans down and presses his lips gently to mine, and before I can respond, he pulls away. I snort.

"Babe, listen. You're taking this too seriously. If people can't like you for who you are, then you shouldn't associate with them in the first place. I like you for who you are...you like me for who I am. I'm the only friend you need."

I grumble under my breath, and he looks at me.

"What was that, lover?"

He knows how much I dislike that word, even though it is an accurate term. I glare at him and he laughs. I shove him off me and he falls gracefully to the bedding, braid snaking across my pillow.

I stand up and start for the bathroom.

His voice stops me.

"Heero, I love you, ya know..."

I nod at him slowly, and he grins. His laughter fills the room yet again.

He stops laughing as I respond to him.

"I love you, too, you damn yankee."

As I close the bathroom door, the action muffling his loud laughter, a smile creeps across my face as I realize my heart is racing with excitement.

That idiot is the only friend I need.

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The End

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