Special
Part 13
by 0083
- The Twelfth Encounter -
I never did believe the stupid premise that love made
everything all right. Why do I say this now? Perhaps
it is because my work is suffering just a bit due to
the suddenness and frequency in which Heero enters my
thoughts. It might be that I am turning my
self-admission of love over and over in my head,
trying to view it from every angle to see if I had it
right. It could even be that I cannot seem to think
of Heero without the accompanying head rush.
The kiss had done it. It had turned me from a well
functioning, exceptional specimen of the society to a
spacey, day dreaming idiot. At random times, the kiss
would come alive in my head again and I end up
relieving every single moment of it until I realize
where I am. Usually, I am alone in my office, buried
to my nose in papers and documents, but that one time,
when I actually blanked out during an opening argument
with a jury staring back at me expectantly, I knew I
had to fix my problem.
Is it me or did I develop massive amounts of problems
since I met Heero?
Friday, five days after the kiss, or rather, the
kisses, I sat at my home in my boxers and undershirt,
thinking about my newly developed problem. Love was
one thing, but it should not be interfering with my
work. Let’s face it, there are innumerable amount of
people in this world who are in love or in the process
of falling in love and I’m sure they do not make a
complete moron out of themselves at work.
What was so unique about my experience that I have
become the spacey ranger? My only excuse is that this
is the first time in my life that I could admit that I
might love someone. I am not quite at the ‘I am
absolutely, positively, fantastically in love’ stage
yet, but the rate it is going, I may get there before
I know it. What will I do when my feelings get deeper
and stronger? Fall into a coma?
First love. I finally found that elusive rite of
passage that everyone else seemed to have passed
earlier in their lives. I can finally understand why
Quatre had always been so damned giddy when he and
Trowa started being together. I can comprehend the
strange, dancing lights in Trowa’s eyes whenever he
happens to have Quatre in his field of vision. But
hell, neither of them act the fool like I am doing
right now.
So, whatever am I doing on a Friday night, at my home,
dressed in nothing but skivvies? I haven’t invited
Heero over to join me, I haven’t called my friends to
go out, and I haven’t made any plans for the evening.
I was entwined within my thoughts, trying to get my
brain back to normal before Monday so that I could
work without mental faltering.
Thankfully, my vicious circular thinking was
interrupted by my phone.
“Yeah?”
I know who it is on the other end, but I try to sound
uninterested. It is a game I have to keep myself on
edge, I think.
“Duo, what are you doing inside on a Friday night?”
“Good question.”
Honestly, I could not say ‘I’m at home, devising ways
to make my brain forget Heero while I am at work.’
That would sound as if I should become a friendly
member of the local mental asylum. Perhaps not so
extreme, but at least an out-patient.
“Are you coming out with us?”
I suppose I haven’t really talked or hung out with my
friends during the week. I had been overly immersed
with my and Heero’s newfound way of expressing our
relationship. The thing is, I had always berated
those who put their friends on the wayside for the
sake of a new relationship, always belittling their
attention span and devotion to their friends.
God forbid I turn into one of those.
“Sure, Quat. Name the place and I’ll be there in half
an hour.”
In actuality, it took me slightly longer than half an
hour to get to the bar of choice due to my
inattention. I failed to notice that I had walked out
into the parking garage where my car was without any
pants on until the breeze hit my bare legs. Now, how
did I not notice my lack of pants? I blame it on
Heero and his kisses.
The bar was fairly packed which was not surprising
since it was Friday, but it was not hard to pinpoint
my friends. They tend to stand out, being so very
attractive and all. Or maybe it was that Wufei was
standing on the table where everyone else was seated,
blaring out.. a song?
I quickly made my way over to my friends who had the
attention of almost every single person at the bar. I
could not believe my eyes for Wufei is a reserved man
in public most of the times. He didn’t even sing
karaoke on open mike nights.
“What the hell is this?”
That was all I could say as I watched Wufei belt out
yet another incomprehensible line of a song. It
seemed almost as if he did not know the words and was
just wading through it by mumbling.
“Oh, just an apology,” Quatre answered, his face a
delightful picture of repressed humor, “for telling
Meiran that she looked interesting in her skirt.”
“I take it then that interesting was not a good word?”
“Not at all,” Meiran fumed, “it practically implied
that I looked fat.”
Right. For the nth time in my life, I have to wonder
what it was about women and their perceived weight
problems. I am quite certain that when Wufei had said
interesting, he had most likely meant it in a
flattering way, but women have some strange organ in
their brain that translated most adjectives used to
describe them as ‘fat’. I hoped that Wufei would find
that organ and crush it beneath a large sledge hammer.
Soon enough, Wufei was done and he hopped down from
the table gracefully. He took a sit next to Meiran
who looked moderately flattered.
“Satisfied, woman?” Wufei seethed.
“Very.”
My curiosity was eating me alive at this point. I
just had to ask.
“So, you sang her an apology?”
Perhaps I sounded a bit too much like I was trying not
to laugh, but I could not help it.
“Yes,” Wufei said glaring at my general direction,
“because she said a mere apology wouldn’t cut it. So
I sang it. Now, drop it or I drop you.”
Well, was it me or was a certain someone a bit too
grumpy tonight? This is what I get for being late, I
miss all the fun and only catch the ire at the end.
“So,” Quatre said hastily, “have you and Heero gotten
anywhere yet?”
I take a moment of silence here to mourn Quatre for I
am about to strangle him.
“Yes,” Trowa said almost immediately, “you were having
a crisis.”
“A crisis,” Wufei jumped in, his eyes glinting with
vengeance, “in the Maxwell camp? My, whatever do you
mean?”
“Who’s Heero?” Leave it to Meiran to ask a question
that would lead to an extra long, convoluted history
of my current love life.
Hence, it was at this lovely gathering of friends that
I finally confessed to Wufei and Meiran just who I had
been dating for the last few weeks. First, I think I
may have given Wufei a brain aneurysm for he could not
fathom how I had ended up in a relationship with a
man. Second, after sufficient recovery time, Wufei
yelled at me rather indignantly for keeping such a
big, life changing event to myself. Third, I was
showered with congratulations for breaking the
physical barrier with Heero.
“So,” Quatre said lazily, “I suppose you don’t have
problems with Heero anymore in that department.”
“All solved, no thanks to you. You were mean,
remember?”
“You called at four in the morning. You’re lucky he
didn’t jump through the phone and kill you.”
Trowa must have been pissed still for my untimely
call, but friends are supposed to suffer with their
fellow friends, are they not?
Surprisingly, it would fall upon Meiran to make the
conversation damned awkward for me and amusing for
others.
“Have you had sex with him yet?”
A few things that I must point out while I’m trying to
stuff my eyes back into their sockets: Meiran is a
delicate looking girl, small and feminine. I did not
ever anticipate her asking me questions so bold and
brash that I would end up choking on my drink. Also,
I have known Meiran for a couple of months at the most
by now, ever since she married Wufei. We are not the
closest of friends nor do we share a special bond of
any sort. So it is not wrong to be taken aback by
that question.
“It is not your business to know!”
I have not sounded that squeaky since my fourteenth
year of life when puberty hit me hard and my voice
paid the price by running away to soprano land.
“But it’s a good question,” Wufei rolled right along,
“and since when have you been shy about talking about
sex?”
That is an undisputable point. I am not shy about
sex. In fact, I have been known to talk about that
oft celebrated topic in crude terms in loud voices. I
have made all of these guys blush innumerable amount
of times in the past with my thoughts on sex.
Therefore, it is completely daft of me to blush when
they ask me about my sex life. However, I cannot seem
to stop that rush of blood along my cheeks, flushing
me to the roots of my hair.
“I am not shy,” I groused out through clenched teeth,
“and no, we have not had sex yet. Happy?”
“Oh, we’re ecstatic,” Quatre said almost too
nonchalantly, “but you aren’t, I bet. What is keeping
you from getting laid?”
“Wait, wait, have you even gotten to first base?”
I throw an incredulous look at Quatre and Meiran
because the conversation is getting out of hand. I
concede that it is normal for friends to grill another
friend on the state of their love life, it is a
tradition that has been with human society for as long
as there has been speech. Yet, I cannot help but feel
as if I should not answer, as if what I did with Heero
was too personal even for my best of friends.
“First base?” Wufei jumped in condescendingly, “what,
are we in high school again? And just what is first
base? Everyone has a different definition.”
Thankfully, the conversation changed course from that
point, everyone inputting as to their own private
definition of first base and so on. Apparently, girls
have a different version of the whole baseball analogy
from the guys. But then again, why wouldn’t they for
they are creatures that defy comprehension and logic?
When the night comes to an end, we all say our
respective good byes and I get good natured ribbing
from my friends for not having had sex for nearly two
months. I take it well, throw back some taunts from
my arsenal and go home to sleep.
Sleep, as good as that sounds, did not come easily
because I kept thinking about Heero and what he was
doing at that point in time. Moreover, when sleep did
finally come, it was plagued with dreams about Heero.
Can’t I stop thinking about him just for one, solitary
moment so I can have some normalcy in my life?
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone
ringing. Usually, when a phone wakes me up, I tend to
just turn the ringer off so that I can sleep in
peacefully. However, this time, the caller I.D.
showed that it was Heero and as much as I wanted to, I
could not let it go. The situation is getting worse.
“What’s up, Heero.”
I cannot help the dreary tone of my voice. I am not a
morning person, especially on a Saturday after I spent
the night before drinking.
“Duo, you sound horrible. Fun night?”
He sounds damned amused at my pain. Is that how your
boyfriend is supposed to treat you when you are not
feeling your best?
“Oh, yeah, a blast. My friends made fun of me the
whole night.”
That is a definite exaggeration, but I had felt a bit
persecuted last night so I believe I am entitled to a
bit of hyperbole.
“Good friends will do that,” Heero chuckles out, “and
I missed you last night.”
Grounding point number one: if my erratic thought
behavior is any indication, I missed him last night
too. Grounding point number two: no way in hell I’m
going to admit that I’ve become dependent on his
presence for I am an independent male of good means
who need no other to complete him. Grounding point
number three: the situation, as they say in the
military, has gone to Def-Con 3.
“Heero, I saw you Thursday. Remember?”
“I know,” he replies with a hint of warmth, “but that
doesn’t mean I don’t miss you when I don’t see you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I continue, determined to see
this through, “you can’t miss me unless it has been a
week, at least. Those are the unwritten rules, pal.”
“I never did like rules,” Heero banters back, “so I
can do what I wish.”
I feel so frustrated. Does he not see what I’m trying
to say, that it is completely unreasonable that we
miss each other because we didn’t see the other for
one day? It is not normal for people to do that, for
me to feel that.
“Look, Heero,” I reply, hoping that I could get my
point across, “we see each other practically every
day. There is no reason for you to miss me for a one
day absence, okay?”
I can actually sense the frown and the slight
disappointment coming through the phone line, but damn
it all, we were getting unhealthy. People do not need
to see each other every day to feel like the world is
right.
I certainly didn’t need it, right? After all, I’m
trying to clear some room in my brain so that I can
lead a marginally normal life. I am desperately
trying to stop thinking about Heero so that I can work
again.
“I apologize,” Heero says a bit stiltedly, “for
missing you. I won’t do it again unless a week has
passed.”
Damn. I probably hurt him. Again.
“Shit,” I swear, feeling like a jackass, “I didn’t
mean to say anything to make you feel bad, Heero.
It’s just that.. um, I’ll be busy next week so I
won’t be able to see you until next weekend so I was
trying to say..”
For an attorney who can convince twelve people he’s
never met that the slimeball next to me is innocent,
I’m doing a piss poor job of convincing the man I’m
seeing that I didn’t mean to hurt him.
“It’s okay, Duo. I’ll just see you for lunch on
Monday? I’ll come by your office.”
That is where I hit the brakes full on and say
something that I probably shouldn’t have.
“No, don’t do that. People at my office will see
you.”
How many ways can one person interpret that sentence?
I bet there are many different ways, but I also bet
that each interpretation is not a pleasant one.
How can I tell? The fact that there is a dead silence
lingering on the phone.
“I mean,” I try to amend, “not that I mind people
seeing you there, I’m sure they have already, but I
think people are talking about us, you know? The
gossip mill is on full tilt and it’s a bitch.”
Just what am I trying to do? I don’t exactly know.
My dilemma is that I cannot stop thinking about Heero
at all. I was supposed to solve that dilemma by
working hard and pushing him out of my head. Yet,
Heero had brought up yet another thing that had been
on my radar lately, that I don’t want people at work
to talk about us, or maybe even know about us.
Granted, the work problem did not come to my full
attention until he suggested he show up at my office
in broad daylight with my bosses, associates and
secretaries around, but it’s a valid problem
nonetheless.
I work at a law firm. Get the picture?
Heero certainly did. And I think the frost that
accompanied his reply froze me solid.
“I understand, Duo.”
Three short words and then click. He hung up.
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