Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, its characters or its storyline. But I do enjoy writing about them!
Word Count: 487
Warning: None, really - a little shounen ai
A/N: Written for the GW500 word fic challenge, I used the same theme as "The Good in Little Things" as well as some of the words ... you might say, this is an expansion piece of that. Who knows... next time - a 1,000 words? Enjoy! And let me know how you like/or didn't like it.
A Little Each Day
Change happens in life as time dictates, and I'd resigned myself to waiting. He wasn't ready, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be for quite awhile to come. All his life he'd been used, as camouflage, as an excuse, as a weapon, as a shield.
I didn't want to use him; I only wanted to be with him.
Day by day, I would be there with a smile or a word, a laugh or a touch, and slowly life seemed to change. There were times I would see in his eyes he had something to say, but he never did. Once, as I slung my arm around his shoulders in a companionable embrace, his arm wrapped about mine. He surprised me that day.
It had been a couple of years since the last war, and though peace didn't exactly ring throughout the land, it did reign.
He had gone through a time where he thought that he wasn't needed - that he was useless - because they didn't use him. I'd found something he was good at, offered him a job. At first he held himself back, keeping his stoicism and distance. And then the jokes came. Not exceptional ones, but jokes the same. He began to smile more, and laughter became less rare.
Every Saturday in the big open square of the marketplace, we liked to wander. The sights, sounds and smells clashed and crashed together in crowded splendor, offering so much to see - so much to examine. We visited our favorite spots together. He would wait idly flipping through a used book as I perused the shelves, aisle by aisle. Electronics were his poison, and he dragged me from stall to stall, rummaging through bins and raiding counters for new, used or abused equipment. It didn't matter to him what; our garage and attic was filled with partly completed projects. A piece of my L2 soul warmed as I watched him collect, sort and hoard the high-tech junk.
It's started as a lark making our way from the bookstall to one of the many stops on our route. He teased me after spotting me reading poetry, though his eyes belied the mocking tone. One stall held fresh cut flowers, filling the air with their sweet scent. A sudden impulse and I returned a minute later to tuck a bloom in his hair, laughing that if I were Byron, he was my Shelley. A startled look and his hand covered mine; I was lost in his nearness. A hesitant smile and I felt the faintest touch of his lips.
We shared our first kiss that day, and I knew without his saying he walked a narrow path - on one side a sharp precipice, the other darkness unfathomable. But for now, the icy control freezing his heart, and scarring his soul, melts with every second, every heartbeat, every touch, every look…