First Things First: Author's Notes
[For those of you worrying about my other updates, don't worry. Parts 1 - 18 are already written.}
This story was born January 4th, 2004, and I raised it carefully to be entered in the One True Pairing {OTP} Novella Contest sponsered by So far, this little expedition of Heero's has taken more than seven months to document, and no, I was not able to finish it in time to enter it in the sole reason it had been concieved. Mostly because this is the longest damned thing I've ever written, and beyond that, it started taking on a life of it's own and grew even larger. You see, the contest's minimum amount of words is 25,000, and now I'm about 70,000 words in, and there's still much more to be written. I might have been able to meet the deadline, but I got so attached to the story that I felt I couldn't do the story justice in the time I had to finish it if I wanted to enter. So I let the deadline go, and now I'm free to make an unabridged version. Another warning, though; there is one very moody Duo Maxwell in this one, though not like you would normally expect when I would write a 'moody Duo'. And a physically passive and more relenting Heero than most are used to seeing. In this fiction, he has had absolutely no exposure to military training or war in the traditional Gundam Wing sense, so I went ahead and made him a little more indecisive, a little shy, and passive-agressive, like I thought he might be if he were just another youth trying to discover a place in the world for himself. I only hope you'll enjoy yourself reading it.
::Summary:: It's a time of high tensions and paranoia for mankind, and an aimless one for Heero Yuy. While trying to remedy the sense of something missing in his routine life, he suddenly decides to study a suspicious and rather notorious con artist, Duo Maxwell, on his paper on humanity.
::[Another] Warning:: Gratuitous use of the word 'bohemian.' --;
The One-Eared Neko
Part 1 THE REALITY OF THE SITUATION
As the last bell of the year rang out above his head, there was a moment of hesitation before the collage class stood from their seats around the various tables and began to file out. With good biddings exchanged, phone numbers and displays of affection slipped between bright-eyed couples, and papers stacked and organized to be forgotten, they were ready to leave this place. It was the middle of an especially balmy July and the beginning of the long-awaited Peace Commemoration holidays. They chatted boisterously within the echoing white washed walls as they slipped their thesis requisite sheets in books and hurried out. The stream of students left the doorway and split and scattered into the open air like lines of anxious ants.
Heero Yuy remained apart from the rest of his peers, though, standing beneath the expansive shade of an old tree in the center of campus. In his hands he held the requisite sheet on the short thesis to be due over the Peacetime vacation. Humanity. A vague enough subject, he thought, glancing down the lines of print. Broad enough, with opportunities to expand.' He arched a lip at it.
When he left the campus and committed himself to a twisting beeline through the traffic and crowded business streets, the sun had just peaked above a low roll of clouds, beating down on the back of his neck. The Japanese boy never had difficulty with the naturally hot and humid conditions and often wore loose dress shirts and tank tops to the campus and along the route he traveled after classes had ended. A regular, beaten path. There was no doubt in his mind of where he'd go. Once he crossed the busy intersection that centered the large, mostly business-dominated city, he would travel along the sidewalk of Main Street for two blocks weaving through many other students and working citizens. At the junction of Netherland Drive and Main, he would turn right through a series of smaller, one-level businesses. People would flow back and forth through the opening and closing doors, their shopping bags and young children in tow behind them. A few blocks later he would be traveling through the colorful and colorfully loud farmer markets, littered with hundreds of stands and open-air shops steaming and ringing the with the clashing of cooking-ware. He didn't like cars anyway, and the exercise and scenery made up for any discomfort he had walking.
He'd often stop near the small yellow wooden stand on the fringe of the market and on the corner of his apartment. As usual, he would smile graciously if not noncommittally at the small Puerto Rican woman and ask for his usual assortment of fresh fruit and vegetables. She would collect her 7.50 in currency and he would nod thankfully before moving on, all in relative silence. On shopping days, he would go home with six oranges, six apples, two packs of strawberries and celery, and a peach. But this day, he settled for just a single, perfectly ripened peach and waited until he had scaled the stairs and stepped inside his large studio apartment to eat it.
Being a man very conscious of his vegetarian preference, Heero would never even consider the idea of buying a supply of raw, pounded hamburger which would last him longer for a smaller cost than weekly or monthly purchasing a supply of fruits, vegetables, pastas, and tofu. But he felt he could afford it to feel at ease with the fact he didn't need to take life to sustain himself. After washing his freshly bought food in the sink and putting it all neatly away, he would walk across the expanse of undecorated, white-walled and wood paneled floors into his bedroom. He would change out of his school clothes and take another shower to relieve him from the heat of air-conditioning-challenged classrooms. Upon returning, he would dress in the clothes he laid out upon his bed and descend the five flights of stairs to head out to work.
By this time everyday the sun would be creeping closer to the low horizon, arching toward the jagged cut line of buildings set against the sky. And Heero would be entering the doors of the banking corporation for which he acted as a computer technician, in a traditional dress shirt and clean, business-savvy tie. There would be an equally predictable and familiar rhyme and rhythm through his workday, as he went about fixing abused computers and failed technical endeavors and rebooting overloaded servers. He would also answer calls from different branches, as he was seen as a natural savant of all things and a general good person to handle problems. He would clock out at the same moment every night, as the plain black hand of the clock would sweep down to half-past seven, and descend the flights in an empty and silent elevator. By that time, the sidewalks would be vacant and cooled, lined with the bright car lights going up and down the roads. He would perhaps detour, on the warmer nights, a block to the left to visit a local street musician who played John Lennon and the old Beatles songs on an old acoustic emblazoned with poetic lines by a black Sharpie. But even that moment of spontaneity' was always planned in advance and thoughtfully weighed against other options.
Yes, Heero Yuy seemed perfectly aware of his place in this world, perfectly in tune to the natural rhythm of work and life. He never tripped while traveling to work; he never fell behind in his schoolwork, never found himself even a hair out of place. There was a pristine plate of food on the table every night; a book lay faithfully beside his bed, and a steady rising with the morning sun every morning. He had money, a girlfriend, school, intelligence and a good-looking face. All those things automatically bought him a chunk of happiness.
But it was Hell. And there was no getting around that.
There was a time of rest for him after he had finished his plain and organic vegetarian dinner and before he would settle in for the night, committing himself to a chapter out of a book before he fell asleep. At that time every night, he would be out in the broad, undecorated living room on a black and white quilt with a lamp and the glittering white beads of city light against the black sky. Then he would routinely study his physics and advanced law studies with ease and boredom. And all the while, writing neatly on a legal pad and turning the pages in silence, he would loathe the ease and boredom that comprised his life. The simplicity that he thrived effortlessly within, but at the same time was rotting him from the inside out like a terminal disease without fail.
It had always been this way as far as he could recall, as far back as his memory went. Routine and wealth had dictated his early years with a pair of very affluent, but very private parents, always being shuttled around to different structured activities with no time for the thought of boredom to cross the young child's mind. He was immediately shipped to a boarding school as soon as he reached the appropriate age and became a young, structured genius student. Perhaps there was nothing truly astounding about his inborn intellect, but certainly he could absorb information faster than a computer, it seemed, and was generally sharp-witted and keen about the rest of the world. Best of all, in his teachers' eyes, he was loyal and straight as an arrow when it came the issue of rules. It was almost dangerous, the way he followed the straight and narrow path, almost like a wind-up doll. Only forward in a static straight line. He never missed assignments and never was caught harassing any other students, never causing trouble in general. No drugs, no sex, no corruptive rock and roll records. He was still perfectly behaved and unruffled when his parents suffered a terrible accident on a private plane and died in the crash. Unblinking.
The Yuy family also was good friends with another influential and financially fit family, the Peacecrafts. After his parents were killed on their way home from a business-funded vacation, the 14-year-old Heero was handed into the custody of his godparents, the Peacecrafts, as it was instructed in the will of his deceased mother and father. And even that didn't seem to shake the stony pillar of strength and rules that made up the quiet and almost mechanical young boy. He went to live with them at their Victorian estate on the upper West Coast with a simple black suitcase and schoolbag and uniform to his name. There he had a room beside the blonde Peacecraft daughter, Relena. It was obvious to him the first day of his arrival that she had more than a friendly liking toward him, but he simply didn't have her on his schedule and would brush her off as politely as he could. But it wasn't possible to sit in silence around her, refusing to acknowledge her presence, for long. The blonde was obviously coddled and spoiled out of love, and saw no reason why this boy shouldn't love her in return. But Heero saw reason otherwise, especially when she would go about their boarding school and profess it shamelessly and be at his side and on his arm without invitation.
She was kind and sweet and a strong human being beneath it all, though, and deeply concerned with the welfare of others. This overwhelming urge to help humanity came out strong during their high school years and slowly they became close friends, though Heero still wouldn't go so far as to call themselves a romantic couple. Relena was a good-hearted girl and never had done wrong against him. In fact, she'd been there beside his side for so long that she had been the only one he would tolerate as a friend. She was fine within the strict rules of his internal schedule. She never interfered with it, so he never rejected her. But there was still nothing in her cornflower blue eyes that caught his attention. Girls didn't fit in to Heero Yuy's plans anyway.
Heero graduated as valedictorian in his high school class without much effort, but also with very little social dealings. An occasional movie with Relena or school dance was as far as that field extended for him. After that, both applied for the same collage, with similar interests in law and politics, and slowly came to consider themselves a couple. It was only after much reminding on the girl's part that Heero even considered the words girlfriend and boyfriend as applicable to their relationship. It made sense, he thought to himself. He didn't mind her company, she was kind and kind on the eyes, and he saw no reason to destroy his only friendship by telling her otherwise.
Through the collage years, two of which Heero had already completed, they dated casually. Or at least, it was casual to him. A dinner plan there, luncheon here, a few informal parties, and a few weekends at the movies or out in a pretty, quaint oceanside town. Though the strange frivolity of it all pained him, he was faithful to his friendship with the blonde young woman and followed her without complaint. And when she came on to him asking for a sexual relationship, there wasn't an objection either. It simply didn't bother him as long as it stayed within the perimeters of his schedule, his plan for a simple, successful life.
In fact, she was part of the schedule, an integral part slowly incorporated over the years. He would finish collage top in his class soon and graduate with honors, find a steady, sensible job suited to his proficiency in law and politics, find a wife and get married, have children, and work to raise them to be successful and nurtured as well. It was simple. Relena would be at his side and everything would be simple and clean and unfettered with mistakes. It was all so very simple to comprehend.
Back then.
But now, it just didn't fit as well as it had. It was no longer a perfect suit, a tailored life, but a lingering sense of constant wandering with walls to trap him in. And it was darkening fast.
That Saturday night, the first of the Peace Commemoration holidays, he found himself once again delved from his peaceful night at home at the request of his girlfriend. Over the phone she had insisted that all the soldiers who had spent and forsaken their lives for war would want them to get out more, trying to humor him perhaps. Whatever the intent, Heero still didn't believe some sour shots at a smoky, flashy bar wasn't what the soldiers had sacrificed themselves for. But she was his girlfriend, after all. He did owe her some cooperation. So dutifully, he showered again and took the consideration to shave as well before getting casually dressed up to go out. He left his books on the floor, closed and stacked neatly, and smoothed out the wrinkles on the quilt he had sat on before leaving. He didn't expect to be gone long.
That black hole would catch up with him soon enough anyway.
It was one of Relena's favorites, a dim, sultry-colored bar with loud pop music forever on the speakers and plenty of seductive red candles along the wall. That's what the Japanese man occupied his time with, thinking about the fact that it was just a loud, popular fire hazard. If he were to tip the top candle in the diagonal row downward that he'd set off a chain reaction and likely burn the place to the ground. And the frightening idea of that situation was that he probably wouldn't care if he did. The air was throbbing, the voices clashed together in a deafening dim around him, and the room reeked of exotic flowers and flavors. Wonderful.
Heero sat in the corner of the booth while Relena and a collection of girlfriends and couples were seated around them and chatting drunkenly. While they reached regularly for the warm comfort of alcohol in margaritas and piña coladas, he would rest against the wall and just fold his arms.
Briefly, they talked of vacation plans and social happenings involving frequently mentioned names that Heero had never met, seen face-to-face, heard of, or had any desire to, but soon switched to a more appropriate topic for intoxicated youth. Once they covered all the filthiest blonde jokes, most giggling at Relena's expense, the song switched into a throbbing, awfully shallow techno beat and the girls at the table squealed. The booth emptied out in favor of the dance floor, beers close in hand. Of course, save for Heero. Not only did he hate to dance, but he was also thirty minutes asleep against the wall. The loud, rhythmic beats and warm, buzzing atmosphere paired with his boredom had lulled him off to sleep, arms still folded and head tilted against the wall.
He woke up when a very intoxicated Relena slapped at his leg with her purse. It wasn't hostile, and when he jerked awake and jarred his head against a candle stand in the process, she laughed uncontrollably. Her face contorted clumsily with alcohol. The blonde woman, in a velvet red dress, lay on her stomach on the booth seat and giggled furiously. It wasn't cute or funny or even just plain pathetic with the introduction of so much alcohol. It infuriated him, that's what. When her sweet and humanitarian nature left her, there was simply nothing tying her to him anymore. She was being a complete idiot. He would rather be alone than tarnish what he had left of a social life with a foolish drunk cackling and yanking on his arm.
So as his girlfriend and the group of friends still laughed, he simply picked up his jacket and left the dark place with the greatest pleasure he'd known for quite a while.