Tranquility

The realization I was in love with him didn't happen all at one time, all of a sudden. It was more like it had been there forever, for my entire life, and I was just finding the time figure it out.

+~+~+

Duo Maxwell had had that damn dog for as long as I had known him, and that had been a pretty long time. We had met on the bus on the first day of kindergarten, I had lived just down the street from the orphanage he lived in. My parents were strict and didn't spend much time on frugal delights, it was a rare occasion when we went out for even a simple family dinner. I have no doubt that I was what could be called a "mistake", my parents were much happier off working by themselves than trying to entertain a young child. Duo had waltzed onto that bus like he owned it, in his bedraggled, miniature, priests' collar with a determined grin on his round face, his violet eyes challenging anyone to try and put him down. A braid hung down shortly past his shoulders, I think that's what stuck out to me more than anything. In my short life I had never seen a boy with long hair. Meeting this boy so unlike me, full of energy and joy and love, was definitely quite the shock for a five year old raised with none. Even so, I have to say the most shocking part was the fact that this completely insane bundle of smiles, my polar opposite, had no problem getting as far under my skin as anyone ever had before and becoming my best friend. The dog had just appeared to come with the package.

I wasn't quite sure why it was Duo was so attached to the dog. It was far from the prettiest creature I had ever seen, missing half of his left ear and his quilt patch fur coarse in some places and soft in others. The mutt was quite the beast as well, by far the biggest dog I had ever seen in my life. Dodger was good tempered though, and loved Duo as much as any dog had ever loved its master. Duo, I knew, returned that love full force. Once, when I had questioned why exactly it was he had chosen the mutt, he had told me "I didn't choose Dodger, Heero. Dodger chose me." I wasn't surprised that this was the case. Duo hadn't always lived in the orphanage, he didn't make a habit of talking about it but I knew. And I knew that Dodger and Duo had been together since before either had ever had a home. Before the Maxwell Church had taken him in, he had lived on the streets. Streets that were far too dangerous for a little child to be living on by himself. And ugly as that beast was, I knew it was him I was to be thankful for that I had ever even met my best friend. Duo had himself the most over protective dog God had put on the planet.

+~+~+

Every day when the bus picked Duo up from the orphanage, Dodger, that damn dog, attempted to follow his master onto the bus. Every day the door was shut in the poor mutt's face, and every day he would just decide to chase the bus to the end of the street instead. That was when he would turn around, tail between his legs, and scamper back home. And at the end of every day, when the bus dropped Duo back off at home, Dodger was sitting right in front of the orphanage waiting to leap upon the boy and attempt to lick him from head to toe. It was like a tradition, a tradition that had started that first day of kindergarten so long ago. So when one day, thirteen years later, Duo walked onto the bus with an abandoned expression on his face and no dog following loyally behind, I knew something was wrong.

"Dodger's dead." he told me as he sat down next me, looking as if the entire world was resting on his shoulders. As if he was the camel with so many straws on his poor, bruised back, waiting for one more to break him. His voice sounded about as alive as Dodger seemed to be, no emotion present. It was like he was telling me today's forecast.

"Hit by a goddamn truck, Heero. A fucking truck." I didn't know what to say to him, so I opted to just put my arm around him in that universal sign of comfort. He tensed up for a moment, but then relaxed into the embrace and rested his head on my shoulder. I wasn't very good at interacting with people, I never knew what to do, but Duo was different. I knew him as well as I knew myself, and what he needed always seemed to come to me. Maybe it was because what he needed was usually what I needed as well. He didn't say anything the entire way to school, and my heart ached for him in a way I'd only felt when it was him hurting. I couldn't seem to wrap my head around the fact that Dodger was dead. The dog had driven me crazy, but his prescence was as constant to me as the sun rising in the morning. I could easily understand the lost look I found in Duo's eyes whenever I looked at him, probably because I was sure it was mirrored in my own. I wasn't surprised by Duo's silence, I knew that was how he coped with pain. He didn't scream or cry or sulk, he shut down.

He didn't speak for the entire day at school, worrying more people than just me. Even after the ordeal of him coming out the year before, he was still one of the more popular boys at school and had more friends than I could count. He was there for anyone who needed him with a ready smile going from ear to ear and his violet eyes glistening with joy. And it had to be said that although I was not one for talking more than necessary, he made up for my silence plus some with his inane chatter. Looking at the two of us from a distance, you would never guess that we were best friends, which is probably why most of the school's population was in awe at our unlikely friendship. However, they took it in stride and I was approached on many occasions that day being asked questions such as:

"What's wrong with Duo?"

"Is he going to be alright?"

"You're his best friend, why don't you try talking to him?"

I attempted to answer as many as I could honestly, and in as few words as possible. I didn't enjoy being the center of attention, and I knew today Duo wouldn't either. We sat together at lunch at a table in the corner, our silence deafening. The chatter of Quatre, Trowa, Wufei, and Sally, our closest friends, echoed around us in an almost eerie fashion, the air seemed empty without Duo's voice. Quatre did his best to cheer Duo up, he was such a kind soul he couldn't help it. Duo didn't seem to want the well meaning help though, and merely nodded every few sentences. I pitied Quatre as a distressed look crossed his face, his aquamarine eyes filled with anguish, but Trowa's strong arm wrapped comfortingly around his waist consoled more than any hollow words I could have come up with. It was one of the roughest days I'd had in my life and by the time it was over I was tense with worry.

I went home that day to the empty apartment I'd just gotten a few months previous, hair dripping from the rain outside. It seemed even the weather was reflecting Duo's mood. I set the umbrella in my front hall closet and walked into the living room, throwing myself onto one of the warm, cushioned chairs. Living on my own was a lonely tranquility I loved and despised equally. My parents had died about eight years before in a car crash, and my Uncle had moved in with me. I don't know how I could had survived those first few months without my best friend. As unfeeling as it sounds, my parents' death was not the thing that had been tearing me up inside. They had never taken much interest in me, and much of the time I had lived alone anyways as they were often out and about roaming the country. When I heard of their death, I couldn't even muster up enough genuine distress to cry for them. No, that wasn't the problem. The problem was the arrival of my Uncle Jay.

Jay was what most kids our age would have classified as a "mad scientist", and he had worked in the army for many years. Much of the destructive equipment that had been created for wars had been my Uncle's doing, and our home life was not unlike one I would have had if I was a recruit in the military. Living off of military rations and being beat often, if not once a day, was a difficult life for a ten year old, and Duo was always there for me. Even if it was only someone to spar with, the two of us had taken martial arts together before Jay moved in and we found that a good, honest fight was always a good way to relieve stress, he had made my life bearable. He always knew what to say.

I had moved out after 7 years of Jay's abuse with Duo's help. He had done most of the work, in fact. Once I told him that I wanted to move out on my own and get away from my Uncle he had done all he could to make it happen. Phone numbers were slipped through the slots in my locker, phone numbers of apartment complexes, job offices, furniture stores. He had thought of everything, more than everything. We had filled out resume after resume, and he wouldn't let me settle for anything less than what I wanted. We went through bank accounts, checked funds and made more decisions than I ever could have made on my own. Finally, after months of planning, I had found the perfect apartment, and, because of my tendancies to save every penny I had ever earned, I could afford it. He was like a saving grace, and the fact I was now living in the apartment complex not two blocks away from the orphanage and had a steady income was all his doing. He had even helped me tell Jay, standing at my shoulder and encouraging me. He was always there for me, no matter what I needed, and I hated myself for not being as constant in his life as he was in mine.

He hadn't only helped me with making a start and getting out on my own, he had also helped me with my other petty problems. The year before he had helped me get out of a relationship crisis with one of my best friends, Relena. The girl was beautiful and sweet tempered and the smartest you could ask for, but I couldn't find myself being interested in her in the way she wanted. Duo, like any best friend, advised me to do whatever my heart told me. That's one of the things he told me most often, besides his "I may run, and I may hide, but I'll never lie." motto he lived by. Although it was I who handled the situation with Relena and maintained our steadfast friendship, I know that without Duo's advice and help I would have lost her forever. The way he has been such a loyal friend makes me wonder how he could ever want me to be his best friend.

A loud boom of thunder was the only warning I had before the lights flickered and went out, pulling me out of my reverie. I reached blindly around the apartment before finding my flashlight, some candles, and a box of matches. As I set up the candles, bringing a little light back into my world, I thought about how dark Duo's must have been. Thinking back on all the kind and helpful things Duo had ever done for me had only made guilt well up in my heart. My amazing best friend was hurting and I was doing nothing to help him! Determined to be a better friend to him from that day on I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, preparing to call the orphanage and goddamn, just talk to him. I thought that maybe we lived far enough away that the orphanage would still have power. But before I could even find his phone number on my speed dial, I heard a sharp rap on the front door of my apartment. Slightly surprised I walked across the darkened front hall and peeked out the small peephole. My surprise grew as I saw the object of my thoughts standing out in the dark hallway, and I yanked the door open.

Duo was soaked from head to toe, his poor, bedraggled braid extending even further down his back because of the water. The red carpet surrounding him was as soaked as if someone had poured a bucket of water over it, turning it the color of dried blood. If he had been the sort to cry I would have thought that the water dripping down his face was tears, and his trademark smile was no where to be seen. Empty violet eyes gazed at me desperately, containing a hurt that went to the very soul, and he panted as though he had just run a marathon. Standing in that dark hallway, water dripping off of his pitch black clothes like a waterfall, I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. That might have been when I realized it.

It felt like hours we stood in that darkened hallway, staring at each other, but it could have only been a few minutes. Finally I came back to myself and grabbed his arm, pulling him into the apartment. He was trembling under my touch, but I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the hurt that was causing it. I thought my heart was going to explode with all of the emotion I was feeling. That might have been when I realized it.

"Damn, Duo, did you run the entire way here?" I finally gasped out, wondering why I was so short on breath. I wondered if he could hear the mad pounding of my heart that the simple feel of my hand on his chilled skin seemed to iniate, I thought he had to be deaf if he couldn't, as it was so loud it was drowning out all thought that didn't revolve around him and how very beautiful and broken he looked standing there. He nodded at me quickly, and inhaled sharply, wrapping his free arm around his torso and turning his gaze down to the ground. It was as if he was trying to hold himself together, as if he was afraid if he didn't hold on tight enough he would fall apart. I was lost, and for once I didn't know what it was he needed. I wanted to hold him tight in my arms and never let him go. I wanted to cry. I wanted him to tell me what to do to make it stop hurting. I didn't know what I wanted at all. That might have been when I realized it.

Finally he looked up at me with those empty, empty violet eyes, and finally, after a whole day of silence, I heard that voice that seemed to make everything and anything in the world right when he spoke to me. It was like hearing his voice for the first time and my stomach turned inside out. That might have been when I realized it.

"Heero." he whispered turning away again, and his voice was so very broken I knew that I would do absolutely anything in the world for him. Anything in the world to take all the hurt away and give him his smile back. I didn't know what to say to him and I did all at once. So I didn't say anything at all, I just placed my hand under his chin and lifted his face up, looking into those captivating eyes once more. That electric rush that the feel of his smooth skin under my callused hands seemed to trigger shot through me again, the force doubled by his gaze, and I opened my mouth to speak to him. That might have been when I realized it.

"I'm here." those two simple words seemed to sum up all these feelings that were churning around inside me that I didn't know what to do with, and then there was no more need to speak at all. Somehow, I think that those words broke something inside of him and his face crumbled before my eyes. And for the first time in my life I saw my best friend, Duo Maxwell, cry. The tears cascaded down his face in rivers, and finally I couldn't do anything except open my arms to him. He flung himself at my with all the force in his slender, but muscular, frame and clung to me like he was never going to let me go. And I held him just as tightly, reveling in the feeling that holding him so close seemed to do to my heart. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and even though there were tears dripping down my throat and soaking through my shirt, I felt that I wanted to hold him against me for the rest of my life. It felt like here in my arms was where he belonged, and spontaneously I pressed my lips to his soaked hair in a gentle kiss, merely because it felt right. He let out a little mew of what could have been distress or joy, but whatever it was he held me even tighter. I had no doubt that there would be bruises on both of us after we released each other from this... embrace. That might have been when I realized it.

We were both soaked through to the bone, from a mixture of rain and tears, and so I let him go and took his hand instead. His sobs bubbled up more insistantly and I thought my heart was breaking, but I led him to my bedroom with a firm hand, flashlight leading our way. I undressed him gently, wrapping him in a towel I had gotten out of my dresser. I knew well he could easily dress and dry himself, but I didn't know if I could take my hands off of him long enough for him to do it. We were both dressed in dry, warm clothes, and less soaked than before in a matter of minutes. I pulled him into my warm, double bed with me, wrapping us in blankets and making a cocoon to snuggle into. He laid his head on my chest, heartwracking sobs taking over his body, but I didn't try to stop him. I knew these tears were for more than just Dodger. That might have been when I realized it.

No, he was crying for all the things he hadn't cried for before in his childhood, all the things he had been too afraid or strong to cry for before. He was crying for Solo, his brother, who had died of pneumonia when Duo was only seven. He was crying because Solo had adamently told him "Boys don't cry" and he had listened and it was catching up with him now. He was crying because of all the times he had been called "street trash", because he thought that maybe they were right. He was crying because he didn't have a family, because he'd never had a family, because no one had wanted him for more than a week. He was crying because his only home, the church, had burned down when he was nine and he had been told he would be sent off to another orphanage far away from Sister Helen, and Father Maxwell, and me, and his home if they couldn't rebuild in less than six months. He was crying because they had cut it so close and he had been so afraid. He was crying because he had come out of the closet the year before and he had been teased and hated and beat up for it. He was crying because he had lost so many, and he was so afraid he would lose more. He was crying because he had friends who would love him forever and he was so very grateful. He cried for hours and all I could do was hold him, and rock him, and listen to his broken whispers as he told me everything. That might have been when I realized it.

Finally the sobs died down and he closed his eyes, drifting off into a heavy, undisturbed slumber. It may have been only my imagination that I heard him whisper "I love you." But by then I knew I loved him as well, that I had for as long as I could rememeber. And that I would love him for as long as I lived, and that I never intended on letting him go. Duo Maxwell was buried in my soul deep, and he wasn't ever going to get back out. I wondered how he would feel about that. But I would wait, I would wait until he woke up again. And once his beautiful eyes were open, and looking at me, I would tell him that yes, I loved him too, and I loved him more than anything or anyone I had ever loved before. I would tell him that I would be his family. And I would tell him that I would want him forever, for as long as he wanted me, because life wasn't worth it unless he was going to live it with me. And that night, as I fell asleep with the feel of Duo's arms wrapped tight around my chest and the feel of his braid wrapped tightly in my hand, I realized something else.

I realized that living alone was much more empty than I had ever known, and that tranquility would be so much better if Duo Maxwell was there to share it.


fiction