Author: Anria Lalumin
Disclaimer: guess
Warnings: angst, yaoi, little bit o' humour
Pairings: 1x3, 4x5, 2+1, 2+3.

Thinking About Forever + Part 8

After all, how hard could it be?

Damn hard.

Duo sighed and stared across the table at the flavour of the week. This one had actually shown some promise -- sure, the guy was a transvestite and Duo was into more manly men -- Heero and Trowa -- shut up! -- but he liked girls, too, so he thought it might be okay. The guy, who insisted on being called Esmerelda for reasons unknown, had seemed pretty intelligent when he first spoke to him and asked him out. So why did he insist on babbling non-stop about handbags and shoes?

Duo shoved the remains of his dinner around his plate with his fork, listening with half an ear as 'Esmerelda' waved his arms -- which he had actually waxed to remove hair -- and set all his multitude of bracelets and bangles to jangling as he gestured wildly, making some point about some French guy who had started out so promising and now had turned all dowdy --

"Are you even listening to me?"

Duo blinked and looked up into frowning brown eyes. 'Esmerelda' was cute, that's for sure -- shoulder length straight brown-black hair, half up and half down, eyes that were nearly the same deep colour as Wufei's, a generous mouth that seemed naturally red and a pointed little chin that just made him look cute.

But he was so dull. Even when he was being interesting he was dull.

Duo sighed and repeated everything 'Esmerelda' -- he had a feeling his real name was Frank -- straight back at him verbatim. Looks like G's training had some use after all.

Esmerelda-Frank dropped his fork onto his plate and folded his arms on the edge of the table, staring straight across at Duo. "You're bored, aren't you?" he asked.

Duo blinked. Nobody else had ever been this straightforward with him. "To be honest, I am," he said frankly. "I'm sorry, I really wanted to enjoy your company and have fun, but... ."

"It just didn't click," Esmerelda-Frank finished softly for him.

The American sighed. "Yeah."

That generous mouth twisted up on one side in a lopsided smirk. "Happens a lot to me," he said.

Duo winced. "Sorry," he offered lamely.

"Don't worry." Reaching down, he picked up his purse and checked through the contents. "You want to get the bill or should I?"

"I'll pay," Duo said swiftly, then returned the lopsided grin. "Seeing as how I ruined your evening and all."

"Oh, who said it was ruined?" Esmerelda-Frank smiled. "It wasn't right for either of us."


"Besides, you're cute."

Duo couldn't think of a damned thing to say to that.

After paying the bill, Duo dropped Esmerelda-Frank off outside his apartment block. The transvestite left with a "Thanks for the meal. I hope you find what you're looking for."

On returning to his apartment, Duo threw himself down on the bed with his arms spread-eagled, letting his breath escape his chest in a rush. Esmerelda-Frank had been one of the better ones, but it still wasn't right. He shuddered involuntarily. He didn't want to think about the pro-war one who'd somehow found out he was a Gundam pilot and spent the whole date drilling for details (ouch!) or the one who seemed to be in love with her poodle, or the one who was virulently against any sort of violence towards any living creature, and seemed to put carrots at the top of that list for some reason... .

"Face it Maxwell," he said out loud, the words echoing around his empty apartment. "It's just too damn hard to find someone who understands."

And that was the clinch.

How many people in the world would understand life from the point of view of a soldier? The wars had been too big a part of his life for him not to be with someone who would understand. So there were the veterans of the Eve Wars, but how many of them were not either ex-OZ or ex-White Fang? Those two wouldn't look kindly on ex-Gundam pilots, as Duo had found out one time when an ex-OZ officer had recognised him in the street, walked right up and spat in his face.

Even if he did manage to find someone who understood and had not been with OZ or White Fang, how many of them would understand life as a terrorist? Forsaking what people deemed to be the most necessary part of your life -- education -- in order to go around blowing up bases?

How many people would tolerate their partner, knowing that he was responsible for the death of hundreds, if not thousands, of people? Even if they were soldiers on the other side, who would live their life with AC 195's Osama bin Laden? Because without the civilian casualties, that's what he was. Him and the other pilots.

Except they caused far more damage than the terrorist faction of the pre-colony era.

And barring that, how many people would understand him? Grown up without a name on the streets of L2, living for a while in a church that was bombed to the ground, always being the last child in the orphanage? How many people could understand that?

Not even Quatre or Wufei would understand that.

Duo shut his eyes in despair. Every time he thought about it using his gut instinct combined with logic, which had never failed him before no matter what, it always came down to one conclusion: there was never, nor would their ever be, anyone for him except Trowa or Heero.

Or both, that irritating little voice whispered.

Shut up! he yelled back. I swore I would never try and break them apart, and threesomes don't work!

Duo brought his hands to his face, rubbing the heels over his tired eyes. "Am I always going to be alone?" he whispered to a god he didn't believe in, hands still covering his eyes. "Is that what you're trying to tell me, like you did with Solo and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen? That I'm supposed to be alone?"

The pale moonlight that shone in through the window glinted on the small drop of silver that slid down his temple.

"Oh God ... will I always be alone? ..."

The words echoed in the empty apartment.

Alone ... alone ... alone... .


A/N: Well, that was depressing. Don't worry, it gets worse.

[part 7] [part 9] [back to Anria's fic]