Title: Rain
Author: kaije
Pairings: 2+1/1+2
Warnings: denial, cross dressing
betaed by Destirinity thanks Naomi and Tir so much for the C&C and support! ^__^ -kaije ---- "I love you, Duo. How can you say that?" voice breaking "I live for you…" I do everything for you.

Notes: YAI!! Naomi, thankx so much! ^___^ (also, wut does, "hakuya", mean? ^^) i'm glad to see you here too. read your lastest update last night. ^_^ (you've alreadi seen this one,....sorri! ^^;;)

"Heero, you don't have to humiliate yourself for me." I shout at him, angry with him for thinking that way, and with myself for letting him suffer so much. "Just because you like me, doesn't mean I like you."

I take the silver chain and cross from about my neck, and lay it on the table between us.

And he walked out without a backwards glance. Out on this cold night.

Come back to me, to us.


I lay here with only the soft cotton sheets on, the down blankets having fallen sideways onto the floor. I can feel even my short hair entangling itself as I try to somehow make myself comfortable, but, "It's so cold, without you, Duo."

The chill goes through my skin and into my bones.


The guests will be here in an hour.

In the rain. I let it flow down in my sleeves. Tilting, it trickles down my front, goes down my back. Looking up at the white cloud of cotton that is the sky, it drips on my face. Sitting on the bench -or rather- flat piece of concrete, my knees stick out from me, unprotected. Hot tears run down my face, but the warmth is gone in a second. It would seem nothing could warm my numb flesh. But then, do I want it to? This way, I feel clear. This way, I am certain.

And I want it to rain more, so that no one will have seen I've cried. Merely raindrops hanging on eyelashes.

Walking as loud as I can, splashing the rain puddles into my boots. I think, will the leather rot? But then; why care? If I walked off, would anyone miss me?

I sing a song to myself, improvising as I go along. The rain is so loud, add in the cars… no one hears anyways; they're all safe and warm inside their houses. "I just want someone to love…only me. Say, you only love me." My voice breaks, as I sing to myself on this cold, numb journey. So I go louder. "No one told me~…but then, I never listened…. Fuck. Fuck. " No one comes out to check on me, as I cry 'fuck' all the way home. I have to be somewhere tonight.

Once I wake from my nap, I realize, I can't do anything if he doesn't want to make up. And it does no good to show you're afraid. With renewed resolve, I decide I'll be there for Duo tonight, whether he wants me or not.

And you, in my vision perfect, could never do anything wrong in my eyes. I am the forever-damned one.

Today's my birthday, I guess. I don't what Duo was thinking. He gave me his guitar, among other things.

I fumble with the tight box, the ribbon bow already on the floor. "I want you to have it, Heero," as I lift the chain to a silver cross up. And I ask, "didn't you once say that you always kept it close to your heart?" and I hear a voice reply, "I am."

When you leaned down just a hint to clip the clasp about my neck, you almost kissed me I swear, but I opened my mouth and said, "thank you."


You're the one who takes pictures of you and me, but mostly of me. Using your Polaroid camera, you stick them on your wall.

I recognize your love for what it is, because you're acting the way I feel. I want to live forever beside you, never to touch if that's what it takes.

Shaving, the hairs come off so easily with the small razor blade, a cold piece of metal. I can't go back. Rinse them off under the faucet. Soft, white soap, washing down the drain. Love me, Duo. I'll be a girl for you; it's not that hard. My fears of nicking myself dissolve with the soap running down my legs. Opps. Too early for celebration. The small wound stings, but it doesn't bleed. Like my heart, I guess.

Once I get out, dry myself, I find wet on my calf. I rub it with one finger, hold it up to the dim light. Red. Suck on it to make the pain go away. It's all right, that I should suffer for my love.

The soft blue pencil skirt, with a button up black top. I am black and blue, like the bruises on my soul. Delicate, in girl's clothes. Hilde helped me pick it out. I swear, she needs children of her own. I came to her for help, to glean clues from her on what Duo might be thinking. Her suggestion was this.


We would stay up into the night, in the garage, the stars lighting up your eyes. Sometimes we would hang in your room, the afternoon sun glancing through the thin curtain and spilling into your hair and onto you. It didn't matter where. You would stay with me alone, even when being enticed by your friends to come out. You said this was more important for you. Stay with me.


Sprinkle, flit flat, drip, drop, Walking through the rain, Plish-a puddle. Plash-undry. My feet are still wet. Thin slivers of wet.

Crying, Eyes are dry, hurt. Itchy. The water is tinted light, As it falls into mine eyes, Healing. I wish.


"The bass is deep, the staff of the song. The guitar does the fancy stuff, the detail. Fours strings, six. It's fun, playing. Not that good yet, but I'm learning. Can't read it right off the bat and play. Way too hard. I memorize it." Besides, it's more like life that way, absorbing it and learning from the connection. "Hey, with you and me, Quatre, Trowa, and Wu-man with the piano, we could make a band!"

I ask why you love it so, "It's…Well, awesome. It was hard at first, but then it's just so much fun!" goofy grin plastered on your face. "This guitar is way old; I got it off of Howard. Saving up to get a bass." You grin, and I'm frozen, my mind melted by your gaze. I can't say a word in return.



I was looking for you; I knew you couldn't be sleeping yet. I found you there, in the garage, the door open to let in the night sky. You've always had a purpose, something larger than yourself, you said. But all I could see was you.


He was sweet misery, for his dreaming eyes and the lyrics full of sorrow floating about him just waiting to be written. The aura of his gaze, he denies it, but he's a romantic. The songs we write together, he drops words of love and peace, loss and hope, as if he were the flower girl at a wedding, thinking one day to become the bride.


You said, "beautiful". You tell me that you love my eyes, my mind, and my soul. Why can't you accept my body? You crawled into my bed. I awoke with your arms around me.


I was dazed, my love for you blinding. I was heartbroken that I couldn't live up to the standards I set for myself. Pure frustration ruled me, took me over. It was too hard to go on. I wanted to stop trying, but you held my hand and told me I was brave; the strongest you've ever met. And so I do it for you, living each day to learn to be stronger for you.


You're temptation wrapped up in a skirt, form petite in every way enfolded. You're begging me to come and accept you. How could I ignore you? You never gave up. You make it too easy to break your heart, bend your will, and solder your soul to my own.


You've taught me so much, Duo. Much more than the guitar, more like the music of life; your kind of music. Always go forward, ne? Always try harder, to get what you want. Well, what do you want? I won't go back now. You've told your friends that your housemate's a crossdresser. I've heard you on the phone, them asking how your buddy suddenly became a girl. And then, asking if you were gay.


Don't let me go back to myself, after all this. Don't let me go; don't leave me alone with myself. That empty shell, that hollow mask. Your spirit is one with mine, and if you should fly away, it would tear me in two. Take me with you. Take my hand and journey alongside me on this perilous road of life. I'd carry you, sweep you up and away with me; but love is a river, and I can't float.


Remember, don't sit too near. What once seemed natural can now only be labeled as threateningly over-friendly. Look at me, damn you! Acknowledge my existence. I can't go on much longer. You look at me with cold beads of glass, though you don't shy from my touch.

Being ignored and simply not missed, you laugh and live on as if I've never existed for you.


I can't cry. I won't give up. I can't. Not for him, or for myself. Love me for me, love me for myself. Love me as a girl, for all I care. I want to show my devotion. You've already said I love you in a million ways with your behavior. And aren't actions more precious than empty words?


Society. What has it done to you? to me? You're afraid of me, you won't come near. You said we were soulmates, why not more? You turn down offers from girls who would come between us to stay with me. Why won't you come any closer? Are you happy continuously living life only so far? Being in the center of the mass, but never reaching out, and never touching? Are you afraid of being hurt? Please, don't be afraid. I'm here for you. You can open up.

I can't leave you behind. No, matter what you say. I love you, now and forever. Wherever you are, I remember you; I won't be able to forget you. Because I know this isn't a dream. You are my universe; I am but a single drop in the ocean. Though our lives and time here in the world may be but a grain of sand in the desert, I will always love you. I can't run away from it. Of all the things that can be left, you aren't one of them. You will always live on in my heart, though I would much rather have you with me here, in flesh and blood.

You create meaning for my existence. You are the cause I live for.


You play, softly now; You think I can't hear you. Your long fingers push down on the strings; you think I can't see you.

Your being is the music I listen to. Your voice, your graceful movements, you. I hear silence without you. I turned off the radio of mindless jabber long ago. You are the artist in the studio; you are the color on the vast canvas of grays I live in. Sure, there is a variance of grays; warm grays, bluish mechanical grays, even rusty and yellowish tinted ones, but you are the vibrant purples, the blossoming blues. The long sought after indigo to which I long to dip my hands in, to color myself with your splendor.

You lean over me, arms around me as I fumble with the instrument. You're so sure I'll do well, though I've never played a single note before. Your voice is deep, low, in my ear. Mesmerizing. I'm caught in your spell.

His hand on mine, bigger. It held mine, enclosing. I felt protected, somehow. His hand was so warm. Friendship. I can only expect a kiss on the forehead.

You bring home lavender coming back from Hilde's, and immediately upon seeing me at the door, tuck a few into my hair and behind my ears, their stems poking my scalp. You smile. I offer to put the rest into water.

Don't lean too close, can't have him see you're interested. Don't scare him off, you can't offer the pocky treat to him stick-by-stick, lip to lip. When he sees you with orbit gum, and you offer him some, don't give in to do mouth-to-mouth.

Escape my curse, you deserve better than this. Because I'm a devil, poison to the touch.


He started with his colored pencils, but it led to a makeover of the garage where we've spent so much time dreaming wishes. They swirled of the paper and onto the floor, the wall, and he created a realm of purple. Clouds of purple, and I paint silver butterflies. My tiny paper cranes. He came into my room and gathered them into his arms, strung them about from wall to wall. I really don't know how you'll manage to park your car.

And my eyes, he's painted my eyes like a bright world, a dark vortex on the back wall.

Dark and moody. Purple. The color of art is of bruises. Rich, soothing, the tones of the past hurt. The value of healing.

My eyes, one can look into them and see the endless plains of lucid dreaming. For me, they're witnesses to pain and suffering, forever scarred.

Help me make a thousand cranes, save me from this devouring disease. Make my wish come true. Threading, with red threads, needles. The foil catches the dim artificial light and reflects it a thousand times over.


"Hee-chan, forgive me." I say, lying awake because of you. It's dark and cool here in my room, alone after you left for your own bed. It doesn't matter if you want me here. I will be here for you. And I want to give you armfuls of the cobalt blue roses that grow in my dreams.

Every thing you do, an extension of your heart. But are you strong enough? Will you come with me, stay with me always? I want to push you against the wall and ravish you, kiss you all over, but you'll feel nothing but my feather light touches, soft kisses. Chain you to me, love me only. Meld your body to mine, so I can always look at you straight and deeply into your eyes.

Don't leave; you love me. You left your heart behind.

Don't leave. I love you.

The music starts, low notes, sounds of melancholy.

I hang on your words, your voice. It's fresh and delicate as dewdrops on a spider's thread. And I won't turn off the music. I can't live in silence; the hum of my computer is my only company. I find it to be a rather dull tune.

Duo has a garage concert tonight, inviting friends from work, around the neighborhood, the girl from across the street. Hilde. And I'll be there for our duet.

I can always hear the bass; it's low voice humming.

I walk up to you, clad in a light yellow dress, topped off with a comfortable black jacket. You're soaked, and yet act as though in fact it's been you been waiting for me all along, holding my guitar out. And as I take my place beside him, he says to me in a voice only I can hear, "glad you came."

He holds me tight, and whispers, "I love you Heero."

Perfection is in the eye of the beholder, but you are perfect, love.

Less than three, Love, just two. Only, you and me.

He tucks his head into my hair for a moment, before I realize what I should do. I stand up, pulling Heero with me. "Nani??"

He drags me on stage again, the audience turning their heads to see what's happening. "What are doing Duo?" I ask. "People are looking at us." I mouth the words, in shock. And raising my hand in his, he cries out:

"This is Heero Yuy, and I love him with all of my heart!" And with that, turned to me. The love in his eyes so open and evident, and his world collides into mine.

Sometimes we go to Hilde's on the weekends when the weather's good. She has a beautiful garden, with carefully plotted lavender, where an ancient wisteria vine continues to grow along the back wall; moist soft moss and clover growing abound in the shade. Yellow roses, they grow on a trellis over the gate. Dandelions, too, in their own little hand painted pot by the door. During sunhat weather we go, the sunlight glazed with gold.