Okay, I've been lurking for a while. Fine, for more than a while, about half a year. Mostly I've been admiring everybody's lovely and inspired stories.

That and drooling over Duo...um. Yeah! Oh, did I mention that this is my very first fan-fic ever... and the song is Suzanne Vega's, not mine, Duo's not mine, neither in Heero. Damn. Oh, and eventually I'll get around to doing some art, I'm not really a writer. Actually I mostly wrote this to unwind from taking the SATs (stupid tests. make me feel like a lemming...)

::Ducks back into the shadows for a while, or until Maxie-muse violently forces her to write something else::

 

Title: Cracking

Author: Lyra Silvervoice

Pairings:1x2

Contents: lots of ice, a happy ending, a profound lack of names...

Summary: Duo takes a walk.

Status: Complete

______

it's a one time thing,
it just happens (a lot),
walk with me and we will see what we have got
_______

I sit at the window, braiding and re-braiding my hair, trying not to remember. Not to remember the sound of his whisper, or his passionate cries, or his screams, the accusations. Not to remember his face when he told me that it was just some sort of one night stand, trying not remember what it feels like when your heart shatters into a million pieces and starts tearing out your insides.

Outside it's cold. Winter. When did that happen? It suits my mood perfectly though. Cold, distant, I wonder whether I'll ever feel anything again.

My hair starts protesting, snapping and cracking as I pull too hard, trying to punish myself, fool myself into believing something that isn't true. I let the braid drop, pull on a coat and walk out the door. Maybe I'll get frostbite, probably wouldn't make me feel any worse than I do now.

________

my footsteps are ticking,
like water dripping from the tree
walking a hairline and stepping very carefully
__________

The sidewalk is hard and dark, like his eyes, like his soul. I step
over the
cracks, children's superstition, "steps on a crack break your lover's
back,"
I can't quite remember how it really went, but this seems appropriate.

Suddenly I was carefully stomping on every crack. Twice.

A group of small children giggle quietly at my antics and I paste on a cool smile. I stop stomping, but continue stepping on the cracks. The sun is out, glaring off what snow is on the ground, turning the snow on the sidewalk and the street into soft black slush that seeps into my too thin shoes and soaks through the hems of my pants. I shiver for a second, then my anger warms me again.

My feet have taken me to a park, one with a pond. Where do the ducks go when the pond freezes over? I mutter a bit at the Catcher in the Rye reference, then settle onto a frozen bench, pulling my coat closer around me.

_______

my heart is broken its worn out
and it needs
hearing, muffled
seeing, blind
soon it will hit the deep freeze
_______

I stare out across the pond. It is absolutely silent, at peace maybe, perhaps just protecting itself from a dark souled pond that tried to tell it it was just a one time thing, nothing to set your heart on, that it was all for the best, not to get too attached, too emotional. I close my eyes, but see his face anyway, he doesn't look at all angry, he doesn't look much of anything, no emotion shows on his face, and for that I am even more mad at him.

If only I could cover my heart, my soul, with ice like the pond.

________

and something is cracking
I don't know where
ice on the sidewalk
brittle branches in the air
the sun blinding
dizzy golden dancing green
through the park in the afternoon
wondering where the hell I have been
_________

Only I can't, I am a river, an ocean, too large to really veil, too warm. I stare up at tree branches, they tinkle as the sun hits them, shatter as the wind moves them. I wouldn't survive frozen, I would break like the branches. What was it he had called me? Needy. I'm too needy. I need emotion contact to survive, despite how much it hurts.

My fingers are slowly goin numb, I head back. Toward the house, toward him, even though I don't really want to. I paste on another false smile, let my feet slide and dance on what is left of the ice on the ground. Pretend that the reason my eyes are filled with tears is because of the snowglare. He's not ready, some rational part of my mind trys to tell me, it's his loss, just let him be, leave him alone, he'll just hurt you again. Only I can't quite believe it.

And I see him on the front porch, shivering, his eyes just a little too shiny, his nose just a little too red and I realize that he is the one who has tried to cover his heart in ice. I mount the steps, and pull him into a loose embrace. He doesn't say anything, just warms his hands on my back and breathes. It is enough.

Spring is coming.

-fin-