Title: In My Agony (tentative)
Author: Kimarrone (Kimi)
E-mail: kimarrone@chichiri.com
Rating: PG (not sure how graphic it will get yet)
Fandom/Pairings: Gundam Wing, 5X1
Status: Snippet/Teaser
Archive: No, not finished yet
Website: ---

By Kimarrone

DISCLAIMER: The characters here are not mine. This deals with consensual teen/teen (both males) sex. But then again, this is GW after all. I’m sure you know the most popular types of stories in this universe! ^_~

NOTES: Um, this deals with Wufei’s first marriage. This is totally from my imagination. So keep in mind that it is alternate timeline, five years after the Marimeia Incident.

WARNINGS: 5X1, Angst, Yaoi, PG-13, 1st person pov, Alternate Timeline

FIRST DRAFT: October 6, 2000
LAST REVISED: November 11, 2000


“I don’t know why I’m writing this down. But Quatre gave me this journal so I can pour my heart and my soul into it. I didn’t need something as childish as this when he gave it to me on my birthday. But now I’m glad he gave it to me. I can tell my story and I can burn it afterwards and discard whatever’s left in null G so that not even the ashes remain.

“Sally tells me that I am repressing a lot of guilt. About what happened in my past, to my family and colony, for what I did near the end of the war. She wants me to let it all go.

“And I will. I’m twenty years old. Ten years were too long to keep carrying a heavy burden. So in this journal, I release it all.”

The pen paused. Then went on with furious strokes.

“The Chang Clan is a noble and very wealthy one. As oldest son, I was taught everything that a leader needed to know. I had everything, the world at my fingertips. Unfortunately, I didn’t want the world. The only thing I wanted was to be left alone. To be able to study histories, theories, philosophies. Politics and the machinations of the human race were, and still are, childish mindgames to me. Games that I refused to play and I was punished for this.

“One reason I hated being the oldest was because I was not supposed to be one, really. I had an elder brother who died on his fifteenth birthday. To hear my parents describe him, you’d have thought him a god in mortal flesh. I was raised against his standard of perfection and from the very moment that my mind knew of such things, I hated him. I hated him with a deep, deep passion. Looking back, it is very sad to be able to say that my only emotion towards him was not a genial love, but a flaring hate.

“His name was Shao, and I remember him as being an arrogant bastard who delighted in all the attention. But I also remember him as being a kind person, something that he rarely showed for compassion was seen as weak in a leader. He was the one who first taught me how to read, to love deciphering the old ancient pictographs of the Chinese alphabet. For this, I hated him evenmore.

“The day of his death started off brutally. Shao and his betrothed, Meiran of the Leung Clan, had finally met. I was ten years old at this time and precocious; I knew of Shao’s involvement with one of the servant girls. I knew that he was as in love with her as he could get at that age. He hated his betrothed…almost as much as I loved her.”

The strokes faltered. The young man dropped the feather quill-pen on the thick, red leather-bound book and stood up. He walked across the massive study, with its shelf upon shelf of precious books. Chang Wufei had spent a fortune accumulating his vast library. However, books could not give him human company.

He left the study, moved past the long dark corridors, and into a well-lit, fully-stocked kitchen. He paused at the doorway, black eyebrows arching at the sight of Heero Yuy standing in between the U-shaped counters. Dark hair tousled by the chill winter breeze, bronzed cheeks slightly flushed, blue eyes opaque in the artificial light, he looked more relaxed than he ever did.

“Yuy,” Wufei greeted. “What are you doing here?” His Japanese came out hesitant and uncertain. Five years in a colony that spoke mainly English or Chinese had definitely took their toll on his language skills. “Where’s Duo?”

After the Marimeia Incident, Wufei had left the Preventers and found his way into the Yuy-Maxwell household. Oddly enough, he had felt comfortable there, with Duo’s boisterous friendliness and Heero’s meaningful silences. It was strange to see the other pilot without his shadow.

Heero looked down on the ground, throat convulsing slowly. “We separated. I was wondering if you would mind letting me stay here.”

Wufei staggered back slightly, taken back. Heero…and Duo? Separated?

“What—what happened?” he choked out. His mind was awhirl. What the hell had happened in the past five years?

The other pilot lifted his shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug. “It just didn’t work, Wufei. So—are you going to let me stay?”

Wufei clung to the countertop beside his compact food-processor, eyeing the deflated young man before him. He had always assumed that it was Duo Maxwell who clung to Heero, with his quick smiles and, at times, desperate hugs. Was he wrong? Was it really Heero Yuy who couldn’t let go?

“Of course,” he replied, a little faint. “Of course, you can.”

=To be continued=