Heero ran down the hallway, unwilling to look at any of the other pilots save one. He fixed his face in his usual glower, enough to keep the other teenagers away, even though he felt torn, like he was dying inside. He skidded to a halt before the last door, and pushed it open softly, trying to be aware of the late hour. He ignored the customary gun pressed to his forehead, and shoved the weapon aside, fairly stomping inside the small room. He glanced at the empty bed, and could have smiled in relief, excepting that he didn't smile. Heero proceeded to stalk to the window, and sulk, staring out the panes of glass at the desolate, cold icy outside world.
Trowa watched the tensed back of his friend, and exhaled softly. Heero stayed tense as the taller boy approached, making the requisite small amount of noise so Heero didn't strangle him in surprise. The Japanese boy stared out the window, not trusting himself not to break down if he looked at his friend. Trowa raised his palm, and hesitated over Heero's shoulder, before gently placing it on his friend's hard, tense muscles.
"Do you want to talk?" Trowa asked quietly as Heero forcibly relaxed himself, unconsciously arching into the slight touch. Trowa frowned, saddened that Heero didn't even know how desperate he was for touch, for any physical affection without demands. The Japanese pilot shrugged, but withdrew from the window, flopping onto Trowa's bed familiarly. Trowa turned more slowly and sat softly on the bed beside Heero's lax form. He blinked as Heero's hand curled around his tightly, and smiled weakly at the pilot.
"This happens too often," Heero whispered, as if afraid to raise his voice in the moonlit room. Trowa's smile widened wryly, and he nodded silently. Heero knew the other pilot didn't talk much, but he was a listening ear, and he was sure of Trowa's acceptance. So he began to speak, and to spill out his thoughts.
"It's the same thing, with Duo, as usual," Heero sighed, beginning to explain. Trowa sighed with a forlorn expression, and stretched out alongside the Japanese pilot, waiting for Heero to continue. "He wants more intimacy, he wants to touch me, and he gets hurt when I...can't. The same old shit," Heero spat unhappily, his voice belying what his mask would not.
Trowa stroked his spine lightly, and Heero shivered, pressing up into the caress. Trowa sighed, and murmured, "Just tell him then, and end it all. Both of you want to, you just keep holding back. You'd be happier --" Heero's head snapped up, and the Latin pilot found himself pinned by a violent, furious Prussian gaze.
"I can't, damn it, you know I can't, Trowa! How in all hells am I supposed to tell that braided baka that I'm a girl?"
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