"Thousand words"

Written By: ExecutiveShrimp

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not profit.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, angst, fluff, Lemon, OOC

Pairings: 2x1

Summary: Duo and Heero have to share a dorm room in college and they become best friends. When they discover that neither has time for, nor interest in a girlfriend, they explore a friends with benefits relationship. But sex never remains uncomplicated.

" Thousand words"

Chapter 17

Heero focused all his attention, effort and time on an upcoming swim competition. It was an important match to him, only because he hated losing and he lost to one of the opposing team members last year. Apparently the rival was a condescending dick on top of that, but I hadn't met him and obviously Heero's perspective on the guy was a little biased, to say the least. While it was boring to not have Heero around a lot of time - and worse still was the fact that when he came to the dorm room at night he was usually too tired to have some fun with me - I did take enjoyment out of watching him train from my regular spot on the top row of the bleachers. I refused to believe that he was keeping me at bay because of the intense weekend we had had.

I was looking forward to the match, the competitive swimmer always got deliciously feisty after a victory, so once he would have had a good night's sleep, I planned on making up on all lost time with him. Entertaining the thought sometimes left me with a painful stiffy in my jeans. Luckily no one paid any attention to me. There were other spectators, but they were captivated by the sight of half-naked, fit, young men in swim jammers and speedos that left nothing to the imagination. Why would anyone look over their shoulder and look up at the lonesome guy at the top of the bleachers obsessively scratching his pencil over a piece of paper?

It was impossible not to draw sketch after sketch of Heero. It was all I could do to satisfy my lust. Outlining his body with my pencil sometimes felt like an intimate touch and as a result some body parts received more attention than others. His eyes, his lips, his ass and his crotch were a little too harshly defined after going over them so often.

I closed my sketchbook and tucked it away securely when the coach blew his whistle definitively. The swimmers climbed out of the pool and formed a circle around him to receive some constructive criticism or a pat on their back for a job well done, then they were sent to the showers.

As he walked along the length of the pool towards the locker rooms - trailing Trowa - Heero looked up at me and I instantly felt hot all over in spite of the shiver that traveled down my spine. I pointed in the general direction of the back door of the facility, indicating I would be waiting for him there. He nodded and then his attention was pulled by Trowa, who slowed down to walk beside him and started talking to him.

I didn't have to wait long. Heero was very efficient, he showered and dressed quickly and never bothered much with his untamable hair. He was one of the first to come out of the warm, humid building. I jumped up from the concrete lining of a flower bed where I had taken a quick seat and met up with him.

"That was a great training session. You looked really good."

"Thanks."

I bit my lip and tilted my head to steal a glance at his shapely behind, his tight jeans were barely more modest than his navy blue swim jammers. He looked really good. "Will you be shaving your legs again?"

He frowned at me. "What is it with you and shaving legs?"

"I just think... I don't know..." I laughed at myself. "I guess I just think it's kind of sexy."

"Sexy?"

I shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?"

I couldn't answer that. I didn't find the fine hairs on his leg objectionable at all, but I was intrigued by the thought of having him wrap smooth legs around me while I fucked him. He only shaved his legs for important matches, with the competition season just now taking off, I hadn't had the pleasure of exploring that experience yet.

"Do you like it because it makes me more like a girl?" He asked bluntly.

"What?"

"Do you like it because it makes it easier for you to pretend you're with a girl when you're fucking me?"

God knew it had nothing to do with that. I didn't fantasize about being with a girl when I was with Heero, I loved that he was a guy, I loved his hard muscles and his hard dick and his deep, throaty moans. Because I was gay, obviously. But Heero didn't know that yet and it was probably for the best if he didn't find out. Still, I decided to tell him honestly: "I don't think about girls when I'm with you." I wasn't sure if he believed me. I noticed he was biting his lower lip. "Do you think about girls while we...?"

He snorted. "That would be kind of a stretch, don't you think? What am I supposed to be fantasizing about? About a girl fucking me with a strap-on?" He laughed uncomfortably and looked away.

I supposed the implication that he didn't think about girls while having sex with me was a good thing, but I was too worried about his forlorn and sarcastic demeanor. Indelicately changing the subject I asked him what he wanted for dinner.

"We still have the ingredients for pasta from Tuesday when someone got a sudden craving for junk food." He looked at me accusingly.

"Sometimes a man just needs a double cheeseburger."

We argued about junk food. Heero, entirely devoted to his health, was vehemently against the consumption of the greasy food but I sometimes had an appetite for it so I felt compelled to defend it. I chuckled remembering how he had grudgingly ordered an overpriced Caesar salad when I had dragged him to the nearest diner and he had eaten it demonstratively, making exaggerated sounds of enjoyment, not knowing that only gave me a hard-on under the table.

We waited for a group of other guys to finish using the kitchen and then we made our pasta - vegetarian at Heero's insistence.

Alone at the kitchen table I reached out and placed a hand on his knee, meanwhile continuing to eat innocently, trying not to smile as I saw him looking at me from the corner of my eye. When he had made no objections I started to rub the thumb back and forth over the rough denim, but pressing hard enough so he could feel it. My plate was empty so I had to give up on my game of pretend. I sat back and watched him chew on his final bite. When he reached for his glass of water to take a sip I moved my hand up his thigh and unceremoniously planted it on his groin. Startled by my sudden, forward act, he spewed water all over the table. "Maxwell," He grumbled, his chin and shirt wet.

I let out a hearty laugh and scooted my chair closer to his. I dutifully dried off his face with a paper napkin, leaning in unnecessarily close. My other hand was still in his lap, massaging a growing bulge. "I want to suck your cock so badly right now," I whispered in his ear.

"Shit. Duo." He eyed the doorway suspiciously. We were in direct view of the staircase, if anyone came down they would see us.

To his visible relief I suggested to head upstairs.

"But the dishes," He protested as I hoisted him up from his seat.

"We're students, Heero. Fuck the dishes." Our housemates sure as Hell didn't give a flying fuck about doing their dishes and keeping the kitchen tidy. With determination I guided him upstairs.

Heero followed me closely, ready to hide behind my taller frame should someone come out of their dorm-room unexpectedly.

I unlocked our door and pushed him inside. I was a little rough with him because I knew we both liked it. I pressed him up against the tall frame of the bunk beds and ravaged his mouth. He was a little unresponsive and reluctant at first but that quickly melted away, the process of him warming up to me aided by me grinding my pelvis against his, our matching erections rubbing together through two coarse layers of denim. He rocked back against me wantonly, even as he said between heated kisses: "I'm really tired... And I still have homework to do."

"Hmhm." I cupped my hands around his face, maneuvering his head as I pleased to properly dominate the kiss. Eventually I had to stop to catch my breath. "It's been long enough."

"It's been less than a week," He pointed out.

"Too long." I captured his lips again.

He welcomed my tongue deep inside his mouth, but only momentarily. "Duo, I can't risk being stiff or sore tomorrow. I really want to beat this guy."

"We don't have to fuck. Like I said, I just really want to suck your dick right now." I promptly got down on my knees in front of him, smirking at his low, drawn-out moan. I made quick work of the button and zipper and then pulled his jeans down. Heero had the habit of not bothering with putting on underwear right after practice. I looked up at him, with the base of his arousal in my hand and I assured him: "I definitely don't think of girls when I'm with you."

He quivered watching me lick his balls and the throbbing length of his erection. He cried out once I took him deep into my mouth. It seemed it really had been too long since his last release - even though he had just argued it had been less than a week - because it was over far too soon. With his fingers dug into my hair he held me in place and came into my mouth.

I pulled back and put my hands on his hips to hold him steady. He was trembling so strongly I worried he would collapse. I unabashedly swallowed his semen. I got up, stroking my hands up his torso, pushing his shirt higher and higher until his chest was exposed and I toyed mischievously with the hard nipples while I kissed him passionately, with his taste still on my tongue. I let him enjoy and ride out the waves of his orgasm before letting go of him and taking a step back.

He adjusted his shirt and started pulling up his jeans. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about it. You go ahead and finish your work. I'll go jerk off in the shower."

"That seems unfair."

"I'm serious, Heero, no worries. Finish your homework and get some sleep, okay? And go kick this guy's ass tomorrow." I smiled at him and gave him a chaste peck on his cheek, then gathered up a towel and a fresh set of night wear and headed downstairs.

I took my time under the warm spray, staying my climax so I could run through every sinful fantasy I could come up with in my head. All involving my Japanese roommate of course.

By the time I got back upstairs I found Heero had collapsed in his bunk bed, still wearing his clothes and shoes. His books lay open on the desk but I couldn't imagine he had gotten much work done, regardless of how lengthy my shower was. It was only nine thirty and he might scold me in the morning for not waking him up and putting him in his chair at the desk, but I decided to let him sleep. As gently as I could I removed his ratty old sneakers from his feet and since he was lying on top of his sheets I pulled the extra blanket off my top bunk and draped it over him. I indulged myself and let my hand run through his silky hair. He nuzzled his nose into the pillow.

I put on an extra vest to compensate for having only a single, thin blanket left and then crawled into bed, hitting the light switch with my socked foot.

When I woke up Heero had gone for his morning run and I noticed the desk had been cleared. He had probably woken up early and had gotten out of bed to finish his school work before heading out for his daily run. I had no idea where he got the motivation and the discipline from. I envied him for that. Heero could do anything he set his mind to, I wasn't quite as devoted.

The classes that morning were particularly dull due to the fact that my poor decision of staying in bed 'just five minutes longer' had caused me to oversleep by half an hour and to make it to the first class in time I had no choice but to skip my pit stop at the coffee shop. Without caffeine I was not a happy camper.

I had to ditch the two classes after lunch because I would be going to the swim meet which was being hosted by the rival university. It was only forty-five minutes away by public transportation. Heero would be on the team bus. He said he had preferred to travel with me, but the coach wanted the team to go together.

I felt silly, wearing mismatched socks, a hideous, graphic shirt, the vest I had slept in and the jeans I had been wearing for the past three days. Blindly grabbing for clothes in the early morning while in a hurry did not elevate my sense of style in the least.

Heero was waiting for me by the campus gate where the team would meet up. He stood by himself while the others had splintered off into groups, talking and laughing. He was in the swim team uniform; baggy navy blue sweatpants and a white and sky-blue hoodie over a simple, white T-shirt. His university-logo bag with his swim jammers, towel, change of clothes and other necessities was at his feet.

"Hey buddy. Ready to kick some ass?"

He shrugged. "I feel rested and ready."

"That's good." I was about to sneak in an inconspicuous, loving touch but stilled when a deep voice called Heero's name. We looked over and saw tall Trowa and his platinum blond boyfriend walk over to us.

"Hey, you remember Quatre, right?"

"Of course. What's up man?" I shook his hand.

"Good." Quatre smiled. "I'm a little nervous. They've been training so hard."

Heero and Trowa seemed utterly unaffected by nerves.

"I know. But it's not important for their qualifications at regionals, right?"

"No," Trowa answered, "Although a sub-par performance by an individual might get them bumped to one of the outer lanes for the regional competition. The ones with the faster average get the center lanes, which are better for fast times."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the water in the outer lanes gets more rippled by the wake of the other swimmers, which makes it more difficult to swim through."

"Huh." I looked at Heero. "Why don't you ever tell me stuff like that?"

"It's not relevant, I'm always in the center lane," was his dry retort.

Quatre placed a hand on my shoulder to get my attention. "Are you also coming this time?"

"Yeah, I skipped classes so I could come." I looked down at my watch. "Which reminds me I should get a head start, my bus leaves in ten minutes and I still have to walk to the bus stop."

"You could come with me," The blonde kindly offered. "I have a car."

"That would be great. Thanks man!"

"No problem. Really. I'm heading there anyway and I have three empty seats."

I grinned. "Looks like I got myself a ride."

The coach blew his whistle and ordered all the swimmers to get on the bus. I watched with envy as Quatre rose on the tips of his toes to give Trowa a quick peck on his lips and the tall man retorted freely: "See you later, babe." I wished I could send Heero off like that. I looked at the object of my affection with a regretful expression. Heero had caught how I had been staring at Trowa and Quatre and seemed to be purposefully ignoring my gaze.

"Come on," Said Quatre, "My car's parked right over there."

I nodded and followed him, looking back over my shoulder several times until I couldn't spot that messy mop of dark hair anymore as he was engulfed by a crowd of taller teammates.

The car was familiar, it was the car I had previously always referred to as 'Trowa's car'. It was the same car the tall swimmer had driven Heero and I to the hospital with years ago when Relena had accidentally drugged him. The vehicle was old and small but it was better than taking the bus.

With a sputter the engine came to life. Quatre was a feisty little chauffeur, catching up with the team bus, weaving through traffic, and following the bus down the highway. He apologized for the broken radio and warned me that the window on the passenger side didn't open.

It was still better than public transportation.

"So, how did you and Trowa meet?" I asked curiously.

He smiled sheepishly. "It's not such a great story."

"Maybe it is to me."

"Alright. The short version is: his father worked for my father and that is how we met."

I made a face. "You're right, that isn't a good story."

He laughed.

"What about the long version?"

"Not much better I'm afraid. Trowa's father is a gardener, who worked at my parents' house for years. He started taking his son with him to work during the summer months when Trowa got older, so he could earn money as our pool boy."

"Wow, gardeners and pool boys?" It reminded me of my own upbringing in an unpleasant way. "Wait... Are you of those Winners? The Winner Corp Winners?"

He chuckled at my befuddlement. "Yeah. I thought you knew. Our fathers have a standing golf date every month, last I heard."

"I'm sorry. I never made the connection. I also can't remember my dad ever telling me Winner had a son my age."

"Don't worry about it. My father never spoke highly of me, or at all, really." He pursed his lips.

I made a face and looked up ahead at the back of the team bus. "That sounds familiar."

"I just had to leave that place, you know?"

I nodded absentmindedly. I wished I had the balls to cut ties with my parents, my father in particular, but the truth was I couldn't cover my tuition without their help. I had come so far, I wanted that diploma, even if a career in architecture was never my aspiration.

"It's not like my father tried to stop me..." He continued.

"Was it because -..." I stopped myself, I didn't want to ask an inappropriate question, since we hardly knew each other, but Quatre insisted I finished my sentence. "Was it because you're gay? Because you are with Trowa?"

He scoffed. "Not at all. My father couldn't care less about my personal life. No, it was the fact that I didn't want to get into the family business that really rubbed him the wrong way."

"God, it's like you're my long lost twin."

He smiled sympathetically.

"So you're on your own now?"

"Yes. Well, not really of course, I have Trowa. And he is all I need." His tone was adoring.

"He's a great guy."

His smile brightened. "Trowa told me you and Heero weren't exactly friends when you met and that you couldn't stand each other, in fact."

"He told you that?"

"He tells me lots of things about you guys, you're his friends. I hope you don't mind him sharing things with me."

"Of course not! I'm just surprised he told you, I find it hard to wrap my head around the idea of a talkative Trowa."

"He's much more chatty than he lets on. With me at least. I think it's just hard for him to open up to others. That's a shame, because a lot of people don't get to see how wonderful he truly is."

"Heero is the same..." I mused. "He puts up such a stoic and stubborn front, when in reality he is the funniest, kindest person I know."

Quatre glanced at him.

"I wish he would let it show, so he could make more friends. I worry about him sometimes."

"He seems pretty happy with just you."

I smiled. The observation warmed my heart. "I hope he is happy. He deserves to be happy." I chuckled nervously. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

After a thoughtful silence the driver wondered: "Isn't he going back to Japan this summer though?"

My mood darkened. "Yeah."

Quatre's eyes were deeply apologetic. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's okay. There's no running away from it. We knew from the start that our friendship had an expiration date."

"But things have changed since the start," He pointed out. "You're best friends now. Maybe you should reevaluate this 'expiration date'."

With a frown I asked what he meant.

"Hasn't Heero ever considered staying here?"

"He can't, he has to go back to take care of his grandmother."

"Oh, right, yeah. Trowa told me about that." He worried his lower lip between his teeth. "What about you though? Have you ever thought of going to Japan with him?"

I scoffed at the suggestion. "Who moves across the world just for a friend?" I looked out the window again. I wished I could follow him and I would do so in a heartbeat, if not for the fact that I suspected Heero didn't want me to come with him, because what would that mean and what would that imply to others? He was always so scared of people finding out that we were intimate. Worrying about people thinking we were gay would kill him. I didn't want to burden him with those worries. I also didn't want to burden him with me, with having to take care of me. What was I supposed to do in Japan? Where would I live, how would I earn money? How does a foreigner - who doesn't speak Japanese - with average grades from a mediocre university get a job in such a competitive market?

"Right. Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

We didn't say anything until we arrived at the competing university. The silence was awkward, but I couldn't think of an any less awkward way to fill it.

After a brief meet-up with Heero and Trowa we took our seats on the bleachers overlooking the indoor pool and we managed to start up conversation again. The new environment helped spark lighthearted topics. We ridiculed the cheerleaders that that the other school had drummed up for the event and we mocked the bright red speedos worn by the competitors, who were first to emerge from the locker room. They were welcomed with cheers, quite a crowd had gathered. Our swim team wasn't nearly popular enough for fellow students to come and support the team, so when our guys - in navy blue swimsuits of their choice - stepped onto the wet, tiled floor the clapping of proud parents and of Quatre and I was overwhelmed by the childish booing of the rest. I had thought Heero's rivalry was private and silly, but it seemed the competitiveness between the two team's best swimmers had instigated quite a feud between the two schools they represented.

We sat through the juniors dueling it out first. No one seemed particularly invested in these matches so Quatre and I, feeling sorry for the younger guys who were swimming their asses off, decided to cheer for them, if only because we got a good laugh out of all the strange looks shot our way.

Trowa and Heero were seated on a bench on the far side across from us, wearing their jammers, their hoodies to keep warm and their goggles around their neck. I noted how they both didn't look like themselves with their hair covered by navy blue caps and without bangs in their face.

Heero would be swimming the shorter distances of the Freestyle, some of the first races between the seniors. Trowa wouldn't be getting into the pool until later, since he had chosen for the longer distances, which were saved for last.

When Heero got up from the bench and rid himself of his vest I felt a sudden wave of nerves. I didn't share his competitive nature, but with all the work that he had put in I knew I would feel awful if he would end up losing.

Heero and his rival stepped onto the platforms of the two center lanes, without acknowledging each other. My friend adjusted his cap, making sure all of his wayward hair was tucked into it, before he put on his goggles. I watched him stretch his arms and roll his neck a couple of times as a final warm-up and then all the swimmers got into position at the first blow of the official's whistle. The race was only one hundred meters, two times the length of the pool, not a lot of room for error.

"Now I'm kind of nervous too," I admitted to Quatre.

He offered me an understanding smile.

The whistle sounded again and the swimmers launched themselves into the water, yet barely making a splash. When he came up I shot up from my seat and started chanting his name and shouting encouragements, even though he probably still couldn't hear me over the roar of cheers from the clad-in-red crowd.

The two were neck and neck and seemed to make the turn into the final stretch at the exact same time. I could not discern any difference in their speed, they both vastly outperformed the other competitors. The entire race was over in about a minute. With their hands hitting the wall to mark their times they came to an abrupt halt. Both stood upright in the water and looked at the scoreboard expectantly as the other swimmers finished. Because their times had been so close it required a recheck but finally the board lit up and Heero's name was first. Behind a computer two officials evaluated the photo finish and gave it a thumbs up.

The winner's reaction was mild even though I and his teammates were screaming in excitement at the top of our lungs. He climbed out of the pool effortlessly and my smile was beaming when the first thing he did was look up at the crowd, his eyes finding me.

The reaction of the runner-up was decidedly less subdued. He hoisted himself out of the water and immediately started pointing an angry finger at Heero, who was unimpressed by his heated antics. The two coaches started in their direction but before they would reach them to calm the situation an insult echoed through the open space.

"You fucking faggot!"

"Oh boy," I muttered and I had barely finished that thought before Heero retaliated in response to the insult. With a dull thud his fist connected with the other's jaw. The guy lost his balance on the slippery floor and tumbled back into the pool. One of the other swimmers of the red team, from the outer lanes, was quick to defend his team captain. Heero never saw him coming and couldn't prepare himself for the fist that came flying his way, hitting him partly on his nose and partly on his eye socket.

The coaches rushed to them and intervened. Trowa came forth as well and when the shouting of insults continued he had to wrap his arms around Heero's waist to restrain him as the Japanese man had intended to take another swing.

"Jesus Christ." I started down the steps to meddle in the brawl. At that point I wanted to hit some of those red-speedo-guys in the face as well.

The coaches managed to separate red from blue. Our team's coach ordered Heero to stay still as he quickly inspected his nose. Blood was flowing from it freely. With a chagrin tone he concluded: "You're fine. Go the locker room and get dressed. You're disqualified."

My friend didn't even object, he pushed Trowa's arms away and stormed off.

When I wanted to follow him into the locker rooms I was stopped by one of the officials but the coach called to them.

"It's fine! Let him go! Go ahead, Maxwell." I had been spectator at so many training sessions and swim meets he knew me pretty well.

It was announced that the two swimmers from the other team, involved in the fight - including the one who made the insult that started it all - were also disqualified and then they tried to continue with the competition. I paid it no heed. I burst through the doors into the locker room, searching for Heero. Not finding him on the benches by the lockers I headed in further, rounding a corner into the shower area. There was a long, narrow space with nearly a dozen private shower stalls on one side and a counter spanning the entire length of the wall with sinks and large mirrors on the other side.

Heero was sitting on the edge of the counter at the far end, holding a handful of balled-up toilet paper to his nose. With a sigh I approached him.

When he noticed I was coming he bowed his head. It was clear he wasn't in the mood to talk, but I didn't care.

Standing in front of him I tried carefully: "Let me look at that." I reached for his hand holding the paper to his face but he leaned back.

"It's fine," He said nasally. "The coach already looked at it, it's not broken."

"Just let me see!"

He cast his gaze up to the ceiling in annoyance but removed his hand and the soiled paper anyway.

His nostrils and upper lip were stained red from the blood, although it had seemed to stop flowing. His cheekbone had already begun to swell and the right side of his nose was showing the first hint of blue, which would only darken and get more hideous.

"How does the other guy look?" He asked with a crooked grin at my displeased expression.

"I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention to anybody else... What the fuck were your thinking?"

"He called me a faggot," He argued.

"So?"

Through gritted teeth he stated: "I'm not a faggot."

"Heero..." I paused and waited for my heart to unclench. "He didn't mean anything with it. Wrong as it is, people just throw around the word 'faggot' as a general insult. It doesn't mean he actually accuses you of being gay."

"It pissed me off."

I rolled my eyes and shot back sarcastically: "I hadn't noticed." It hurt to see him so upset about this single little word. It alluded to underlying issues that worried me. It also hurt me personally that being called 'gay' was the worst insult to him. Did he really think so lowly of homosexuals that the thought of being mistaken for one - let alone being one - was appalling and infuriating? What would he think of me if I ever dared to confess to him that I had come to the realization that I was gay? Would he think so lowly of me too?

Obviously Heero could tell that I was upset, he bit down on his lower lip, not understanding why or how to fix it.

With a hint of resentment I thought to myself: how could he possibly be completely and wholly straight, considering what we have been doing together? But who was I to say that it wasn't possible? Heero certainly seemed capable of compartmentalizing to the point where he would successfully be able to separate sex from all emotions and even attraction. And even if there was the slightest possibility that he was bisexual, or gay, it was not my right to call him out, or to force that kind of epiphany on him. Having recently gone through it, I understood that it was a thought that had to occur naturally, or you would just end up resisting it.

He carefully brought up his hand and touched his nose, wincing even at the slight pressure.

"You know, when I told you to go 'kick some ass', getting into a fist fight with two guys wasn't what I meant," I tried jokingly and I cupped his chin in my hand and tilted his face to closely inspect the forming bruise.

He chuckled softly, almost apologetically.

"When I saw him hit you-..." I clenched my jaw and didn't dare to finish my sentence. What I had nearly said what that I had been ready to beat that guy to a pulp. I had wanted to ride in like a knight in shining armor and save him, but it didn't seem appropriate to confess that to him. He detested my overprotectiveness. I didn't want to make him feel like a damsel in distress. I knew perfectly well he could defend himself. I just wished that he would accept that in spite of his strength - and me knowing how strong he was - I would still always come rushing towards him if anybody hurt him and I would take those blows not because I didn't believe he could handle it, but because I wanted to. Simple as that.

With a sigh I stepped forward, standing between his knees, and I rested my forehead on his shoulder. I smelled chlorine in his damp hair.

"I won the race, though."

I chuckled against his skin. Blatant as the change of topic was, I appreciated the humor and pride in his tone of voice. "Yeah, you did. Does that mean I can fuck you again?" A pleasant tremble passed through me when he encircled me with his arms and scooted closer to the edge of the counter. Absentmindedly I began to kiss his neck and his jaw. He tensed up momentarily, but when he relaxed he brought his arms around me and wrapped his legs around my hips. Spurred on by the closeness my mouth found his and I kissed him deeply.

He whimpered when our noses connected a little roughly, causing me to end the kiss. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be, I can take it."

It felt to me like he was still trying to prove to me that he was a man. For some reason he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that I was acutely aware of his masculinity and enjoying it, in fact. I grabbed his head and locked our lips together. I was demanding and dominant, but nevertheless secretly mindful of his offended nose and cheekbone.

"We'd better hurry, or the races will be over and the guys will come in."

I was surprised he was willing to go through with it even as he was consciously aware of the fact that people could come into the locker room at any given moment, if only to check on the wounded swimmer. With my brain still capable of some measure of logic I raised him off the counter and carried him into the shower stall, pinning him against the ocean-green partition. I rocked my hips against his lustfully. I was hungry for him. I was addicted to him.

Heero let go of my shoulders and hooked his arms over the top of the partition between the stalls. He kept his legs tightly wrapped around my torso.

I noticed he hadn't shaved his legs. Clearly Heero was struggling increasingly more with his -perceived - decrease of masculinity. The more he felt his manliness ebbed away, the more he wanted to compensate. The 'faggot' remark couldn't have come at a worse time.

I tried not to think about it, trusting he could work through this. Instead, I focused on the moment, on the charges of electricity at every touch.

Sensing his urgency, which matched mine, I worked open my jeans, just enough to expose the relevant bits and I struggled to rid him off his jammers as they clung to his body, as if trying to protect his modesty. I ended up pulling them down to his knees and then freeing one leg. He secured his legs around me again for support and I unceremoniously spat into my hand and rubbed the saliva onto myself. With a single, powerful thrust - it must have been painful for my lover - I pushed inside him. My own moan of satisfaction overpowered his sharp gasp at the entry. Greedy for more pleasure to fulfill my lust I didn't give him much time to adjust and instead just started pounding into him with wild abandon. Heero didn't seem to mind. His guttural moans soon accompanied mine. Pretty quickly he brought down one hand and wrapped the fingers tightly around his erection. He came first, which I loved because I was still coherent enough to study and enjoy the pleasure visible on his features. It took me a while to follow him. Even though I knew we shouldn't unnecessarily prolong the encounter given the risk of being walked in on and regardless of how eager I was for release, I didn't want it to be over so quickly. I wanted to watch him ride out his orgasm, I wanted him to still feel me moving inside him, touching him in the most intimate way possible and I wanted him to let me and to enjoy it, even after his own need for release had passed.

He was focused on my face, his eyes looked deeply into mine. I wished to God he would see the truth in my eyes, to save me from ever having to face the fear of saying the words out loud; I love you. If only he could discover the truth on his own and take my courage - or lack thereof - out of the equation. But he didn't see anything and perhaps he couldn't be faulted for that, perhaps my eyes were too clouded with lust for anything else to shine through.

When I came, I said his name over and over, like an obsessed mantra.

Our breathing was harsh as we recuperated from the physical strain. I carefully put Heero on his feet but I kept him pinned against the wall with my body, selfishly stealing the moment of closeness and intimacy. Unfortunately that moment was cut short. We both jumped at the sound of a door being thrown open in the distance and the chatter of about a dozen young men. We were only frozen for a split second. Heero pushed me out of the shower stall and locked the door. I fumbled to close the fly of my jeans and then struggled to assume a casual stance with the small of my back against the counter where Heero had previously been sitting. The shower started running and I was clever enough to drape his towel, which was by the wink, over the door of the stall. I leaned back and crossed my arms just in time.

Trowa rounded the corner and walked up to me. "How does it look?"

"Ugly as fuck," I replied. I was sweating and my face must have been red, all I could do was pray he wouldn't notice and question me about it.

He turned to the door. "Heero, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

He shrugged.

"How, uh, how did your races go?" I inquired.

"Came in first for both of them."

"That's great! Congratulations."

Heero muttered: "Congratulations."

Trowa smiled and then stepped into the neighboring shower stall to clean the chlorine off his body. Soon every shower stall was occupied, two swimmers even had to wait their turn. The coach kept them busy, giving them feedback on their races.

My friend emerged first, soaking wet, with his towel around his waist. "Can you wait outside?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll go find Quatre."

"He's waiting by the car!" Trowa helpfully supplied.

"Thanks." I gave Heero a well-intended, friendly pat on the back but it caused him to glare at me and he threw his gaze pointedly in the direction of the two teammates and the coach who had been watching, admiring Heero's developing bruise most likely. Heero was starting to get so anxious that he feared every little touch or platonic interaction would betray us.

Not particularly sympathetic to his paranoia I rolled my eyes at him and exited the locker room.

I did find Quatre in the parking lot, leaning back against the side of the car. He perked up when he noticed my approach.

"How is Heero handling it?"

"Fine. He can still take pride out of the fact that he won, technically, even though due to his disqualification the race doesn't count."

"How is his face handling it?"

"It looks..." I scrunched up my nose. "It looks angry." I laughed. "The bruise looks angry."

"What got him so upset?"

"Didn't you hear what he called him?"

He snorted. "Of course I heard, everyone did. But why would something like that get him so riled up? It's a derogatory word that doesn't even really refer to him, so why should it insult him? I mean, it's like someone calling you the N-word, isn't it? It's a hurtful word, of course, but it doesn't have the same personal resonance."

I shrugged and looked away awkwardly. "I can't really explain what he was thinking. Though part of me understands. It's not a nice word."

"Hm."

I glanced over and noticed I didn't like the way the short blond was looking at me. His eyes were so... knowing. "There they are," I pointed out after a while, relieved to see Heero and Trowa exit the building and start towards us.

When the two swimmers joined us Quatre kissed Trowa. "You were so great."

"Thanks."

"Heero, you were amazing too. That race was so intense. And so was the aftermath," He remarked sheepishly.

"Yeah," Was all Heero said.

"Heero and I will be driving back in the car with you guys," Announced Trowa. "The coach said it was okay, given what happened."

The coach was probably relieved they didn't have to suffer Heero's dark energy on the bus given that most swimmers were celebrating victories and personal bests.

A few minutes later we were all crammed into Trowa's little car. I wouldn't have minded the coziness of the backseat, if not for the fact that Heero was adamant our bodies didn't touch in any given way, so we were both pressed up against the side, to avoid our shoulders touching on some of the sharper turns. Quatre really was a hasty driver. He and his boyfriend made idle conversation in the front while the backseat was dead quiet. Heero was staring out the window and wouldn't avert his gaze, not even when it started to rain and sheets of water poured down the window and the glass was fogged up.

Quatre kindly made an effort to involve me in his conversation with Trowa, providing me with a distraction from the awkwardness between Heero and I.

I was so jealous of the two of them. I must have practically turned green when Trowa placed his hand over his boyfriend's on the gear lever.

The harsh reality was that it would probably never be like that between Heero and I, because he was either seriously, genuinely straight or he had waded so far into the swamps of denial that he might be stuck in it indefinitely. Either way, it wasn't promising.

We were dropped off at the campus gate and I waved as the car sped off. "He's an aggressive little driver," I observed. "How's your ass?"

He shot me a look.

"It was kind of a bumpy ride and we weren't exactly gentle back there."

"I'm fine," He grumbled, adjusting the strap of his sports bag on his shoulder and starting towards the dorm houses.

"Of course you are." My voice was dripping with sarcasm but Heero barely paid any attention to me. I glanced down at my watch. It was well past conventional dinner time, but we still had to eat. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Hn."

I balled my fists, his demeanor was starting to get on my nerves.

"Anything is fine."

"I'm kind of craving Moroccan. What about you?"

"Sure. Whatever."

"Heero," I lunged forward to catch up with him and took hold of his upper arm. I spun him around. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Nothing! I'm just upset about being disqualified. And my face hurts like a bitch."

I suspected he was not being entirely forthcoming, but I knew there was no point in trying to pry more information out of him. "Fine. You go up to our dorm and pop some painkillers for your face, I'll go get us dinner."

"Thanks." He promptly turned around and walked away.

I muttered something foul under my breath and then retraced my steps back to the gate. The Moroccan take-out place was only two blocks away from the university campus. I got us way too much food, knowing my friend would judge me, but I felt like stuffing my face. Of course I was an emotional eater, I used to be enormously fat after all. The thin handles of the heavy plastic bags cut into my fingers. I quickened my pace because my mouth was watering at the delicious smells wafting around me.

We had dinner up in our room, because the other guys were downstairs, commanding the common rooms with their obnoxious laughter and the smell of a joint being passed around. To fill the silence I made sure to make appreciative sounds with practically every bite.

Soon Heero had eaten his fill and he watched me consume more with a mixture of amusement, wonder and disgust. "If you eat any more you'll get sick."

"Trust me, I won't. My body has adapted to be able to handle these kinds of portions. I'm an evolutionary marvel."

When I was finally done with my meal I boxed the leftovers to put in the refrigerator and gathered the trash in one of the plastic bags. I came back upstairs after putting everything away and exchanging a joke or two with the guys. Heero was seated at the desk, in front of an open textbook, but he had his elbow planted on the page and his chin rested heavily in his palm. He stared out the window, deep in thought, not focused on his studies in the least.

I decided not to bother him, partly because even though I wanted to say something to make him feel better about the entire situation, I didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone who is possibly on the edge of an existential crisis? Not everyone handles it in stride like I did. But I grew up to be rebellious and to embrace defiance, stemming from my hatred for my father. I couldn't wait for the perfect moment to further disappoint him by revealing to him his only child was a homo. Heero was the perfect child, he was not used to disappointing people, he wants to follow the rules because he genuinely respects the rules. I could imagine it being much harder for someone like that to come to grips with the fact that he might be different from the norm and that he will not live up to expectations, especially because of his grandmother. Because he loved her so much he would want her to be proud of him and to support his choices in life. A strict, traditionalist, elderly woman - although loving - couldn't be expected to respect a lifestyle that is still widely considered to be an affront. But he couldn't even test the waters to find out how she would feel about it. The woman was in a late stage of Alzheimer's an barely coherent, even on her best days. She would not be able to express any kind of biting disapproval but the problem was she would also never be able to give her grandson her blessing, which might be exactly what he needed to be able to move forward, if he was starting to come to the same conclusion as I had with regards to my own sexuality.

I got comfortable on his bed and reached for one of the books he keeps on the floor just under the bunk bed that he reads in the evening for enjoyment. The book in my lap was merely a game of pretend as I continued to watch him and I wondered about his inner turmoil. I didn't even know if he was struggling with potential bisexuality or homosexuality - if anyone would be capable of not being fundamentally changed by sex, it would be someone as calculating as my Japanese roommate - but I preferred to believe that he was, since the alternative explanation had my heart clenching painfully. What I thought to be the only other possible cause for his evident distress was him being absolutely, wholeheartedly certain he was straight, but recognizing that I had 'gone over to the dark side', which would leave him with the predicament of trying to find a way to let me down easy without ruining the time we had left to just be friends. I didn't like that alternative at all. He was my first love - and as I imagine to be the case with all first loves, I couldn't imagine ever loving anybody else - it would be devastating to me if my feelings would turn out to be completely unreciprocated.

And just like that I felt incredibly sorry for all my past girlfriends, at least the ones who cherished authentic feelings for me. It must have been horrible for them to be dismissed by me so casually. Before falling in love with Heero I was callous in my rejection, simply because I didn't appreciate how intense and deep-seated those feelings could be. In my lack of understanding I must have been a really horrible guy, I realized in hindsight, now that I was being threatened with heartbreak of my own. My own personal catastrophe. I even started to sympathize with Hilde. For the first time I understood how severely one person could love another and even though her lie was hurtful and unforgivable, I was starting to see how a kind of overpowering, stupendous love like that could make a person resort to desperate, ugly acts to keep that loved-one close.

Finally he seemed to snap out of it. With a sigh he straightened in his seat and he blinked at the open pages of dull text.

I focused on my own book intently, pretending not to be acutely aware of him looking at me over his shoulder. I had been expecting a crass comment about 'stinking up his bed', but he didn't say anything and instead quietly worked on one of his many school projects before we both agreed it was time to go to sleep.

It was weekend and I had to work at the on campus bar both Saturday and Sunday night. Luckily I was scheduled alongside Obie, as long as he could refrain himself from prying, I knew it could be fun and it was. On Sunday evening his young wife Jenny even appeared at the bar and stayed there until closing. Her presence kept the conversation light and she was easy and amusing to talk to. Meanwhile Heero was at his dad's place for their weekly dinners. However, when I received a curt message from him letting me know he was spending the night at his dad's a miserable, nagging concern overcame me. But if he needed space than I had to respect that I planned to experiment with how much space and time I should give him to deal with whatever issue that was burdening him.

"God afternoon, Goddess of the universe," I quipped Monday at lunch when I stepped into the university library and approached the lady at the desk.

"Lord Maxwell, master of my minions," She bantered. "What sacrifice have you come to offer me?"

I knelt down before the desk and reached out a wrapped sandwich that I knew to be her favorite. I didn't care about the group of other students that was watching with apparent judgment on their features, who would ridicule me as soon as I was out of earshot.

"Seven blessings upon thee," She accepted the lunch and waved her hand as if she was holding a magic wand.

With a laugh I got up and backed away the first few steps, with bowed head, before walking off. I crossed through the open space and took a right into the narrow hallway that led to our private study room all the way in the back. If anything I kind of hoped Heero's father had behaved like an asshole the night before, true to form, so that would take some of the heat off me and Heero and I could once again bond over how much we detested our fathers, instead of me chasing after him like a lovesick puppy and him basically trying to beat me away with a stick because he's afraid I'll bite.

At the door I looked through the window into the room. My hand was already on the doorknob, but my brain registered what my eyes were seeing and my entire body froze; I couldn't move and I instantly felt cold, right to the bone.

Heero was at the far end of the room, standing behind a girl that he had bent over the table. While he was mostly dressed, the hem of her frilly skirt was pushed up to her waist and one side of her top and one cup of her bra was forced down, showing her pale breast. Her wavy, strawberry blond hair fell in front of her face and moved back and forth with their movement. His look was one of complete concentration. When my heart stopped beating I could hear them. I could hear her high pitched moans, that she failed to bite back. I could hear his grunts. I could hear the table shudder on its legs with every thrust.

All of a sudden he looked up and he looked right at me. His expression betrayed his shock, but only for a split-second, then his face became unreadable. He kept looking me right in the eyes, even as he wrapped his arm around her, grabbing a handful of soft breast, and pulled her upright, her arched back against his chest. His steel gaze was relentless.

I had half a mind to barge right in and scare that girl away but the scene wasn't orchestrated by her. Heero must have known I would join him in the study room for lunch, I always did after all. As shocked as he was when he first spotted me, he must have planned it. He wanted me to see it. It was a clear message, although he had no idea how hurtful. He was telling me in the most definitive way he knew how that he was a man, a straight man. Whether he was putting up a show for himself as much as he was for me, I didn't know and I found no solace in either possibility.

I stared right back, trying to remain strong even as I wanted to crumple down to the floor, ball myself up and wail pathetically in a way that my old - pre-love - self would find repugnant. I had no qualms about conveying one fragment of the prism of feelings I was experiencing, namely anger. I had the right to be angry because we had agreed, way back when we concocted this arrangement, that we would be exclusive. He violated that agreement. In reality that didn't even scratch the surface of what I was going through. I felt cheated, cheated by my great love. But I couldn't even hold that over him because he never agreed to a loving, committed, long-term relationship, that was all just in my head. So I was as angry at him as I was at myself.

He kept fucking her. She was oblivious to me standing right outside the door.

Realizing that continuing to stand there, nailed to the floor, wouldn't only add to my own pain but was also unfair to the girl who was put in a compromising position in which she wouldn't want to be seen by a third party, I decided to do us both a favor and I left.

With heavy feet, heavy arms, heavy head and heavy heart, I walked away.

When I reached the exit, the librarian, only halfway through her meal, called out my name and asked me what was wrong. My complexion must have been pale and my expression distraught.

I couldn't even be bothered to put her at ease by faking a smile and forcing a joke, I just walked out the door, dumping the two other sandwiches in a trash bin outside.

I skipped on the final two classes of the day. I was afraid I might suddenly become a sniveling, emotional wreck and if that were to happen I preferred it to happen in private, so I went to our dorm room. I didn't know what to do with myself, mostly I was torn between crying my eyes out and punching something but I didn't have the energy for either, really. After standing in the middle of the room, staring, detachedly, into thin air for longer than I cared to admit I dropped down in my desk chair, with my shoulders slumped. What started to take center stage was how foolish I felt. Foolish for thinking something more was blossoming between us. Foolish for thinking that it would be that - relatively - easy to find the love I had been looking for my entire life; in my closest friend. I should have known better than to hope, I had been disappointed often enough for the lesson to have hit home.

I wasn't prepared for him to come home as soon as he did. He must have only had one class after lunch, but I had figured he would have known better than to get too close to me. Surely, even though the depth of my hurt were lost to him, he must have recognized his actions would have upset me. Whatever the case, whatever he must have been thinking, or feeling, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it.

He didn't say a single word, not a single, damn word. He appeared to be waiting, waiting for me to tear into him.

He didn't have to wait long. I obliged him, needing an outlet to vent at least one of the myriad of emotions I was going through. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded harshly.

Heero held his head bowed, his hands behind him, pressed between his lower back and the solid door.

"What was that little show about?"

He didn't answer.

I chuckled bitterly. "I don't understand you." I shook my head. "I thought I knew you through and through but I don't understand you. I don't understand any of this. What was the point of that show-and-tell back there?"

His shoulders moved in a barely perceptible shrug.

"This is so fucked up! You are such an ass! To me and to that girl!"

He wasn't about to defend himself, he wisely kept his mouth shut. There was no defense that could have quelled my anger.

I was chuffing through my nose with every breath like an angry beast. "We agreed this thing between us would be exclusive."

He nodded meekly.

"You broke the rules!" I hammered in.

Another nod.

His submissive demeanor only served to enrage me more, because it made me feel like he didn't care about risking the physical intimacy between us and that he wasn't willing to stand up for it and try to save it. "It's over!" I shouted. "It's fucking over! And let's hope we can go back to being friends after fucked-up stunt yours. Jesus." I buried my face in my palms. "I can't even look at you without seeing... her."

I looked up at the sound of a soft click and I saw Heero had left, he had slipped out the door. He hadn't said a single word. He didn't even bother to fight for us. There was no 'us', he made sure of that.

In the following week we made an unsettling discovery. We couldn't go back to just being friends. We couldn't rewind. We couldn't retrace our steps back to square one. Everything between us had changed on a fundamental level, although in different ways for me than for him. I couldn't pretend nothing had happened. My entire life had been turned upside down thanks to our sexual adventure. I had learned two very important things; I wasn't straight and Heero wasn't just 'Heero, my friend'. He was Heero, my first love. A love I didn't want to let go of or lose hope for, but he wasn't giving me much choice.

It wasn't like we talked about it, we hardly exchanged words, it was too awkward for him and too painful for me. His well-intended attempt to mend things between us fell flat because we were stiff and visibly uncomfortable and we couldn't slip back into our old, trusted pace. We were out of step, out of tune. I didn't understand him and he didn't understand me and every promising conversation was stunted when one of us accidentally said something that made the other uneasy; his face went beet red when I made the mistake of making a sexual joke in a casual manner; I had to turn away when he mentioned Trowa and Quatre - who shared a relationship I envied - in passing manner.

So I hadn't just lost my love, I had lost my friend as well. Although rationally I had been aware of the possibility that our friendship could be damaged when I suggested this friends-with-benefits thing, I never worried much. Obviously I could have never predicted how things turned out. I couldn't have predicted falling in love with him. Although in hindsight maybe I should have, Heero was perfection and even his imperfections were perfect - at the very least endearing - to me. As difficult as Heero had been to like when we first met, it had become impossible for me not to love him, no matter how much I wanted to hate him.

What didn't help was that everyone and their mother immediately took notice of our lack of chemistry and constantly asked me about it. I didn't know what to say to them. I couldn't tell them the truth, but they weren't buying the blatant lie of 'Nothing is wrong' either. Just what I needed, more difficult conversations and pregnant silences.

On Saturday I had another shift at the bar. I sent Martin home early, it was a quiet evening, not a lot of guests and God, he was just so annoying. He'd start in on a self-righteous monologue if the clean glasses on the counter weren't perfectly lined up, or if the bottles didn't have their label facing forward, or if I didn't stop a guest from munching down all the peanuts in the bowl on the bar.

At one point I had screamed at him: "Let the man have his peanuts!"

As the hour started to get late, nearing closing time, only a couple was left, seated at the table in a dark corner, absolutely gushing over each other. It was disgusting. I glared at them - although they were completely unaware of my attention or even my presence - while I plunged my hands into the warm water in the sink and started scrubbing on glasses angrily, suds flying every which way.

She laughed at something her boyfriend said. It was this high pitched giggle. She even twirled her hair and batted her eyelashes.

I'm so fucking gay, I thought to myself. I was never spellbound with girls the way most guys were, but it had gotten to a point where I was just repelled by the stereotypical antics, I just didn't find it cutesy or endearing. I much preferred watching Heero. Even watching him get dressed was a thrill, his movements were so smooth and purposeful and with a hidden power; the muscles under his skin were like coiled springs.

Yes, definitely gay.

I was relieved when a new customer came through the front door. It was starting to get more than a little awkward being alone with the frisky couple. It was a surprise to see that the customer was Trowa. Since Heero had already informed me that neither Trowa nor his boyfriend consumed alcohol, I wondered what his business was at the campus bar. I feared it had something to do with me. I liked Trowa and all, but he wasn't an easy guy to talk to. He was similar to Heero in that regard, but I knew Heero much better than I knew him, with him I knew how to shimmy past the stoic barrier. Or I used to...

"Hey man, what's up?"

Trowa nodded as a way of greeting and took a seat at the bar, right across from where I was standing at the sink. He put his sports bag down on the barstool next to him and ran a hand through his damp hair. Swim practice had just ended.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Not even water?" I deadpanned.

"I'm not here for a drink."

"Well... That doesn't leave much for you to do. The sole purpose of this establishment is for people to come and have a drink." My wit was bland and inappropriate. Heero would have thought it mildly amusing, but this wasn't Heero I was talking to and besides, my friend wasn't really amused by me as of late anyway. And the feeling was mutual.

"So you're in love with Heero."

My jaw dropped and my eye must have twitched. I wondered if I was having a tiny stroke because surely I hadn't just heard him blurt such an incriminating statement. He didn't even have the decency to phrase it like a question. "Wha- Whaaat?"

At my blatant confusion he explained: "Quatre told me."

"Who told Quatre?" I shot back dumbly.

"You, more or less. He assured me it was pretty obvious."

After I spent an embarrassing stretch of time stuttering, I managed: "Is gaydar a real thing?"

"Gaydar?" He snorted at the notion. "Quatre said you were practically drooling over him and certain remarks about the relationship between the two of you got you more than a little perturbed."

"He said that?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can go tell him that I said he is wrong." I was my quasi-clever attempt to nullify the accusation.

His stare was unnerving. "I'll tell him you're a liar, if you want me to."

I was dumbstruck yet again. What was happening? More stuttering followed.

"Look," With a dismissive wave of his hand he silenced me. "I didn't come here to make you feel uncomfortable. My intention was only to give you some advice."

I waited for said advice.

"Forget about it."

My brow furrowed. "What kind of advice is that?"

He shrugged. "I just don't think Heero is gay, that's all."

I pointed out dryly: "You just basically told me gaydar isn't really a thing."

"Sure. But for the past four years I've seen Heero be around over a dozen naked, wet and fit guys and he has never given any of them a second look."

"That doesn't have to mean anything..." I muttered.

"Maybe. I just wanted to warn you." He sighed. "You're a really nice guy and your friendship with Heero is enviable," He said genuinely, "I don't want to see you guys ruin that."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"No, but he's been miserable."

My heart sank.

"And everyone who knows the two of you has taken notice that the past week you have been distant towards each other and clearly it's affecting the both of you."

I leaned forward heavily, looking away. "You really think he isn't gay?"

"I think the small chance isn't worth risking your friendship for."

I worried my lower lip between my teeth. "You're probably right."

Trowa almost looked remorseful. He clearly didn't enjoy being the bringer of bad news. He rapped his knuckles on the bar in rapid succession, awkwardly filling the silence. "I should head home." He grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulder. Apologetically he added: "I'm sorry about this." Then he turned and walked away as abruptly as he had entered.

Forget about it? I asked myself. How the fuck was I supposed to do that?

Chapter 18

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