Author: Chauni
Email:
ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com
Website:
www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Sap, 1+2/2+1…um, that’s
about it.
Disclaimer: Nope, still don’t own GW,
no matter how much I cry and whine.
I asked you once, in our spent bed, if you liked yourself, noting the quiet way your breath hung in the air like small puffs of clouds. You didn’t respond right away, couldn’t really, by the way your jaw slightly drooped open. Guess I caught you off guard for once. Score one for the God of Death and the Bringer of Doom.
But my victory was short lived, for you responded quite sternly with a blunt, “No.” No amount of stunned shock made it’s home on my face, or in my soul, for I had already known the answer, but wished for nothing more than to hear it from your thin lips and azure eyes.
“I don’t like me much, either.”
I hadn’t meant to say those words, not consciously, anyway. Not to say they weren’t true, ‘cause they were, of course. But, it just wasn’t something I went around telling everyone. You see, if you talk too much to one person, they get information, and nothing on this planet or in this life is more dangerous than knowledge.
Heh. Did you know, I still remember my real name, from before I became the infamous terrorist, Duo Maxwell? Yep, and I won’t tell a single soul what it is…well, I did once, to Solo, but he’s with God now, ‘cause yes, I believe in God.
Solo…now there’s someone I trusted, probably ‘cause I was nothing more than a kid, but he never screwed me over once, not one single time. He made me trust people, even when all I wanted to do was hate them. The martyr for humanity, the sacrifice for trust.
Your fingers feel so good against the flesh of my arm right now, and I fight against the involuntary shudder that runs through my body, ‘cause God knows, I shouldn’t be thinking things like that here, not with all these people, not with the stained-glass strawberry kiss of sunlight stroking my cheeks. That’s the number one thing I like about churches; there is no better art in the world than in the House of God. Seriously, all the people who worked on the sculptures, the murals, the altars did so completely and utterly out of love, adoration, and inspiration, their hands the vessel and pen of that intense feeling. Look at the Sistine Chapel, and just try to tell me different.
I never thought we’d be here, standing here now like this, and I can feel the eyes of God on me, but whether he’s pleased or not, I can’t tell. I made my first confession since the Maxwell Church today, and it took several hours to complete it all, and I damn near broke down two times before I was done. But I wanted to come here unburdened; wanted to take you as an innocent; wanted to taste absolution.
I don’t think that ever will completely happen, but… hey, this is close enough, right?
Oh, yeah, vows. I look up, noting the way your pools suck me in like black holes and my words all lose themselves in the waving depths of your eyes. I’ve never seen anyone look more beautiful, and I think God sculpted you with the same love and adoration as his followers have.
“I like me a lot more now, Heero.”
It ain’t a great speech, nothing to bring tears to people’s eyes, or something overly romantic, but we don’t need that. He knows what I mean, and I know what I mean, and that’s all that counts.
“I like myself, too, Duo.”
It’s almost comical to see the priest staring at us like we were speaking gibberish, but he is only that way for a second, as he spreads his arms, robes flying out on either side of him. The way the sun is in its zenith outside makes the church afire with light and sound, and I want to scream as the inspiration flows through me, swallowing me whole. God is in everything, in the dust bore on the hot wind, in the flames that flickered on fading wicks, in me and my husband, as we kiss as partners in life and death.
People are clapping, but we don’t care. Someone-Quatre, I think -yells congrats or something, but I’m not listening, not really. My eyelids are fluttering open with a dreamlike quality, and all the colors of the world are blurred slightly around the edges.
I see God in you.
“Heero, my name…my real name…is….”
There are no secrets between me and God.