I'd spewed out some crap about how I was going off to find myself but that's one thing I had packed from day one. The point of my journey was to find a good place to sit down and unload myself, lose myself. Then I'd run. I'd get up and run like a fucking sonofabitch before I'd let me find myself again.

I found a good place to park my ass for a while and I set up camp. I bought a house but I built my home, my life, my friends, up from scratch. And I was happy. Every so often he'd show up at my door or call me on the phone and we'd talk. He didn't miss me, I didn't miss him, it was a great set up. We had the kind of friendship where we could go months or years without seeing each other, then we'd bump into each other in some weird ass random way like walking the neighbour's dog and next thing it would be dark and we'd be stranded on a park bench somewhere while Rex's paws healed enough to hobble back to home.

I was living the life. Literally. I had a home, money enough to spare, friends, a good job. I wasn't even thinking about anything more than that. Not the way he was. As much as I loved the guy, always had, I didn't love the guy, y'know? We'd been comrades a lot longer than we'd been friends and I was, even now, still just getting to know him.

Back before I left he'd kissed me. He'd taken me by surprise, been nervous and gentle in a way I'd never seen before and it was that, more than the fact that he was kissing me, that made me freak out. He's never been the kind of guy you'd expect to see unsure and scared. He was larger than life. He could do just about fucking anything.

Have just about fucking anyone.

But he couldn't have me.

Hell, even I didn't want me. If I could have tied myself to a fence at the side of the road and walked away I would have done. Instead I stuffed myself away and let myself fester. If I'd ever thought I could be like Dennis Dimbleby Bagley though I had another think coming. My little pimple of a real self was a tenacious little bastard and hung on no matter what I did to it. And worse, left there in the dark with nothing to do, it seemed to be brooding a lot on the last thing I'd let it see, the last thing I'd let it feel.

Fucking Heero.

Not literally, mind you.

I swear my little pimple of an inner self was whispering sweet nothings to him down the phone when I was asleep because it was like he knew. He was feeding it every time he came over and that was becoming more and more regular. I could see where it was leading and I didn't like it one bit; I was a kid, so was he, we should have been out enjoying our kid-dom before we had to take on the -hood.

Oh Heero was a gentleman don't get me wrong. After that one kiss years ago he'd never pressed for more. He'd respected my wishes when I'd told him thanks but no thanks, and our friendship was still as strong as it'd ever been. Only now my little inner self was getting daring enough to do things while I was awake. It'd move my arm around Heero's shoulders, it would stumble on a flat floor and bump hips with him or dally too long with a hug so I'd breathe in a lungful of his shampoo scent.

I wanted my kid-dom.

But I'd stopped running years ago. This time I kissed him.

Some things you just can't run from.