If falling out of love could be so easily explained, why did his heart hurt so acutely? He felt emotionally paralyzed, aware of the pain that occupied his consciousness whenever he thought about Heero, but powerless to stop his own hurt.

"Duo."

He turned around slowly at the sound of Heero's voice, lowering his cigarette although he was sure he had already been seen.

Heero's expression, however, held no sign of reproach.

That is also one of the things that happen when people stop loving each other, he continued in his head. They no longer reserve the right to try to change the other's habits, with words that were both heavy and deeply sweet.

He should feel relieved and unburdened, but at this moment he missed the times Heero openly displayed his anger and disappointment in him. He had fallen to the bottom of the pits until he could fall no further, this he wanted Heero to notice and take to heart, even if it was by his own doing. He wanted to feel that he would always have some influence on Heero, even in the most negative ways, just as the dying cigarette now put out by the rain had always played a role in his troubled life.

"Have you come to say goodbye, Heero?" The melancholy was evident in his voice.

This is what ardent, fiery love comes down to. In the end, it required no outside forces but simply burned itself out. No need for the rain, it is too late to quench the thirst of their dying relationship.

He felt a weight settle on his shoulder. Heero rested his chin there, arms extended on either side of him with hands positioned on the ledge like a sprinter at the starting line, ready to take flight. He did not lean his full weight into the contact, but looked out at the same grey bleakness as Duo did.

"I don't want to go, Duo." But you have to. I knew you would have a hard time saying those words when this day comes.

Heero did not continue, and Duo found he had no more bitter remarks left in him. They let the silence hang. His throat was dry and aching, his eyes were the exact opposite, and all he could do was stare out at the unending rain and wonder why his vision blurred when he couldn't feel. There were a thousand things he could have said, but why make the process any harder for both of them? So this was how they would say goodbye ... a warmth on his shoulder that was neither too close nor too distant, Heero's scent infused and thickened with the essence of the rain, and a voice that communicated a thousand regrets.

"So, I guess this is the end." He jumped off the ledge and landed soundlessly on the ground below, slipping a little in the mud and jarring his knees with the forced landing. He wouldn't let the pain show. Heero called out his name in alarm.

Duo shrugged in a gesture of forced nonchalance. His behavior was unexpected, he knew. He wasn't planning to kill himself in front of Heero by leaping from the second floor, though -- it was physically impossible. He wasn't that foolish or weak. But he wasn't strong enough, either, to continue sitting in the presence of a silent, watchful pair of eyes that had learned to read his every move, every unconscious gesture. Duo took the cap out of his back pocket and fitted it over his head, blocking the rain out of his eyes. His braid was already soaked through.

Walking away, with his back to Heero, he waved goodbye with two fingers, seemingly casual. If only Heero could see the overwhelming loss in his eyes. A part of him was already dead.

Like always, he drove like a maniac, but this time the motivations were different. He had no place he longed to go. The face, those eyes that placed him on the edge with desire, that used to make him kick the gas pedal into the floor when returning home from a long mission, now had released their claim on him. Those lips would never mouth his name again, voice hoarse with lust in the night. It was in those hours of silver semi-darkness when what was at first a physical attraction secretly bloomed into something more. Something much more meaningful, more substantial, and now too heavy for both of their worlds. The arms that provided him with a sanctuary would still open for him, but in a different context. They would offer friendship and support, but not love, not consuming passion, possessive jealousy and all the other conflicting, uncontrollable emotions that came with love. He was not hurrying toward a destination this time, but racing away to forget that he had been abandoned.

The fallen trees in the middle of the road, indistinct just seconds ago through the heavy rain, took him by surprise. Still, he believed he had enough time to swerve out of the way. The tires slipped on the wet surface, screeching a shrill note of panic as they attempted to maintain traction on the road. He couldn't see past the merciless streams hitting the windshield, couldn't think past the horrible screeching noise. He cursed loudly, turning the wheel all the way, hoping to get the car to come to a stop by a complete turn. In spite of his seatbelt, he was flung against the side unexpectedly when his car crashed into another car that appeared out of nowhere.

God. Damn.

The car had already slowed down considerably before impact, but the momentum of the sudden stop had been surprisingly destructive. He pressed his fingers to the left side of his forehead, felt blood there, and thought grimly that he might need stitches to stop the bleeding. At least the driver of the other car seemed fine, just shocked.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat, tilting his head backwards against the headrest to keep the blood from flowing into his eyes. He needed the day to end.

An urgent knocking on his window minutes later reminded him that passing out in his car in the middle of the road after an accident was not the smartest thing to do. It was Heero he saw through the fogged up glass. Drenched by the rain, the water dripping from hair that clung to Heero's face only intensified the worry visible there. Duo thought he might have a concussion, but he was fairly sure that it was indeed Heero outside his car. At least, believing so made him stay conscious.

He could barely remember what happened afterwards. Heero took over the situation for him, made a few phone calls -- to Quatre and Trowa, it seemed -- and brought him back home, not to the hospital as he had feared. Anxiety, though Heero did a good job of stoically concealing it, only made the ex-pilot more efficient.

He found himself in a bathtub of warm water with his head resting against a pillow and a pack of ice over his forehead. His drenched clothes lay in a heap off to the side. It felt as if his head wound had already been cleaned and disinfected; the stickiness was no longer there. It was damn embarrassing to be naked and in such a bad state in front of Heero, but he figured it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. Just a different context now, he repeated. His nakedness made him feel utterly vulnerable, like a bedridden patient incapable of controlling his own bodily needs. With any luck, if the concussion was merciful, he might forget this the next day.

A hand tested the temperature of the water, the icepack, then felt for the pulse at Duo's jugular. He almost sat upright; he did not realize Heero had been sitting behind him. Just sitting there without a word, watching his condition.

"You awake, Duo?"

"Yeah ..." He slurred his words out of fatigue, not due to actual head damage.

"How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed and disoriented. Other than that, I'm okay."

The water sloshed gently in the bathtub as Duo sat up a little. He lay an arm on the edge of the tub and supported himself. The cold air on his slick skin and the warm breath he imagined he could feel on his back was a strange combination, a surreal sensation.

"Listen ... This might not be a good time to talk about it, but I wanted to clear up any misunderstandings as soon as possible."

Duo let his eyes drift shut. He wanted to give up. He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, in his naked state with his body in warm water and ice on his head, even if the ice on his face should melt and the hot water should run cold against his body. Let his body turn cold. He didn't want to think about it anymore. Why kick your enemy if he's already dead? He wanted this injury to scar as soon as possible.

"I think we understood each other."

Heero was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was the heartbreaking voice he could never defy: "All right. I see."

The hand left his neck subtly. The emotion in that voice was unmistakable. He couldn't resist. "What?"

Was there still hope? He didn't dare ask.

"I wanted to make sure that you wanted me to leave."

He turned around, the movement spinning his head and almost making him nauseous. "What the hell."

// I don't want to leave, Duo. But we have so little left ... The final choice is yours and I will respect your decision. Just know that there is nowhere I would rather go, even if staying means having to face the fact that we don't love each other anymore.//

Don't let me leave was what he was begging.

He had only seen the end of the relationship, the morbid greyness that clouded over everything. He had not heard the frantic calling, from Heero and his own heart, to not give up, it was too early to lose hope. Don't give up on me, don't turn your back on me. If you have faith in us, we can overcome anything; if you choose to leave, I won't hold you back but I don't know what would become of me.

He had been a fool to run away like that, only to crash, literally, and find that he had been wrong. Although there was no guarantee that trying would lead to anything, perhaps even to fail more miserably than before, his heart made the decision for him. He did not even need time to consider.

"If I don't remember any of this in the morning, Heero ... remind me that I was a complete moron. I'm sorry for the mess I made. And remind me that I want to keep trying."

Moved, Heero reached for his hand and brought the wet tepid skin to his lips. He was grateful, not for the incident that could have taken Duo out of his life permanently, but for the chances they had given each other. He moved to sit on the edge of the tub, and Duo leaned back to rest his head on his legs. He traced with his finger the contours of the familiar lips, warmed and caressed by Duo's breath, the closed lids and fine eyebrows, and skirted around the perimeter of the wound on the side of the forehead.

Even when the initial passion had subsided, even when they lashed out at each other and the rain seemed never-ending, his heart still longed for Duo. Above the feelings of discontent, the reason for his falling in love with Duo in the first place had not changed. The one he found so beautiful was there in the bathtub, lapsing into sleep, breathing softly away. If he ever could live with someone in his life, he wanted it to be Duo.

Quietly, he whispered his love into the still air, lips pressed once again to the other's knuckles. He held on tightly to a relaxed hand.

"I won't forget that." Duo murmured, more alert than he appeared to be. Remind me in the morning, remind me every single day that you love me more than you yourself could understand, but I would not have forgotten.