My heart thundered with fear as I slammed the closet doors shut behind me, wishing they locked from the inside. The space was dark, cramped and hot, but I really didn't care. Anyplace was safer than OUT THERE, where he was on the prowl. Cursing loudly and fumbling around blindly in the darkness, I crouched on my haunches and cowered behind the rack of clothes, pressing myself against the back wall and pushing hangers with jeans dangling off them in front of my body in a vain attempt to hide myself. My breath was coming in hard, fast gasps, and I could feel the sweat rolling down the back of my neck, soaking and staining the collar of my T-shirt. Fighting the urge to whimper, I reached behind myself and pulled my long braid in front of me, clutching at it protectively, trying to offer myself a small shred of comfort.

I heard the bedroom door open.

//Oh...fuck// I cursed silently, holding my breath and praying with all my might.

But, of course, since God hates me with a passion, he didn't answer my prayers.

Quiet footsteps immediately advanced towards the closet door, like a wolf hot on the trail of its prey. I started to tremble as a monstrous shadow fell over me, visible only through the slats in the closet doors. One hand still clutching stubbornly at my braid, my other one scrambled blindly for something to use as a makeshift weapon. I felt something cold and slender make contact with my questing fingers.

//Perfect...not really, though...it's a piece of shit, but it'll have to...//

And as the closet doors began to creak open, I gathered my strength and lunged at my attacker, brandishing the plastic hanger like a hook, aiming to skewer my tormenter and blast him into the fiery pits of blackest Hell. Die, tormenter, die!

Heero caught me by the wrist, wrenching the hanger from my grasp and sending me tumbling gracelessly to the floor, where I landed flat on my ass with a loud thud.

"Asshole," I cursed, glaring up at him angrily and trying to ignore the waves of pain coursing up my back. I had never known the floor in our apartment was so fucking hard. "I probably broke my buttbone, you know. It's gonna be your fault if I can't sit for a fucking week!"

"Duo," Heero said with a frustrated sigh, tossing the hanger back into the closet. "You're behaving childishly."

"What?!" I screeched at him. I can't stand it when Heero scolds me like I'm a runny-nosed little brat. "It's you who's chasing me around the apartment with a pair of fucking scissors!"

As soon as the words dropped from my flapping lips, I let my eyes stray to where Heero had the horrible evil scissors clutched in one fist, the sharp ends pointing down for safety's sake (like they teach you to do in kindergarten). The metal glittered sadistically underneath the lamplight in our room.

I hate scissors. So does my braid.

"Don't come near me with those things!" I spat at Heero as I lurched to my feet and started to back clumsily away from him. Lover or not, I wasn't letting him close to me so long as he had those wicked things in his hand.

Heero stalked after me, voice emotionless, as if he actually thought I found his monotone soothing or something. "Duo, listen to me. I just need to trim it a little. These are Lady Une's direct orders."

My eyes darted from side to side, judging the distance to the door and wondering if I could get to it before Yuy Scissorhands could. "Well, you know what?" I snapped at Heero. "Lady Une can KISS MY ASS!!!"

Yes, I was trying to be dramatic. Like that time back during the war when I yelled at Hilde before throwing my bag at her face (sorry, Hilde!). What can I say? I like making big scenes. So, in the process of trying to make my great escape, I had to do some fancy footwork in order to whirl around and lunge for the door before Heero could catch me.

Turns out that fancy footwork does not sit well with me. I tripped over my own two feet and fell flat on my face. Total nosedive.

Let it be known to the world. Duo Maxwell is a big fat klutz.

And as I realized that I now had a sore nose to compliment my sore backside, Heero -- being the heartless asshole that he is -- decided to take advantage of my hapless position. Fortunately, since I have the reflexes of a mongoose, I knew instinctively that he was going to pin me to floor and managed to roll over onto my back just in time to see Heero looming over me. I let out this weird little shriek and tried to roll away, but Heero pounced on me, pinning my wrists to the floor and straddling my hips.

Now, normally, I love that position. It promises lots of pleasure, that position, but now I found it everything but pleasurable. Heero Yuy is a lot heavier than he looks, guys. It felt like a rhino was sitting on me.

"Get off, you stupid prick!" I spat angrily, but I didn't struggle against his iron grip. Hey, the man had a pair of fucking scissors in his hand! I was too crazy about the idea of gouging my own eye out.

"Just listen to me, Duo," Heero said calmly, but his eyes bore into mine intensely, willing me to calm down. Wasn't gonna happen, bubby boy!

"Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff!!" I chanted, kicking my legs and trying to fling him off of me. Of course, since he was sitting on the upper parts of my thighs, I only succeeded in looking like a flailing fish. I suddenly had this totally hilarious image of me with gills and a fish tail, flopping around the deck of some boat...but if I could keep my braid, hell, turn me into a fish any day! Heero could keep me in a fish tank and display me in the living room or something. The Duo Fish.

"Duo. Be quiet!" Heero snapped, pulling back as I lurched forward and tried to bite his nose. Duo the Piranha Fish. Now we're talkin'.

"You get off me, and then I'll be quiet!" I shot back at him.

"I'm not getting off," he deadpanned, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was serious. When is he not?

"Fine," I told him. "Ditch the scissors, and I'll let you stay on top of me."

"And you'll let me talk some sense into you?"

"I'll let you talk to me," I countered. "Can't say anything about the 'sense' part, though."

"Deal," Heero said after a moment of hesitation. He let go of my wrists and sat back -- still using my groin for a makeshift chair, mind you. He calmly reached up and placed the scissors on the dresser, then folded his arms across his toned chest and looked down at me solemnly. I crossed my own arms over my chest, mocking him. I was half-tempted to stick my tongue out at him, too.

"I need to cut your hair," he stated flatly.

Just the words made me wince. "No," I said stubbornly.

Heero stared hard at me. "Duo, it caught on fire today. I need to trim it; it's become a safety hazard."

"My braid is just peachy poo, thank you very much!" I exclaimed. "And don't you dare call it such an ugly name as 'safety hazard' again! It's just a little...singed. That's all."

Actually, that was a lie. Fire had jumped onto my braid (damn that rotten fire!) during our mission earlier that day, and all of the strands at the bottom had sorta...melted together. But it was no big deal! Nothing I couldn't fix by my fucking self!

"Duo, I am going to cut your braid," Heero said slowly, pronouncing every word like I was some half-witted numbskull. He had that dark, serious look in his eyes still, and I knew right then and there that he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. Heero is one of the only people in the world that I can't out-talk; he knows me too well. It sucks ass.

So I had to resort to other methods of persuasion.

"Heero...you don't want to cut my braid," I murmured, reaching out to slide my hands over his hips, the contours of them fitting perfectly into my hands.

I felt his muscles go rigid. Heero knows all my little tricks. But still he insisted, "I need to cut it. It's not a matter of whether I want to or not."

"Aw, c'mon, Heero," I told him in my sexiest voice (which wasn't very sexy, since I was feeling totally unsexy at the moment). "Let's not cut my braid. Let's do...something else."

Slowly, keeping my eyes on Heero's face the entire time, I tugged the hem of his white tank top out of his jeans, the fabric severely wrinkled after being tucked into his pants the entire day. I slid my hands under his shirt, running them over his well-muscled belly and warm skin. Despite the resolute expression on his face, I felt him trembling slightly beneath my touch, something the Hee-meister only does when he's trying to fight his own lust. I was starting to think that my fiendish little scheme was going to work after all. Maybe I could save my poor braid and get laid at the same time...

Heero inhaled sharply when my questing fingers pinched his nipples, rubbing them in circles until they were rock hard. Heero is one of those rare guys who has those awesome, totally sensitive nipples. They're great, I tell you. Makes foreplay all the more sweeter.

Think what you want about me. So what if I was using immoral methods to protect my braid? Heero just didn't understand how important it was to me. I wasn't beyond spreading for him if it meant that he would leave my hair alone. Wait...does that make me into some sort of slut? No, just a desperate man.

However, turns out that I shouldn't have even bothered trying to pleasure him, the little bastard. I was getting ready to pull his shirt over his head when he suddenly ruined everything by reaching up and picking the scissors off the dresser, looking sternly at me as he did so. I froze, and my mood, which had been floating towards happy-and-hot-and-horny, suddenly plummeted down to severely-royally-extremely-pissed-off. I yanked my hands out from the warmth under his tank top and folded them across my chest again.

"Fucker," I snarled at him. That was it! His dick wasn't getting anywhere near my ass for the next few fucking years!

"Duo," Heero said firmly, placing one hand right next to my head and leaning down close to me. The front of his tank top dropped scandalously low, and I was able to glimpse the pink nipples that I had be fondling a few moments before.

I love it when Heero lectures me.

I probably would have jumped his bones right then and there if I hadn't been totally PO'ed...and if he wasn't holding those goddamn scissors.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," Heero said dryly, aware of what I was looking at. Yet the coy little bastard made no move to readjust his tank top. Heero knows he has power, and he knows where he has it, goddamn him.

"Duo, look at me," he ordered.

//I think not//

"No thanks," I said in a mock-cheerful voice, still staring down his shirt. "I like what I'm looking at right now."

"Dammit, Duo," he uttered, and I couldn't help but blink in surprise. Heero only swears when he's really pissed or really frustrated. Well...shit. What can I say? I have this great knack for both pissing off AND frustrating people. It's a talent. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful and that good crap.

Heero grabbed my chin and firmly lifted it, forcing me to meet his eyes. Yep, this was definitely a lecture coming on. Goody. "Duo, you need to quit being irrational," Heero began calmly. "You know that I have to cut some of it off, and it's not because Lady Une told me to. I know that it means a lot to you, but it's a hazard, Duo. It's endangering your life. Sure, it may have only been the dam-the braid that caught on fire this time, but what if it's you the next time?"

I was stunned by the sudden emotion I saw in his eyes. So that was it. He didn't want me...hurt. Fancy that. Great...I could already feel my heart melting into this huge puddle of mush. All I could see were those big blue eyes of his, so alive and so...Heero.

"Fine!" I told him, my voice sounding like a hiss. "Do whatever you want! But you're alone on this one, buddy. No help from me." I coldly turned my face away. God forgive me, but I wasn't going to make this easy for Heero, no matter how much I loved him.

//They'll never forgive me for letting him do this...//

Heero climbed off of me and extended one hand down, offering me help getting up while the scissors still gleamed bright and brilliant in the other hand. "Come on, Duo," he urged in what I knew to be his most gentle tone of voice.

I glared up at him, forcing my weak heart and jellyfish spine not to give into the love and tenderness I saw in those eyes. "I told you," I said coldly. "I'm not going to help you on this. If you want me to go anywhere, you're gonna have to drag my goddamn ass."

//Sorry, Heero//

My lover's eyes narrowed, but he said, "Fine."

Every once in a while, I'm reminded just how much stronger Heero is than me. Maybe it was due to Dr. J's horrific training or all those Wheaties he eats for breakfast, I don't know, but when he saw that I had every intention of lying there on the floor until the fat lady started singing, he decided that it was time to jog my memory. Shoving the scissors in his pocket (probably not the safest thing to do), he just reached down, picked my intentionally-limp body off the floor and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Yeah, I eat Captain Crunch for breakfast. Maybe I should change my diet.

Not even affected by one hundred plus pounds of Duo hanging over his shoulder, Heero proceeded to carry me in the direction of the bathroom. I could barely resist the urge to slap his ass, being that it was only inches away from my itchy little fingers. Actually, though, I couldn't really see it in all its glory because I, in my infinite wisdom, had untucked his tank top so I could play with his nipples. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Seems that I'm always losing more than I'm winning, of course.

Heero dumped me unceremoniously to the bathroom floor. Well, actually he didn't dump me onto the floor. I dumped myself. He tried to put me on my feet, and I let my body crumple bonelessly to hard tile. I smacked my head, and, yeah, it sorta hurt, but I didn't say anything.

Heero's face appeared above me. He looked worried. Damn, being mean to him was getting harder and harder by the minute. "Are you alright?" he asked me.

I just stared at the ceiling, a scowl permanently plastered on my face. We had a couple of cracks in the ceiling that I hadn't noticed before. Big, giant cracks, too. You'd think we had a pair of elephants for upstairs neighbors or something.

Once Heero determined that I wasn't going to be answering him anytime within the next year or so, he grunted and shrugged his shoulders before moving away from me and heading in the direction of the shower. A second later, I heard the sound of water running.

He popped back into my view like a Jack-In-The-Box. "I'm going to wash your hair," he said flatly. "Take off your clothes."

I glared at the ceiling.

"Duo, if you don't take off your own clothes, then I'm going to have to take them off for you."

//Go for it buddy. Ain't nothing you haven't done before// I thought to myself.

After much necessary groping (hooray!) and flopping my limbs around (ouch!), Heero finally managed to get me nekked. Well, almost nekked. He left my boxers on. How kind of him to at least let me keep some of my dignity. Scooping me up in his arms again, Heero carried me across the bathroom to where the shower was running full blast, the water cascading down the sides of the stall. He propped me up against the side, and I tried not to start hacking as water found its way up my nose. Then, to my surprise, Heero climbed into the shower with me, tank top and jeans and all. He didn't even bother to close the shower stall door behind him! Guy's a total weirdo sometimes, I swear!

"I'm going to undo your braid," he told me. I didn't bother to answer him. I was more interested in the sensation created by the water sinking through my boxers and touching my skin. It sorta tickled.

And so began the most painful and pleasurable hair-washing session of my entire life.

Heero had a hell of a time getting the band off the end of my braid, since the metal of it had sorta melted along with my ends of my hair. He finally busted out his nifty little scissors and cut the band off, tossing it over his shoulder, where it landed on the floor of the bathroom. Damn...it was the dreaded pink band. I had been walking around with a pink hairtie on the end of my braid for the entire day. Just dandy. That's what I get for getting dressed in the dark at the buttcrack of dawn when I'm still half-asleep.

Then Heero started the agonizing process of unbraiding my hair, something that never hurts unless your hair is burnt together in some places and tangled in just about every other place. I knew he was trying really hard not to hurt me, but there was only so much he could do, of course. And I just sat there letting the shower water slap me in the face, refusing to flinch whenever Heero unintentionally yanked on my hair.

After he was done performing his miniature torture session, he gathered all my hair into his hands and made sure it was wet through and through before reaching for the shampoo bottle. I use generic shampoo. Bite me. So what if I'm a cheapo? I like the way it smells and hey, it's 79 cents for a big old family-size bottle! Can't beat that! What a bargain! I still pat myself on the back for discovering it.

Heero practically had to sit in my lap in order to get his arms around to the back of my head. Of course, I was purposely making things difficult for him. He had to lean me against the side of shower to stop me from slipping backwards and getting my hair even more tangled than it already was. A combination of limited shower space and Heero's not-so-long arms made for awkward positioning.

Naturally, I forgot about all that the minute I felt Heero's fingers sink into my hair. Fingers that were so good at piloting Zero system-infested Gundams and pulling the trigger on guns during the war could be so damn gentle now that they didn't have to worry about those kinds of things anymore. I love when Heero washes my hair; I've actually fallen asleep a couple of times when he's doing it. But I swore to myself that I wasn't going to enjoy it this time. Easier said than done, of course. It was all I could not to close my eyes and sigh contentedly as his fingers massaged my scalp.

I tried to distract myself by staring pointedly at one spot in the shower stall, but THAT didn't work since Heero -- or rather, Heero's chest -- was right in front of me. Hot damn. That certain brand of tank top must have run large since one sleeve, heavy with water, had slid off his shoulder and a good ways down his chest, leaving one of his nipples exposed. Water glistened on his chest, and I barley managed to stop myself from leaning forward to lick it off. From dragging my tongue down his warm, wet skin so that I could lap and suck at that uncovered nipple. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and cradle the rounded curve of his backside in my hands. I wanted to push him against the shower wall and pleasure him until he was moaning helplessly in my arms. No more scissors. No more "Duo, I have to cut your hair". Just me and Heero and another night of bliss.

A simple wish. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it WAS since Heero suddenly reached up and shut off the shower. I blinked, realizing that he was done washing my hair. I had had my head so far into the clouds that I hadn't noticed. Typical me.

"Let's go," he whispered, brushing my bangs back from my eyes.

I didn't say anything in response, but I made the near-fatal mistake of looking at his face. Dripping wet bangs couldn't throw a curtain over the warmth and tenderness shining in his eyes. Shining in his eyes. God, that sounds so corny, I know, but his eyes really seemed to be shining. Glittering in the semi-darkness of the shower stall. It then occurred to me that this might be causing him pain as well.

I felt tears stinging my eyes and hurriedly blinked the little buggers back. //Toughen up, you pussy// I told myself harshly. //You haven't cried in years, and you're not about to fucking start right now!//

Heero gathered me up in his arms again, his slick hands fighting for a grip on my equally wet body. I hoped he wasn't going to slip and kill us both on the way to...wherever the hell we were going.

Our destination turned out to be the bathtub. Heero sat me on the edge of it so that my bare feet were resting inside the bathtub and my back was to him and the rest of the bathroom. The better to hack away at my hair, I realized. Shit. He was really going to do it! I felt him tugging gently on the strands, obviously trying to get them untangled enough so that they were at their actual lengths when he started to cut them. That was when I began to feel really fucking embarrassed. I mean, here I was being this huge nineteen-year-old baby, making Heero drag me around the apartment, give me a bath, fuss with my hair, and endure my nasty deathglares...all because I didn't want a haircut. Shouldn't be this important.

It's just hair, after all. Just hair. Just hair. Just hair.

-"Geez, kid, that's a lotta hair you got there."- -"I know. You wanna make sumthin' of it?"-

//Shit...no...//

I didn't want a haircut! God, I really really really didn't want to lose any of my hair! Anything but that. In that moment, I would've rather slit my own throat with those scissors if it meant that my hair would remain untouched. What a lovely corpse I'd make. Bloody gaping throat and shining hair.

But I knew I wasn't going to be able to sway Heero. He was right, of course. Yeah. This was something that needed to be done. It wasn't like I could let my braid grow so long that I would be able to jump rope with it...

No...but...still...this was wrong. They would never forgive me!

I turned around and decided to give mewling and begging one last try. "Please don't cut my hair, Heero," I whispered pleadingly, staring into his eyes. My throat suddenly felt tight.

He shook his head and leaned forward to gently kiss me on the cheek. "Turn around, Duo," he ordered firmly.

I automatically did what he told me to, but the panic that I had managed to fight until then was starting to put me in a stranglehold. I began to tremble, and I put my hands between my knees in an attempt to make my hands be still. Shit, it was horrible. I normally have such good control over my body, and this was totally messing up my brag-factor.

I heard the sliding of metal over metal as Heero opened the scissors behind me. He had tried to make it quiet, but...damn me for having such sharp hearing. His fingers combed through my hair, straightening it out one last time.

-"Dammit, Purple Eyes, your goddamn hair gets all over the place when you're swiping somethin'!"- -"Well geez, gimme some goddamn scissors and I'll cut it for ya!"-

//Shit...not now...//

"No...dammit," I heard myself whisper, feeling the scissors cold against the small of my back.

Snip.

I let out this horrible strangled noise, like I was choking on my own tongue or something. It sure fucking felt like I was. "No...Heero...stop."

Snip.

-"You got some kinky hair, kid, but it's cool. Don't ever cut it, you hear me?"- -"I hear ya, Solo!"-

Snip.

"Damn you," I whispered vehemently to Heero. "Damn you to hell."

-"Stop it! Stop it I said!!"-

Snip.

-"What's wrong?"- -"Father, this child refuses to have his hair cut!"- -"You got that right!!"-

Snip.

-"It's bad enough that I have to wear these stupid-looking clothes! There's no way I'm letting you cut my hair!"-

Snip.

-"But it's so unkempt. It's unsanitary."- -"My hair is not unsanitary!!!"-

Snipsnipsnip.

My world was a nightmare. Somewhere in the hidden recesses of my pea-sized brain, I knew that I was sitting on the edge of our bathtub, soaking wet and clad in only my cotton boxers, and that Heero was cutting my hair -- the only companion that had remained by my side throughout my entire hellish life. When I squeezed through a narrow hole in a fence, my hair got hung up on the splinters. When I tripped and fell on the pavement, my hair always folded over my shoulders, warm and tickling and comforting. When a fatally ill Solo died in my arms, he had a fistful of my hair clasped in one of his small fists. And when I ran through the charred, blackened remains of the Maxwell Church, the smell of death clung to my hair, weaving itself into the strands and making itself right at home.

And Death never left.

I tried to tell myself it was just hair, I really did. But no matter how fiercely or how many goddamn times I did so, it just never became the truth for me. I didn't believe my own lie. Sad thing. Because it wasn't just hair. It was a witness, a companion, a friend that never snapped at me or glared coldly at me...and now it was being brutally cut away. Like it was nothing. People didn't know! People didn't fucking understand! They didn't know about the boy named Solo who used to finger-comb my hair when he thought I was asleep. They didn't know about Sister Helen, the woman who had first woven my unruly hair into a braid. They didn't know about Father Maxwell, who used to tug gently on the end of my braid when he was scolding me, as if to soften the blows of his words.

They didn't know. They couldn't understand. Fuck them. Just fuck them.

I was so out of it -- lost in dark memories -- that I didn't notice when the scissors stopped their horrible snipping. I didn't notice when Heero was rebraiding my hair. I returned from the Twilight Zone to find myself cradled in Heero's warm arms. He had me settled in his lap and was rocking me back and forth, something he had never done before. Kinda fucking creepy.

"It's over, Duo," he was whispering to me. "It's over."

I suddenly crash-landed back into reality. My head felt lighter, and looking to the ground at my side, I saw that the braided rope of hair lying on the tiles was shorter. A lot shorter.

//Shit...no...no...//

I whirled on Heero, infuriated beyond all reason. "I hate you!" I told him in a scathing whisper. "I hate you!!"

"That's too bad," Heero said simply as he rose to his feet with me still in his arms. "Because I love you."

What kind of person does it take to say something like that? What kind of heart still has the courage and strength enough to tell some "I love you" when said asshole has just declared that they hate your guts? Just goes more to show that Heero is three times the man -- three times the person -- I'll ever be. I should feel depressed at that, but it doesn't bother me. He's Heero, and I love him with all my heart.

I was trying to find words to tell him this as he carried me out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. He put me on my feet next to our bed, and though my legs felt as limp as overcooked noodles, I managed to avoid falling and munching the carpet. I watched dumbly as Heero stripped off his tank top and jeans, leaving them in a soaking wet pile on the floor. His boxers joined the pile, and a minute later, so did mine. Both of us stark naked, he wrapped his arms around me and lay down on the bed, pulling me on top of him and arranging the covers around the both of us.

And before you go getting any ideas, this is NOT Heero's way of saying that he wants to have sex. This is just something weird he does. Whenever I'm feeling depressed or when I'm pissed at him, Heero lies down and tugs me on top of him. I don't know why he does that. Probably thinks that if I'm in a position of dominance, I'll feel better or something. I also think it might be his way of, you know, "bowing" down to me, for the lack of a better word. Like whenever animals sort of duck their heads when they come across an enemy stronger than them. Okay, I KNOW that's not the best analogy! I'm not a psychiatrist. So sue me.

But as much as I appreciated Heero's efforts to console me, I really didn't want to be dominant at the moment. I wanted to cuddle up against him like a big baby and bawl my eyes out. Been a long time since I had last cried. Maybe I was due for a sudden eruption of tears or something.

Heero cradled my face in his hands and lightly stroked one of my cheeks. "Are you alright, Duo?" he whispered gently, clear and unadulterated worry shining in his eyes. Of course, the fact that he was still worried about me after everything I had said make me feel like an even bigger assmunch.

I gave this really weird whimpering sound and buried my face in his naked chest, feeling his arms slide around my shoulders and clasp me closer to him. "I'm sorry, Heero," I told him in a wavering voice. "I'm sorry I said I hated you! I don't hate you! I love you!" My eyes were burning.

"I know, Duo. I know," Heero said softly as he stroked my back.

"I'm trying to cry but I can't," I confessed suddenly. It was the truth. The one time I fucking wanted to cry, and the tears were refusing to come. Stubborn little pricks.

"Don't worry," Heero murmured into my damp hair. "It's alright if you cry. I'm not going to think any less of you."

"Really?"

"Really." He kissed the top of my head.

"Okay."

I started bawling. Just like that. Lame, I know, but the floodgates just decided that they wanted to break at that exact moment. I cried for a long time, muffling my sobs and sniffles into the warm skin of Heero's chest. And he just held me the entire time, wrapping me in warmth and comfort. At some point he rolled me onto my back and started kissing my tears away. I let him, just reveling in his presence, his comforting weight on top of me, his smooth skin against mine.

My hair might have been really important, but Heero means the world to me. My hair didn't smell like danger and Lever 2000 soap. But Heero did. My hair couldn't wipe the salty tears away from my cheeks. But Heero could. My hair couldn't take my pain away. But Heero could.

My hair couldn't tell me it loved me. But Heero could.