Urban Hymns

Heero, Wufei. PG-13.
Heero’s musings as Wufei hangs between life and death.
2000 | 1340 words

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One after the other, two bare feet stepped over the metalic rail on the left side of a bridge. Arms wide open and eyes tightly shut, the man walked calmly, trusting only his instincts to prevent him from falling down on the highway 40 meters bellow him. One after the other, two bare feet found their way ahead as the wind kept daring two bare arms to find balance for the light body.

50 centimetres below, another man walked in the bridge, his eyes locked on the lyric figure of an exhausted man defying himself to stay alive. The dark blue orbs silently observed every movement, alert to any sign of actual danger. Just in case his friend’s instincts eventually decided to betray them, which was much unlikely, he was forced to admit, but… that was not the point.

The point was, this was the path his friend had chosen. This was the road his friend wanted to walk upon. This was the step his friend wished to take…

The last one.

So he, a mere boy with still had so much to learn from those who he had once despised, couldn’t do anything besides watching as one of the bravest man he had ever met found his way to absolution, after all the much that peace of mind had been searched for.

Wufei took a short breath and opened his mouth to speak for the first time in a long while.

“So, this is how he feels.”

Heero looked up and frowned slightly. “Who?”

“Barton.”

Heero looked down again, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s how he feels.”

“Why not?” Wufei asked in the same low tone.

Some seconds of silent musing later, Heero smirked somewhat bitterly and glanced around, not really seeing anything. “Because whenever Trowa walks on the tightrope, he does it to entertain people… not to test his friends’ ability of holding back insanity.”

Still with his eyes closed, Wufei didn’t flinch. He merely asked, “You think this is what I’m doing?”

“No,” Heero answered, running a hand trough his hair, which was starting to get damp. “I don’t think so. Too conceited of me.”

It had been a long day… one of the longest, as far as he could remember. It would be their last day standing by each other, and Heero knew it. He knew that soon, the beautiful, honourable and respectable man before him would be gone, and there was nothing he could do about that. Not anymore.

So he allowed himself to enjoy one last silent moment of happiness in his wasted life beside someone he would never forget, observing, admiring, nearly worshipping the austere lines of a face he had learned to cherish. One day to remember, in exchange for all the days he still wanted to forget.

One silent and significant day. Hadn’t they all been like this? Hadn’t it always been like this? One step back, one step forth. A turning point. One step forth, one step back… a waltz. Mariemeia had been right after all, though maybe not in the sense she had meant to be.

One silent and significant day, the last one. This waltz would soon be over.

The wind became suddenly colder, causing a shiver to run along Heero’s spine. He glanced at his watch and back at Wufei as the latter one stopped walking and turned his back on him, facing the vertiginous fall. Wufei still had his eyes closed and Heero asked himself how long he would allow that fake to go on.

His thoughts were cut as he heard the familiar low voice declaring, “The meaning of life is that it stops.”

He gazed at Wufei’s back, his eyes blank. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wufei didn’t turn back, shrugging almost unnoticeably, “It’s just a sentence.”

Heero closed his eyes for a moment and frowned, thinking about it. He’d heard that, no, read that somewhere. In one of Wufei’s books, probably.

“Franz Kafka?” he asked uninterestedly.

Wufei nodded, “Correct.”

Heero glanced at him. “Do you believe it?”

Wufei shrugged again. “Like I said, it’s just a sentence.”

Heero nodded and resumed on watching the movement around.

Another car passed by them, and another and another. People living their lives, completely ignoring the two men who had once saved it. It was for this people they had fought, it was for them they were still fighting. The boy on the asphalt smirked bitterly again. It was for them that his friend was taking the final step. For them and because of them. People who lived their stupid lives like it had any greater meaning, people who gave freedom the same value they would give to a dead cockroach. People who didn’t know innocence, people who didn’t know justice.

Heero took two steps and reached the other, sitting by his side. His eyes wandered around, again looking but not really seeing anything. He bowed his head and stared at the asphalt 40 meters below them, oddly starting to understand what could be so fascinating about trying to reach it. He looked up to see Wufei standing over the railing, arms loose by his sides, his face showing the perfect portrait of nothingness. He sighed and looked down again.

“What are you thinking of?” Wufei asked absently.

“Nothing.”

Heero waited for some insistence on the question, but quickly discarded the possibility when he reminded who had made it in the first place. He took a breath and looked away, wanting to speak but not to face the answer.

“From the five of us,” he muttered, “I never thought you would come to be the suicidal one.”

Wufei crossed his arms in front of his chest and managed to breath out a short laughter. “You know me better than that.”

“I used to think so.”

No answer came for that.

Many ideas crossed Heero’s mind in that while. One of them was the certainty that he had been far too naive to believe that he would ever be allowed inside Wufei’s own world. It had been surprising enough to be allowed inside his life. But to dive into the dark sea of confusion that his friend’s mind still was, and would always be, just a dream.

Repassing their short conversation, Heero noticed something, and for absolute lack of something else to say, he let it out.

“You know another difference between Trowa and you?”

Wufei seemed to also wake up from some kind of daydream. “What?”

“A net to save him in case he falls.”

Wufei heard that and remained silent for a while, Heero still looking away and not really wishing to hear the answer, for he knew what it would be. The Chinese stretched his arms and carefully leaned down to sit by Heero’s side, one turned to each side of the bridge.

“I have you,” he said with a tinge of emotion to his voice. “You are the one who saves me.”

Getting no answer, Wufei firmed his grip on the cold bar and leaned back, exposing his already wet face to the warm rain and finally opening his eyes.

“I could always count on you to catch me whenever I fell.”

Heero didn’t show any reaction. It was bad enough to know it, but to hear it made things even worst. He caught himself asking the highway if there had ever been a possibility for things turning out otherwise. He decided that he didn’t want to hear the answer for this as well. Heero lied his head on the other’s shoulder, and once more they remained silent.

Both shuddered from the sudden feeling that something was different in this silence, something… It wasn’t a peaceful silence, a comfortable silence as all the others. There was something else.

It wasn’t a silence. It was The Silence. The last silence. One last moment together, one last moment to be what they were. The last step, and the end of the waltz.

“So, Heero,” Wufei whispered, “…will you catch me this time?”

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