Title: Shut Up: I'm Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings
Author: Taw
Pairings: Hinted 1=2
Disclaimer: Gundam belongs to Bandai and Sunrise, etc.

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This is a Heero-centric Gundam Wing drabble that I wrote while on the bus (because apparently my Heero muse can attack at any moment). The small 1x2 mention in here is a bit more intrusive than I'd originally planned, but I don't think anyone will really mind. Actually, this fic isn't meant for GW fans (although GW fans will still enjoy it). It's meant for people who aren't familiar with the series (aka, everyone I know).

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He wants to tell you stories.

Stories where streetlights don't splutter out but burst out in time with the explosions quaking the ground. There are no heroes in his stories, no plots, no twists, no happy endings. Just faces stained red from watery blood and fires burning eternally as smoke blackens the atmosphere. He sees things at night while he sleeps and lifting eyelids reveal a yearning in cobalt blue eyes. A yearning to share.

Familiar faces cannot be found in the pictures he wants to show you. The soundtrack is composed of screams and morbid sounds, tunes you wouldn't want to fall asleep to. They keep him up late into the night. The streets are full of blood; whose blood if not his own? Whose lips part in silent exclamation except his? To fight is a decision made not by storytellers but by audiences, brainwashed by fear and misunderstanding.

A boy with a braid glares murderously at him before sealing his lips shut with saliva and unspoken words. He doesn't need these tales, he has his own. Heero closes his eyes and fights the prose.

He wants to tell you stories.

But you wouldn't understand.

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END

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