Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any characters in it. Gundam Wing belongs to Sotsu, Sunrise, ANB, and other rich people. I am not making any money off of this, and I have no money so don't sue me.
Warnings: 2+5. Simple musings, implied shounen ai, ok, we're going slightly beyond implied but there's still nothing explicit. More angst, lots of angst.
I stare out the windows onto the eldritch scene and I wait silently, patiently for my own personal ghost to return. Cold air creeps through the casing, chilling me to the bone. I ignore it in favor of my scattered thoughts.
I think on feather soft hair and dark eyes, which glow with an inner fire that belongs to his cause. He searches for its answer to the exclusion of all else. He has no time for love, only for this war. He has no time for happiness, only death in this bloody war. He has no time for deeper emotion; only the power of his cause drives him to fight on in this terrible war.
I fight too, but I have to live and love, feeling the happiness for all those I deprive of life. I may not live to see tomorrow, but while I have today I have to feel for all those I've stopped. I entered this war for revenge and to prevent anyone from having to grow up like I did. It didn't occur to me until after I started fighting, that by doing so I couldn't help but create the same situation for other children. That knowledge hurts. The burden grows daily. There are so many people to live for, so many people I have to laugh for, and some day I'll have to cry for them too. I'll have to cry for my friends, the other pilots, especially him. I already have to laugh for him, for all of them really—except possibly Quatre. Still, they've forgotten how. They've forgotten how to live, to laugh, to love.
It frightens me. He's not a real person anymore. He's lost too much. He's a ghost haunting a cause. His cause is all that keeps him going and I don't know if he'll ever live or love again.
This weather suits him. It's gray and lost looking but something keeps it going, something always keeps it going. Just like him.
It starts to snow again. White flakes drift down, glowing faintly in the dusk. I wonder if the mission went off successfully, if he's hurt, or if he's even still alive. I wonder if he'll come back here, to me, or if he'll disappear again as he has so many times before.
I hate being alone. I hate wandering in my mind, lost to my thoughts. I wish he'd come back. Even if all he'll talk about is his cause or berate me about my supposed lack of seriousness. I don't care, so long as he comes back.
Yes, he's my personal ghost. A will-o'-the-wisp that I can't touch, something that I can never have. He's of another world, another plane of existence that I'll never enter.
I'll never be worthy of him, and he'll never want me. He'll always be out of reach. He'll always have his cause. All the same, I'll watch and follow him, taking the responsibility of living for him too. He's given up on everything but his cause, he's not truly living. He's my personal ghost…
There's movement in the snow, which interrupts my spiraling thoughts. A slender figure drifting through a white world, only showing up because of the dark hair falling loosely around his face.
I watch his movements critically, checking for injury. He appears to be fine. I continue to watch as he comes closer and I refuse to brood anymore. My personal ghost needs laughter in his life, and I will provide it, whether or not he believes he needs it.
Send comments to me here. Please, no flames.