Reminiscent Onus 1/2 (Angst, PG-13)
Posted: Sun May 16, 2004 1:10 am
<b>Reminiscent Onus</b>
By Andrea Sinisterra
Rated PG-13
Angst
Standard Disclaimers Apply
<u>Author's note:</u> To those who were wondering; No, I'm not dead, I haven't been kidnapped or abducted, even though it may appear otherwise. I'm sorry I haven't updated <i>Sabotage Backfire: An Apartment</i>, I know I haven't updated in almost 6 months, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.
On the other hand, I've been dwelling around the darkest side, angst vs tragedy, and ended up with this story. It's not much, and I know it's a complete turnaround from SB, but I hope you like it, because I'm enjoying this one. It's not complete, this is only the first part, but I intend to finish this one in the next part. I promised I would post it as a one-shot, but I want to know what sort of reaction this gets, so, here it is. Formerly titled <i>Face the Music</i>, I hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry if it may seem a little confusing, Italics are flashbacks, and/or thoughts.
* * *
<b>Part 1</b>
<i>
His eyes opened; the brightness of the room like a thousand needles to his brain. It was still too early for the day to start, yet, too late to go back to sleep. It was one of those moments when he knew he should get up and start his day, but for some reason, the warmth beside him seemed too welcoming to leave. He propped up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes lazily, before he cast his eyes at the woman lying beside him. Blissfully asleep. Lucky her.
Yet, not too lucky when a bundle of energy burst into the room, and hopped onto the bed, eager to wake his parents.
"First day, first day! Wake up!" Adrian shook his mother, bouncing earnestly on the bed. "Mom! I know you're listening! Wake up!"
Heero groaned, pulling his son into his arms, and ducking under the covers. The father yawned, and tried to go back to sleep.
"Dad, this isn't funny. I know you're awake." The seven year old boy moved his hand under the sheets, and proceeded to tickle his mother awake.
"You'll regret that."
Ignoring his father's words, Adrian reached for his sleeping mother's waist.
Relena Yuy shrieked, and bolted upright, a parade of tangled locks and a scowling face. "I'm up!"
After making sure his mother was, indeed, awake, Adrian Yuy bounced off the bed and left the room to shower and get ready for his first day in third grade.
Heero sighed under the covers as Relena wiggled closer to him. "It's too early..." She moaned, hiding her face in his neck.
He kissed her forehead, before groaning when Adrian called from across the door, "I'm going to be late!"
He sighed, kissed his wife's lips softly, before he padded his way to their adjoining bathroom.</i>
* * *
Heero mumbled something in his sleep, his eyeballs moving restlessly under heavy lids. And when the alarm went off, at exactly 6:45am, he knew it would be a long, painful day.
Casting a glance at the solitary, empty side of his king sized bed, he sighed remorsefully, before sitting up, and turning off the alarm clock. His head jerked up when his eight year old son, Adrian, sneaked his head through the partially opened door, mumbling a good morning, before leaving to start off his day.
Heero stared at the closed door, his eyes empty and lost, before he hid his face in his hands. With a few curses, and a deep sigh, he made his way to the bathroom. The room was just as she had left it: her lotions and perfumes still stood in the high, oak boudoir beside the large French windows; the door that led to the walk-in closet still guarded her elegant, carefree wardrobe, her shoes, and all the boxes with baby clothes she had insisted on keeping there. Her colored ribbons, and hair pins, make-up, hair brushes, even her toothbrush were still where she had left them, adorning the hollow spots of the eerily white room.
Heero avoided looking in the mirror, knowing full well the person staring back will have heavy bags under his eyes, a messy unshaved face, with equally messy dark brown locks, that needed an urgent cut, while his eyes would be cold and almost dilated, the once vibrant blue having had thorn into empty, ashen grey.
Instead, he brushed his teeth in a hurry, keeping his eyes from the pastel blue hair brush beside the sink, and the lonely, lost hair band next to it.
The birds whistled outside, welcoming the beautiful September day with songs for the happy and the merry. But Heero Yuy just wished he could go back to bed and never wake up again.
Cold water hit his face, the thousand drops like knives to his warm body. Heero shivered as he rested his head against the white cold tiles of the shower stall, her laughing voice ringing through his head.
<i>What are you doing, Heero!</i>
He sighed, as he reached for the soap. That was something he had questioned himself time after time. Even though the original words were uttered in a merry, playful tone, almost a year ago, now they had gained a weight and a tone far more depressing and desperate than before.
After toweling off, and shaving, he dressed. The black dress pants and white shirt were crisp, and elegant, while he hurried with his tie and hair, knowing his son was waiting for him, dressed and ready, and probably late for his first day in fourth grade.
Indeed, by the time he rushed downstairs, grabbing coats and keys, Adrian was already in the kitchen, a plate with strawberry jelly covered toasts, and a glass of juice beside him. That was what Relena always made for him in the mornings, knowing he was always late, and never with enough time to eat a full breakfast, but yet insisting that he eat at least something before he left.
Heero put the coats and keys by a table, before he made his way to the kitchen, sitting down beside his son as they both ate in silence.
With a toast in hand, Adrian grabbed a brown paper bag from one of the drawers, and made his way to the refrigerator. He took the tuna sandwich his father had prepared the night before, a small bottle of apple juice, and some crackers from one of the cabinets and put them inside the paper bag.
After placing their plates and glasses in the sink, and taking their coats, and Heero, the keys, they made their way outside and into the car. No words were exchanged between them, no crossed looks either, so by the time they reached the school grounds, Heero felt uncomfortable, and more than a little anxious.
* * *
<i>Twenty-two months old Adrian pressed little hands to his stomach as it protested for food. The sun had just come out, the light coming through the closed blinds illuminated the room and scattered the shadows of the previous night. Adrian could hear birds chirping outside, and yet, the house was eerily quiet, except for the interruption of his grumbling stomach.
He wasn?t surprised when he reached his parents bedroom and saw them both deeply asleep, even as he closed the door again trying to keep from making any noise and wake them up. He went back the same way, passing his room, and the living room, to the kitchen. He fought a little with the firmly shut door of the refrigerator, but as soon as he managed to open it, he smiled at the bottle of milk his mother always had ready for him for these sort of situations and the ham and cheese rolls inside the little plastic bag because she knew he was an early riser.
Relena always complained about being woken up too early in the mornings, only to have to cook something for the little guy with the morning hunger. So she had thought up the bottle and rolls as a solution so she could get some more sleep. The trick had been ?training? little Adrian, but after a few attempts, he knew what to do, and where to go.
Heero watched his son seating in front of the refrigerator?s wide opened doors, his legs spread as he bit into his ham and cheese rolls and took short swigs from his bottle of milk. The boy?s dark blonde hair was still messy from his sleep, and combined with his bare feet and dinosaurs pajamas, he made an extremely heart warming picture.</i>
* * *
Heero stopped the car in front of the building, shutting down the engine as he turned to his son. Adrian sat in the same position of the last couple of minutes since they left their house, looking out the window with a longing in his eyes that made Heero wonder what he really was thinking; made Heero wish his son would open up and talk to him.
They had gone to therapy, together and individually, and even though Adrian knew what had happened, he didn?t seemed too inclined in sharing with anyone his real thoughts. Heero?s heart ached every time he encountered the knowledge in his son?s eyes, the maturity that no 8 year old should possess. It was like in some way Adrian tried to fill the void his mother had left behind, trying to look out after his father, and himself. Heero knew Adrian must be suffering, albeit in silence, but suffering just as much as he.
How many times had Heero tried to comfort the boy, to utter words of hope and maybe even happiness, in his ideal that things could go on, and maybe life could get back in track?
Heero sighed, attracting the attention of Adrian.
?She?s not coming back, Dad. I know that.? Adrian turned and smiled sadly at his father.
Heero looked at him, a soft smile touching the corners of his lips. ?She never left, you know. You look just like her.?
Adrian?s smile widened, revealing his deep dimples. ?I even got her dimples.?
?You do.? Heero ruffled his son?s hair. ?Do you want me to go in with you??
Adrian looked out the window at the building, a soft sigh only noticeable by the rise and fall of his shoulders. He looked back at Heero, sadness in his sky blue eyes. ?No, that?s okay. I should go, it?s already late.?
As if on cue, the bells rang, announcing the start of the first period.
?I?ll come by and pick you up when you get out. Good luck.?
Heero watched as his son closed the door and went up the long flight of steps before disappearing into the enormous building, a heavy feeling in his heart.
He had considered a million times moving away, perhaps to another city or country, maybe even another continent, but deep down, he knew that wasn?t the answer. He wouldn?t accomplish anything with running away.
And running away from what, exactly?
He couldn?t run away from her. He would never betray her that way. And he wouldn?t take away all the memories Adrian had of her. Memories that in a couple of years will be reduced in half. Heero didn?t want that. He wanted Adrian to remember what it was like to spend Sunday?s afternoons together, barbeques and movies, popcorn and their nightly round of Twister. He wanted Adrian to remember his mother?s gentle smiles and sincere words, her kind touch and the beauty of her laughter. He didn?t want him to forget those times they spent together, when she tucked him in at night, or when she asked him what he wanted for dinner hours in advance so she could buy all the things she would need.
Those were things Heero would never forget. Just like he would never forget the sound of Adrian?s first cry after his birth, or the tears in her voice as she gazed at their first child in awe. Their first? and last.
It was two years of torture before her death, most of which Adrian didn?t know. The child never got to see her body, even though he did assist to the funeral. Heero, however, spent countless months with her picture in his mind, seeing her in her last moment, as he held her hands in his, wiping her tears away while he tried to deny himself what was so obvious. For how long did he hate her for giving up? For surrendering to her illness knowing she would be leaving them behind. And yet, she still left.
And Adrian didn?t cry.
The boy didn?t shed a single tear for his mother, and still hasn?t. He was always strong, brave as he stood by his mother, even after Heero explained Relena?s condition. A brain tumor was not to take lightly. Yet Adrian resisted, visiting her when she was in the hospital, helping her after her chemotherapies. Laughing with her when she joked about losing her hair, even though she knew the kid wasn?t fooling himself.
Everyone knew she wouldn?t resist. Two years was a long time. Much longer than everyone expected.
After her death, Heero still went to the hospital every day after dropping Adrian off at school. He would go and sit in the same chair, staring at the same bed his wife used to lay on. Her heartbeat monitor going off in his mind, the sound of her breathing beside him, the squeeze of her hands in his. Everything was so livid in his mind. It still is.
Everyone was so understanding, so eager to please and comfort him. His neighbors, the teachers at Adrian?s school, his employees, including strangers that had gone to her funeral, friends from that other life she had given up when she married him.
And Heero had hated them all.
<i>To be continued...</i>
* * *
<u>Author's Note:</u> Also, I'm sorry for any grammatical, spelling, or any other type of mistake, I didn't send this story to Caliborn for beta-reading, but I did read it several times. But, just in case.
Reviews?
By Andrea Sinisterra
Rated PG-13
Angst
Standard Disclaimers Apply
<u>Author's note:</u> To those who were wondering; No, I'm not dead, I haven't been kidnapped or abducted, even though it may appear otherwise. I'm sorry I haven't updated <i>Sabotage Backfire: An Apartment</i>, I know I haven't updated in almost 6 months, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.
On the other hand, I've been dwelling around the darkest side, angst vs tragedy, and ended up with this story. It's not much, and I know it's a complete turnaround from SB, but I hope you like it, because I'm enjoying this one. It's not complete, this is only the first part, but I intend to finish this one in the next part. I promised I would post it as a one-shot, but I want to know what sort of reaction this gets, so, here it is. Formerly titled <i>Face the Music</i>, I hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry if it may seem a little confusing, Italics are flashbacks, and/or thoughts.
* * *
<b>Part 1</b>
<i>
His eyes opened; the brightness of the room like a thousand needles to his brain. It was still too early for the day to start, yet, too late to go back to sleep. It was one of those moments when he knew he should get up and start his day, but for some reason, the warmth beside him seemed too welcoming to leave. He propped up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes lazily, before he cast his eyes at the woman lying beside him. Blissfully asleep. Lucky her.
Yet, not too lucky when a bundle of energy burst into the room, and hopped onto the bed, eager to wake his parents.
"First day, first day! Wake up!" Adrian shook his mother, bouncing earnestly on the bed. "Mom! I know you're listening! Wake up!"
Heero groaned, pulling his son into his arms, and ducking under the covers. The father yawned, and tried to go back to sleep.
"Dad, this isn't funny. I know you're awake." The seven year old boy moved his hand under the sheets, and proceeded to tickle his mother awake.
"You'll regret that."
Ignoring his father's words, Adrian reached for his sleeping mother's waist.
Relena Yuy shrieked, and bolted upright, a parade of tangled locks and a scowling face. "I'm up!"
After making sure his mother was, indeed, awake, Adrian Yuy bounced off the bed and left the room to shower and get ready for his first day in third grade.
Heero sighed under the covers as Relena wiggled closer to him. "It's too early..." She moaned, hiding her face in his neck.
He kissed her forehead, before groaning when Adrian called from across the door, "I'm going to be late!"
He sighed, kissed his wife's lips softly, before he padded his way to their adjoining bathroom.</i>
* * *
Heero mumbled something in his sleep, his eyeballs moving restlessly under heavy lids. And when the alarm went off, at exactly 6:45am, he knew it would be a long, painful day.
Casting a glance at the solitary, empty side of his king sized bed, he sighed remorsefully, before sitting up, and turning off the alarm clock. His head jerked up when his eight year old son, Adrian, sneaked his head through the partially opened door, mumbling a good morning, before leaving to start off his day.
Heero stared at the closed door, his eyes empty and lost, before he hid his face in his hands. With a few curses, and a deep sigh, he made his way to the bathroom. The room was just as she had left it: her lotions and perfumes still stood in the high, oak boudoir beside the large French windows; the door that led to the walk-in closet still guarded her elegant, carefree wardrobe, her shoes, and all the boxes with baby clothes she had insisted on keeping there. Her colored ribbons, and hair pins, make-up, hair brushes, even her toothbrush were still where she had left them, adorning the hollow spots of the eerily white room.
Heero avoided looking in the mirror, knowing full well the person staring back will have heavy bags under his eyes, a messy unshaved face, with equally messy dark brown locks, that needed an urgent cut, while his eyes would be cold and almost dilated, the once vibrant blue having had thorn into empty, ashen grey.
Instead, he brushed his teeth in a hurry, keeping his eyes from the pastel blue hair brush beside the sink, and the lonely, lost hair band next to it.
The birds whistled outside, welcoming the beautiful September day with songs for the happy and the merry. But Heero Yuy just wished he could go back to bed and never wake up again.
Cold water hit his face, the thousand drops like knives to his warm body. Heero shivered as he rested his head against the white cold tiles of the shower stall, her laughing voice ringing through his head.
<i>What are you doing, Heero!</i>
He sighed, as he reached for the soap. That was something he had questioned himself time after time. Even though the original words were uttered in a merry, playful tone, almost a year ago, now they had gained a weight and a tone far more depressing and desperate than before.
After toweling off, and shaving, he dressed. The black dress pants and white shirt were crisp, and elegant, while he hurried with his tie and hair, knowing his son was waiting for him, dressed and ready, and probably late for his first day in fourth grade.
Indeed, by the time he rushed downstairs, grabbing coats and keys, Adrian was already in the kitchen, a plate with strawberry jelly covered toasts, and a glass of juice beside him. That was what Relena always made for him in the mornings, knowing he was always late, and never with enough time to eat a full breakfast, but yet insisting that he eat at least something before he left.
Heero put the coats and keys by a table, before he made his way to the kitchen, sitting down beside his son as they both ate in silence.
With a toast in hand, Adrian grabbed a brown paper bag from one of the drawers, and made his way to the refrigerator. He took the tuna sandwich his father had prepared the night before, a small bottle of apple juice, and some crackers from one of the cabinets and put them inside the paper bag.
After placing their plates and glasses in the sink, and taking their coats, and Heero, the keys, they made their way outside and into the car. No words were exchanged between them, no crossed looks either, so by the time they reached the school grounds, Heero felt uncomfortable, and more than a little anxious.
* * *
<i>Twenty-two months old Adrian pressed little hands to his stomach as it protested for food. The sun had just come out, the light coming through the closed blinds illuminated the room and scattered the shadows of the previous night. Adrian could hear birds chirping outside, and yet, the house was eerily quiet, except for the interruption of his grumbling stomach.
He wasn?t surprised when he reached his parents bedroom and saw them both deeply asleep, even as he closed the door again trying to keep from making any noise and wake them up. He went back the same way, passing his room, and the living room, to the kitchen. He fought a little with the firmly shut door of the refrigerator, but as soon as he managed to open it, he smiled at the bottle of milk his mother always had ready for him for these sort of situations and the ham and cheese rolls inside the little plastic bag because she knew he was an early riser.
Relena always complained about being woken up too early in the mornings, only to have to cook something for the little guy with the morning hunger. So she had thought up the bottle and rolls as a solution so she could get some more sleep. The trick had been ?training? little Adrian, but after a few attempts, he knew what to do, and where to go.
Heero watched his son seating in front of the refrigerator?s wide opened doors, his legs spread as he bit into his ham and cheese rolls and took short swigs from his bottle of milk. The boy?s dark blonde hair was still messy from his sleep, and combined with his bare feet and dinosaurs pajamas, he made an extremely heart warming picture.</i>
* * *
Heero stopped the car in front of the building, shutting down the engine as he turned to his son. Adrian sat in the same position of the last couple of minutes since they left their house, looking out the window with a longing in his eyes that made Heero wonder what he really was thinking; made Heero wish his son would open up and talk to him.
They had gone to therapy, together and individually, and even though Adrian knew what had happened, he didn?t seemed too inclined in sharing with anyone his real thoughts. Heero?s heart ached every time he encountered the knowledge in his son?s eyes, the maturity that no 8 year old should possess. It was like in some way Adrian tried to fill the void his mother had left behind, trying to look out after his father, and himself. Heero knew Adrian must be suffering, albeit in silence, but suffering just as much as he.
How many times had Heero tried to comfort the boy, to utter words of hope and maybe even happiness, in his ideal that things could go on, and maybe life could get back in track?
Heero sighed, attracting the attention of Adrian.
?She?s not coming back, Dad. I know that.? Adrian turned and smiled sadly at his father.
Heero looked at him, a soft smile touching the corners of his lips. ?She never left, you know. You look just like her.?
Adrian?s smile widened, revealing his deep dimples. ?I even got her dimples.?
?You do.? Heero ruffled his son?s hair. ?Do you want me to go in with you??
Adrian looked out the window at the building, a soft sigh only noticeable by the rise and fall of his shoulders. He looked back at Heero, sadness in his sky blue eyes. ?No, that?s okay. I should go, it?s already late.?
As if on cue, the bells rang, announcing the start of the first period.
?I?ll come by and pick you up when you get out. Good luck.?
Heero watched as his son closed the door and went up the long flight of steps before disappearing into the enormous building, a heavy feeling in his heart.
He had considered a million times moving away, perhaps to another city or country, maybe even another continent, but deep down, he knew that wasn?t the answer. He wouldn?t accomplish anything with running away.
And running away from what, exactly?
He couldn?t run away from her. He would never betray her that way. And he wouldn?t take away all the memories Adrian had of her. Memories that in a couple of years will be reduced in half. Heero didn?t want that. He wanted Adrian to remember what it was like to spend Sunday?s afternoons together, barbeques and movies, popcorn and their nightly round of Twister. He wanted Adrian to remember his mother?s gentle smiles and sincere words, her kind touch and the beauty of her laughter. He didn?t want him to forget those times they spent together, when she tucked him in at night, or when she asked him what he wanted for dinner hours in advance so she could buy all the things she would need.
Those were things Heero would never forget. Just like he would never forget the sound of Adrian?s first cry after his birth, or the tears in her voice as she gazed at their first child in awe. Their first? and last.
It was two years of torture before her death, most of which Adrian didn?t know. The child never got to see her body, even though he did assist to the funeral. Heero, however, spent countless months with her picture in his mind, seeing her in her last moment, as he held her hands in his, wiping her tears away while he tried to deny himself what was so obvious. For how long did he hate her for giving up? For surrendering to her illness knowing she would be leaving them behind. And yet, she still left.
And Adrian didn?t cry.
The boy didn?t shed a single tear for his mother, and still hasn?t. He was always strong, brave as he stood by his mother, even after Heero explained Relena?s condition. A brain tumor was not to take lightly. Yet Adrian resisted, visiting her when she was in the hospital, helping her after her chemotherapies. Laughing with her when she joked about losing her hair, even though she knew the kid wasn?t fooling himself.
Everyone knew she wouldn?t resist. Two years was a long time. Much longer than everyone expected.
After her death, Heero still went to the hospital every day after dropping Adrian off at school. He would go and sit in the same chair, staring at the same bed his wife used to lay on. Her heartbeat monitor going off in his mind, the sound of her breathing beside him, the squeeze of her hands in his. Everything was so livid in his mind. It still is.
Everyone was so understanding, so eager to please and comfort him. His neighbors, the teachers at Adrian?s school, his employees, including strangers that had gone to her funeral, friends from that other life she had given up when she married him.
And Heero had hated them all.
<i>To be continued...</i>
* * *
<u>Author's Note:</u> Also, I'm sorry for any grammatical, spelling, or any other type of mistake, I didn't send this story to Caliborn for beta-reading, but I did read it several times. But, just in case.
Reviews?
