People wonder why I always spend so much time with him. I'd tell them that he's interesting. That way, people would know what I was talking about and leave it at that.

No one would ever have to know that I watch him during my sleep. When he thinks that I'm sleeping and truly alone. He'd get from his bed and cross over to my side of the room, staring at me for a moment, as if he had a fasination as strong as mine to figure me out. Then, when he was daring, he'd run a hand through my bangs and leave me alone, stepping once again to the window.

I know what he finds so fasinating with the night. It's the perfect blue, even when there are clouds up to block the moon and stars. The night is facinating to him just as he is fasinating to others. A mystery that will never be figured out.

There were so many times when I caught him staring at the moon when I walk into our room. Sometimes, he would look over at my direction and then go back to his staring. Others, he would tense up and go back to working on his laptop.

I'm not as loud as other people describe me as. You can ask him. It's just that I don't like the silence, and want to get rid of it whenever possible. It doesn't bother me that my tactics annoy him. He needs to be annoyed once in a while. If he's not, then it'd get too stressful without having me around to yell at.

Yes, I do know that he never means what he says. I take it in stride. I'm the one who tempt him, and I'm the one who knows exactly what I'm getting. Although I hope that one day his reaction will be more than casting an annoyed glance over at me, or giving me a few threats. Until that day, though, I'll continue to laugh at his anger.

It's not as if I laugh because of the fact I can get him angry. I laugh because I know that he needs to hear it. He needs to hear that I didn't take what he said personally. He needs to be reassured that I understood what he *didn't* say. That I knew he was sorry for those words.

I'd tempt him, trailing a hand over his shoulder and maybe sometimes leaning my head against his. In the beginning he found it too much to bear. He'd shove me away, and try to ignore me. I know that he learned I would start ignoring him also if he decided to be that way. Now, he allows my small quirks, and would sometimes lean back against me. It's a habit we've both come to accept. Something that relaxes the both of us and allows us a moment of peace in this terrible war.

Of course, minutes later I would be my usual self- loud and annoying, trying to get more responses out of him and trying to find out what makes him tick. I don't think that it bothers him anymore. We'd go through the same routine everyday, and you can't get bothered by something that you do everyday unless it starts to get boring. And I don't think I'll get bored of bothering Heero Yuy for the rest of my life.

We'd have moments when we would just stare openly at each other, daring the other split their gaze elsewhere. Those are moments that I find to be reassuring and frustrating at the same time. I'd see his obvious interest in me, and he'd see my interest in him, but we'd never take it further than that. I think that he finds it enough that I care.

I don't find it enough. I need more than just that when it come to the reality that we both might be dead the next minute. Wars are tricky things, and it has taught me to take everything that comes with open arms, and welcome everything that I can while I can.

I've experianced and lived more than many people can honestly say that they have. I've seen much, done much. But there's still one thing I'm missing that I want to take into my hands but somehow have no control over it. I've never loved someone truly. Love someone in the sense of romantic love and not the kind of love that reminds you of family.

But I'm only fifteen. People my age usually get picked up and dumped within a month. It's not exactly the age where you can find the the love that I'm looking for. The kind where we have to make every moment count as if it were our last. Because we could die anytime.

The people that I can truly love are less than a handful. It doesn't matter to me that most of them are the same sex as me. I'd rather truly love someone than say that I never told the one I love anything because it was either classified or a hazard to know. I need someone who can see through my chatter and find the things that I'm trying to say, but words just don't seem to be cutting anywhere close.

I'd see him kneel besides my bed sometimes, while I was reading. I'd drop what I was reading and look at him, just to see that strange gleam in his eyes. A lost and desperate look that makes me drop whatever I was doing and go to him, content with nothing more than holding him and letting him know that someone was there and knew of what he was going through.

I wonder if that's enough. He'd hold onto be desperately, and sometimes I'd be able to feel the small wet spots appearing on my neck. I pay it no mind, though, and never mention it. Something like that is the kind of information that can be used to break a spirit. And I don't want his spirit to be broken.

Am I wrong to think like this? I'm not sure. All I know is that I care so strongly for him, and that my feelings are returned. I want more, and need more- but am still just contented by the mere presense of him in the same room.

I'd listen to him typing away on his computer, sometimes on my bed staring at the ceiling, or sometimes right besides him, watching him type in his mission reports, commenting when I feel it's nessassary or when I'm trying to make a joke. Most people would be unnerved by someone staring at them doing something. He's not. I can tell that he's relieved to have someone pay an interest towards what's he's going, considering that it's what he's been doing all his life.

But still, he does that so much that I'd sometimes fall asleep on his shoulder and the next morning I'd wake up in my own bed, with my hair down besides me and the blankets pulled up to my chin. You would never have figured him to be the mother hen type at first- then you get to know him and it's so easy to associate him as a caring and nurturing person.

He's always kind towards me, no matter how much he tries to ignore me. It's hard for me to see him as the same person as when he's in battle and when he's just with me. I wonder sometimes if I could change him, to be able to make him more human and more like the way that he wanted to be. But then I realize that I didn't want to change him at all. If he changed, he would not be the person that I cared about. He'd be different, and that would be very strange indeed.

I'm wondering if tonight I should let him see that I'm awake. If tonight I should face what I feel for him- before the war takes us both away from each other again, and leave us in a place where we'd never see each other again. I don't want to be doomed at anything in my life. I don't want to not have faced this before I died.

I wonder if he would also pull me from the bed, if he would allow me to watch the night sky with him, to actually lean on him like I always do as the moon comes out and the stars light up, allowing us to review our pasts and how we came from those same beautiful stars.

Maybe he would share with me what he finds so facinating with those stars, and I would share with him what I find so facinating with him. That we would be able to talk with each other comfortably and without hesitation, knowing that the other would not betray our heart. If we would completely open up to each other and be able to fall asleep in each other's arms without shame that we might be looking for something that we both can't find.

If that happens.... if that happens, well, we'll see where it goes from there.

Author's Comments:
I think that this was kinda short, and I'm wondering if this was nothing but boring. -_-;; I like to think of this as romantic, though! I know that I'm really taking things slow here, but I personally like it that way. ^_^ 1+2 gives me a WAFFy feeling, ya'know?

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