disclaimer: i don't own gw, but i rule the world!!! ah, excuse me.. too many hours at work..

rating: pg
pairings: 1X2X1
Spoilers: no
Warnings: shounen-ai, strangeness

Dreaming of You
by 0083

Long hair and violet eyes. They are the stuff dreams are made of, I think. Miles of brown hair edged in gold, eyes that glint with the colors of twilight and then the darkest of nights, a body that the Greek gods would have envied.. All things that dreams are made of.

I met him. The dream I speak about. He came out of the mist and smiled at me, a playful yet gentle smile that shot straight to my heart. When I first saw him, I couldnít move or say anything. I just stared until he disappeared back into the mist.

I never did catch his name or heard his voice. But from the first moment, I knew that I belonged to him. Whether he knew it or not, I was his.


I listened as Quatre spoke about something or another. Usually, I paid close attention to his words, but I was too busy thinking about the dream boy. I must have spaced out pretty hard because the next thing I knew, Quatre was poking me in my ribs.

"Heero! Have you heard anything Iíve said?"

I blinked at him owlishly. I was about to say that I had heard and repeat what I had heard when I realized that I couldnít recall a single thing.

"Sorry, Quatre. What did I miss?"

Fortunately for me, Quatre did not get angry. He must have caught on that I was feeling somewhat guilty about my previous actions. I was really relieved to see that Quatre wasnít upset. These days, I had to be more careful around Quatre, be more considerate and loving. After all, we were best friends. And Quatre had suffered more than he deserved lately.

"Heero, youíre not yourself today. Want to talk about it?"

I smiled and shook my head. Quatre had enough on his plate without worrying about me and my dream guy.


I saw him again. The dream guy. This time, his hair had been braided into a neat plait that snaked down his back. His unruly bangs poked into this eyes and he kept brushing them aside with his hand. He was dressed in all black and I thought I saw a hint of a priestís collar around his neck. This time, I didnít hesitate to speak.


I may have not hesitated, but I certainly didnít impress him with my verbiage. He didnít seem to mind.


His one word of casual greeting was filled with some deeper emotion. The one word that he uttered conveyed more meaning to me than an entire book of poetry. My heart trembled and skipped a few beats, only to stutter to a complete stop when he stepped closer.

"Iíve missed you."

Shock did not come close to defining what I felt at that moment. He had missed me?


He knew me?

I watched him reach out his hand. I felt it caress my face. I saw the tears that pooled in his eyes.

Then I woke up.


Days passed, weeks passed. And every night, I dreamt about him. We never spoke again, but only stared at each other. With every passing night, I felt closer to him. Every waking moment felt incomplete because he wasnít there. I didnít know what was going on exactly, but I did know that I loved him.

I loved a guy in my dreams who appeared out of the mist. I had fallen in love with someone who did not exist. I had given my heart and soul to a person to whom I had said only one word.

Such things could only happen in dreams.


Quatre was staring at me with concern written all over his face. His blond hair obscured his greenish blue eyes too much for me to really look into them, but I knew that they were shining with worry.

"Heero, what is going on? Canít you tell me?"

I sighed. I didnít want to worry Quatre, but I knew I had given him cause. Ever since I had started dreaming about the guy, I had been spacey, zoning off into daydream-land to think about my dream. I had not been my usual super attentive, aggressively driven self lately. But I couldnít tell him. He had enough on his mind.

"Itís nothing, Quatre. Donít worry, okay?"

Quatre is one of the gentlest guys I know. He is highly respected for his academic and athletic success by both genders and is friendly enough to have a huge following at our high school. But that Quatre disappeared at my answer. He literally blew up at me.

"You are not fine and it is not nothing! You have been completely out of it for the last few weeks! If you arenít telling me because of the thing with Trowa.."

As quickly as he had lost it, he simmered down. And in the wake of the anger, the grief that he had buried surfaced once more. I saw the first tear emerge and then another. Before I knew it, Quatre was crying - no, bawling - into my chest, his shoulders shaking and his throat tearing out sounds of a wounded animal. I just held him and watched him cry, my own eyes filling. Damn me.. I had done this.

"I.. I.. I miss him so much, Heero.."

I could barely make out the words Quatre was mumbling, but I knew. Trowaís death last year had hit him the hardest. They had been in love. So in love. Like I am with my dream guy.

"Iím sorry, Quatre. So sorry.."

Our afternoon passed in tears and in apologies. All because I had been an idiot.


That night, my dream was different. Usually, my dreams about him was just us standing and staring at each other. But that night, the dream took a new turn.

Instead of staring at him, I was confronted with a vision. In my dream, I opened my eyes and he was right next to me, laying down with his head on a snowy pillow, his hair spread out about him like a sheet. His violet eyes were staring straight into mine and he had this incredible smile on his face.

Gods, how can I possibly explain? His eyes were lit with the softest light, ephemeral and heavenly. His smile possessed the glory that angels must have. That small, slight quirking of the lips. His face. His naked body. His hair.

My words cannot do him justice.

Nor can my words even begin to describe what I felt when I saw him looking at me. Complete contentment? Utter happiness? I donít know. Those words are inadequate. Let me just say that my heart filled up until it could not hold anymore and that my soul took flight.

Cliches and poetry.

Songs and verses.

None of it could describe him adequately enough.


After that, I spent more time sleeping and dreaming than awake. I slept at night, I slept through the day. I barely woke up to eat or even go to the bathroom. I only wanted to sleep so I could look across the pillow at my dream.

Eventually, Quatre cornered me on one of my waking moments and demanded to know what was going on. I could tell that he would not be deterred. So I told him.

"Iím in love, Quatre."

At first, I could tell that he was happy for me. In all of my seventeen years of life, I had never said those words. Then he frowned as it dawned on him that I had never mentioned him before now.

"Who is it, Heero? Do I know him from school?"

"No, Quatre. You donít know him."

He looked puzzled and I didnít blame him. He was probably wondering where I had met him. So before he could ask, I answered his impending question.

"I met him in my dream, Quatre."

He blinked at me. Well, itís not like I expected him to say Ďoh, thatís greatí or anything, but still.

"A dream. You met this guy youíre in love with.. in a dream?"

I nodded.

"Have you lost your mind?"

I considered that seriously. Maybe I had. After all, who falls in love with someone that only exists in dreams?


"How can you love someone you met in your dream? Itís a dream, Heero! Itís not reality!"

I know that. I know all that. But I love him anyway.

Quatre continued to yell at me, lecturing me on the differences between dreams and reality, but I stopped listening. I was getting sleepy. He was calling to me again.

"Hey, Quatre. Can we talk tomorrow? Iím getting tired."

"Heero, snap out of it! Heís not real. Dreaming about him, no matter how much you love him wonít make him real!"

I saw Quatreís eyes glaze slightly. I was hurting him again.

"If dreaming made someone real.. Then Trowa would be here. I dream about him every night, but I know the difference, Heero. My dreams.. No matter what, it canít be real."

"I know it isnít real, Quatre. But what so great about reality?"

There was no answer.


When I dreamt again, I saw him across from me, naked, glorious and beautiful. However, I didnít just revel in his presence, but spoke to him for the second time.

"Youíre only a dream."

He smiled.


His voice was rich, filled with humor and love.

"Youíre not real."

"How do you know? For all you know, Iím the reality and youíre the dream."

"I know youíre the dream because I dream about you."

He only smiled bigger.

"And I dream about you."

To say I was confused would be an understatement.

"You see, Heero.. You dream about me and I dream about you. What does that suggest?"

Understanding dawned on me. It was an epiphany.

"You are real."

"Or weíre both dreams."

We spent the rest of our dream smiling at each other. Before I woke, one word branded itself across my brain.


The name of my beloved dream.


Eventually, my parents and Quatre hauled me off to the hospital for tests because I spent most of my time sleeping. Iíd fall asleep to beeping sounds and wake to doctors poking me. But in between, I was floating in heaven with Duo.

In my dream, we no longer just stared. We spoke. We touched. We kissed. We made love.

Reality couldnít compete.


Quatre visited me more often than not and pled with me to stay awake. He told me about his days at school, how much he missed me, how my parents worried. And I felt guilty for putting him through it all.

"Please Heero. Come back to us."

"I canít leave him, Quatre."

He stroked my hair gently. His touch.. his friendship.. I would miss them.

"Heís not real.."

"I donít care, Quatre. Canít you see? I love him."

"You love him that much?"

"Yes. Tell me Quatre, if you had to choose between your reality and your dream.."

He was silent for a while, but he did answer.

"Everyone would choose their dream, Heero. But itís only an escape from reality. Youíre stronger than that."

"Iím not running from reality, Quatre. Iím choosing to dream. Dreams make life worth living. Without dreams, we arenít really humans, are we?"

"Heero.. You can dream. But you canít become the dream."

"I can. I already am. The dream is more real to me now than this thing you call reality."

Quatre held my hand and looked me in the eyes. They held sadness, loneliness and a small bit of understanding. Most of all, they held forgiveness. He had already forgiven me for leaving.

"Think of me sometimes, would you Heero?"


And I slept.

And dreamt.

And lived.


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