Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is the property of Sotsu Agency/Sunrise. No profits were made in writing this.

Pairing: 3+4+3
Rating: R
Warnings: Shounen Ai/genfic.

Part 1
by kebzero


Heero Yuy's Personal Log

I've decided to accept Quatre's offer. Most of my belongings are already in storage awaiting the next semester. I'll leave campus tonight.

Professor Malackey has made arrangements so that I can take my last two exams in august, when they gather up those who were ill or otherwise unable to attend. I still feel it is a result of poor planning - if you take on thrice the course matter to finish faster, and even if you choose combinations that leave you able to follow all classes, that the professors double-book the exams seems inevitable.

Whenever I've pointed this deficiency out, professor Malackey has given me this strange look of pity. When I handed in my study plan for this fall, she sighed and asked me if I shouldn't 'just take it easy and enjoy life as a student'.

I'm still not sure what she meant by that. How exactly are you supposed to enjoy memorizing the Periodic table or bits of world history? It's a chore, nothing more. I remember being asked the same thing a long time ago, but I didn't have an answer then either.

The exam results returned so far are adequate. Marks for sciences and mathematics are in the top percentile. Humanities studies, however, aren't going so well. I contested the results - I cannot understand the deductions given that the answers are practically quotations from our text books. Professor Henley informed me that though I was technically correct, the answers lacked personal opinion and analysis. He said his class was not about regurgitating knowledge, but about making us think for ourselves. When I told him I didn't understand, he smiled and told me to process the thought over the summer. I plan to.

Still, why do the faculty members at this college have to be so cryptic all the time? Why can't they point out exactly where my fault lies, so that I can rectify it? J never gave me any problems like this.

Melanie Jenkins came by my table at lunch yesterday. At first, we just talked about the exams. Well, I did. She talked about other people, or the food, or brought up random bits of gossip. She talked a lot. Asked questions. When she asked what I was going to do today, I was about to recite my limited itinerary, but she stopped me at the first point; a hair-cut. She reached out to my bangs, but I shirked back. I barely stopped myself before grabbing her wrist - I'm still undecided whether that was old combat reflexes, or that I truly didn't want her touching my hair. To my relief, she backed off, telling me I really shouldn't cut my hair, and that there was something 'magical' about the way it was.

The heck is magical about hair that pretty much falls into your eyes, or itches you in the neck?

Then she wanted to know if I was interested in joining her study group, the rest of which looked over from the next table, as if on cue. I suppose this was the main reason for her approaching me; most students give me a wide berth. I don't know Melanie or any of her friends that well, but I do know the approximate academic level she is at - at best, she has mediocre grades. I wasn't interested, and I told her as much. She looked so disappointed I felt compelled to explain my reasoning for rejecting her offer, to avoid misunderstandings.

That sad look became a frown in an instant, and after shooting me a glare of resentment, she walked away. Her posse didn't look too pleased with me, neither.

I still can't understand why they'd be so upset. Bradley, a guy in my Physics class - a friend, I suppose - came over to me right after, laughing quietly. He gave me this advice; I should never tell women the truth. In most cases, saying the exact opposite would be better. As examples, he sited questions like 'am I too fat?', or 'isn't this a nice hat?'.

I tried following his counsel this morning, when I ran into Melanie again. I bragged about her smarts, said those triple-sized sunglasses looked good on her, and that the whiskers around the mole on her left cheek are almost invisible.

In return, she slapped me. With a closed fist.

I haven't had a punch like that for a good six months - and I don't mean to say Duo hits like a girl. He doesn't. Neither does Melanie.

I meant to talk to Bradley about this, but I won't have time. It seems that every woman on campus is scowling at me now, and I'm not sure why. I guess it'll be good to take a break from all of this, and be absent for a while. I'll need some time to figure out where I went wrong.

I suppose there will be plenty of time on the flight across the Atlantic.

-end file- Yuy, Heero

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