Ten years after series
In commemoration of my ten year fandom for gundam wing (it's been ten years? how old are you mara???), I decided to make the ten years after series which is a collection of stories surrounding favorite fandom and original characters that all answer this simple question:
If, after ten year you get to see the love of your life, and still feel the same feelings as back then, what would you do?
i dedicate these fanfics to all of MIKKAELA and mikkaelastree . this is for you girls!!
enjoy!
10 years after….
Heero POV
I sat on that gray sofa chair for hours, ignoring the noise coming from the people outside. It was barely eleven in the morning and already the coffee shop I was in was filling like a tank. I leaned my head on my hand as I gazed at the people within my perimeter.
No one too alarming, just some people in their neatly pressed shirts and coats that could melt the rain that fell on it and a couple of high heeled ladies obviously flirting with the handsome gentleman behind the counter. My free hand gently tapped my pen on my laptop as I assessed the residents of this place I have been assigned to.
Setting up a foreign office where war is situated down south is no cakewalk. It took the Preventers six months to get the government to approve our stay and even then we had to give routine updates on the statuses of our missions. They wanted to be at the top of things when in fact, they desperately need some outsider to infiltrate the depths of the war down south. Well, just between you and me, my office managed to find some classified information that could well tear this country to the ground…if we were to use it against it. But no, the Preventer Corp. specializes in peace-keeping and not in idealism. We know too well this and that are two different things.
My laptop beeped a message which returned my attention to it. One thing I secretly liked about this country was that there were hotspots around the metro and even if it was restricted, their security firewalls are no match to my hacking skills. For the record, in this coffee shop, it was damn free.
I clicked the message.
“Hey Wing, nice seeing you out in this heat. Weather’s fine down here and I’ll be sorry that I’ll be leaving tomorrow. You should see the babes here man, so soft and supple, just makes me wanna sink my teeth into their….hehe, let’s discuss my fantasies some other time. I’ll fill you in on the details of my trip when I get back there tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and in no way in hell will you escape my wrath and my braid. Cherio!”
The message was deleted.
I reached for my cup of coffee, allowing myself a mere five seconds to blink back the rage that was attempting to spew out of my mouth, lest I freak the nice people here who would no less throw me out when they realize I’m a bit of a freak on the loose. I will admit, I love my job and the perks that go with it, there’s just one thing that not even heaven can explain to me.
Like how I always wind up with Duo as my partner in every f^*^ing mission.
Drained, but not fatigued, I stretched out on the sofa chair I was sitting in and continued to glance out into the busy streets of the country’s most high-end city. The residents of this area were among the richest in the country and to be seen here would mean you were one of them. Mostly, people who aren’t just come here for the malls and the occasional foreigner-tripping since a lot of world-class hotels were in this area. My hotel happens to be the same building as the coffee shop I was in.
“Dark black coffee for Heero.”
I closed my laptop and got out of my chair to retrieve my coffee. I’ve been in and out of this shop for three weeks and the bartenders have already grown accustomed to my ways. Without me saying it, they prepare my black coffee every half hour and without fail I would pay their hefty price of a coffee bean just so I could use their wifi for free and sit in what they have already called “The dark prince’s chair” and begin my hourly musings of the city that is to be my home for the next few weeks.
I cricked my neck and groped for my backpack that I placed on the floor beside my chair. I managed to get my work done so while waiting for my contact who said he would pass by at around two, I took the time to sneak a little reading in. I brought out a thick hardbound book and opened to the page where I left my bookmark in.
I tend to arrive in meeting places hours before the actual rendezvous time. Call it a habit.
One-thirty. Not much longer now. I highlighted another line in my book and gazed up from my little solitude. The coffee shop was almost empty, save for the bartenders who double as clean-up crew and a group of college kids making too much a racket for anyone to concentrate. I looked at my laptop to see if there were any messages while I was “away”. No dice.
I heard the rustle of the door open and felt the hot air come in from outside. I went back to reading amidst the sounds of a lady ordering, some liquid brewing and hushed whispers coming from the counter.
I closed the book, just as the bartender called out my name.
“Dark black coffee for Heero.”
I got up.
“Dark black coffee for Kirsche.”
I stood rooted to the spot and looked up. Right in front of me was someone I haven’t seen in over ten years, and a lot of things have changed in her appearance. Her hair was a bit longer with bangs covering her forehead. She always hated it when her friends teased her about her forehead. She was dressed in corporate, an assumption that she worked in the area. Her long black skirt followed the curve of her legs and her red vest over a white dress shirt made her look preppy, somewhat like a college student going for a defense rather than an employee. She was wearing heels that made her more of an image to see. It was kind of weird to see her dressed like that, considering the times that I used to spend with her where she would either be dressed in her plug-suit (which accentuated all the right place by the way) or her casual clothes which consisted mostly of shorts and shirts.
She slung her shoulder bag over her shoulder in such a boyish way, as if that was the last thing she wanted to hold. She picked up her coffee and mumbled something to the bartender before she turned. She didn’t see me coming.
We bumped.
“Ah! Gomen gomen-ay, sorry.” She stuttered, pushing her bangs up and gaining her composure. Our eyes met. For a moment, I thought she would smile, drop her coffee and give me a big hug the way her brother did (I’m not saying that I enjoyed it). We held our gazes for what seemed like minutes when in fact it was only ten seconds. She looked away afterwards.
I thought there would be sparks and butterflies like those described in local drama shows I’ve been watching since I got here. They seem to have a fascination for long loves and returns. But there was none. Admittedly, I thought she would be the flustered one, when in fact it was me.
“No problem.” I answered, somewhat too gently for my taste. She picked up her phone which she dropped on the floor (not without squealing when she realized it) and hastily left the shop.
I stood there dumbfounded until the bartender called my name again.
I picked up my coffee and returned to my spot. I would normally take a sip when I sit down after fetching my coffee. I didn’t.
The scene just moments ago was still etched in my mind. How long ago did I search for her, look for her, practically threaten Duo with a pair of scissors just so he will tell me where she was. And now…
I looked up and saw her just outside the glass, her hands on the outdoor table and chair set and heaving. She had her cup of coffee on the table.
For a moment she looked up, and I thought she would look in my direction. Instead, she shook her head, slapped the sides of her head and continued on her way. She reached the corner and waited for the signal to cross.
I wanted to run to her, call out to her, just tell her that hey, I’m here. Don’t you remember me? Instead I just watched her walk off as she crossed the street, blend in with the crowd (with a mishap of two involving tripping over her heels and swearing in fluent Japanese which I’m sure none of the passer-bys could understand) and disappear into a building.
I finally got my coffee and took a sip. Funny, for its black-flavor, it suddenly tasted sweet, even after downing nine cups beforehand.
I opened my laptop and typed a message. Hell, if you can talk about your disturbing mental images and proclaim them like its nothing, surely mine wouldn’t make any mark on your thickheaded ego.
Wing to Death. Urgent message.
He replied.
Yo Heero, what up?
…
…
…
…
I found her. I found Kirsche.
I closed the laptop, collected my things and paid for the coffees. I scambled out of the coffee shop and into the main lobby of my hotel. I’ll just contact my client of the change in meeting place. I was filled with a new sense of vigor and no way would I let it slip away, not when I’m so close. I was shaking when I reached the elevator.
And yet deep inside, I could feel something which I haven’t felt in a long time.
I smirked.
“Mission phase 01: activated….”
END
If, after ten year you get to see the love of your life, and still feel the same feelings as back then, what would you do?
i dedicate these fanfics to all of MIKKAELA and mikkaelastree . this is for you girls!!
enjoy!
10 years after….
Heero POV
I sat on that gray sofa chair for hours, ignoring the noise coming from the people outside. It was barely eleven in the morning and already the coffee shop I was in was filling like a tank. I leaned my head on my hand as I gazed at the people within my perimeter.
No one too alarming, just some people in their neatly pressed shirts and coats that could melt the rain that fell on it and a couple of high heeled ladies obviously flirting with the handsome gentleman behind the counter. My free hand gently tapped my pen on my laptop as I assessed the residents of this place I have been assigned to.
Setting up a foreign office where war is situated down south is no cakewalk. It took the Preventers six months to get the government to approve our stay and even then we had to give routine updates on the statuses of our missions. They wanted to be at the top of things when in fact, they desperately need some outsider to infiltrate the depths of the war down south. Well, just between you and me, my office managed to find some classified information that could well tear this country to the ground…if we were to use it against it. But no, the Preventer Corp. specializes in peace-keeping and not in idealism. We know too well this and that are two different things.
My laptop beeped a message which returned my attention to it. One thing I secretly liked about this country was that there were hotspots around the metro and even if it was restricted, their security firewalls are no match to my hacking skills. For the record, in this coffee shop, it was damn free.
I clicked the message.
“Hey Wing, nice seeing you out in this heat. Weather’s fine down here and I’ll be sorry that I’ll be leaving tomorrow. You should see the babes here man, so soft and supple, just makes me wanna sink my teeth into their….hehe, let’s discuss my fantasies some other time. I’ll fill you in on the details of my trip when I get back there tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and in no way in hell will you escape my wrath and my braid. Cherio!”
The message was deleted.
I reached for my cup of coffee, allowing myself a mere five seconds to blink back the rage that was attempting to spew out of my mouth, lest I freak the nice people here who would no less throw me out when they realize I’m a bit of a freak on the loose. I will admit, I love my job and the perks that go with it, there’s just one thing that not even heaven can explain to me.
Like how I always wind up with Duo as my partner in every f^*^ing mission.
Drained, but not fatigued, I stretched out on the sofa chair I was sitting in and continued to glance out into the busy streets of the country’s most high-end city. The residents of this area were among the richest in the country and to be seen here would mean you were one of them. Mostly, people who aren’t just come here for the malls and the occasional foreigner-tripping since a lot of world-class hotels were in this area. My hotel happens to be the same building as the coffee shop I was in.
“Dark black coffee for Heero.”
I closed my laptop and got out of my chair to retrieve my coffee. I’ve been in and out of this shop for three weeks and the bartenders have already grown accustomed to my ways. Without me saying it, they prepare my black coffee every half hour and without fail I would pay their hefty price of a coffee bean just so I could use their wifi for free and sit in what they have already called “The dark prince’s chair” and begin my hourly musings of the city that is to be my home for the next few weeks.
I cricked my neck and groped for my backpack that I placed on the floor beside my chair. I managed to get my work done so while waiting for my contact who said he would pass by at around two, I took the time to sneak a little reading in. I brought out a thick hardbound book and opened to the page where I left my bookmark in.
I tend to arrive in meeting places hours before the actual rendezvous time. Call it a habit.
One-thirty. Not much longer now. I highlighted another line in my book and gazed up from my little solitude. The coffee shop was almost empty, save for the bartenders who double as clean-up crew and a group of college kids making too much a racket for anyone to concentrate. I looked at my laptop to see if there were any messages while I was “away”. No dice.
I heard the rustle of the door open and felt the hot air come in from outside. I went back to reading amidst the sounds of a lady ordering, some liquid brewing and hushed whispers coming from the counter.
I closed the book, just as the bartender called out my name.
“Dark black coffee for Heero.”
I got up.
“Dark black coffee for Kirsche.”
I stood rooted to the spot and looked up. Right in front of me was someone I haven’t seen in over ten years, and a lot of things have changed in her appearance. Her hair was a bit longer with bangs covering her forehead. She always hated it when her friends teased her about her forehead. She was dressed in corporate, an assumption that she worked in the area. Her long black skirt followed the curve of her legs and her red vest over a white dress shirt made her look preppy, somewhat like a college student going for a defense rather than an employee. She was wearing heels that made her more of an image to see. It was kind of weird to see her dressed like that, considering the times that I used to spend with her where she would either be dressed in her plug-suit (which accentuated all the right place by the way) or her casual clothes which consisted mostly of shorts and shirts.
She slung her shoulder bag over her shoulder in such a boyish way, as if that was the last thing she wanted to hold. She picked up her coffee and mumbled something to the bartender before she turned. She didn’t see me coming.
We bumped.
“Ah! Gomen gomen-ay, sorry.” She stuttered, pushing her bangs up and gaining her composure. Our eyes met. For a moment, I thought she would smile, drop her coffee and give me a big hug the way her brother did (I’m not saying that I enjoyed it). We held our gazes for what seemed like minutes when in fact it was only ten seconds. She looked away afterwards.
I thought there would be sparks and butterflies like those described in local drama shows I’ve been watching since I got here. They seem to have a fascination for long loves and returns. But there was none. Admittedly, I thought she would be the flustered one, when in fact it was me.
“No problem.” I answered, somewhat too gently for my taste. She picked up her phone which she dropped on the floor (not without squealing when she realized it) and hastily left the shop.
I stood there dumbfounded until the bartender called my name again.
I picked up my coffee and returned to my spot. I would normally take a sip when I sit down after fetching my coffee. I didn’t.
The scene just moments ago was still etched in my mind. How long ago did I search for her, look for her, practically threaten Duo with a pair of scissors just so he will tell me where she was. And now…
I looked up and saw her just outside the glass, her hands on the outdoor table and chair set and heaving. She had her cup of coffee on the table.
For a moment she looked up, and I thought she would look in my direction. Instead, she shook her head, slapped the sides of her head and continued on her way. She reached the corner and waited for the signal to cross.
I wanted to run to her, call out to her, just tell her that hey, I’m here. Don’t you remember me? Instead I just watched her walk off as she crossed the street, blend in with the crowd (with a mishap of two involving tripping over her heels and swearing in fluent Japanese which I’m sure none of the passer-bys could understand) and disappear into a building.
I finally got my coffee and took a sip. Funny, for its black-flavor, it suddenly tasted sweet, even after downing nine cups beforehand.
I opened my laptop and typed a message. Hell, if you can talk about your disturbing mental images and proclaim them like its nothing, surely mine wouldn’t make any mark on your thickheaded ego.
Wing to Death. Urgent message.
He replied.
Yo Heero, what up?
…
…
…
…
I found her. I found Kirsche.
I closed the laptop, collected my things and paid for the coffees. I scambled out of the coffee shop and into the main lobby of my hotel. I’ll just contact my client of the change in meeting place. I was filled with a new sense of vigor and no way would I let it slip away, not when I’m so close. I was shaking when I reached the elevator.
And yet deep inside, I could feel something which I haven’t felt in a long time.
I smirked.
“Mission phase 01: activated….”
END