Getting the Hell Out of Dodge

Getting the Hell Out of Dodge (GW500)

Our skin was still stuck together with the sweat of sex when he said it.

He said, "Duo, I think we should get married."

I made myself laugh and rolled over to the side, scraping my hair away from my eyes. His hair had escaped its normally neat braid. Threads of it were stuck to my shoulder. I'd been amused when he'd gone from wearing his hair in a horse tail to a braid. Made us look like a right couple of Twinkies.

"Are you crazy, man?" I asked. "They don't let guys get married. Not legally."

He rolled over back against me, slipping his arm around my waist. His breath tickled the back of my neck. It would have been damn sexy if he hadn't gone and said it. "I know that. But what do the legalities matter? The point is the statement. Laws can't stop the exchange of promises."

"Guess you're right..." I patted his hand. The gesture felt wooden.

"Of course I am," he agreed. I could feel him smile against my skin. "I love you, and I have loved you for many years. I don't think it's unreasonable to promise that I will continue to love you through this life."

That was it. The kiss of death right there. "Yeah, Wufei... I love you too..." I said.

He fell asleep not long after. Even in his sleep, he was smiling. That was Wufei, though. He always took everything I said at its face value, just like he was supposed to. I knew him well enough that I knew how to not touch off his mad martial arts skills when he was in dream land. I was able to slip out of his arms, gather up my few changes of clothes and only pair of shoes, and slip out of the house.

He'd be upset. I couldn't blame him for that. But he'd get over it. He was a strong guy.

As I walked down the street, my spare clothes wrapped into a bundle and slung over my back, I gave every passing rock and piece of trash a savage kick. Really, what I wanted to do was pick a fight with someone. I was itching to use my fists.

I hated it. Every time I was getting settled, every time I was feeling safe and warm, someone had to go and pull the rug out from under my feet. They didn't seem to get it.

I could love someone without having to make a big, eternal promise out of it. I had to. Death rode me like a fucking show pony everywhere I went, and he didn't want me stopping. As soon as someone tried to make a promise for life, he made sure that the life in question was nice and short, like he'd done for Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. Like he'd done for Solo. Like he'd done for Heero.

I booted a trash can into a wall. It made a satisfying crash and a decent mess afterwards.

They always said they'd love me forever. What they really meant was it was time for me to get the hell out of Dodge.