I know he doesn’t see it.

He thinks himself weak; believes himself to be the weakest of us all. It is because of those beliefs that he cannot see he is the one holding us together, the one keeping us from falling apart.

It is true, we are brothers bound by the blood of others, by the blood we have shed together. We are inseparable by the understanding we feel towards each other and the understanding of the nightmares and pain that continue to plague us all, even him. Yet he does not understand that while we are sympathetic towards each other’s pain, we also understand how to hurt each other in the worst way possible, how to destroy each other beyond repair, in more than just the physical respect.

It would surprise him to know that he has that much power over us... over me. It would surprise him even more to know that he is the only one capable of diverting that destructive instinct that possesses each one of us on occasion. It is perhaps the only quality which truly separates him from the rest of us.

While it is a fact he has never been forced to survive on the streets; never been subject to strenuous and merciless training; never forced to endure the pain of having one’s dreams ripped away in a flash of mobile suit explosion; never wandered and suffered, wondering one’s name, he still carries his own shadows, burdens and demons.

He is truly, Lucifer among us.

The Fallen Angel.

An Angel drowned in pain, an Angel steeped in blood, an Angel who knows how to kill, but an Angel nonetheless. A fallen Angel sent to knit all of us together, to bind us to one another in this new world we helped create. A fallen Angel to guide us into the unknown - for this peace is the uncharted territory that some of us have never considered stepping into alone.

In retrospect I suppose this is the poet side of me that he had insisted was present, smiling through those wide cornflower blue eyes and smiling that encouraging and loving smile. And to do him justice, I would have to say that he is not always the Angel I make him out to be - he wouldn’t let me insist otherwise.

He has his moments of doubt, his moments of darkness. However he is not the introvert that the rest of us are... even Duo, though the braided baka would have you think differently. Unwilling to burden us with his own troubles, he still finds a way to comfort himself with our presence, and vice versa I suppose, we eventually find it in our power to give him the comfort he so needs. It is yet another sign of how he brings out the human in us all, no matter how tightly we’ve held our emotions in check.

I should know - aside from Heero, and maybe not even him, I think I’ve been the hardest to crack.

But Heero is slowly coming around, with the help of his own lover teaching and learning at the same time. Making their place in the new world together, learning to be more human together. While I... I was lucky enough to be gifted with an Angel’s love.

  "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
  And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind." [1]

It’d surprised me that Duo kept a neat book of Shakespeare’s quotes, penned in meticulously and obviously well loved. I had accidentally picked it up from the living room coffee table where he must have set it for a moment. That was the only quote to leave me with an impression of overwhelming gratitude.

At first, I remember thinking that wing’d Cupid had misfired his arrow. But call me selfish, I didn’t wish to give up what was so sweetly granted me - even if it had been a mistake on the part of some greater being.

My Angel.

I thank you for allowing me this family. The only family I have ever known, and the strongest family I will ever know. For this eternal brotherhood and your shining presence in my life.

For giving a nameless soldier somewhere to belong.