Slow Burn

23 August, A.C. 200

He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news to her as he stared at her silent, sleeping form on the bed.

She had rolled onto her side after being somewhat restless all through the night, and in the process had pushed the covers almost completely off of her naked body. He watched as her brow twitched, no doubt some dream—or nightmare—causing the involuntary movement. Seeing her shiver from the cold, he gently pulled the blankets back on top of her, and walked back to the kitchen.

He himself had managed barely an hour's sleep, feeling too unsettled by the task that lay before him to rest comfortably. He'd been in the kitchen most of the night, in fact, sitting and staring out into the darkness of his apartment with a gloomy expression.

She won't forgive you this time.

He was sure that it was impossible to hope for her acceptance, especially considering everything he'd put her through already. She had been so patient for so long, but he doubted she could—or would—wait for him forever.

She deserves better.

To a large extent, it was his self-loathing that reassured him of his decision as being the right one to take, and he constantly reminded himself of how unworthy he was—of how wrong it was for him to keep her bound to his worthless life.

You should never have let yourself believe that this was real.

Duo was right, he thought in retrospect; and yet, at first, when the former Deathscythe pilot had visited him suddenly a few months before and accused him of not taking his relationship with Relena seriously, Heero had been infuriated by the suggestion.

Yes, he and she were not a "couple" in the traditional sense of the word—their relationship being kept largely under wraps in order to avoid any public scandal (it was troublesome enough that he had allowed her office staff to know about them)—but he had never taken his time with her lightly.

He had always been conscious of the fact that she—Relena Darlian Peacecraft, Queen of the World—loved him, and him alone.

And yet that was the problem, since he could not give her what she truly desired.

She wants  me .

After Duo's lecture, he began to notice what the other pilot had merely hinted at—Relena's unhappiness.

Of course, being such a skilled diplomat, she hid it well; nevertheless, he picked up on it with increasing regularity, most often after they had spent the night together. And the more he noticed it, the more he realised how little he really understood her true feelings for him.

No—she wants  all  of me.

Now, looking at her sleeping form, he wondered how he had ever missed it—there was something very earnest about Relena in everything she did, including in love. She sent him messages whenever something excited or frustrating ever happened at work, called him when she was able to, and went to any lengths necessary to clear her schedule to see him—even if it meant cancelling important meetings to do so.

She never passed up an opportunity to meet, even if all they did together—considering the limited number of places they could go without being followed by photographers or otherwise recognised—was stay at his house or hers, have dinner, watch a film, talk, and have sex.

Not that she didn't enjoy their time together—he could confidently say that, for the most part, they both did. But it had become obvious to him, over the past few months, that this routine of theirs had become just that to her—a routine, and one that she seemed to relish less and less as time went on.