Escaping Reality
Author: Gabrielle MoonBeam
Fandom: Gundam Wing (with mentions of Final Fantasy 8) Property of Sunrise, Bandai and Sotsu. Final Fantasy 8 and PlayStation belong to Squaresoft.
Archives: FF.net. My page. If you want it, ask.
Warnings: Oddness. Angst. Shounen ai in its mildest. 1+2
Notes: This was supposed to be a lighthearted little ficlet about Duo's obsession with FF8, and a beginning of a crossover, but somehow my angst- muses were on the move. .
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A blue glinting light lit up the dimmed living room. A cacophony of sounds were blasting from the TV in front of a silent, hunched-over figure. A soft whirring echoed in the room, audible to the motionless figure, underlying the sound of the TV.
Heero climbed down the rickety staircase, gun ready and senses heightened. He didn't know what was wrong, but something was out of the ordinary. Silent, gliding steps carried the slender pilot to the opening of the house's living room.
"Duo."
A startled yipe, followed by a jerk of the American pilot who was sitting in front of the TV. He didn't let his violet eyes swerve from the screen even for a moment.
Heero took in the sickly pale, hollowed form of his co-pilot, worried in some distant corner of his icy mind. He cocked the safety of his gun back on and squatted down to observe what was keeping Duo's attention.
A tall, gangly figure of what seemed to be a boy just stepped forward, towards a waiting monster, lifting his weapon. A peculiar music flitted like waves from the TV's speakers, the boy and his two companions fading from view. Another corner of Heero's mind noted with irritation that Duo was tapping a button convulsively on what appeared to be a control pad of some sort.
As Heero lifted his eyes back to the screen, done with inspecting Duo's beautiful (he shook himself mentally) fingers, he noticed that a blue-white girl had appeared, blasting the enemy with ice.
As a victory music sounded from the TV, Duo chuckled, still completely in his own little world.
Heero's brows furrowed, his fingers snatching the control pad from Duo's momentarily limp hands. Duo gave a sound of protest, lifting a tired gaze to peer into Heero's icy one.
Heero didn't like what he saw.
Duo's lovely (he smacked himself mentally) violet eyes had dark circles around them like livid bruises. The American's normally baby-round cheeks were slightly hollowed, his skin pale, his fingers shaking.
Duo glared at Heero, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing.
"Gimme back my controller."
"No."
"Why the hell not? It's mine you know."
Heero studied the weary face, the sullen look in normally so vivid eyes a startling thing. Heero shook his head.
"What is this thing?"
Duo gave him an incredulous look.
"You don't know what a PlayStation 23 is?"
Heero gave him a soft glare, shifting so that he was sitting nearer the American pilot. An emotionless mask covered something on Heero's face as he leaned closer still and whispered, as if frightened Duo would flinch away from his touch.
"Tell me?"
Duo nodded, a tired, thin smile upon his lips. He took the controller from Heero's hands. The Japanese pilot watched with awe as the American handled the buttons with ease, each press, pull, tug making the figure in the TV move with his two companions.
"This is a game, Heero, an escape from reality. It's a very old game, from the twentieth century. It's called Final Fantasy 8."
Heero gave a little grunt, observing the movements of the leading male. The Japanese boy had to admit that the game was a beauty, a dazzling thing in their world so grey.
"The plot is a pretty complex one, so I won't tell you much about it. Basically there's this guy called Squall Leonhart, who's the main guy and the one you usually steer around."
A long, tapered finger lifted shakily, pointed at the screen and at the black-clad figure.
"That's him. Those two with him are called Zell and Irvine."
The finger moved, pointing out the small punk, then the tall cowboy. Eventually, the hand it was attached to folded back into Duo's lap.
"The guy, Squall, has to save the world he lives in from a sorceress. That's the main idea, or at least I think so, seeing that I haven't played it that far yet."
"Who's that blond boy?"
"Oh that? He's Seifer. He's Squall's rival."
Heero watched as the two men argued on the screen, flashing weapons and trading insults.
"You know, it's pretty sad what happens to Seifer."
Inquisitive cobalt eyes said everything Heero wanted them to. Duo nodded, continuing his monologue in a distant, silent voice.
"He becomes a puppet. His mind is taken over by the sorceress, his every action devoted to her, his every evil deed after meeting her... For her."
A thoughtful silence, laden with different meanings, expectations. Heero's head tilted until he was watching the screen from behind a curtain of dark chocolate, until his ear touched Duo's bony shoulder.
The American didn't move away, didn't say anything. The muscles of his arms flexed as they controlled the movements of Squall on the screen.
"Do you know what I mean, Heero?"
"Hai, I know."
"Good."
Another silence, this one even more quiet, the sound from the TV the only noise. Duo's almost lifeless hands worked the controller with precision, driving Squall forward into a battle.
Heero closed his eyes as the tall cowboy, Irvine, fired his gun.
"Why do you escape the reality?"
"Hm?"
"Duo."
"I need it."
"Why would you delve into something else that's so close to our own world?"
"Because if I make a mistake, I can start again. If I die, it's just the press of a button and I'm up again. Their world..."
Slender hands let go of the black chunk of plastic for a little while, the other one curling around Heero's waist, the other tracing patterns in the air.
"Is black and white. No matter how many colours you see, it's always still just those two. Good and Evil."
Duo was quiet for a moment, observing the stilled character reflected on the electric glass.
A soft chuckle.
"Or at least that's the beginning. I don't know how it ends, since I rarely have time to play this game."
Heero's breath tickled Duo's ear, brushed back soft tendrils of chestnut hair.
"Now you're lying. You're down here every night, playing."
A sigh.
"Yes, I am. But since I haven't got a memory card to save my game, every night I start it from the beginning. With a clean slate."
Heero's cheek rubbed against Duo's shoulder, the American's grip around the Wing pilot's waist tightening minutely.
"With a clean slate."
The sentence was a quiet one, reflective, saddened under the layers of ice coating it. Like a popsicle with a surprise in the middle.
"Yes, Heero, with every death undone."
-----------------------
Author: Gabrielle MoonBeam
Fandom: Gundam Wing (with mentions of Final Fantasy 8) Property of Sunrise, Bandai and Sotsu. Final Fantasy 8 and PlayStation belong to Squaresoft.
Archives: FF.net. My page. If you want it, ask.
Warnings: Oddness. Angst. Shounen ai in its mildest. 1+2
Notes: This was supposed to be a lighthearted little ficlet about Duo's obsession with FF8, and a beginning of a crossover, but somehow my angst- muses were on the move. .
---------------------
A blue glinting light lit up the dimmed living room. A cacophony of sounds were blasting from the TV in front of a silent, hunched-over figure. A soft whirring echoed in the room, audible to the motionless figure, underlying the sound of the TV.
Heero climbed down the rickety staircase, gun ready and senses heightened. He didn't know what was wrong, but something was out of the ordinary. Silent, gliding steps carried the slender pilot to the opening of the house's living room.
"Duo."
A startled yipe, followed by a jerk of the American pilot who was sitting in front of the TV. He didn't let his violet eyes swerve from the screen even for a moment.
Heero took in the sickly pale, hollowed form of his co-pilot, worried in some distant corner of his icy mind. He cocked the safety of his gun back on and squatted down to observe what was keeping Duo's attention.
A tall, gangly figure of what seemed to be a boy just stepped forward, towards a waiting monster, lifting his weapon. A peculiar music flitted like waves from the TV's speakers, the boy and his two companions fading from view. Another corner of Heero's mind noted with irritation that Duo was tapping a button convulsively on what appeared to be a control pad of some sort.
As Heero lifted his eyes back to the screen, done with inspecting Duo's beautiful (he shook himself mentally) fingers, he noticed that a blue-white girl had appeared, blasting the enemy with ice.
As a victory music sounded from the TV, Duo chuckled, still completely in his own little world.
Heero's brows furrowed, his fingers snatching the control pad from Duo's momentarily limp hands. Duo gave a sound of protest, lifting a tired gaze to peer into Heero's icy one.
Heero didn't like what he saw.
Duo's lovely (he smacked himself mentally) violet eyes had dark circles around them like livid bruises. The American's normally baby-round cheeks were slightly hollowed, his skin pale, his fingers shaking.
Duo glared at Heero, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing.
"Gimme back my controller."
"No."
"Why the hell not? It's mine you know."
Heero studied the weary face, the sullen look in normally so vivid eyes a startling thing. Heero shook his head.
"What is this thing?"
Duo gave him an incredulous look.
"You don't know what a PlayStation 23 is?"
Heero gave him a soft glare, shifting so that he was sitting nearer the American pilot. An emotionless mask covered something on Heero's face as he leaned closer still and whispered, as if frightened Duo would flinch away from his touch.
"Tell me?"
Duo nodded, a tired, thin smile upon his lips. He took the controller from Heero's hands. The Japanese pilot watched with awe as the American handled the buttons with ease, each press, pull, tug making the figure in the TV move with his two companions.
"This is a game, Heero, an escape from reality. It's a very old game, from the twentieth century. It's called Final Fantasy 8."
Heero gave a little grunt, observing the movements of the leading male. The Japanese boy had to admit that the game was a beauty, a dazzling thing in their world so grey.
"The plot is a pretty complex one, so I won't tell you much about it. Basically there's this guy called Squall Leonhart, who's the main guy and the one you usually steer around."
A long, tapered finger lifted shakily, pointed at the screen and at the black-clad figure.
"That's him. Those two with him are called Zell and Irvine."
The finger moved, pointing out the small punk, then the tall cowboy. Eventually, the hand it was attached to folded back into Duo's lap.
"The guy, Squall, has to save the world he lives in from a sorceress. That's the main idea, or at least I think so, seeing that I haven't played it that far yet."
"Who's that blond boy?"
"Oh that? He's Seifer. He's Squall's rival."
Heero watched as the two men argued on the screen, flashing weapons and trading insults.
"You know, it's pretty sad what happens to Seifer."
Inquisitive cobalt eyes said everything Heero wanted them to. Duo nodded, continuing his monologue in a distant, silent voice.
"He becomes a puppet. His mind is taken over by the sorceress, his every action devoted to her, his every evil deed after meeting her... For her."
A thoughtful silence, laden with different meanings, expectations. Heero's head tilted until he was watching the screen from behind a curtain of dark chocolate, until his ear touched Duo's bony shoulder.
The American didn't move away, didn't say anything. The muscles of his arms flexed as they controlled the movements of Squall on the screen.
"Do you know what I mean, Heero?"
"Hai, I know."
"Good."
Another silence, this one even more quiet, the sound from the TV the only noise. Duo's almost lifeless hands worked the controller with precision, driving Squall forward into a battle.
Heero closed his eyes as the tall cowboy, Irvine, fired his gun.
"Why do you escape the reality?"
"Hm?"
"Duo."
"I need it."
"Why would you delve into something else that's so close to our own world?"
"Because if I make a mistake, I can start again. If I die, it's just the press of a button and I'm up again. Their world..."
Slender hands let go of the black chunk of plastic for a little while, the other one curling around Heero's waist, the other tracing patterns in the air.
"Is black and white. No matter how many colours you see, it's always still just those two. Good and Evil."
Duo was quiet for a moment, observing the stilled character reflected on the electric glass.
A soft chuckle.
"Or at least that's the beginning. I don't know how it ends, since I rarely have time to play this game."
Heero's breath tickled Duo's ear, brushed back soft tendrils of chestnut hair.
"Now you're lying. You're down here every night, playing."
A sigh.
"Yes, I am. But since I haven't got a memory card to save my game, every night I start it from the beginning. With a clean slate."
Heero's cheek rubbed against Duo's shoulder, the American's grip around the Wing pilot's waist tightening minutely.
"With a clean slate."
The sentence was a quiet one, reflective, saddened under the layers of ice coating it. Like a popsicle with a surprise in the middle.
"Yes, Heero, with every death undone."
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