Author's note:
I know I'm usually Miss-Happy-Ending, but as you can tell from the title, this story doesn't exactly fit my MO. I guess it was only a matter of time until I'd write something bleak again. In spite of that, I really enjoyed writing this story, it was very easy (which might be alarming). In a very significant way this story is more true to 'me' than most other stories I've written. Once in a while we have to acknowledge that happy endings shouldn't be taken for granted. I hope you will enjoy reading this story and it would mean a lot to me if you would take a moment to share your thoughts with me. Thank you.
WARNINGS: Language, suggestive themes (sex, alcohol, drug-use, violence), an overdose of angst.
Beta: Shima Yi! Who also helped me work out some rough spots in the story.
In Lieu of a Happy Ending
With a grumbling sigh, he got into his SUV and shut the door; the sound echoed in the parking garage. A glance at the rearview mirror was haunting: his eyes were dead and recognized nothing, not even himself; his characteristic braid was replaced with a loose, disheveled pony tail, low in his neck; his shirt was creased from sleeping in it, his jeans were from the top of the laundry pile, and his jacket wasn't warm enough for the midnight winter air.
He fiddled with the key in his lap even though he knew it was too late for second thoughts; he had already dragged himself out of bed at the ungodly hour, he might as well follow through. There would be no sleep for him for the rest of the night anyway.
He started the vehicle and the dashboard came to life with lit up dials and buttons, and the onboard navigation situated in the center of the panel turned on. He copied the address he received thru text onto the brightly lit screen and glared at the estimated time of arrival: it would be a fifty-minute drive to his destination. He scrubbed his face with his hands and rubbed his tired, burning eyes, all the while berating himself for his earlier decision to not make himself a cup of coffee. Caffeine would surely be of help with the task ahead of him.
After taking the time to find a radio channel with music upbeat enough to keep him awake, he pulled the SUV out of the garage and onto the abandoned streets. It was a quiet town, not exactly bustling with activity at such an hour. People were asleep, as they ought to be; they had another day of work and various other responsibilities ahead of them.
Not Duo though, he thought to himself with a fair measure of self-pity.
The electronic voice of the GPS provided him with directions and a distraction, so much so that he caught himself talking back to her. "Alright, alright, I'll make a U-turn. No need to get all sassy on my ass."
"Please make a U-turn at the earliest opportunity," 'she' repeated.
"I said I would, didn't I? This is a one-way street, miss I-told-you-to-take-a-right-on-Forks-and-Kelter." It wasn't the first time he had late night – make that early morning – conversations with his sat-nav.
As the screen counted down the minutes and miles left to his destination, he felt his hands get more and more clammy on the leather steering wheel and he kept adjusting his grip. You told him last time that it was the last time! He argued with himself. He shook his head. You've been saying that for the past two years…
"Keep to the right lane. Your exit is coming up."
"I know what I'm doing, woman, I'm not blind!... I'm sorry." He rolled his eyes at himself. Apologizing to a pre-recorded voice – this might qualify as a new milestone of loneliness.
His phone in the passenger seat buzzed and the screen lit up.
Trowa B: Get him yet?
He knew better than to text and drive. He wasn't so much worried about getting into an accident on the empty road, but he sure as Hell wasn't about to risk missing his exit.
Ten minutes later, he drove onto a dead-end street lined with boarded-up suburban homes, graffiti haphazardly painted the walls and the yards were overgrown with tall grass and weeds. At the end of the street, one of the houses radiated light and sound. The bass was so loud Duo could feel it in his vehicle as it overpowered the poppy beat that played on the radio station. Dozens of people were trampling the foliage in the front yard. Two girls lay in the middle of the street, stargazing or passed out – either way, they offered no reaction to the beam of his headlights. Duo parked his SUV at the curb across the street. More cars had gathered around the house – old El Caminos and beat-up Mustangs with faded stripes; none looked like or as respectable as his.
I'm here, Duo replied to the text from his childhood friend before pocketing the phone. As he got out of the car, he felt self-conscious, but that quickly subsided when he noticed no one was pay attention to him. That is, until he passed by a young woman and her boyfriend – presumably – on the path leading up to the house.
She squawked with a sharp laugh: "What the fuck, how old are you?!"
He ignored her and made a beeline for the front door. At thirty years old he liked to think he wasn't that old yet, but he understood that he didn't look his best in that moment. Besides, she was twenty years old at most – of course he was old to her.
Within the house the volume of the music was violent and vibrated in his chest so aggressively it felt like his heart was beating out of pace. The air was stifling, the collective body heat from the crowd warmed the house to an impossible degree. He could smell the beer, the weed, the sweat, the vomit and other unsavory bodily fluids. It was nothing novel, yet it caught him off guard as much as it did every other time. Twenty-somethings crowded every room of the house and bumped into him, completely unaware of his body standing in their way as they danced, writhed and dry-humped – barely a discernable difference between the three - in their inebriated state.
It was a challenge, but he crammed between the bodies and made his way into the living room. Duo scanned every face, every dark-haired man he checked twice, just to be sure. He couldn't find him. He reached the center of the room where a group was crouched around a glass coffee table; all five were bent over snorting lines of coke straight off the surface, avoiding bottles of beer and a used condom.
One of them had a mop of chocolate brown hair. Duo waited for the guy to finish his line and look up… He was naively relieved when brown eyes looked up and regarded him with suspicion. The guy barked: "What the fuck are you looking at!?"
Duo couldn't hear his voice, but he could read his lips. Opting not to answer, he pushed his way further through the crowd. He considered calling his name… that would be of no help; no way would he be able to hear him over the music.
Hell, he might not even be conscious anymore at this point…
The kitchen was filled with strangers also. Duo spotted three girls that looked to be underage, but he didn't want to get involved. He couldn't allow himself to get sidetracked. If the crowd riled up against him, he could be chased out of the house before he found his "prize."
The kitchen led to a sunroom attached to the back of the house; it was a little less crowded and the music was muffled. Most partiers passed straight through and poured out into the backyard. There, a group of guys were duking it out in the empty pool while people gathered around them to cheer on their favorite.
Duo paused in the doorway of the sunroom… There he was…
On a ratty grey couch by the open patio doors, he sat with his legs draped over the lap of the younger, bulky man seated next to him. The muscled youth with a shaved head had the fly of his black jeans undone and was getting a hand job while he was being kissed fervently. He had one arm wrapped around the smaller man, with his hand on the back of his head.
Even after all these years, the all-too familiar sight was no less torturous to see.
"Heero!" Duo shouted, but there was no response. "Fuck… Heero!" Growing impatient and not wanting to bear witness to the scene even for another second, he stepped forward and grabbed hold of Heero's upper arm; in one swift movement, he pulled him off the couch and out of the other's grip.
"The fuck?" Heero stumbled, unable to keep his balance. He would have toppled over if Duo didn't steady him. He looked up with hazy blue eyes – it pained Duo to note how long it took for Heero to recognize the stern face looking down at him. "What are you doing here?" He muttered pathetically; he feebly fought to free himself from the taller American, but there was no strength in his limbs.
"I'm getting you out of here."
"I don't want to go," he said petulantly.
"I don't care."
"Baldy" got up from the couch, intent on meddling in the exchange. He was bulky, but not nearly as tall as Duo. "Let go of him, man. He doesn't want to go."
Duo loomed over him with a fixed dark glare. "Put your dick back into your pants, tuck your tail between your legs," he sneered dangerously, "and get the fuck out of my sight."
Cutting his losses, the guy didn't bother arguing with him any further – he zipped up his pants and strode off.
"What are you doing?" Heero whined. "He was supposed to give me a pill in exchange for the hand job!"
"What kind of pill?" Duo quickly inquired.
The other frowned as if it was a dumb question. "I don't fucking know – what does it even matter?"
"What did you take, just pills? Coke? Did you shoot up?"
"None of your business!" Heero tugged on his arm again but Duo refused to let go.
The long-haired man looked him up and down. He was dressed in nothing but skin-tight, low-riding leather pants and a black choker around his slim neck; his torso was completely exposed. Duo's eyes were drawn to a scar on his abdomen, but he forced himself to look elsewhere…
Kohl lined Heero's eyes, making the blue orbs stand out all the more; his haphazard bangs framed his face like they always did.
His complexion used to be golden, but Duo couldn't picture it anymore. The golden hue had long faded, leaving his skin pale and sickly-looking in the daylight.
His body had always been slender, but over the years Duo watched him get thin; the boyish build made him look younger than he was…
He was wasting away. His spirit was still as stubborn as ever, but his body was too frail to put up a fight. In a way, that worked to Duo's advantage; in the early days, he had a much tougher time controlling him.
Heero stilled. His weight swayed from one foot to another, seeming to completely forget he was supposed to be mad at his old friend. His eyes looked into the distance but saw nothing.
"We gotta go," Duo announced. "The cops will probably be here soon."
The Japanese man didn't react.
"Where's your shirt?" Duo waited, but again there was no response. He looked at the couch but there was no discarded clothing there. "Heero," he shook him in an attempt to get him to make eye-contact, "where is your shirt?" Realizing the hopelessness in his effort, he released an exasperated sigh.
Duo let go of the smaller man's arm only long enough to take off his own jacket and drape it over the other's narrow shoulders. With an arm around him, he guided Heero outside and walked around the house to his SUV parked out front. He helped Heero get into the passenger seat as he was becoming increasingly less coordinated. As soon as he put the seatbelt around him, Duo closed the door; Heero's body slumped against it, his eyes at half-mast.
Walking around the car, Duo fished his phone out of his pocket to send a quick text: Got him. Thanks again. He climbed behind the wheel and carefully drove off, making sure not to accelerate or decelerate too sharply. He didn't want a repeat of last time; he still wasn't sure if he had completely gotten the smell of vomit out of the carpet.
"Are you cold? Are you hot? Is the music too loud?" He fretted. He turned off the radio and listened to Heero's wheezing breath. "Are you okay? Are you having trouble breathing? Is your heart racing?"
"… Just let me sleep, Mom," Heero groused, his eyes already closed.
"Okay… yeah… Just sleep. That's good." Duo reached over and adjusted the jacket on his friend.
They got turned around once because Duo didn't bother with the sat-nav, but once he found his way back to the highway, he knew how to get back to their hometown.
As they neared the exit, he prodded Heero. "Do you still live with WuFei and Sally on 10 Oakes? Heero?" Duo poked him again but he wouldn't wake up. "Dammit." He didn't want to risk it… he had no choice but to take him home with him.
Duo's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Taking him home went entirely against his strategy to maintain distance between them. Don't take him home. Don't pay his hospital bills. Don't lend him cash. Don't get him a job interview. Don't call to check up on him. Don't bother. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. He kept breaking his own rules.
Duo pulled into the underground parking garage of his apartment building and parked in his assigned spot. The engine quieted and he looked at Heero for a moment, curled up in the passenger seat, leaning his forehead against the door – he looked so small and needy. He sighed and got out of his vehicle.
After collecting Heero, Duo carried him up to his apartment. It was a luxury loft, expensive and spacious, but no spare bedroom. He placed Heero on his bed and took off his shoes and the choker, just because it looked uncomfortable. He didn't undress him; he used to, but as time dragged on, it felt more and more inappropriate. Instead he covered him with the sheets and prepared a change of clean clothes for him: sweatpants and a black shirt. He also fetched a new pack of underwear and a new toothbrush, and placed them, with the clothes, on the chair by the door so Heero would notice them once he would wake up.
When he was done, Duo leaned back against the doorframe and watched Heero sleep for a moment. His heart ached; he couldn't help but care. He wished the years would have made him grow callous, but the soft spot he had for Heero remained and he had long lost hope that that would ever change. Old sentiments of love and guilt kept the door to his heart ajar – he couldn't shut it. Heero wasn't actively abusing that, he simply didn't consider how his behavior affected Duo. Heero was inconsiderate and selfish; he always had been – and for the right reasons – but that didn't make it hurt any less.
When Duo finally exited the room, he softly closed the door behind him and seated himself at the bar in his kitchen, within reach of his coffee machine. He was nursing his second big mug of the black brew when the first peak of sunlight lit up the living room; the orange glow crawled across the white floor, getting brighter and brighter as the sun rose in the sky. He waited for the clock on his phone to read 8, then speed dialed 1.
The phone rang five times before it was answered.
"Duo, you're calling early," Hilde said by way of greeting.
"Sorry, Hil. Did I wake you?"
She snorted. "Of course not, the shop opens in an hour. I know you men must think women roll out of bed looking fabulous, but we're not all Beyoncé's – we don't 'wake up like this'. Actually, that bitch is probably lying too," she quipped.
He chuckled breathily in the receiver.
"What's up? You sound tired."
"Can you handle the store by yourself today?" He almost didn't dare ask – he didn't want to burden her like this – but he couldn't leave Heero alone in his apartment unattended, and he wouldn't be waking up from his drug-induced coma any time soon.
"Heero," she surmised and her tone dropped.
"Yeah."
There was a pause as she contemplated whether she should get into it again. They had that certain discussion many times before, but she decided he needed to hear it again. "I thought you said last time that it was the last time."
"I'm sorry… Look, it's a Tuesday, it probably won't be that busy at the store today anyway and Mike is gonna be there at noon – he can help you with customers if need be."
"I'm not worried about the store, Duo," she clarified. "I can handle the damn store. I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine…"
"This is just something I need to do, Hil," he reiterated. He couldn't even remember how many times he had tried to explain it to her.
"Duo, I know you feel guilty, but none of this was actually your fault so you can't fix your guilt this way either. All you can do is let go. We all have to – he's too far gone."
Duo nodded. His head agreed… but his heart was unconvinced. Every time the thought occurred to him to leave Heero to his fate, fear took hold. If something were to really happen to him – if Heero were to choke in a pool of his own vomit, or get killed in a dark alley in a drug deal gone wrong – how was Duo supposed to live with himself after that? "I'm gonna hang up. You need to finish beautifying yourself anyway."
"Duo…"
"Bye, Hil. Good luck. I'll be there tomorrow, I promise." He promptly disconnected the line and moved to serve himself a third cup of coffee.
His gaze peered into the black liquid. It was completely unappetizing on his empty stomach, but he was so tired his head felt empty yet heavier than ever.
He couldn't keep doing this, he knew that. He couldn't keep neglecting his own responsibilities. His uncle had left him the hardware store – that his grandfather opened in the late forties – when he passed away during Duo's second year of college. His aunt kept the place running for two more years so he could finish his education before taking over. He never thought he would want the store. It was just a quaint hardware store in a small town; the same small town he always thought he would leave in favor of the great big world. He had ambitious plans: he was going to be an engineer and fly out to New York, Hong Kong and Dubai.
When he came home after four years of college, his intentions were only to tell his aunt that he didn't want the store and that his uncle shouldn't have left it to him in the first place, even though he had no other choice. They had no children of their own and devoted their entire lives to raising Duo when his parents died in a car crash when he was three years old. But when he came home, he realized he really was coming home. It felt good and safe. He knew every street. He knew every face. And he knew the store better than anything else, having worked there after school with his uncle since he was thirteen years old. He took over the store with a promise to himself to make his uncle proud. The hardware store had been doing very well. It was a staple in the town, the people were loyal to it. Even when a big chain store opened just five minutes down the freeway with hammers, nails and bolts at nearly half the price, people still came to Maxwell's Hardware Store.
Duo had known Hilde since middle school. For years, she had a crush on him – she made no secret of it – and she hung around the store after school. When puberty came, her infatuation with him passed; others boys – who actually appreciated how beautiful she had become – were much more interesting. Instead she became his best friend. She married a guy - who they both knew from kindergarten - only a few months out of high school, and his uncle hired her to work at the store, mostly to keep herself busy as her husband joined the Army and was regularly deployed.
Mike was a local handyman. He had his own little station in the hardware store, offering repairs and advice to the patrons. He was the same age Duo's uncle would have been if the kindhearted man hadn't suffered a heart attack.
It was a small life, but it was a life that fulfilled him. He knew he shouldn't be wasting time chasing down Heero, skipping out on work, and checking out of relationships because he was so preoccupied with a young man Hell-bent on self-destruction. But he felt responsible, and after everyone had already given up on the Japanese man, Duo couldn't bring himself to becoming the last to let go.
It started – Heero's unknowing interference with his life that is – when Duo was six years old, living with his aunt and uncle in a nice house on a decent suburban street. The day he went to school for the first time was the same day he first laid eyes on Heero Yuy, a boy his age but much smaller. They were neighbors, but he never saw the boy before, either playing in the backyard or in the street out front.
Heero's father was a big man whom he didn't resemble in the slightest; he worked the night shift as a Security Guard at a big oil refinery. The man slept away the days, the curtains were always drawn.
Heero never wanted to play with Duo – not at school and not at home. They were in the same class every year, from primary school to middle school to high school; yet, they hardly ever spoke.
Heero became very popular in high school because Relena Peacecraft, the most popular girl, took an interest in him. He was short, slight and an overachiever – the type that'd usually be given a tough time in high school – but all the jocks treaded lightly around him so as not to get on Relena's "bad" side.
She wasn't the only one who noticed how attractive the boy was growing up to be; Duo noticed it too. Over the course of the summer between middle school and their freshman year in high school, Duo became completely smitten. Heero's aloof attitude translated as mysterious, and every instance of accidental eye-contact was titillating. The young man seemed so cool, so self-aware, so confident and unafraid. To a bumbling and stumbling fool that Duo was, it was mesmerizing. He walked with grace and poise; his gaze was always so focused. He looked to be so in control, so capable of anything; it made many classmates envious.
Nobody could tell it was only a façade.
Nobody knew what happened behind the closed blinds.
Nobody knew why he never went swimming with his clique, or why he wore sunglasses for two weeks straight during the rainiest summer ever – he even wore them at night.
I should have known, Duo berated himself. I should have seen! For years all I did was watch him, and follow him to the mall, the library, the grocery store – like some fucking creeper!
At noon, he made himself a quick lunch Afterward, he checked on his house guest who was still passed out in his bed. He listened to his slow, deep breathing to reassure himself and then he returned to his perch on the barstool and continued his self-loathing trip down memory lane. A retread of the past was part of the ritual.
The last summer before Duo left for college was a summer he would never forget. It was only a week after the end of the school year; he offered his aunt and uncle to get milk and eggs. A seemingly attentive offer, but it was only given because he spied Heero leaving the neighboring house with a grocery bag handy.
Duo never had trouble striking up conversation with anyone; he was pretty popular himself, being the chatty captain of the lacrosse team. But with Heero, it was different – he couldn't, not since first grade when he once tried and failed miserably.
He lingered in the grocery store. If anything, it was nice and cool there anyway – hardly punishment on a hot summer day. Heero was in the Fruits and Vegetables section, scrutinizing zucchinis; Duo pretended to be unaware of him and took his time selecting three perfect Granny Smith Apples, tossing back about a dozen perfect choices just to keep up the game of pretense.
Only in hindsight did he realize what a creepy and pathetic teenager he used to be.
When Heero finished with the zucchinis, he walked by him towards the tomatoes, which were on sale, but a few steps past him the young man suddenly stopped and turned around. Duo could feel his gaze on the back of his head.
"You're Duo, right?" He didn't know why, but he pretended to be so into the Granny Smiths that he didn't even hear him – probably just to stall for time. "Excuse me – hey. Duo, right?" Heero spoke up.
Duo couldn't keep ignoring him unless he planned on acting like he was deaf. He turned around and rather than be cool and suave – the way he always hoped he'd be in the given situation – his tone was only suspicious and his brows furrowed when he responded ever so eloquently: "Uh, yeah."
"I'm Heero," his crush said.
Duo chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, I know."
Heero shrugged. "Do you want to come over tonight and watch a movie?"
The taller boy blinked at the unexpected invitation. "Why?" He blurted.
He shrugged again. "Everyone else is away on vacation."
Duo nodded, all of his friends were away for the summer too. Still, Heero's sudden interest in him was weird.
"Do you like horror movies?"
Not in the least. "Sure."
"My dad leaves at nine for work so, you wanna come over at ten?"
"Uhm. O-okay."
"Cool, I'll see you tonight, Duo."
The American raised his eyebrows at the way Heero purred his name, but he was certain he had misheard. He watched the other spin around on his heels and walk away. He couldn't stop staring at his long, slim legs in his tight, light wash jeans.
Later that night, forty minutes into the movie and halfway through their third bottle of beer and second cigarette – neither of which they were supposed to have – Heero put his hand on Duo's leg and wasted no time dragging it up to his crotch. Duo nearly spewed his mouthful of beer all over himself but managed to swallow it, coughing once or twice after. His body reacted instantaneously. He had never been touched like that by someone else, but he had always dreamed of the boy next door being the first. Another wish was granted when Heero climbed on top of him; sitting down in his lap, he pulled his head back by the base of his braid and connected their mouths in a savage kiss. Duo had kissed before, but never like that, never with tongue and never with the other working a hand into the front of his jeans at the same time.
Clothes were soon discarded and he didn't even think to ask about the big bruise on Heero's exposed midriff. He couldn't think about anything other than how good the boy made him feel, pumping a tight fist up and down his needy erection and kissing his neck and chest. Duo had no idea what to do, how to kiss or where to touch, but Heero knew exactly what he wanted and how to achieve it. Before long Duo lay prone on the couch with Heero straddling him. They didn't use a condom – boyish foolishness – and only used spit as lubrication. It definitely wasn't Heero's first time, but it was Duo's; for him, it was the most amazing and special experience. In the heat of it he crooned: "I love you!"
Of course, it was over too soon. Afterward, Heero sat on the floor, on a bundle of their clothes, tapped the excess ash off his cigarette and finished his smoke in silence while Duo caught his breath.
All they did that summer was fuck, drink and smoke. Duo got progressively better at all three of those activities; Heero was already sufficiently skilled. Duo spent most of the money he saved up buying them cigarettes while Heero stole booze from the 7-Eleven.
Duo never questioned why Heero chose him, and continued to pick his company over his friends' when they returned from vacation. It was much more fun to indulge in the illusion that his crush had fallen head over heels in love with him also. In the rare, unguarded moments, he saw a vulnerability and a kindness in Heero that wasn't shown to anybody else, and – once in a while – a crass joke would slip out of him that cracked Duo up. The majority of the time, after sex, they'd just lay together in silence, at most their shoulders touching. It was the only silence Duo had ever known that didn't make him feel uncomfortable; he wanted to stay in that blissful silence forever, cocooned in Heero's darkened bedroom, with the smell of cigarette smoke and sex thick around them.
But the summer came to an end – as all seasons do eventually – even though, in the midst of it, it felt eternal. Duo was bound for college; he already had the bus ticket. He would have loved to continue their game of "pretend": pretend adults, pretend lovers, pretend friends… but not at the cost of his lacrosse scholarship. He toyed with idea, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to disappoint his aunt and uncle in favor of being Heero's fool.
Duo knew damn well he was a fool, that none of what they shared was real beyond physical gratification. As he sobered up and the haze of nicotine and alcohol lifted, it became all the more apparent…
The illusion was shattered.
On their last night, Heero asked him to stay. "Forget about school. We can get away from this place together. We can get an apartment. We can be together," the handsome boy said. Heero always had a way of making his promises sound tempting when he tried to convince Duo to do something that he was unsure of - "This will feel good" … "This will be great" … "You'll love this" and he wasn't always wrong, but still never quite believable. Heero had to have been really drunk because all summer, he never gave any indication that he was interested in a long term relationship, let alone the commitment of running away and living together.
Duo declined with a single word and that was when Heero erupted into a fit of rage.
"What the fuck was all that 'I love you' bullshit then!? Why did you say that if you didn't even mean it!?" He screamed and threw things at Duo, but nothing came close to actually striking him. "You said you loved me – you loved me! I let you fuck me all summer – what more do you want?" His eyes were red, welled up with tears or bloodshot from the alcohol, Duo couldn't tell.
Confused and scared, Duo ran out of Heero's bedroom, out of the house and went home. The next morning, he got on that bus.
Duo flinched in his seat on the kitchen barstool when a sound from the bedroom pulled him out of his musings. A sigh, a groan, shuffling feet – later he heard the sound of running water from the shower. He got up and readied some things to prepare a late lunch for his guest and brewed a new batch of strong coffee. His hands were clammy. Facing Heero when he was sober was always the worst part of it; a most unwelcome confrontation. The other man could be so unpredictable: one moment he could be sweet and have Duo yearning for an alternate reality in which he might have gotten his happy ending with his high school crush… then the next moment he could become angry and accusing. He had a way of getting under Duo's skin.
He straightened up when the bedroom door opened and Heero stepped out, steadying himself against the doorframe. The clothes Duo had laid out for him were much too large: the excess length of the pant-leg pooled around his feet and the shirt fell off one shoulder. His hair was dark as it was still damp and brushed out of his face. His face was white, making the blue of his eyes and the pink of his lips stand out more.
"Good morning," said Heero, then scraped his throat.
"Good afternoon," he corrected.
Heero looked around the living room, squinting his eyes against the bright light pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "You moved," he noted.
"Yeah, last year."
"It's nice."
"Thanks. Would you like something to eat?"
Heero made a face. "Do you have coffee?"
"Sure." Duo motioned to the barstool that he previously occupied. "Have a seat."
At his invitation, Heero shuffled across the room and gingerly climbed onto the stool. He looked up in gratitude when Duo handed him a mug. "Hm, it's strong," he said and took another sip.
"You shouldn't drink that on an empty stomach. Would you like scrambled eggs?"
"No, I don't think I'll be able to stomach it."
"Some toast, then?" There was no reply but Duo made him some toast anyway and put a plate with two slices and a side of butter in front of him. He picked a spot across from the bar, leaning back against the kitchen counter and folding his arms in front of his chest. Answering a question that he knew Heero wouldn't ask, he said: "Trowa Barton texted me last night. He saw you at that party."
"Tro was there? If he isn't too old to party, then I sure as Hell ain't either."
"Trowa," Duo corrected, "doesn't attend frat raves anymore. He was picking up his teenage daughter who snuck out…"
Heero chewed on a small bite of toast.
Duo felt his fingers dig deeper as his grip tightened around his arms. "He gave me a chance to go and get you before calling the cops on the whole thing…"
"Hn." After swallowing the first bite, he took another. Heero chewed slowly – it was unnerving, especially since he didn't – or rather, wouldn't – look up at him.
"Are you hearing me?" Duo asked in a low tone. "If I hadn't come to pick you up, you'd be in jail right n-"
"Oka~y, Jesus…" His tone was becoming irritated, like Duo was giving him an undue hard time about it. "Thanks."
You sure as Hell don't sound thankful… "It wouldn't be the first time," Duo stressed. "You would have been in real trouble if they had caught you red-handed again."
"I get it" was the curt response. Duo flared his nostrils and his jaw was clenched tight enough to feel a dull ache, but he kept his anger in check.
When Heero finished his toast and coffee, he asked: "Can I bum a smoke? You left my jacket at the party."
Ignoring the jab, Duo replied: "I quit."
"No shit. When?"
"Two years ago…" Against his better judgement – whatever was left of it – he added, "and we've already had this conversation."
Heero visibly tensed up; whether Duo wanted it or not, he had his undivided attention as Heero regarded him with a deep-seated glare. "Right…"
Duo narrowed his gaze. "It's not my fault that you keep forgetting."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night…" Heero sneered.
"Oh, you know what – Fuck you, Heero!" He burst, the fragile hold on his rage shattered into dust as quickly as his brain registered Heero's words. He pointed an angry finger at him. "I've had it with you! I've been giving myself a tough time over this for all these years, but I don't deserve this shit! I don't deserve it from myself, and I sure as Hell don't deserve it from you!"
"Oh, you've had it tough, have you?" Heero countered. "Poor Duo, he went off to college on a scholarship; Poor Duo, he inherited the family business; Poor Duo, he now has a fancy apartment-!"
"I've worked hard for all of that!" He defended himself with a raised voice. "I've worked my ass off to get where I am now! What the fuck have you done other than try and drag me down with you!?"
"I'mdragging you down? What are you talking about!? I'm not forcing you do to any of this shit! I didn't call you, Tro called you - or Trowa, or whatever! I didn't ask for any of this!"
Duo eyed him incredulously. "No?!... No?!"
"No!"
"So what about that summer – you weren't stringing me along?" Duo challenged. He snorted bitterly. "You seriously expect me to believe you genuinely liked me? I know it was never about me! You never loved me; I was a way out for you, that was all!"
Heero shot up from the barstool and gestured wildly. "Yeah, you were! You were my way out, but you shut the door on me, you asshole!"
"Why was that even supposed to be my responsibility!?"
"I don't know, okay!? I didn't know what else to do!"
Seething and losing himself to old resentment, Duo continued: "You used me – you fucking used me!"
"Yeah, I did," Heero spat. "I tried. But that was eleven years ago, Duo! You're the one who's dragging this on – who's refusing to let go!" He accused; his face was getting red as he ran out of breath screaming at the tall American. After some deep breaths, he shook his head dejectedly. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to change? Do you want me to fall in love with you after all? Do you want me to be your friend?" After a short pause he ranted on: "I can't do any of that for you. So why can't you just leave me be?"
"Because I feel guilty," Duo concluded. "Because you make me feel guilty."
"Oh, so that's what this is about? You want me to absolve you of your guilt?" Heero waved his hand like he was holding a magic wand and said sarcastically: "Done! It wasn't your fault. It was all my own, fucking fault. Better now?"
Duo gritted his teeth and buried his face in his palms, teetering between absolute rage and crippling sadness. "It's not your fault either… It was your dad."
Heero's brow twitched slightly and he hastily said, "It doesn't matter anymore." He never wanted to talk about it.
"If it doesn't matter anymore, then why do you still need to shoot up and drink yourself into a coma?"
Heero let out a bitter cackle that frightened Duo. "What else am I supposed to do, Duo? What happened is about the only thing I can't forget without drinking and 'shooting up'. What other happiness is there for me – Look at me!" A sudden sob escaped him; he took a moment to regain control over his emotions. "I mean, look at my life. If not 'that', then the only other thing I can think of doing is throwing myself out this very window and hope the fall will kill me…"
Duo felt hot tears stream down his own face. "And that's exactly why I can't let you be. How am I supposed to live with myself…knowing that you think those things? If I hear through the grapevine that you...you k-…killed yourself…" he choked at those words. "…how can I…?"
"Why do you even care if I die? Your life would only benefit from it."
"Because I've been in love with you since I was fourteen years old!" He admitted pathetically.
Heero buried his fingers in his own hair. "But that's bullshit! You don't even know me – I don't even know who I am. We were never friends to begin with, Duo. We fucked a lot one summer after high school, and we fucked a lot one weekend four years later – that's it!"
"That's not it!" He wailed and stomped his foot. "It's not... I'm not saying it makes sense, but what I felt for you was real. It's still real."
"Then why didn't we run away together at the end of that summer?" Heero countered.
Duo released a sigh and looked away for a moment. He whispered: "Because I knew it wasn't real for you."
Heero didn't deny it; Duo respected him for not lying about it.
"I didn't know about your dad… about the beatings," he went on, even though his words made Heero flinch. "If I had known, I would have helped you. I knew you were using me for something, but I didn't understand what for. I didn't even consider that it could be-…
"I was a naïve child, Heero. My aunt and uncle sheltered me; I didn't know shit. It never even crossed my mind that the bruises were from your dad. I believed your lies…" Finally, he asked soberly: "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
"…I don't know." Heero shrugged. "Because I didn't want you to know how weak I was, I guess. It was just the way I survived. And right now, drugs are the way I survive."
Duo shook his head. "Doing drugs isn't surviving; it's slowly killing you."
"Maybe that's just what I need to do." Heero exhaled in defeat and climbed back onto the barstool. He was tired and broken.
Duo knew he couldn't fix him. It wasn't like he hadn't been trying for the past seven years, not realizing it was already too late before he even started. There was nothing left to save; Heero had resigned to his fate, not long after that summer when Duo left for college.
No one in town knew how Heero's father abused him. The man was stoic and anti-social, but didn't set off any alarms in the small community and Heero kept his secret well. No one knew until one day everyone did, all at once.
The word spread like wildfire while Duo was away at college. He didn't even hear what happened until he moved back four years later. His uncle and aunt had always kept it a secret from him, predicting how it would affect him. They didn't know much about his feelings for Heero; all they knew was that they had been close one summer – friends, they assumed.
Odin Lowe – 'Yuy' had been his late mother's last name – had viciously beaten his son, like he'd done so many times before over the course of his young life. But that one time, mid-October, Odin lost control like he never had before; when his son lay lifeless at his feet, he thought he had killed him. His solution was to dispose of him. Luckily, in his drunken stupor, he didn't do such a thorough job and passersby's found the young boy with the trash behind a diner, barely holding onto life.
Broken ribs, internal bleeding, fractured femur, dislocated hip, broken cheekbone, broken jaw and a skull fracture…
Over the next few months his body healed while in the hospital, but the head trauma caused significant brain damage that required two years of intensive therapy: learning to walk, speak and read all over again. Even then, he had to accept that he would never be the same. His intellectual capacities were limited and he was forgetful – he had trouble creating new memories, which made his world confusing to him and it was exhausting for others to deal with.
He was diagnosed with a "mild" form of anterograde amnesia, but the effects on his life were anything but mild. He couldn't maintain a job, nor relationships – not long enough for everything to be consolidated into the long term memory. It was a downward spiral that no one could break him free of. Obviously his drinking and drug-abuse didn't help matters.
Odin went to prison and was stabbed to death a few years later. Prisoners had little patience for child-abusers anyway, and Odin had a way of being particularly grating. Duo recalled having to tell Heero about it three times before the memory stuck.
They had one other weekend together. Shortly after Duo came back, Hilde finally spilled the beans about what had gone down with Odin and Heero. He went to see him immediately and was overwhelmed by the sight of him, his pity and guilt only amplifying old feelings of affection and the need to be with him and protect him and amend a past mistake.
That first night he dreamed of their happy ending: of Heero forgiving him and loving him and everything somehow turning out the way a young, hopeful kid – like Duo used to be – believed things should. The second night he had a nightmare, but the nightmare was the truth. Heero wasn't capable of giving him anything other than the pleasure of his body. The Japanese man only lived for the next mind-numbing high, everything else was – at best – a distraction and – at worst – a necessary evil.
Duo knew he couldn't fix him. He had learned that the hard way. But acknowledging that didn't make him any more ready or even capable of actually letting go.
After a long moment of silence Heero wondered: "Do you have eggs or something? I'm a little hungry."
Duo blinked away his tears. "Yeah, I can make you some eggs. You sure your stomach won't get upset?"
He shrugged. "I feel okay."
The toast from before had probably helped with his queasiness. He moved to the stove behind Heero, where the pan, the carton of eggs and the butter were at the ready since he had put them out earlier. But Heero didn't know that; he didn't remember being offered eggs already. "How would you like them?"
"Scrambled. With bacon?"
Duo let out a breathy chuckle at the innocent request. "Is turkey bacon alright?"
"That's not really bacon, but it'll have to do, I guess."
In silence, Duo prepared Heero's meal. He wondered what the other was thinking, and how much of their argument was already starting to fade from his memory. In the end, all he would remember – at best – was that they fought, and only because arguing was so common for them. Repeated occurrences were eventually stored in the long term memory. The specifics would be lost, though. The only crisp memories that remained were from before his hospitalization, particularly that one summer.
Neither of them would ever forget that summer. Whether Heero realized it or not – accepted it or not – that moment in time bound them together and it would forever. His old friends had exchanged the small town for the big city; his father was dead, and the rest of his family had always been estranged. That left Duo as the most important person in his life, his only anchor. Duo was all that he had left.
"Here you go," He reached over his shoulder and set a plate in front of him. "Scrambled eggs with bacon."
"Thank you," Heero said. It was rare for him to say 'thank you' or 'please'.
Duo watched him wolf down the food, a bittersweet smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
After a few big bites, the Japanese man made a face. "Is this turkey bacon?"
"Yeah… Yeah, it is."
He chewed thoughtfully at Duo's inflection, then said with a flat tone: "You already told me that, didn't you?"
Duo simply nodded.
He prodded the food with his fork, pausing as he searched his memory, but then he continued to eat.
"Still good though?" Duo checked, wanting to keep the conversation going and ease everything back into normalcy.
"Mmhm."
"Are you still living with WuFei and Sally?"
"Yeah. I have a little area with a stretcher and a lounge chair in the loft over their garage."
WuFei and Sally had taken him in last Fall, when Duo begged them to after learning Heero had been homeless for a few weeks by then. The Chinese man had been reluctant to extend his hospitality to the drug-addict. Heero had been their houseguest once before, also at Duo's request, and he had stolen money from them. Since then, WuFei always said he didn't "give a damn" about Heero, even if he ended up in a ditch.
However, it seemed he had changed his mind. If Heero overstayed his welcome, WuFei was the kind of guy to kick him out without any qualms. But the married man had always blamed Duo for putting that burden on him and his wife, and their friendship – like all of Duo's friendships – imploded.
"That's good. How are they doing?"
"She's pregnant."
A smile tugged at Duo's lips. Last he heard – when they were still on speaking terms – they were trying. "That's wonderful. How far along is she?"
Heero thought for a moment but then shook his head. "I don't know exactly. I don't see much of her."
Of course, he is up all night and sleeps all day.
"I have to find someplace else to stay when the baby comes."
"Did WuFei say that?"
"No, but-" he made a dismissive gesture and didn't finish his sentence.
Duo stopped himself from offering Heero to come stay with him for a little while. It wouldn't do either of them any good; it would only put too much pressure of their fragile relationship. He made a mental note to remember to help Heero find a new place to crash. In the warmer seasons, a lot of the older residents moved out to their summer homes by the lake; he might be able to pull some strings and negotiate Heero's stay in one of their houses. It would be a challenge – the entire town knew what the Japanese man had devolved into – but their pity for him and their trust in Duo should go a long way.
Heero finished his eggs and was served a glass of orange juice since he looked like he was in dire need of extra vitamins. He sipped the orange drink slowly. It was nice to just observe him, sitting at his kitchen counter, eating the food Duo made him and the drink he poured him. It was a slice of the life they could have had if life was fair.
In a perfect world, it would be morning – not three in the afternoon – and they would have made love that night in their bed. Duo would have woken him up with kisses and told him to stay in bed while he made them breakfast, but Heero would have been too impatient to wait for his breakfast being served in bed. He'd join Duo in the kitchen and keep him company, maybe come stand behind him at the stove, wrap his arms around his torso and lean his head against his back. Duo would have trouble leaving for work, wanting to stay with him and curl up in bed all day.
They would be happy.
In a moment of weakness, Duo stepped forward and closed the distance between them. With his fingers he gently cupped and guided Heero's chin up; he leaned down to connect their mouths in a soft kiss. Their lips moved together, slowly and sensually, completely unlike how they used to kiss that one summer – a different lifetime. No rush, no demands, no purpose; Heero parted his lips and sighed pleasantly. His hand slipped along the back of Duo's neck and long, thin fingers delved into his hair. Duo licked at his bottom lip, his front teeth and met the very tip of Heero's tongue, getting a taste of tang orange juice.
As abruptly as he had started the kiss, he ended it. He straightened up and took a step back. Heero's hand fell from his shoulder.
They wouldn't look at each other. Duo leaned the small of his back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest while Heero continued sipping from his glass.
He fought back the tears; if he just stayed quiet the moment would pass, and Heero would soon forget the kiss ever happened.
It was for the better. It was unwise to make matters even more complicated than they already were.
You can't force a happy ending, Duo knew. The only hope he had left was the hope that their story wasn't over yet.
Thank you for reading. It would mean a lot to me if you'd share your thoughts on the story.