Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just borrowing them; therefore, no profit is made in this production.
The young man struggled, painfully so, as he rose to stand. He gripped his chest; his heart knew too well what was coming next. As his pulse rate increased, he willed his lungs to concentrate on breathing.
Inspire… Expire…
He kept this momentum going every five seconds until his systems were at ease. The young man braced himself as he stared at his reflection.
His breakfast prep was a mess! An epic fail at that. His red bathrobe was tattered, rather loose from the waist up. The red markings on his chest served as proof of his illicit activities with Quatre. His hair flew in places. It made him look like a madman who was on the verge of exploding with anger. In a swift move, Trowa fixed his tattered hair. Where his uni-bang belonged, he couldn't do it this time. His hair gel was in the bathroom, so… He settled for pulling his hair back and holding it.
Both emerald-green eyes were visible. Those eyes revealed a flurry of emotions: Guilt, shame, and fear.
His dried tears made up for the brokenness in his spirit. He had hurt Quatre and Duo in ways that he couldn't fathom. The last thing he remembered was asking Duo why he was in the kitchen… then his memory zoomed in on Quatre, laid on the island counter like a starfish. He knew what he did; it wasn't him. It was-
"Hello Trowa," greeted a monotonous voice in his head, void of expression. "How would you like to try Treize next? You know, get rid of him. He also played a role in messing things up for the group…"
Trowa's eyes flashed with mischief, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Startled, he whispered with a shaky voice, "Why? Why won't you leave me alone?" Although the other voice sounded so much like his, its tone was far from friendly.
"Because I need you, Trowa. We complete each other. This world has silenced you long enough. It's time to act on revenge."
"Shut up!" he snapped, his own voice barely audible. "Why can't you leave me alone? I thought getting rid of Dekim was enough. I don't need you anymore!" His frame shook as he held the tall mirror in his closet for dear life.
"Look at you," the voice sneered. "Surely, you can't go to school like that. You're not supposed to be weak. Heck, I've protected you from the verbal abuse you've endured growing up. I took all your pain, your burdens, your shame. Everything! I'm your mental escape from trauma."
The threatening flames in Trowa's eyes faded. As they regained their calm composure, he spoke up.
"Why did you? I could've handled things myself. I would've ordered Duo to grab some food and leave, helped Quatre clean up, and we'd keep it going in my room or his."
The flames in his eyes returned once more.
"That's pathetic, Trowa," it said, condescending. "I can't believe you would become a softie."
Trowa growled and glared at his reflection. Another set of flames waged a war with the initial flames in his eyes. "I'm getting ready for school. Leave me alone, Nanashi. Don't bring my friends into this!"
The voice snickered. All of a sudden, Trowa's reflection spun and revealed the outfit he had planned to wear. Faded blue jeans and a black leather jacket over his white shirt. His uni-bang covered one eye, although it still looked ominous. His reflection crossed his arms and leaned forward.
"Mark my words, Trowa. You have no name. You are weak. You can't face the simple fact that your life means nothing without me. Now wipe those tears and get moving!" His reflection peered at the ceiling and tapped his chin before returning his gaze. It spoke with relentless nonchalance. "Oh and before I forget, eat those pancakes you've left behind. And if any of those G-Boys, or Zechs, get in your way, shove them aside. Otherwise, I will kill them in your sleep."
"No!" Trowa shrieked as his reflection, Nanashi, laughed with a snarl. "I won't allow it!" His hands balled into fists as Nanashi regained his composure and wagged his index finger at Trowa.
"Tsk tsk. Do you really want seven years of bad luck? No matter what happens, I will always be a part of you."
Trowa backed away from the mirror as Nanashi stared with a mean, satisfied smile. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in a desperate attempt to get this entity out of head. His fists slammed against the floor in intervals when the closet door opened.
"Trowa!" Zechs called. "I thought you had school today. What's going on?"
The Latin youth opened his eyes and looked up from the floor. "I need to see Dr. Sally Po today," he said with determination.
