Remedy:

Something about it excited me.

I know that sounds simplistic, or unimaginative, but it's true. Generally speaking, a lot of truths are dull. From my point of view, at least. I suppose the truth about what happened two nights ago isn't exactly boring to you though, is it?

In my defense, he enjoyed the whole experience just as much as I did. It turned him on, or 'aroused' him, as my psychologist would say.

There's a word out there for people who are attracted to those who have committed unspeakable acts. Quatre was one of those people.

Now, you should really put that tape recorder down and listen to me closely, because I am telling you all of this introductory crap for a damn good reason. I need you to understand my motives thoroughly.

And I can promise you that I won't share a single word of the story until you turn that fucking piece of shit recorder off.

Is it off?

Show me the light.

Good.

The word for those who are sexually attracted to people who have committed horrific crimes is 'hybristophilia.'

You want to look the fucking word up on Wikipedia? You're the fucking 'criminal expert,' so wipe that ugly look off of your face.

Now, I won't say this again.

The boy I murdered was a hybristophiliac, and I did him a huge favor.

I met him at a Shisha bar on L2. I'm not even sure if he knew where he was. I sure as hell didn't. I had darted into the place on impulse. I had been running for a long, long time, and I just needed a place to rest.

It was dirty and dilapidated on the outside. The interior obviously came in a matching set with the exterior, because inside and out, this place was essentially identical.

The kid stood out to me. He would have stood out to anyone who had the balls to breach the threshold of that joint. For one thing, he wasn't smoking. For another, he wasn't having sex.

People on L2 have a lot of sex, and in that place, almost everyone was indulging in a bit of their home colony's favorite past-time. Thing was, a few of the ladies and gents weren't willing participants.

The kid was fucking blonde, and well-groomed for that matter. I had expected to see fear, and more than a little disgust in those barren, blue-green eyes.

I hadn't been prepared for lust, or guilty fascination, but there they both were, shining with droll glory.

I had just crashed through the door, desperate to escape bars again, after doing something I promised myself I'd quit.

Heero was just such an asshole sometimes, you know? He never opened up to me. He looked down on me. He hogged the sheets.

So I drove a broiling hot poker - fresh from stoking the fire - into his stomach.

And tore.

And I left a beautiful mess that would be cleaned up by the authorities before anyone had the chance to witness its stark beauty. I turned out to be wrong about that last bit, actually.

I ended up taking Quatre home to see my little 'artistic endeavor.'

I can tell that I'm worrying you and I feel that I should let you know you're completely safe. However, it was a good choice to turn that recorder off.

Now, where was I?

Right, I did end up taking him back to my place later on that night. We slipped through the scummy sea of patrons at the bar, unnoticed, despite the fact that I was practically drenched in blood.

Why did he come home with me?

...Isn't is obvious?

He was drawn to people who cause pain.

I believe humans are subconsciously aware of the people who house the traits they are attracted to. They must be, or else it really was just the blood staining my clothing and skin that caught his attention. Now that I reflect upon that, it seems more likely.

I almost didn't have to say anything to him at all. We had already forged this silent relationship, this silent - contract.

Still, I did approach him - mindful of the occasional unconscious body on the floor - and I leaned close to him from behind, and I whispered; 'Want to see something cool?'

And you know what? He really did want to see something cool.

So, as I said, we stole away into the night, with him clutching my hand too tightly. We were both so damn excited.

We had a really good time; even shared a couple of gentle kisses. He harbored a genuine appreciation for my art, you see.

Unfortunately, I was going to have to bring our fateful interlude to an inevitable halt. However, I will say that he knew how that night was going to end, and he looked forward to it immensely.

You may think it is sick, but that boy was the most beautiful person I have ever met, for reasons I have already disclosed.

So beautiful.

We took our time.

I filled up the bathtub with frigid water, twisting the knob so that it rested on the furthest temperature to the left – colder than a lake in winter.

He put up a fight to enhance the mood. It was effective, though, of course, I was a little stronger than he was. It was a pleasant activity, tearing his clothes off and pushing him into that bathtub, and he even managed to pull me in far enough so that I was kneeling over him. We both knew it was over when I got a strong hold on his shoulders. I pushed him firmly into the water, submerging his entire body, watching that pale blonde hair float around his nearly colorless face like a portentous halo.

I managed to steal one last kiss before he slipped away.

I felt as though I'd outdone myself that night, as this was definitely the more beautiful of my two pieces.

So you see now, don't you?

We were the best thing for each other; the only thing.

The remedy.

People like us - we're just freaks, I guess. Depraved, sexual freaks. Or so I'm told. In all honesty though, some people just have to die early.

I'm one of those people. Quatre was one of those people. I'll admit, Heero may not have been one of those people, but damn! It gets cold on L2 and I told him repeatedly to stop stealing the sheets and blankets away from me at night!

Regrets?

Hm.

No, I'd say that about wraps things up in a neat, little package. I do look forward to seeing Quatre again, wherever he happens to be. I think I'll be going to the same place.

You know, I've really enjoyed our time alone together. It's been nice just to talk. I've needed to share this with someone, to have someone understand. I feel like I've gotten a load off of my chest. Although...I would have liked to have the opportunity to create one last masterpiece.

Wait.

I see something in your pocket, glowing.

You didn't...turn that recorder back on?

...did you?