Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimers apply.
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Heero's POV.
Waking up after a night of drinking is not a good thing to do. I should know - I do it every morning. It's become a habit and I don't remember not living like this.
For some reason I'm lying slumped over a table with an empty bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale in my right hand.
I force my eyes open enough to look up a little more and I can see a used syringe, still with a little of my blood on the sharp. I guess you've worked it out by now - I'm an alcoholic drug user - but that's not all of it.
A few inches to the left of the needle lies a small pocketknife - the blade has dried blood on it. Yeah, I cut myself as well. All of the web-sites that say that people who "self-injury" do it because they are punishing themselves, or they are depressed or whatever they say are usually right - I do it because I have to see blood leaving a limb - it's an inborn desire - a wish.
I sit up in the two bit wooden chair by the desk I'm slumped over.
Scattered around me are bottles, clothes and boxes of Chinese takeaways. I don't remember eating them but I never remember anything.
I try and focus on the red L.E.D of the clock mounted on the wall in front of me but everything is a blur. Slowly it focuses and numbers begin to form. I can see a 2. Now I can make out a colon. Now I can see the entire clock. It's 2:30. Duo will be visiting me in half an hour - as usual. Guess I have to tidy some things away - pretend to be fine.
Duo visits me every Wednesday and stays for an hour then he leaves to visit a few other people in the area. I can never understand him. During the war I kept brushing his help right off. I nearly killed him after he had saved my life on more than one occasion. He offered to fix my Mobile Suit with parts from his but instead I blanked him. I was rude then. I still am. For the past four years he has visited me every Wednesday at three but I just grunt and listen to him talking - I never answer his questions. I was 15 when I first met him and ever since then he's been there for me.
I slowly pull myself out of the chair and drag myself across the tiny room into the kitchen. I find a bag and start the long job of throwing away everything that would freak Duo out.
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Well there we go - my other fan fics are still coming - I've finished the drafts for "Ich Will" and I'm still drafting the fic "Fighting Thyself".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heero's POV.
Waking up after a night of drinking is not a good thing to do. I should know - I do it every morning. It's become a habit and I don't remember not living like this.
For some reason I'm lying slumped over a table with an empty bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale in my right hand.
I force my eyes open enough to look up a little more and I can see a used syringe, still with a little of my blood on the sharp. I guess you've worked it out by now - I'm an alcoholic drug user - but that's not all of it.
A few inches to the left of the needle lies a small pocketknife - the blade has dried blood on it. Yeah, I cut myself as well. All of the web-sites that say that people who "self-injury" do it because they are punishing themselves, or they are depressed or whatever they say are usually right - I do it because I have to see blood leaving a limb - it's an inborn desire - a wish.
I sit up in the two bit wooden chair by the desk I'm slumped over.
Scattered around me are bottles, clothes and boxes of Chinese takeaways. I don't remember eating them but I never remember anything.
I try and focus on the red L.E.D of the clock mounted on the wall in front of me but everything is a blur. Slowly it focuses and numbers begin to form. I can see a 2. Now I can make out a colon. Now I can see the entire clock. It's 2:30. Duo will be visiting me in half an hour - as usual. Guess I have to tidy some things away - pretend to be fine.
Duo visits me every Wednesday and stays for an hour then he leaves to visit a few other people in the area. I can never understand him. During the war I kept brushing his help right off. I nearly killed him after he had saved my life on more than one occasion. He offered to fix my Mobile Suit with parts from his but instead I blanked him. I was rude then. I still am. For the past four years he has visited me every Wednesday at three but I just grunt and listen to him talking - I never answer his questions. I was 15 when I first met him and ever since then he's been there for me.
I slowly pull myself out of the chair and drag myself across the tiny room into the kitchen. I find a bag and start the long job of throwing away everything that would freak Duo out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well there we go - my other fan fics are still coming - I've finished the drafts for "Ich Will" and I'm still drafting the fic "Fighting Thyself".