Title: Alone in the Dark
Warnings: AU, OOC (to fit storyline), Switching POV (On a chapter by chapter basis as the story dictates), Violence, Adult Themes, Adult Language
Pairings: None yet, but they'll be predominately slash (non-hetero relationships, so if two guys or girls together weirds you out, mash the back button on your browser, get into your car, and go to confession. Make sure to tell the priest about all the naughty things that sprung to mind.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, any of its characters or much of anything else. I own a computer, a few books, and some clothes, so I'm certainly not profiting from any of my writing. You may take them away, but I will cry and my tears will haunt you in your dreams until your black little heart shatters.
Also, this is my first fic, and it -will- be lengthy. If you're looking for very short story, I'd look elsewhere. Any beta readers looking for something to pick apart would be greatly appreciated, along with any constructive comments.
(Small 10/05/2011 update - - yes, I know I left it at one chapter, shame on me, but I started this story right before a... hectic period in my life, which has now stabilized. I do plan on finishing what I started.)
Opening Night
"God damn it," Duo muttered heatedly as he slammed his shoulder into the metal door for the fourth time, causing the jagged edge of a loose apartment number to graze across his arm. A cursory glance showed that the scrape drew blood and he shouted down the hall, "for fuck's sake! You said you were going to fix this, Solo!" He knew he wasn't heard, but if his layabout boyfriend wasn't there to be subject to his discontent, then his neighbors would do just fine. A fifth slam did the trick and finally the rusted hinges to his apartment gave way, allowing the heavy door to swing inward with a sickening screech as he followed behind in an ungraceful tumble.
Intent on cleaning the cut on his arm, Duo skirted through the landfill that had become his living room with the practiced ease of a dancer, nimbly bypassing the piles of dirty laundry and trash Solo had been so nice to leave as they were, just like the television set which blared, '…day twenty-seven of these seemingly erratic attacks and still no official word on the cause of sickne-,' while he strode by to the bathroom. Cutting on the faucet, Duo set about cleaning himself up, pulling his ruined shirt overhead before tossing it to the mildewed tile floor. With a deep sigh, he leaned heavily against the porcelain sink, hands gripping the edges idly as he gave himself a good look in the mirror.
'I'm turning into this shit hole of an apartment,' he thought bitterly, eyes moving slowly over what he hardly believed to be his own reflection. His hair had lost the shine it once held, the long beautiful tresses now unruly and muddled, barely held in an unraveling braid that he had woven this morning. Even the eyes that made him witness to this deterioration showed signs of the same, their violet hue once brilliant and glistening, now shaded and sunken. Shaking his head he cupped his hands and splashed his face with water, rivulets of which streamed down his haggard form, holding the musculature of a gymnast but suffering from the same neglect which showed in every aspect of his life.
The truth was he'd just been sliding by; his meals consisted of whatever he could stuff into his mouth during the thirty minutes he had off between his two dead-end jobs, during which he also had to shower, change clothes, and clean up after Solo. After a whole six hours of sleep, he'd do the same all over again on six days out of seven. The seventh never faired much better, this one being a prime example.
Woken by Solo's cursing after stumbling on one of his own piles of filth, Duo had pried himself from bed to throw together breakfast for the two of them. He turned on that same fake smile that he wore for his customers when he cashiered at the music store as he slid a steaming cup of coffee over to his lover, but it went ignored as Solo didn't even bother lifting his eyes when he took it thanklessly. Chances are he was too hung-over to care if a tap-dancing pixie had made his coffee, let alone his live-in maid of a boyfriend. Silence reigned for the next few hours, Solo having passed out in bed again after eating silently, leaving Duo to clean the dishes and creep about their home as he sorted the piles of clothes that littered the floor into 'clean' and 'questionable' stacks, all the while trying not to wake him. It wasn't until two hours after noon that Solo finally came out of the bedroom, glowering as he began another shouting match with Duo, who knew it was just his was of saying, 'I only talk this loudly because I love you so much.' Shouting had given way to slamming doors and more silence, only broken again at nine when Solo had suggested they go to a club together. Duo jumped at the chance to forget their earlier quarrel and agreed, but his excitement was dampened a bit when he found out the 'together' part ended as soon as they arrived, when Solo disappeared into a mass of writhing bodies. It looked like another night he would have to spend alone, fending off grabby guys before playing designated driver to his drunk boyfriend.
He had had enough, Duo thought as he now wrapped his bicep tightly gauze to cover up the scrape on his arm. It's what he had thought leaving the club that night too, after having seen Solo shooting up. Duo wasn't really sure if it was the needle in his arm or the stranger's tongue down his throat that bothered him more, but he decided either one earned Solo a walk home when he turned on his heels and fled from the throbbing bass of the club.
He wasn't sure how much longer he stayed there, staring at his reflection in the mirror while it slowly fogged up, blurring his image. Shutting off the stream of water, he picked up his discarded shirt and traipsed back into the living room, kicking the piles of trash and clothes out of his way this time as he walked back to lock the door. He'd be damned if he was going to let this go on any longer. His relationship with Solo had been deteriorating for the past year and he wasn't about to be his doormat for another minute. If his soon-to-be-ex boyfriend wanted to start his drug habit up again, he could do it at one of his tonsil-hockey teammates' houses. The television interrupted his thoughts as his eyes caught the live footage of what seemed to be a riot going on, the anxious-looking reporter at the scene practically whispering, '…jects exhibiting signs of fever and hallucinations. Police say they still cannot say conclusively what is producing this crazed behavior-'.
-click-
"They probably have boyfriends like mine," Duo muttered with a drawn-out sigh, somehow comforted by the fact that he wasn't the only one with problems in his life right now. Swinging the front door to close it, Duo grimaced as the rusty hinges let out a deathly squeal, the heavy door coming to a stop about six inches from being flush with the frame. He eyed that gap with the cool countenance of a general looking over a battlefield. It would cost his shoulder a couple bruises, but the war effort to shut the door appeared hopeful. Bracing himself, he gave it a good ram with his side, grinning like a madman as the gap closed two inches. "The victory party will have to wait though," he commented as his nimble fingers made short work of the chain latch. With that in place, he steeled himself for another assault against the enemy. Charging at full tilt, Duo let out a startled cry. A hand shot out through the gap, gripping the rusty metal door with white knuckles. Stumbling back at the scare, Duo stopped a second to catch his breath before timidly calling out, "Solo?"
There was no answer as the hand felt up and down the side of the door, fumbling around for the chain's latch. Duo slowly moved closer to the door, leaning slowly to the side so he could peak through the crack to see who was outside. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as he saw Solo pressed against the outside, his face contorted into a rather grotesque expression as his hand groped around blindly. "That wasn't fuckin' funny Solo," Duo said in a raised voice, only to stumble backward and fall flat on his back as Solo let out a primal shriek and that hand that had been groping for the lock shot out towards him, fingers clawing at him as Solo shoved his arm through all the way to his shoulder. Duo panted softly as shock raced through him, wide eyes staring at that hand grasping through the air as he propped himself up onto his elbows. Shock soon became panic as the arm was withdrawn and Solo slammed himself against the door from the outside, almost snarling. Duo didn't know what drug he was on, but he sure as hell didn't want Solo getting in. Hopping to his feet, he braced himself against the door, using his body weight as leverage to keep it shut. There was another shriek as Solo slammed himself against the door again, Duo's feet sliding as it opened slightly, causing the chain to be pulled taut in the latch.
As soon as he thought Solo was going to bust the door down, it stopped. The door actually closed slowly with his back pressed into it. "S-solo?," Duo called out shakily, his breaths now ragged. There was no sound to answer. As soon as he stopped shaking, Duo pulled away from the door to look again through the crack, this time not getting too close. The hallway was empty from what he could see and a pregnant silence reigned over the eerie calm left in the wake of what just happened. Hesitantly, he pushed the door closed far enough to unlatch the chain and pull it open again. The screaming hinges made his heart race, but soon all was quiet again. Stepping out into the hallway, a chill ran down his spine. Nothing. It was completely deserted. It seemed like the silence grew as he stared down the dim corridor, until he could hear his pulse thumping in his ears.
"Solo?"
And that's when it all went black.