Title: What I Need
Author: Makoto Sagara
Category: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: 2+?
Warnings: After EW, Angst, mention of self-mutilation, shonen ai, language, Duo POV
Disclaimers: Dun own Gundam Wing. *sniffs* Make no money. *cries*
A/N: I want to thank Duo-chan for the quick beta! Love ya girlie.
Summary: Duo's self-mutilation tendencies are as unnoticed as he thinks they are.
The pain is the only thing that lets me know that I am truly alive. I don't mean the pain that I received in battle. That seems like a dream to me. I mean the pain that I inflict on myself.
No one notices that I never wear short sleeves anymore; that I always wear clothes that cover every real inch of my body. I don't want anyone to know. Then, someone would feel an obligation to "help" me. Pfft. Fuck that. I never asked for anyone's help.
That's the story of my life though. I start to find a way to help myself, or to be of use to someone else, and they get too close, wanting to "help" me. If I wanted their fucking help, I would ask. Fuck them. They can all go to Hell, and if they don't stop annoying me, I'll do it personally.
I never gave up my role of Shinigami. I never really wanted the role, but once I got it, I couldn't rid myself of it. The wars are over. It's an era of peace, but I am doing anything but enjoying the world that I help create. In fact, I am searching for a way out of it.
I can't even tell the one person who I really love how I feel. When I see him, I just slide on a mask. If he thinks I'm happy with what and who I am, then I will let him continue to do so. If all I can do is see him, then that's fine. I'm not sure that I can offer him more than what I've given him at this point.
Do you know how hard it is to pretend all the time? I would love to let someone see the real me. Heh. Yeah right. If I did that, they would run away, screaming their heads off.
I'm really afraid to let go. Who will I be once I do?
Oh shit! He's looking at me. What's wrong? Did my mask slip?
I sit back, take a deep breath, and give him a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. He's giving me a strange look, and I can see the worry in his eyes, but I just shrug, burying myself in the paperwork in front of me. Gods know that I have enough of it.
I know what I am going to do when I get to my small, lonely apartment tonight. I will sit in my favorite comfortable chair, and then rake my overly sharp nails across the skin of my arms, just to see the deep crimson liquid flow. Yes, that pain is more real than anything else in my life. More real than the feel of his brief, airy touches. More real than the person I see staring back at me when I look in the mirror every morning.
Oh, fuck! He's staring again. I can feel his eyes on me. In one way, it's incredibly erotic, but in another, it's more depressing. He doesn't, and won't, feel the same way about me. Every time I see him, it makes me realize how truly lonely I am. How I will never truly be happy again. How much of a fuck-up I am.
I can't replace the mask quick enough. I can't make myself do it this time. Does he know? Does he suspect anything?
FUCK ME! He's coming over here. I close my eyes to gather my strength. Finally, I open them again, and plaster on a smile.
"Maxwell," he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it still carries the same force it would if he had yelled.
"Yeah?"
"Is there something wrong?"
Ok, what the hell is going on? Since when does he ask me about my welfare? Has the world gone mad?
"Maxwell." He sounds a bit nervous and irritated.
"Nah, nothing's wrong really. Just thinking about something." Not a lie. Never that. It's just a slight twist to the truth.
"What?"
There it is again. That irritated tone. I can't do anything right, can I?
"Nothing important. Just something."
Yeah, I'm staying as vague as I possibly can. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, and I don't want to burden him with my problems. I mean, I know he is my friend, or the closest thing someone like me can have to a friend, but I just can't do it. I won't.
Damn! He's so close to me now that I can smell his aftershave. No, go back to your desk. Don't get any closer to me. Don't look at me. Go away. Please! I beg you to just please go the fuck away and act like this never happened. Stop torturing me!
"You're not telling me the whole truth, Duo." I feel my eyes flutter as he says my first name. He doesn't do it often, and never in that soft tone, which is something akin to a purr, only irritated. "You will, though. Because, if you don't, I'll talk to Une. You know what she will do then."
I swallowed. The bastard was blackmailing me. I wanted to strangle him. I felt my eyes narrow, and I moved my chair back, leveling my glare at him.
"Are you threatening me? You aren't as smart as you think you are if you think that a threat is going to make me do *anything*," I whisper dangerously.
I look into his eyes, which had softened again. Dammit! Don't look at me like you pity me. Keep your fucking pity. I don't need it. I never asked you for your pity. I never asked you for anything. You were the one who asked me to leave L2 to become your partner in the Preventers. I was having fun playing businessman for a change, instead of being Death or a thief.
How I did I get wrapped up in all of this? The fact that even though we didn't know each other well during the wars, I had thought him gorgeous, even when he was ignoring me or yelling at me to shut up, might be why. I couldn't say no to him when he asked for my help. He actually asked *me* for *my* help. Yeah, I jumped right on that bandwagon, like the fucking weak masochistic idiot I am.
He's touching me now. There's a hand on my shoulder. I level my glare at the offending appendage, and he just looks at me. My anger is dissipating. I can feel the rage in me just disintegrating. Why can't I stay mad at him?
"Look, there's nothing wrong with me. I was just thinking. Don't worry about it." I just want him to go away.
"Maxwell," he growls. Damn, in a sick way, that is a big turn on.
"Yeah?" I stiffen. There is someone watching us. Looking around, I notice that the whole room is staring at us. He's noticed too.
"We'll talk about this later." His face tells me that he means business, but I'm not really worried. I've been doing this for far too long for it to actually affect me. I watch him as he stalks back to his desk, glaring at everyone in the room. I stifle a chuckle as they all scramble to look busy.
Yes, little puppets. Go back to your self-important worlds. No one even notices you. They only notice me because I am some sort of war hero. I scoff at the thought of the title. I am honored because I killed people. How sick is that?
Yeah, my plan is looking better and better all the time. In fact, the need to see my own blood is consuming me. Shit! I just wrote that in my report! FUCK! Pay attention, shithead. I'm trying to shove those thoughts into the back of my mind. I really need to concentrate on these reports, or Une will have my ass on a silver platter.
I just looked at the clock on my computer! Yes! It's two minutes to five. Almost time to go home. I save my work, and pack up my things. Those reports can wait until tomorrow. I was almost done anyway. Hell, they aren't even due until the day after tomorrow. I have the time. I shut my computer off, grabbing my jacket. As soon as the clock strikes five p.m., I'm out that door, heading directly to my car, not even waving to my co-workers like I normally do.
I make it all the way to the closed garage, and my car, without running into him again. But, my luck doesn't hold out. As soon as I see my precious baby, the one material thing that I relish, *he* steps out of the shadows. Great!
"Duo, we need to talk. I know what you've been doing, and it has to stop." He sounds very concerned, and for a moment, I try to imagine that he might actually care for me more than just as a partner, comrade, friend. But, this is *him*. He couldn't possibly.
I slowly lift my eyes to look at him, and before I can say anything, he is walking towards me. No, please stay away. Don't touch me. I'm not... I'm not... Just please don't touch me.
He stops, inches away from me, breathing sounding funny. "Duo?"
"Yeah?"
"Why?" He sounds so lost. Like a little boy, but then again, he and I are only eighteen.
"Why what?"
"Why do you hurt yourself?" He asks, pulling up the sleeve of my shirt, revealing the previous scars, some barely healed.
"Why not?"
"Don't you know?"
"Know what?" What the hell am I supposed to know? Am I a fucking mind-reader? Do I look like Quatre? Am I supposed to know what everyone feels all the time? NO!
Oh my god. He's kissing me. It's heaven, and I'm starting to melt. No, please, don't stop. Don't let this be a dream. I've had too many of these dreams, and I just wake up feeling more alone, and the need to feel physical pain becomes sharper.
"That," he breaths, breaking the kiss. My mind is hazy. The kiss was mind-blowingly amazing, but I still don't know anything.
"What?" I need to hear him say something. I *need* it unlike anything I've ever needed anything in my sad, small, pathetic existence.
"That as much as you need pain, I need you."
Author: Makoto Sagara
Category: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: 2+?
Warnings: After EW, Angst, mention of self-mutilation, shonen ai, language, Duo POV
Disclaimers: Dun own Gundam Wing. *sniffs* Make no money. *cries*
A/N: I want to thank Duo-chan for the quick beta! Love ya girlie.
Summary: Duo's self-mutilation tendencies are as unnoticed as he thinks they are.
The pain is the only thing that lets me know that I am truly alive. I don't mean the pain that I received in battle. That seems like a dream to me. I mean the pain that I inflict on myself.
No one notices that I never wear short sleeves anymore; that I always wear clothes that cover every real inch of my body. I don't want anyone to know. Then, someone would feel an obligation to "help" me. Pfft. Fuck that. I never asked for anyone's help.
That's the story of my life though. I start to find a way to help myself, or to be of use to someone else, and they get too close, wanting to "help" me. If I wanted their fucking help, I would ask. Fuck them. They can all go to Hell, and if they don't stop annoying me, I'll do it personally.
I never gave up my role of Shinigami. I never really wanted the role, but once I got it, I couldn't rid myself of it. The wars are over. It's an era of peace, but I am doing anything but enjoying the world that I help create. In fact, I am searching for a way out of it.
I can't even tell the one person who I really love how I feel. When I see him, I just slide on a mask. If he thinks I'm happy with what and who I am, then I will let him continue to do so. If all I can do is see him, then that's fine. I'm not sure that I can offer him more than what I've given him at this point.
Do you know how hard it is to pretend all the time? I would love to let someone see the real me. Heh. Yeah right. If I did that, they would run away, screaming their heads off.
I'm really afraid to let go. Who will I be once I do?
Oh shit! He's looking at me. What's wrong? Did my mask slip?
I sit back, take a deep breath, and give him a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. He's giving me a strange look, and I can see the worry in his eyes, but I just shrug, burying myself in the paperwork in front of me. Gods know that I have enough of it.
I know what I am going to do when I get to my small, lonely apartment tonight. I will sit in my favorite comfortable chair, and then rake my overly sharp nails across the skin of my arms, just to see the deep crimson liquid flow. Yes, that pain is more real than anything else in my life. More real than the feel of his brief, airy touches. More real than the person I see staring back at me when I look in the mirror every morning.
Oh, fuck! He's staring again. I can feel his eyes on me. In one way, it's incredibly erotic, but in another, it's more depressing. He doesn't, and won't, feel the same way about me. Every time I see him, it makes me realize how truly lonely I am. How I will never truly be happy again. How much of a fuck-up I am.
I can't replace the mask quick enough. I can't make myself do it this time. Does he know? Does he suspect anything?
FUCK ME! He's coming over here. I close my eyes to gather my strength. Finally, I open them again, and plaster on a smile.
"Maxwell," he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it still carries the same force it would if he had yelled.
"Yeah?"
"Is there something wrong?"
Ok, what the hell is going on? Since when does he ask me about my welfare? Has the world gone mad?
"Maxwell." He sounds a bit nervous and irritated.
"Nah, nothing's wrong really. Just thinking about something." Not a lie. Never that. It's just a slight twist to the truth.
"What?"
There it is again. That irritated tone. I can't do anything right, can I?
"Nothing important. Just something."
Yeah, I'm staying as vague as I possibly can. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, and I don't want to burden him with my problems. I mean, I know he is my friend, or the closest thing someone like me can have to a friend, but I just can't do it. I won't.
Damn! He's so close to me now that I can smell his aftershave. No, go back to your desk. Don't get any closer to me. Don't look at me. Go away. Please! I beg you to just please go the fuck away and act like this never happened. Stop torturing me!
"You're not telling me the whole truth, Duo." I feel my eyes flutter as he says my first name. He doesn't do it often, and never in that soft tone, which is something akin to a purr, only irritated. "You will, though. Because, if you don't, I'll talk to Une. You know what she will do then."
I swallowed. The bastard was blackmailing me. I wanted to strangle him. I felt my eyes narrow, and I moved my chair back, leveling my glare at him.
"Are you threatening me? You aren't as smart as you think you are if you think that a threat is going to make me do *anything*," I whisper dangerously.
I look into his eyes, which had softened again. Dammit! Don't look at me like you pity me. Keep your fucking pity. I don't need it. I never asked you for your pity. I never asked you for anything. You were the one who asked me to leave L2 to become your partner in the Preventers. I was having fun playing businessman for a change, instead of being Death or a thief.
How I did I get wrapped up in all of this? The fact that even though we didn't know each other well during the wars, I had thought him gorgeous, even when he was ignoring me or yelling at me to shut up, might be why. I couldn't say no to him when he asked for my help. He actually asked *me* for *my* help. Yeah, I jumped right on that bandwagon, like the fucking weak masochistic idiot I am.
He's touching me now. There's a hand on my shoulder. I level my glare at the offending appendage, and he just looks at me. My anger is dissipating. I can feel the rage in me just disintegrating. Why can't I stay mad at him?
"Look, there's nothing wrong with me. I was just thinking. Don't worry about it." I just want him to go away.
"Maxwell," he growls. Damn, in a sick way, that is a big turn on.
"Yeah?" I stiffen. There is someone watching us. Looking around, I notice that the whole room is staring at us. He's noticed too.
"We'll talk about this later." His face tells me that he means business, but I'm not really worried. I've been doing this for far too long for it to actually affect me. I watch him as he stalks back to his desk, glaring at everyone in the room. I stifle a chuckle as they all scramble to look busy.
Yes, little puppets. Go back to your self-important worlds. No one even notices you. They only notice me because I am some sort of war hero. I scoff at the thought of the title. I am honored because I killed people. How sick is that?
Yeah, my plan is looking better and better all the time. In fact, the need to see my own blood is consuming me. Shit! I just wrote that in my report! FUCK! Pay attention, shithead. I'm trying to shove those thoughts into the back of my mind. I really need to concentrate on these reports, or Une will have my ass on a silver platter.
I just looked at the clock on my computer! Yes! It's two minutes to five. Almost time to go home. I save my work, and pack up my things. Those reports can wait until tomorrow. I was almost done anyway. Hell, they aren't even due until the day after tomorrow. I have the time. I shut my computer off, grabbing my jacket. As soon as the clock strikes five p.m., I'm out that door, heading directly to my car, not even waving to my co-workers like I normally do.
I make it all the way to the closed garage, and my car, without running into him again. But, my luck doesn't hold out. As soon as I see my precious baby, the one material thing that I relish, *he* steps out of the shadows. Great!
"Duo, we need to talk. I know what you've been doing, and it has to stop." He sounds very concerned, and for a moment, I try to imagine that he might actually care for me more than just as a partner, comrade, friend. But, this is *him*. He couldn't possibly.
I slowly lift my eyes to look at him, and before I can say anything, he is walking towards me. No, please stay away. Don't touch me. I'm not... I'm not... Just please don't touch me.
He stops, inches away from me, breathing sounding funny. "Duo?"
"Yeah?"
"Why?" He sounds so lost. Like a little boy, but then again, he and I are only eighteen.
"Why what?"
"Why do you hurt yourself?" He asks, pulling up the sleeve of my shirt, revealing the previous scars, some barely healed.
"Why not?"
"Don't you know?"
"Know what?" What the hell am I supposed to know? Am I a fucking mind-reader? Do I look like Quatre? Am I supposed to know what everyone feels all the time? NO!
Oh my god. He's kissing me. It's heaven, and I'm starting to melt. No, please, don't stop. Don't let this be a dream. I've had too many of these dreams, and I just wake up feeling more alone, and the need to feel physical pain becomes sharper.
"That," he breaths, breaking the kiss. My mind is hazy. The kiss was mind-blowingly amazing, but I still don't know anything.
"What?" I need to hear him say something. I *need* it unlike anything I've ever needed anything in my sad, small, pathetic existence.
"That as much as you need pain, I need you."
