Title: In the Absence
Author: Melcena
Archive? Ask
Contact: fragileATwynterchyldeDOTcom
Parings: 5x1
Warnings: Limey. Angsty. Fragmenty. Short.
Comments: ^Do I ever do it any other way?^ This is sort of rushed because I was trying really hard to have it done for the contest. And now I sort of don't like it. Oh, well. I might rewrite and expand it later. It might even become part of a series. Or something.
/.../ = italics
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The other man came suddenly, silently. The way he always did. The first hadn't heard him come in; it was too dark to see. But he didn't need to see to know who it was. No one else would have dared to enter his room in the middle of the night and touch him that way. No one else would have dared to touch Heero Yuy. And those hands were too familiar to be mistaken. Ever.
He reacted more easily than he liked to admit. He always had. He arched upwards against the other man, fingers grasping vainly at bound hair. /Snap/. A brief sting as the rubberband broke. Then tangling in lacquer strands. The other held rigidly still above him for a moment. Then collapsed, full weight pressing down upon him.
"I hate you." The words breathed against his neck.
"I know. So do I."
Shifting. Already minimal clothing loosening, vanishing.
"Now stop talking."
***
Heero's eyes snapped open. Space drifted serenely past his window. He was alone. Not that it was a surprise. He was always alone. Wufei always left before he woke up. Shaking his head, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, eased himself to his feet. Walked to the bathroom. Opened the door. Closed it behind him. Everything in deliberated, mechanical steps. No thought required.
He stared at himself in the mirror. /What's happening to me?/ He really didn't understand. In his short life he had never faced... anything that couldn't be dealt with with a gun. Almost anything, anyway. He didn't like to think about the exceptions. Truthfully, he didn't like to think at all. It stirred too many questions. Action and reaction were better. Instinct. Survival. Nothing nearly as messy as the situation he found himself in currently.
"Follow your emotions," he'd told Trowa. Repeated to Trowa, really. The phrase was one of the few things he remembered about the hazy early years. Before he'd really become a person, he thought sometimes. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but Heero really had no idea what the phrase meant. Not in any sense save for the definition of each individual word. After all, what use were emotions really? They caused pain, distracted from the mission, created confusion. Why in the world would anyone ever want to /follow/ them? Heero simply did not understand. He had only said the words on a rare whim.
Strength he understood. Weakness he understood. Most of all he understood his own weakness, when he was supposed to be the strongest one. That in itself was unforgivable.
/Where is your self control?/ he'd often raged silently, even as he surrendered to the other man. /Where is your discipline?/ Gone. Flown away. Heero sank slowly to the floor, back propped against the door. Please make this go away.
***
In another room, not too far away, Wufei stood silently before his own window, watching the stars slide silently past. Another sort of internal struggle was taking place inside him. One of cultural biases, desire, and his own rigid moral code.
/There's no reason for you to do this./
/You're only taking advantage of him./
/Are you a woman, that you must have a man?/
Looking at him, no one would have guessed the nature or the violence of what was going on inside his head. He seemed serene, distant, untouchable. And in many ways, he was. Just not, it seemed to him, in the most important way of all.
Despair clawed up at him. He was weak, he was worthless, and now he was dragging the hope of the world down with him. The hope of the universe. And for what? Because he was selfish? Because all his vaunted self discipline was only a sham?
"I have to stop doing this."
But he knew he wouldn't.
***
Another night. Heero didn't sleep, instead waiting for the other man. He came, as Heero had known he would. They were hard and fast with each other yet utterly and eerily silent.
Later, thinking he was asleep, Wufei began to move away. Something inside Heero rebelled. He felt anger rising inside him like the tide. He didn't understand what was happening or why or how or anything else. He just knew he didn't like it. He didn't like being used and and then left.
He turned, catching Wufei's wrist. The retreating man stopped, startled, turning to look at him.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Heero demanded, the words falling from his lips faster than thought. "Who are you to me that you could -"
"No one," came the soft interruption.
"What?"
"I am no one to you, Heero Yuy. I am no one to anyone."
A pause. Silence stretched like a thin, unbreakable thread.
Then, "Who am I to you, Wufei?"
Another pause. When the answer came, softly, it was more an exhalation than spoken word.
"I don't know. I don't know."
In that moment, Heero saw behind the veil. For just a moment, he saw pain, and need, and desperation. He saw confusion. He saw a reflection of the parts of himself he refused to acknowledge.
/What does he want? What do I want?/
He didn't think Wufei knew. He didn't either, really. He just knew he needed something... more.
"Stay," he said finally. "Please."
Wufei looked at him. Hesitated. Then slid back into bed.
"This is wrong. /I'm/ wrong."
"So is everything else."
In the absence of space and the void of oneself the only thing left to do is reach out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh, god. I hate this.
- Mel
Author: Melcena
Archive? Ask
Contact: fragileATwynterchyldeDOTcom
Parings: 5x1
Warnings: Limey. Angsty. Fragmenty. Short.
Comments: ^Do I ever do it any other way?^ This is sort of rushed because I was trying really hard to have it done for the contest. And now I sort of don't like it. Oh, well. I might rewrite and expand it later. It might even become part of a series. Or something.
/.../ = italics
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The other man came suddenly, silently. The way he always did. The first hadn't heard him come in; it was too dark to see. But he didn't need to see to know who it was. No one else would have dared to enter his room in the middle of the night and touch him that way. No one else would have dared to touch Heero Yuy. And those hands were too familiar to be mistaken. Ever.
He reacted more easily than he liked to admit. He always had. He arched upwards against the other man, fingers grasping vainly at bound hair. /Snap/. A brief sting as the rubberband broke. Then tangling in lacquer strands. The other held rigidly still above him for a moment. Then collapsed, full weight pressing down upon him.
"I hate you." The words breathed against his neck.
"I know. So do I."
Shifting. Already minimal clothing loosening, vanishing.
"Now stop talking."
***
Heero's eyes snapped open. Space drifted serenely past his window. He was alone. Not that it was a surprise. He was always alone. Wufei always left before he woke up. Shaking his head, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, eased himself to his feet. Walked to the bathroom. Opened the door. Closed it behind him. Everything in deliberated, mechanical steps. No thought required.
He stared at himself in the mirror. /What's happening to me?/ He really didn't understand. In his short life he had never faced... anything that couldn't be dealt with with a gun. Almost anything, anyway. He didn't like to think about the exceptions. Truthfully, he didn't like to think at all. It stirred too many questions. Action and reaction were better. Instinct. Survival. Nothing nearly as messy as the situation he found himself in currently.
"Follow your emotions," he'd told Trowa. Repeated to Trowa, really. The phrase was one of the few things he remembered about the hazy early years. Before he'd really become a person, he thought sometimes. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but Heero really had no idea what the phrase meant. Not in any sense save for the definition of each individual word. After all, what use were emotions really? They caused pain, distracted from the mission, created confusion. Why in the world would anyone ever want to /follow/ them? Heero simply did not understand. He had only said the words on a rare whim.
Strength he understood. Weakness he understood. Most of all he understood his own weakness, when he was supposed to be the strongest one. That in itself was unforgivable.
/Where is your self control?/ he'd often raged silently, even as he surrendered to the other man. /Where is your discipline?/ Gone. Flown away. Heero sank slowly to the floor, back propped against the door. Please make this go away.
***
In another room, not too far away, Wufei stood silently before his own window, watching the stars slide silently past. Another sort of internal struggle was taking place inside him. One of cultural biases, desire, and his own rigid moral code.
/There's no reason for you to do this./
/You're only taking advantage of him./
/Are you a woman, that you must have a man?/
Looking at him, no one would have guessed the nature or the violence of what was going on inside his head. He seemed serene, distant, untouchable. And in many ways, he was. Just not, it seemed to him, in the most important way of all.
Despair clawed up at him. He was weak, he was worthless, and now he was dragging the hope of the world down with him. The hope of the universe. And for what? Because he was selfish? Because all his vaunted self discipline was only a sham?
"I have to stop doing this."
But he knew he wouldn't.
***
Another night. Heero didn't sleep, instead waiting for the other man. He came, as Heero had known he would. They were hard and fast with each other yet utterly and eerily silent.
Later, thinking he was asleep, Wufei began to move away. Something inside Heero rebelled. He felt anger rising inside him like the tide. He didn't understand what was happening or why or how or anything else. He just knew he didn't like it. He didn't like being used and and then left.
He turned, catching Wufei's wrist. The retreating man stopped, startled, turning to look at him.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Heero demanded, the words falling from his lips faster than thought. "Who are you to me that you could -"
"No one," came the soft interruption.
"What?"
"I am no one to you, Heero Yuy. I am no one to anyone."
A pause. Silence stretched like a thin, unbreakable thread.
Then, "Who am I to you, Wufei?"
Another pause. When the answer came, softly, it was more an exhalation than spoken word.
"I don't know. I don't know."
In that moment, Heero saw behind the veil. For just a moment, he saw pain, and need, and desperation. He saw confusion. He saw a reflection of the parts of himself he refused to acknowledge.
/What does he want? What do I want?/
He didn't think Wufei knew. He didn't either, really. He just knew he needed something... more.
"Stay," he said finally. "Please."
Wufei looked at him. Hesitated. Then slid back into bed.
"This is wrong. /I'm/ wrong."
"So is everything else."
In the absence of space and the void of oneself the only thing left to do is reach out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh, god. I hate this.
- Mel