Title: One More Story
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: (friendship) Solo + Duo
Warnings: angst, pre-series setting, Solo POV
Written for Psyche's Before the Beginning Challenge (http://happyfangirl.org/before/)
**********
I guess I've got to admit, it's easier to find somewhere to sleep now that there's only eight of them. Nine, counting me. I know it's not the best idea to be sleeping behind a dumpster in an alley like this, but none of these buildings are used anymore; they're too unstable, even for the drug dealers and orphans like us. For now, we're safe, I guess, but I don't want to go to sleep.
I can't sleep after watching their faces. All of them, so innocent in their own ways. Ryenna's the youngest, and I think me an' her are having a contest of sorts right now: which one of us can outlive the other? I don't know which would be better for her, to have a chance to live, or a chance to run away from all of this.
My hand flies to my mouth to keep the cough inside. I've been trying hard to hide it, but it's not so easy to choke it down. It shouldn't matter so much since they're all sleeping, but I can't have them worrying. They kinda look up to me, I guess, 'cause I manage to get 'em something to eat every so often, or some clothes. Or trust.
My cough's a little harder to keep back lately. It's a little louder than usual. The climate control went down again, so it's cold.
"Solo?" I don't want to hear his voice right now. At night, he always sounds so quiet and afraid; he's loud and sarcastic during the day, wouldn't be scared to take on an army with his bare hands.
"Yeah, Kiddo?" He doesn't have a name. He can't remember.
"You're sick, too, right? Like everyone else?" He's not looking at me, but up at our metal sky.
I have to force a laugh for him. "Nah, it's just some of the smoke, Kiddo. There's still just a little left in my lungs."
"Oh, okay." He's smarter'n that, I know, but he's not going to argue with me. Just how he is. "Can you tell me about it?"
"I've told you about the fire a thousand times, Kiddo. Get some sleep."
He smirks, tossing his head to get his long bangs and strands of his hair that have gotten mixed with his bangs out of his eyes.
"Get your own sleep." That's as close as he's gonna get to saying 'please'. He likes to hear my stories, especially the true ones. I think it makes him feel like he has a story, too.
I sigh and sit down next to him, one arm around my knees and my other hand in his hair that's spread on the ground beneath him. He has long hair like a girl, and I bet he'll grow up to be just as beautiful. If all of us die, I know he'll live. He's the only one who hasn't been affected, even a little, by the virus. Besides, he's just too strong to let somethin' like that beat him.
"How old were you?" I always wait for him to start it off. It seems important for him. Of course, he already knows the answers to everything he asks, so I dunno why he has to keep asking.
"Just a little older than you are now," I always say, mostly because I can only guess at his age, "so I'm lucky, I guess, I can remember where I came from."
"You remember your mother? And father?" I hate the way that sounds coming from him. He has no family to look back on; at least I have my memories.
"Yeah, well, my mom a lot better than my father, 'cause he died when I was four. Mom didn't look anything like me, 'cept she had really light skin like me. She had red hair, though, and blue eyes. My father had dark hair like mine, and I'm not really sure, but I think his eyes were grey like this, too." This part doesn't hurt too badly-- it's almost nice to see their pictures in my head-- but after talking so much, the coughing attacks my throat again.
He doesn't say anything else until after my coughing stops. Wish I knew what he was thinking. "I'm glad you looked like your father. I couldn't see you with red hair." He turns his head so that some of the hair I'm holding slips away, and he looks at me. I hate that look, like he can see right through me. "So what happened to them?"
I smile even though I don't feel like smiling, "Well, Kiddo, you know." I don't want to talk about this tonight. Maybe he'll let me off.
"No I don't."
I sigh, giving in because I have to. Because he means so much to me. Because I never know when I'll tell him for the last time.
"Yeah, okay. We had a nicer house, I guess. Two floors, two bathrooms, a spare bedroom. Weird things were goin' on ever since my father died, 'cause he was part of our division's war defense committee. They started gettin' all suspicious of mom after that 'cause, you know, they were married so they were probably in it together. People in the committee started talking, things like traitors and spies and all kinds of things. I didn't understand... I guess I still don't." I have to stop, not just to cough, because this is where the memories start to hurt.
His eyes change a little, I guess because he knows how much I miss them, but he doesn't change his mind. "I'm... sorry, Solo. Just... will you finish it?"
I can hear what he's not saying, because it's in my head, too. It might be the last time.
"Okay, Kiddo. It's fine," it's always fine when it comes to him, "Anyways, someone planted a bomb in the back of our house. People said it musta been someone from the committee 'cause eventually they thought my mom might've killed my father. No one knew how he died an' all, so... I don't know. I don't think she did."
"They bombed your house?" His eyes are wide, almost afraid, even after all the times he's heard this story.
"I don't think it was actually in my house. I think it was just behind my house, because my house didn't actually, you know, blow up, but most of it caught on fire. It spread really quick. I was in the living room when it happened, and it was the front of the house, so I kinda had a minute to get out of there." I wish I didn't feel like crying. What kind of example would that be for the Kid?
He's looking back at the 'sky' now. "Least you didn't get hurt."
If only. "Yeah but my mom did. I got out first, but she was back in the kitchen, and part of the second floor collapsed. She couldn't get out, and I was little, you know? There was… there was nothing I could do. I mean, people came eventually, but not fast enough." I'm glad I have to cough now; if I cough hard enough, I'll have an excuse to have these tears in my eyes.
He puts his hand in mine, the one that's playing with his hair. Until now, I never noticed how much smaller his hands are. I know I'm a couple years older, but it seems like a big difference. "Thanks," is all he says.
"Hey Kiddo, let me tell you one more story before you go to sleep, okay?" Because I have to. I'm something beyond tired now, but I have to.
He smiles in response. "'Kay."
I clear my throat and cough one more time even though I know this'll be a shorter story. It'll be another true one, though, the kind he likes to hear most.
"Once upon a time there was a little boy named Duo. He was a real good kid, really strong and smart for his age, an' a good friend. He had a friend who was really sick, though, and he wasn't really sure what to do. His friend always watched out for him since he was older an' all, so Duo was scared when he found out how sick his friend was. He didn't want to imagine life without his friend, but he realized he might have to."
My throat's really tight. I know I'm about to cry, but I don't want to wipe my eyes, because then the Kid'll see.
"One day, before Duo went to bed, his friend came to him and needed to ask him a favor. He said, 'I need you to promise me something,' and of course, Duo said okay, 'cause it was his best friend. His friend said that no matter what, he'd do anything he could for Duo, but then he said, 'If anything happens to me, I want you to live for both of us. That's why you're Duo, for the two of us'.
"Then Duo was afraid 'cause he didn't like bein' alone. He knew his friend was afraid too, though, 'cause his friend wouldn't have asked him if he wasn't serious. He promised his friend, even though he didn't know if he could carry out that promise. It seemed kinda hard to live for two people. But the next day he realized he'd have to. He woke up that morning, but his friend didn't."
He looks at me with that expecting face, like there's more to it. I don't know anything past that point, though. I don't know how he'll live his life. "That's the end, Kiddo. I don't know anymore after that."
"Okay."
"You ready to go to sleep now?" I hope he is 'cause I really need to rest.
"Yeah. 'Night, Solo." He turns on his side and closes his eyes, and I bend down and kiss his right cheek, just like any other night. Just like my mom did for me.
"Goodnight, Duo."
***
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: (friendship) Solo + Duo
Warnings: angst, pre-series setting, Solo POV
Written for Psyche's Before the Beginning Challenge (http://happyfangirl.org/before/)
**********
I guess I've got to admit, it's easier to find somewhere to sleep now that there's only eight of them. Nine, counting me. I know it's not the best idea to be sleeping behind a dumpster in an alley like this, but none of these buildings are used anymore; they're too unstable, even for the drug dealers and orphans like us. For now, we're safe, I guess, but I don't want to go to sleep.
I can't sleep after watching their faces. All of them, so innocent in their own ways. Ryenna's the youngest, and I think me an' her are having a contest of sorts right now: which one of us can outlive the other? I don't know which would be better for her, to have a chance to live, or a chance to run away from all of this.
My hand flies to my mouth to keep the cough inside. I've been trying hard to hide it, but it's not so easy to choke it down. It shouldn't matter so much since they're all sleeping, but I can't have them worrying. They kinda look up to me, I guess, 'cause I manage to get 'em something to eat every so often, or some clothes. Or trust.
My cough's a little harder to keep back lately. It's a little louder than usual. The climate control went down again, so it's cold.
"Solo?" I don't want to hear his voice right now. At night, he always sounds so quiet and afraid; he's loud and sarcastic during the day, wouldn't be scared to take on an army with his bare hands.
"Yeah, Kiddo?" He doesn't have a name. He can't remember.
"You're sick, too, right? Like everyone else?" He's not looking at me, but up at our metal sky.
I have to force a laugh for him. "Nah, it's just some of the smoke, Kiddo. There's still just a little left in my lungs."
"Oh, okay." He's smarter'n that, I know, but he's not going to argue with me. Just how he is. "Can you tell me about it?"
"I've told you about the fire a thousand times, Kiddo. Get some sleep."
He smirks, tossing his head to get his long bangs and strands of his hair that have gotten mixed with his bangs out of his eyes.
"Get your own sleep." That's as close as he's gonna get to saying 'please'. He likes to hear my stories, especially the true ones. I think it makes him feel like he has a story, too.
I sigh and sit down next to him, one arm around my knees and my other hand in his hair that's spread on the ground beneath him. He has long hair like a girl, and I bet he'll grow up to be just as beautiful. If all of us die, I know he'll live. He's the only one who hasn't been affected, even a little, by the virus. Besides, he's just too strong to let somethin' like that beat him.
"How old were you?" I always wait for him to start it off. It seems important for him. Of course, he already knows the answers to everything he asks, so I dunno why he has to keep asking.
"Just a little older than you are now," I always say, mostly because I can only guess at his age, "so I'm lucky, I guess, I can remember where I came from."
"You remember your mother? And father?" I hate the way that sounds coming from him. He has no family to look back on; at least I have my memories.
"Yeah, well, my mom a lot better than my father, 'cause he died when I was four. Mom didn't look anything like me, 'cept she had really light skin like me. She had red hair, though, and blue eyes. My father had dark hair like mine, and I'm not really sure, but I think his eyes were grey like this, too." This part doesn't hurt too badly-- it's almost nice to see their pictures in my head-- but after talking so much, the coughing attacks my throat again.
He doesn't say anything else until after my coughing stops. Wish I knew what he was thinking. "I'm glad you looked like your father. I couldn't see you with red hair." He turns his head so that some of the hair I'm holding slips away, and he looks at me. I hate that look, like he can see right through me. "So what happened to them?"
I smile even though I don't feel like smiling, "Well, Kiddo, you know." I don't want to talk about this tonight. Maybe he'll let me off.
"No I don't."
I sigh, giving in because I have to. Because he means so much to me. Because I never know when I'll tell him for the last time.
"Yeah, okay. We had a nicer house, I guess. Two floors, two bathrooms, a spare bedroom. Weird things were goin' on ever since my father died, 'cause he was part of our division's war defense committee. They started gettin' all suspicious of mom after that 'cause, you know, they were married so they were probably in it together. People in the committee started talking, things like traitors and spies and all kinds of things. I didn't understand... I guess I still don't." I have to stop, not just to cough, because this is where the memories start to hurt.
His eyes change a little, I guess because he knows how much I miss them, but he doesn't change his mind. "I'm... sorry, Solo. Just... will you finish it?"
I can hear what he's not saying, because it's in my head, too. It might be the last time.
"Okay, Kiddo. It's fine," it's always fine when it comes to him, "Anyways, someone planted a bomb in the back of our house. People said it musta been someone from the committee 'cause eventually they thought my mom might've killed my father. No one knew how he died an' all, so... I don't know. I don't think she did."
"They bombed your house?" His eyes are wide, almost afraid, even after all the times he's heard this story.
"I don't think it was actually in my house. I think it was just behind my house, because my house didn't actually, you know, blow up, but most of it caught on fire. It spread really quick. I was in the living room when it happened, and it was the front of the house, so I kinda had a minute to get out of there." I wish I didn't feel like crying. What kind of example would that be for the Kid?
He's looking back at the 'sky' now. "Least you didn't get hurt."
If only. "Yeah but my mom did. I got out first, but she was back in the kitchen, and part of the second floor collapsed. She couldn't get out, and I was little, you know? There was… there was nothing I could do. I mean, people came eventually, but not fast enough." I'm glad I have to cough now; if I cough hard enough, I'll have an excuse to have these tears in my eyes.
He puts his hand in mine, the one that's playing with his hair. Until now, I never noticed how much smaller his hands are. I know I'm a couple years older, but it seems like a big difference. "Thanks," is all he says.
"Hey Kiddo, let me tell you one more story before you go to sleep, okay?" Because I have to. I'm something beyond tired now, but I have to.
He smiles in response. "'Kay."
I clear my throat and cough one more time even though I know this'll be a shorter story. It'll be another true one, though, the kind he likes to hear most.
"Once upon a time there was a little boy named Duo. He was a real good kid, really strong and smart for his age, an' a good friend. He had a friend who was really sick, though, and he wasn't really sure what to do. His friend always watched out for him since he was older an' all, so Duo was scared when he found out how sick his friend was. He didn't want to imagine life without his friend, but he realized he might have to."
My throat's really tight. I know I'm about to cry, but I don't want to wipe my eyes, because then the Kid'll see.
"One day, before Duo went to bed, his friend came to him and needed to ask him a favor. He said, 'I need you to promise me something,' and of course, Duo said okay, 'cause it was his best friend. His friend said that no matter what, he'd do anything he could for Duo, but then he said, 'If anything happens to me, I want you to live for both of us. That's why you're Duo, for the two of us'.
"Then Duo was afraid 'cause he didn't like bein' alone. He knew his friend was afraid too, though, 'cause his friend wouldn't have asked him if he wasn't serious. He promised his friend, even though he didn't know if he could carry out that promise. It seemed kinda hard to live for two people. But the next day he realized he'd have to. He woke up that morning, but his friend didn't."
He looks at me with that expecting face, like there's more to it. I don't know anything past that point, though. I don't know how he'll live his life. "That's the end, Kiddo. I don't know anymore after that."
"Okay."
"You ready to go to sleep now?" I hope he is 'cause I really need to rest.
"Yeah. 'Night, Solo." He turns on his side and closes his eyes, and I bend down and kiss his right cheek, just like any other night. Just like my mom did for me.
"Goodnight, Duo."
***