Title: Caged birds
Author: Fox goddess
Rating: pg13 to R
Paring: 2+1 1+2 (contact me if you do not understand why it is both, not just 2+1)
Warning: lime.
Maybe if he gave it more food, it would sing. No, that would not work. Food filled the dish halfway already and none of the food had been gobbled up yet. Maybe he gave the wrong food.
It had a mouth. It had healthy vocal cords. It had health and all the parts it needed. Why wasn't it singing? It had started singing when he got up this morning, if one called briefs squawks and attempts singing. Now, it stayed in its cage, moving with no chirp or sound.
His stomach growled. He would figure out the bird later. Breakfast, everyone said the most important meal, was waiting to be made and ate.
Pure colbet* blue eyes hid for a second as he blinked. He forgot to shut the living room currents last night. The outside light streamed into the house and his widened from dark pupils. It made the living room bright where it highlighted the drab furniture and made un-shined on corners and birdcage. It made him blink and scrunch his eyes close. Should he move the birdcage to the light? No, the bird would be hot and uncomfortable, like him.
People ran and mowed lawns out there, he noted as he peered outside, slightly curious. His across the street almost neighbor laughed at a joke of his own, his joker's mouth opened wide to a solid red covering piece, his eyes, painted purple, sparkling fireworks to show his enjoyment. A long, braided strand wiped around from the man's head, trying to escape its host but never gaining its freedom.
His face burned, the light outside too intense for him. His hand reacted and tugged down the thin layer of fabric that served as a light curtain, dulling the light outside and making the people blurred silhouettes like in flip movies.
The room hushed. Before, some sound, now silent. What was the sound he still had a faint eco of whispering against his ears and memory? It had been great but not great enough, like a mute trying to speak and only uttering soft gibberish.
He shrugged it off. Didn't matter, whatever it was, now. It was time to eat breakfast, wasn't it? He looked at the clock. 9:10. Nope, it was past time. No granola today. No use eating anything with lunchtime so soon.
The couch sank a bit under his weight. None of the now dulled light fell on him. The light ended a foot away from his feet. He looked to the ground. Shadows played there, blurred reflections of the people outside. A figure with a medusa snake on his head was against another figure, their forms blending as they moved together in frenzy. Red mouths were probably open devouring the other as one thrust against the other in the forbidden dance. Clothes and masks maybe stripped and forgotten for the time, the two people releases and seeking release. Hands maybe moved across each other, scratching, pinching, and loving. They were going faster and faster in desire, tearing apart each other so one could take the other back.
Their desire stirred his. He wanted the snake wrapped around him, the owners thrusting into him, their moths joined as they approached, together under the sun. Closer and closer, they would come to climax. Closer and closer, they would join and then be separate. Closer and closer...
They were nothing. A sound in the background stopped. He ignored thoughts of what the sound was as he told himself to settle down and get up. The light had moved with the sun and covered an inch of his shoes.
2:10. He had missed lunch. What to do? He needed to settle down.
He did settle down, for some work, his wooden chair keeping his body at a perfect right angle. Taking out a blank piece of paper, he started writing O's and 1's in a pattern of his choosing. He didn't know what he they did with it or why he had to do it like this. As long as he did it, he got paid.
His paper, a maze of 1's and 0's from top to bottom, met his ink as the old-styled bottle fell and covered his work, running all of it by a single 0. Nothing. He had worked the night for nothing but a 0, which was nothing.
He had missed dinner again. No use to have anything now.
He got up, slightly stiff, and walked over to the window. Tonight, he remembered to close the heavy curtains. Before, they were totally closed, he looked out at the almost neighbor faced man, who was still telling jokes in a slightly different but the same mask. Those jokes, he never heard, he thought, quickly covering the man with his curtain.
He looked back at the bird. It was sleeping? No. It was died without ever leaving the cage or singing. He would bury it tomorrow.
It was sleep time. He would not miss that today.
*Spelling?
Notes: Ok now. If you did not get this:
It's from Heero's POV
To Breakfast time: childhood
To lunch: Teenage
To dinner: Adulthood
End of Work: retirement
Sleep: Death.
Bird: Heero.
Cage and house: entrapments of the mind
Window and light: freedom to some degree.
Braided or snaked man or almost neighbor joker man: Duo