Title: Performance, Chapter Two, Fuck Dancing
Summary: Just like old times ehhh? *beckons you to read*
==
10: 02 am.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Duo Maxwell in the house, please leave a beep after the message."
"Duo, it's me Hilde. I just wanted to drop by.. ya know. So pick up if you're there."
Interest. The Street Rat picked up his phone. Cheese was on the other line, it was his calling. "Hilde?"
"Hey Duo." Her voice touched a nerve on the rim of his heart. But that was a long time ago, Now was a totally different story. Breathe.
"Long time no talk huh?" He cocked his brow, this would end up being interesting. She didn't respond for a long time.
Silence.
Roll of eyes, he could tell. That Street Rat would have known these things. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. So what's up with you?"
"Huh?" Lost in silence.
"I mean what's going on in your life? Girls? Jobs.. Etc. Etc?" She wanted to keep the flow of the conversation on steady, no bumps, just rapids. She shouldn't known better, he was a Street Rat.
It had been two years since they had broken up. Duo licked the rim of his lips. It was almost funny to him.. no wait, it was hilarious. Silent chuckle.
Silence.
No tension had grown between them whatsoever, friends with benefits. Or without?
Rum. "Hmm.. good question." A curved smile formed on his loving greedy lips.
Roll. "Let's forget I asked then. How're the guys?"
Click. He clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth. Don't know, where are those guys? Why don't you tell me? Where are those G-boys anyways? Rum.
"Hell if I know." Click. Click. Rum. His breath hung with the smell of alcohol. Duo Maxwell was eighteen now, he was a Street Rat now. He was drunk now.
"Hey Duo. something wrong?" Worry sunk into despair, or almost.
"Mmm-Mmm.." Same tone, one steadier than the other. Nothing was wrong, just the whole picture.
Duo looked up at his clock. Click. Click. Sip.
Don't let the past overcome you.
Stay the same.
The Fairies will someday thank you.
He was bored. Now. Beyond his wildest dreams. Funny really, usually he would've jumped to the phone if Hilde called. Moved a mountain. Crossed a valley. Swam across a river. Happiest man alive turned to Street Rat.
Silence.
"Well, I just wanted you to know. Everyone's in town and they called me up to set up a picnic or something. it's your call." He could tell he was making her uncomfortable, like a Rat going in for the kill. For some timid cheese.
"Anytime, anyplace. Preferably right now." Rum..
"Alright, I'll call them up we'll meet at your place." Click. No goodbye. Rush.
10:37 am. Rum. Rum. Rum.
So tell me Little Rodent..
Tell me..
How does this cookie crumble..
Milk or beer Honey?
Tell me..
"Hmmm." Black. No stars. Isn't night. Murderer's eyes. Circus Clown style. Slap. Slap.
"Duo! Wake up!" The Street Rat opened up his eyes onward to the face of the Desert Prince. His long braided hair sticking to his chest with sweat.
"Hey kiddo." More sleep. Duo closed his eyes, not sleeping, glad the girls hadn't walked in with them. 'Looks like a pick up party to me.'
Are you still alive?
Repeat your soul and wither..
Love me child..
Take me..
Far, far away from this place.
To a place..
That I call home.
Silence. The Desert Prince touched Duo's head. No warmth, just rum.
"Trowa, turn that off." Quatre pointed above the fireplace, that was all Duo knew.
Lilac and green memories.
Haunt you.
Keep them coming Honey...
Your beer awaits you...
"NO! DON'T DO THAT DAMNIT!" He shoot up, tail on fire.. tail on fire.. whiskers have been ripped off. Get the cheese. Maze.
Heero realized the behavior. "He's on drugs." The No-Named boy grabbed the Rat by the braid, pulling him towards the couch to stare into his soul. He wasn't surprised, his eyes were just openly shocked, that's all.
Silence. Click. No sip, but he wished there was.
Heero held him down, he didn't look up when he spoke to the Boy with Black Hair. "Go check his room Wufei." Pur with no gratitude, more annoyance. Orders are orders. He paused to get confirmation, leaning on the wall. Patience.
Heat. Heat. Heat. Need to get out. Duo struggled, fighting down Heero as much as he could. Trowa rushed to his side as Quatre watched, observing. They both held him down, the Boys with No Name. Duo's screaming arched the walls painfully but there was no pain, only drive. Rum. Rum. Rum. Music. Music. Music.
Don't glare at me boy.
Just because you're broken.
Doesn't mean a thing.
He kept at his perch on the wall, impatience grazing the tips of his knuckles, breaking the silence. "What am I looking for?" The Boy with Black Hair was still the same boy the Street Rat remembered. Still sane and relaxed.
Take a look at me Honey.
The sirens are mine..
They're never going to hurt you again..
I'll save you Honey..
Just watch my back.
I'll return for you.
"Powder." The Boy with No Name held him down by the wrist, his knees driving into the braided American's. His indigo eyes looked down into a sea of cobalt blue, no powder, just drive.
Duo's eyes laughed. "Pictures." Poker-faced style. He immediately calmed down, almost hysterically. Calm, eyes relaxed, laying there with no sense whatsoever.
Indigo eyes shot back. "What did you say?"
Duo began to chuckle. There were no drugs. there were no friends. there was music. and rum. and pictures. "Open the door, find out." His eyes rolled when they moved, drunkenly. The Desert Prince pitied the poor Street Rat on the floor, but he didn't help him out of the trap. There was just no cheese.
"Open the door." Click. Pur. Tension. No sip. Roll. Patience.
So he did. Pictures of the girl lay sprawled along the floors and trimmed the bed in a naughty fashion. The frames had been broken, but it was the pictures that they kept. Taken, printed, then framed. Every single one, like a murderer caught in his own act, like a Street Rat, stealing some cheese.
10:45 pm.
Don't glare at me boy.
Just because you're broken.
Doesn't mean a thing.
"It is too fucking early for this shit." Heero let go of the Street Rat. Spitting down a river of hate, friends did this to friends. Not to drunk Street Rats.
Silence. Pur. Click.
"He's under some type of influence." The Circus Clown let go of Duo's wrists with a jerk, looking down at him with daring eyes. Try me Street Rat, try me.
"Obviously." Wufei looked down on his perch, eyeing the pictures from outside. The doorway looked uninviting as they circled the prisoner. Guilty before even caught. It was America.
Quatre stepped out of the room, wielding a picture, date on the very bottom corner. The Desert Prince didn't shiver, quake nor tremble, he almost laughed. "It wasn't Hilde, but he did find her." He handed the picture over to Heero, almost disgusted, holding it in.
The Boy with No Name sneered, disgusted. "Who is she anyways?"
Sirens beckon you onward.
Continue your journey.
See that it fit.
Silence. Roll. Laughter. No click. No pur. No sip. Just tension.
Decisions, decisions. "We're tying him up. Wufei, grab the rope. Trowa, chair. Quatre, the music and the lights." Heero wanted this through and done, quick and fast, Poker-faced style. If Duo wanted to play a game, then a game he would play. They would dance.
10:51 am.
The Street Rat was tied to his own chair, with his own rope, in his own apartment, with his own lights shining down on him, and his own music. gone. All the shades in the house had been drawn, there was no light, besides the one above him. The sanity drove him up the walls now, he laughed and laughed and laughed, the Others surrounding him.
Perch. Stand. Command. Pity.
The Boy with Black Hair stood behind him (boredom), Circus Clown to his side (daring), the Desert Prince hidden in the corner (scared to move), an Indigo Eye-colored Boy standing before him (serious). Disgust.
Heero held the picture in the Street Rat's face mockingly, cocking his head left and right, laughing to himself. "So who is she Duo? She a Sally? A Dorothy? A Hilde? What kind of person is this girl?" The Boy with No Name looked around, letting another take his place.
But instead, Duo spoke up, willingly. "Cut the crap guys. Just get out." No one spoke, except Quatre that is.
"We're just trying to help Duo. We're trying to be good friends." Tension bit his fingernails. No one spoke for a long time.
Brown bit at platinum gold. Bite me Prince, bite me. "Too bad trying isn't good enough huh?"
Silence. No pur. No click. No sip. Just tension.
"Get out." His voice, biting at every single one of their asses mockingly, traitor. Drunk. Rum.
Breathing. Four second intervals, each one. The Street Rat and the Boy With Indigo Eyes at the same pace, racing silently. Almost full of lust, but missing the key ingredient of want. War.
Silence.
Trowa tossed his hair to the side, not cocking a brow, daring him. "Deal."
One by one, like a group of Rats they walked out. No cheese here, no use. Another Rat could bite himself out of those ropes. But only because they could, slowly but surely, they could.
Silence.
They left each of their scents on the walls, marking a trail on the carpet and the air. It made Duo sick, but he laughed regardless. An empty, Street Rat style laugh.
His music was off. His world was ending. His hands were tied.
Eighty-three seconds.
His music was playing. His rum, brandy and alcohol were delicious. His hands were occupied, handling different bottles as they met.
Five thousand four hundred eighty two seconds.
Take me back my Street Rat.
Let me take you back home.
Stop your dreaming.
Just stop and let me take you in.
His world was on hold. The Street Rat was asleep.
==
Author's Note: So tell me how you like it!! =) This one was a lot of fun to write, very entertaining to write people's emotions in a dark and cold room. =P. Also, another thing just for the record.. five thousand four hundred and eighty two seconds is one hour and thirty one minutes (and twenty two seconds). 1:31:02. Tried to make it more interesting.. Hehehe. (Again, tell me how I portrayed their parts.. better or worse than the Second Chapter.. dum de dum?) x3. Thanks! Please.. if you READ please REVIEW! (Eighty-three is 1:23.. right?) Next chapter will be up after reviews.
Summary: Just like old times ehhh? *beckons you to read*
==
10: 02 am.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Duo Maxwell in the house, please leave a beep after the message."
"Duo, it's me Hilde. I just wanted to drop by.. ya know. So pick up if you're there."
Interest. The Street Rat picked up his phone. Cheese was on the other line, it was his calling. "Hilde?"
"Hey Duo." Her voice touched a nerve on the rim of his heart. But that was a long time ago, Now was a totally different story. Breathe.
"Long time no talk huh?" He cocked his brow, this would end up being interesting. She didn't respond for a long time.
Silence.
Roll of eyes, he could tell. That Street Rat would have known these things. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. So what's up with you?"
"Huh?" Lost in silence.
"I mean what's going on in your life? Girls? Jobs.. Etc. Etc?" She wanted to keep the flow of the conversation on steady, no bumps, just rapids. She shouldn't known better, he was a Street Rat.
It had been two years since they had broken up. Duo licked the rim of his lips. It was almost funny to him.. no wait, it was hilarious. Silent chuckle.
Silence.
No tension had grown between them whatsoever, friends with benefits. Or without?
Rum. "Hmm.. good question." A curved smile formed on his loving greedy lips.
Roll. "Let's forget I asked then. How're the guys?"
Click. He clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth. Don't know, where are those guys? Why don't you tell me? Where are those G-boys anyways? Rum.
"Hell if I know." Click. Click. Rum. His breath hung with the smell of alcohol. Duo Maxwell was eighteen now, he was a Street Rat now. He was drunk now.
"Hey Duo. something wrong?" Worry sunk into despair, or almost.
"Mmm-Mmm.." Same tone, one steadier than the other. Nothing was wrong, just the whole picture.
Duo looked up at his clock. Click. Click. Sip.
Don't let the past overcome you.
Stay the same.
The Fairies will someday thank you.
He was bored. Now. Beyond his wildest dreams. Funny really, usually he would've jumped to the phone if Hilde called. Moved a mountain. Crossed a valley. Swam across a river. Happiest man alive turned to Street Rat.
Silence.
"Well, I just wanted you to know. Everyone's in town and they called me up to set up a picnic or something. it's your call." He could tell he was making her uncomfortable, like a Rat going in for the kill. For some timid cheese.
"Anytime, anyplace. Preferably right now." Rum..
"Alright, I'll call them up we'll meet at your place." Click. No goodbye. Rush.
10:37 am. Rum. Rum. Rum.
So tell me Little Rodent..
Tell me..
How does this cookie crumble..
Milk or beer Honey?
Tell me..
"Hmmm." Black. No stars. Isn't night. Murderer's eyes. Circus Clown style. Slap. Slap.
"Duo! Wake up!" The Street Rat opened up his eyes onward to the face of the Desert Prince. His long braided hair sticking to his chest with sweat.
"Hey kiddo." More sleep. Duo closed his eyes, not sleeping, glad the girls hadn't walked in with them. 'Looks like a pick up party to me.'
Are you still alive?
Repeat your soul and wither..
Love me child..
Take me..
Far, far away from this place.
To a place..
That I call home.
Silence. The Desert Prince touched Duo's head. No warmth, just rum.
"Trowa, turn that off." Quatre pointed above the fireplace, that was all Duo knew.
Lilac and green memories.
Haunt you.
Keep them coming Honey...
Your beer awaits you...
"NO! DON'T DO THAT DAMNIT!" He shoot up, tail on fire.. tail on fire.. whiskers have been ripped off. Get the cheese. Maze.
Heero realized the behavior. "He's on drugs." The No-Named boy grabbed the Rat by the braid, pulling him towards the couch to stare into his soul. He wasn't surprised, his eyes were just openly shocked, that's all.
Silence. Click. No sip, but he wished there was.
Heero held him down, he didn't look up when he spoke to the Boy with Black Hair. "Go check his room Wufei." Pur with no gratitude, more annoyance. Orders are orders. He paused to get confirmation, leaning on the wall. Patience.
Heat. Heat. Heat. Need to get out. Duo struggled, fighting down Heero as much as he could. Trowa rushed to his side as Quatre watched, observing. They both held him down, the Boys with No Name. Duo's screaming arched the walls painfully but there was no pain, only drive. Rum. Rum. Rum. Music. Music. Music.
Don't glare at me boy.
Just because you're broken.
Doesn't mean a thing.
He kept at his perch on the wall, impatience grazing the tips of his knuckles, breaking the silence. "What am I looking for?" The Boy with Black Hair was still the same boy the Street Rat remembered. Still sane and relaxed.
Take a look at me Honey.
The sirens are mine..
They're never going to hurt you again..
I'll save you Honey..
Just watch my back.
I'll return for you.
"Powder." The Boy with No Name held him down by the wrist, his knees driving into the braided American's. His indigo eyes looked down into a sea of cobalt blue, no powder, just drive.
Duo's eyes laughed. "Pictures." Poker-faced style. He immediately calmed down, almost hysterically. Calm, eyes relaxed, laying there with no sense whatsoever.
Indigo eyes shot back. "What did you say?"
Duo began to chuckle. There were no drugs. there were no friends. there was music. and rum. and pictures. "Open the door, find out." His eyes rolled when they moved, drunkenly. The Desert Prince pitied the poor Street Rat on the floor, but he didn't help him out of the trap. There was just no cheese.
"Open the door." Click. Pur. Tension. No sip. Roll. Patience.
So he did. Pictures of the girl lay sprawled along the floors and trimmed the bed in a naughty fashion. The frames had been broken, but it was the pictures that they kept. Taken, printed, then framed. Every single one, like a murderer caught in his own act, like a Street Rat, stealing some cheese.
10:45 pm.
Don't glare at me boy.
Just because you're broken.
Doesn't mean a thing.
"It is too fucking early for this shit." Heero let go of the Street Rat. Spitting down a river of hate, friends did this to friends. Not to drunk Street Rats.
Silence. Pur. Click.
"He's under some type of influence." The Circus Clown let go of Duo's wrists with a jerk, looking down at him with daring eyes. Try me Street Rat, try me.
"Obviously." Wufei looked down on his perch, eyeing the pictures from outside. The doorway looked uninviting as they circled the prisoner. Guilty before even caught. It was America.
Quatre stepped out of the room, wielding a picture, date on the very bottom corner. The Desert Prince didn't shiver, quake nor tremble, he almost laughed. "It wasn't Hilde, but he did find her." He handed the picture over to Heero, almost disgusted, holding it in.
The Boy with No Name sneered, disgusted. "Who is she anyways?"
Sirens beckon you onward.
Continue your journey.
See that it fit.
Silence. Roll. Laughter. No click. No pur. No sip. Just tension.
Decisions, decisions. "We're tying him up. Wufei, grab the rope. Trowa, chair. Quatre, the music and the lights." Heero wanted this through and done, quick and fast, Poker-faced style. If Duo wanted to play a game, then a game he would play. They would dance.
10:51 am.
The Street Rat was tied to his own chair, with his own rope, in his own apartment, with his own lights shining down on him, and his own music. gone. All the shades in the house had been drawn, there was no light, besides the one above him. The sanity drove him up the walls now, he laughed and laughed and laughed, the Others surrounding him.
Perch. Stand. Command. Pity.
The Boy with Black Hair stood behind him (boredom), Circus Clown to his side (daring), the Desert Prince hidden in the corner (scared to move), an Indigo Eye-colored Boy standing before him (serious). Disgust.
Heero held the picture in the Street Rat's face mockingly, cocking his head left and right, laughing to himself. "So who is she Duo? She a Sally? A Dorothy? A Hilde? What kind of person is this girl?" The Boy with No Name looked around, letting another take his place.
But instead, Duo spoke up, willingly. "Cut the crap guys. Just get out." No one spoke, except Quatre that is.
"We're just trying to help Duo. We're trying to be good friends." Tension bit his fingernails. No one spoke for a long time.
Brown bit at platinum gold. Bite me Prince, bite me. "Too bad trying isn't good enough huh?"
Silence. No pur. No click. No sip. Just tension.
"Get out." His voice, biting at every single one of their asses mockingly, traitor. Drunk. Rum.
Breathing. Four second intervals, each one. The Street Rat and the Boy With Indigo Eyes at the same pace, racing silently. Almost full of lust, but missing the key ingredient of want. War.
Silence.
Trowa tossed his hair to the side, not cocking a brow, daring him. "Deal."
One by one, like a group of Rats they walked out. No cheese here, no use. Another Rat could bite himself out of those ropes. But only because they could, slowly but surely, they could.
Silence.
They left each of their scents on the walls, marking a trail on the carpet and the air. It made Duo sick, but he laughed regardless. An empty, Street Rat style laugh.
His music was off. His world was ending. His hands were tied.
Eighty-three seconds.
His music was playing. His rum, brandy and alcohol were delicious. His hands were occupied, handling different bottles as they met.
Five thousand four hundred eighty two seconds.
Take me back my Street Rat.
Let me take you back home.
Stop your dreaming.
Just stop and let me take you in.
His world was on hold. The Street Rat was asleep.
==
Author's Note: So tell me how you like it!! =) This one was a lot of fun to write, very entertaining to write people's emotions in a dark and cold room. =P. Also, another thing just for the record.. five thousand four hundred and eighty two seconds is one hour and thirty one minutes (and twenty two seconds). 1:31:02. Tried to make it more interesting.. Hehehe. (Again, tell me how I portrayed their parts.. better or worse than the Second Chapter.. dum de dum?) x3. Thanks! Please.. if you READ please REVIEW! (Eighty-three is 1:23.. right?) Next chapter will be up after reviews.