I don't know why
I'm bothering to go to this class. I've cut every other one so far. I pause to
consider this. Shucks, I guess I'll never get into Harvard now, will I?
Day 1: the methods
I file into class
with the rest of the pack laborers, once again situating myself in the back
with Heero. Mr. Chang enters the room shortly after. He doesn't have any
packets with him, but that doesn't mean anything. A guy like him, you don't
know what he might be hiding in his file cabinet. Or his closet. The vision of
him decked out in a full leather dominatrix ensemble, complete with heels and
whip, forces me to restrain myself from laughing again. Damn, never knew school
could be so amusing.
Heero
gives me a cursory glance. He's wearing all black today, too. Look mommy, I
think I found my soul mate!
Yes,
I'm aware of my patheticism. Thank-you for bringing it to my attention.
And
yes, I'm aware patheticism isn't a word.
Mr.
Chang clears his throat. I think he does it every time he's about to speak.
It's fucking annoying. Maybe I should try it.
"Today,
we will be discussing the ways in which people can die. Death can result from
almost anything, but there are some methods that we find more frightening than
others." He pauses melodramatically and looks around the room. "Would anyone
like to share what they think would be the worst way to die?"
"Choking."
It's a quiet statement, made right after Mr. Chang stops talking. The blonde
kid keeps going. I think his name is Quatre.
"I'm one of those
people who have difficulty swallowing. Sometimes I have nightmares where I'm
being choked by a scarf or some other material. Other times," his voice drops
in pitch, "there's something large being forced down my throat and I –"
I
guess he stops speaking because I start laughing. I know what he said is
disturbing to him, but I can't help it. Guess I used up all my self-control
earlier.
Mr.
Chang glares at me as I calm down. I meet his gaze unflinchingly with a little
smile on my face.
"Mr.
Maxwell, would you like to contribute?" he all but growls at me. Interesting.
So Mr. Smooth only goes so far.
I
cock my head and bring an index finger to my lips as if I'm some ditz mulling
over whether pink or red nail polish was best. His glare gets more intense.
Man, it's a good thing looks don't kill, 'cause by now I'd be cremated.
"Fire,"
I finally answer, nodding my head in emphasis.
"So
you think dying in a fire is the worst way to go?" He perches himself on his
desk. I know he's trying to get to me. "Care to elaborate?"
"Fire,"
I repeat calmly, "Because that way, you're already in hell before you even get
there."
Some
of the other kids laugh uneasily. Mr. Chang frowns and then continues with his
lesson. The one that I don't pay any attention to, because Heero is looking at
me with a smirk on his face. I bat my eyelashes, then laugh and smile back,
earning another glare from Mr. Stick-up-his-ass. Like I give a shit. Right now,
I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. Whenever I glance over at Heero, he turns
with that same slightly upturned mouth at me. I guess he must've liked what I
said. Gotta make a mental note to participate in class more often.
Soon
enough, the bell rings, and I head for the courtyard to light up a smoke. Yeah,
I know. It's a bad habit. I'm trying to quit. Really.
Before
I can take my second step outside, there's a tug on my braid. My hand reaches
for the pocketknife I keep handy inside my leather jacket, then stops as I meet
Heero's eyes.
"What
do you want?" I offer as a greeting.
He
smirks, that same smirk from class, only more pronounced. His hands reach for
my face as a cigarette and a lighter fall from mine.
"Do
you really want me to answer that?" he asks. It's the first time I've heard him
speak. His voice is low and husky, and his mouth is one inch away from mine. I
grin, realizing my words could be interpreted as a fairly open invitation.
"Never
did have a care for subtlety," I mutter before crushing my mouth to his. He takes
a step back from my assault, but I'm clingier than saran wrap when I wanna be.
Our tongues start dueling for dominance, and in the back of my mind I wonder
who'd end up on top. Then Heero starts to avidly explore my mouth and take
little nips at my lips. I decide to stop thinking for a moment. My hands are
tangled in his hair and his are tangled in my shirt. I gasp as a rough palm
brushes over a nipple, breaking the kiss. Good thing, too. I was about to pass
out from a lack of oxygen.
Heero
releases me. He's not even breathing hard. He gives me another tug on my hair
before walking off, leaving me panting and hard.
Well,
that was interesting.
That's
about all the coherent thought I can produce as I watch Heero's receding form.
I think we all know what class I'm attending tomorrow.
Day 2: the killers
I walk into class
two minutes early. Damn Heero. If I'm not careful, I might actually start doing
homework.
All
the other students trudge in. Heero enters last. He walks over and sits next to
me, in his regular seat, without sparing me a glance. He's only wearing a black
shirt today, over a pair of blue ripped jeans. Oh, well. My half-and-half
remark comes back into my mind. Heero's still ignoring me. I guess I have to
earn his attention all over again. And if I want a drink from the carton, I
better make it good.
Today
we're discussing the bringers of death. Everyone's rattling off about their
favorite mass murderers and ways to pull of the perfect crime. I can feel my
eyes drooping. I didn't sleep much last night, for some odd reason.
However,
a voice manages to snap me out of my reverie.
"Mr.
Maxwell?"
I
open my eyes and smile at the irate Mr. Chang before me. "Yes?" I say as
sweetly as possible. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Heero watching me.
Showtime.
"For
someone such as yourself, you seem to be finding today's topic uninteresting."
I
almost laugh at that. The guy thinks I'm a Satan worshipper because I happen to
have color sense.
"Don't
you have a killer you like to idolize?" he continues. What, is the fact that I
have a shrine to Charles Manson in my closet becoming too obvious?
I
shrug. Heero's still watching intently. "In my opinion, there's only one real
killer."
"What
do you mean?" Mr. Chang asks. I think he's waiting for me to make a crack or
something. Too bad he doesn't know I'm serious.
"Shinigami,"
I reply nonchalantly. "The God of Death. He's the one who decides if you really
go or not, if the murder will come off without a hitch or if the victim
survives. He's the one who chooses. These other 'killers' are just tools he can
employ. He's the cutter of the string, and we can just serve as scissors." I
stop myself before I start gesticulating to make my point any clearer.
The
rest of the class is silent. Even Mr. Chang seems a bit put off. In fact, the
only person who's not, other than me, is Heero. He's smirking at me again. I
give myself a mental pat on the back. Who knew learning could be so much fun.
The
bell rings, and I dash from the room to the spot where we met last time. He's
coming. I'm sure of it.
Yep.
There's that tug at the braid again. And you all had your doubts.
"Hey,"
I smile.
Heero
just grabs me and sticks his tongue in my mouth. I'm not complaining. Making
out beats talking any day. Just ask your neighborhood cheerleading squad. Trust
me, there's a reason they all sound alike.
Heero's
pushing in deeper now. Remind me to thank God later for not making me suffer
with Quatre's affliction.
I
break away, and take in some air. I also place a hand on Heero's arm, in a
feeble attempt to stop him from leaving if he wanted to. He's not. He's just
standing there, staring at me as I catch my breath.
I
rest my forehead against his chest. He's about three inches taller than me, and
a helluva lot stronger.
"Ready
to move on?" he asks.
I'm
pretty sure I know what he means. You'd think my hard-on would be enough of an
answer. Still, the guy deserves some advice before we start.
"I
gotta give you a standard warning," I say, slightly muffled by his shirt.
" I'm pretty messed up, you know,
and you probably don't wanna get tangled up with someone like me."
"Who
said I was going to get tangled?"
Right
to the point, I see.
I
don't look at him. "Quick romp in the hay, then?" I ask lightly.
He
doesn't say anything for a while.
"Maybe,"
he finally answers. "And maybe if you're as messed up as I am, we'll get
tangled up in each other."
I
give him a wicked grin. "Well then," I whisper. "Let's go find someplace
private."
I
pull him along, inside the building and into the equipment room. It's sturdy,
with a lock on the inside, and virtually soundproof.
His
hands are already tugging down the zipper of my pants. I have a fleeting
thought that I never expected my first time to be in a walk-in closet filed
with tennis racquets, but I push it aside.
Yes,
ladies and gentlemen, for all my sexual innuendos, I, Duo Maxwell, am a virgin.
Make
that was.
I
think somewhere along the line Heero must've realized it. He didn't say
anything, though.
But
afterwards he gave me a hug and helped me fix my hair before he left.
He
ended up on top, in case you were wondering. Can't say I minded.
Day 3: the victims
Today
we talked about the victims of death. Well, I should say they talked about the
victims of death. I just stared blankly out the window. I didn't want to say
anything. Heero watched me the whole time. I guess I don't have to make an
intelligent remark in class anymore to get him to notice me. When the bell
rang, he just told me to meet him in the courtyard later.
So
here I am. I've been here for a couple of hours. Must've miscalculated when
later was. I feel a tug on my braid and move back into Heero's waiting arms.
It's dusk, almost evening. We're the only ones out here. I wonder if he wants a
repeat performance from yesterday. I'm still sorta sore. It's a good thing I
only decided to sit through one class today. Oh, wait. I do that everyday.
Silly me.
Heero
sits down and leans against a tree, pulling me to sit and lean against him.
It's a nice arrangement. It's also weird. I didn't think Heero was the casual
touching kind of guy. Casual sex, yeah, but that's different. The silence
starts to get annoying. You know me, can't bear to be quiet for long.
"So
what's your last name?" I ask conversationally. An odd question to pose the guy
you fucked the day before.
Heero
starts to chuckle softly. It sounds eerie coming from him.
"Yuy,"
he whispers into my ear. "Heero Yuy."
"Mine's
Duo Maxwell, but you probably know that already, courtesy of Mr. Chang." I give
a sly grin at the mention of his name. For all my complaining, I actually like
him a little.
On
impulse I turn around and offer Heero my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Heero
takes my hand in his, and then doesn't let go. Okay. We're back to the silence
and casual touching. I start to get fidgety. I don't know why he wanted to meet
me, or what he plans on doing. And I don't like what I don't know.
"You're
the Duo Maxwell from New York, aren't you?" he asks. He says it as if he
already knows the answer.
I
narrow my eyes. Ah, the reason behind this little tryst becomes all too clear.
Damn, I was hoping that by moving to L.A. I'd leave all that behind. Guess I
was wrong.
New
York. I lived in an orphanage in New York. It was pretty sweet deal. They fed
you, kept you warm.
There'd
been a fire. The place burned down. Everyone inside died. I wasn't inside. Got
a little too warm for me.
Heero's
waiting for me to say something. "So did you?" he asks, picking up my braid and
twirling it around his fingers.
He
certainly is talkative tonight.
"Did
I what?" I reply dully. I know what he means. I'm just dragging this out for my
own masochistic pleasures.
"Did
you start the fire?"
I
turn my head to face him. His mouth is pulled into a half-smile and he seems to
be enjoying this.
I
try to think of what I should say. Helen's voice comes into my mind. She was
the one who took care of me back then. She once told me that the worst crime of
all was lying. If you committed every other sin in the book, as long as you
were brave enough to admit to them, God would forgive you.
Not
that I believe in any god except Shinigami.
Another
voice overrides hers, the one of my old pal Solo. He took care of me before
Helen came along. I remember him telling me that it didn't matter how broken you
were on the inside, it was how visible the cracks were on the outside that
counted.
I
decide on a compromise between my two late beneficiaries.
I
move my mouth a breath away from Heero's and smile sweetly at him.
"Yes,"
I answer simply, and then stand up, stretching.
This
time I'm the one who walks away.
Day 4: the spectators
I'm back in
philosophy for the fifth day in arrow. This is becoming fucking habitual.
Today's
topic is witnesses to death. Some students telling some stories of watching a
relative kick the bucket. Boring. I spend my time looking at Heero's empty
seat. He's not here today.
Mr.
Chang doesn't bother me. I guess he's afraid of what I might say. I leave the
class feeling empty. I just wasted forty minutes of my precious life.
Oh,
get over yourself. Like your life's any better.
I
round the corner and head for the tree outside. I feel a sharp tug on my braid
and turn around, expecting Heero. Not expecting to have three guys leering at
me. I think they're from my English class. Another reason to pick Philosophy.
"We've missed you," says the tallest. I try
to remember his name. Alex. He's got about a foot on me.
The two smaller
friends snicker intelligently behind his back. I eye the yard. It's empty.
Everyone's gone home. Duo Maxwell, you are officially knee deep in shit.
He's
fingering my braid.
"Fuck
off!" I snarl, twisting out of his grasp. I start running, feet hitting the
slippery gravel, hand searching frantically for my knife. As long as I have the
knife I'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen.
I
trip, and watch as my one hope of getting out of this mess flies through the
air. I think that's when reason leaves me and the fear sets in.
Alex
approaches.
"Now,
you better play nice," he purrs, straddling my hips. His two goons are holding
down my arms and legs. I struggle, but nothing happens. I'm trapped. All the
music I've ever heard playing in a scary movie is starting to resonate through
my head.
A
piece of glass from the pavement is digging into my back. Alex leans over,
about to kiss me, and I spit in his face. He sits back and wipes it from his
eye.
"Well,
I see you've decided to be naughty," he says airily. He motions to his pals.
They turn me over. The piece of glass is now cutting into my side. I can feel
the blood slowly trickling out.
It's
getting cold. I focus on the glass; it's sharp edges as it punctures my skin.
Don't cry. Don't scream. Don't let the cracks show. That's what they want you
to do. It'll be over soon.
Too
bad I can't tell there are already tears streaming down my face. I might have
saved myself the effort.
It
starts to hurt too much; it gets too hard to focus. The pounding in my head
won't cease. I slide outside, into an endless blue sea where I can't feel a
thing. Just float, weightless and numb.
Just
float.
That's
not me over there, sprawled on the ground. That's not my blood forming a tiny
river. Those aren't my tears; I never cry. I'm over here. That's not me.
I'm
floating.
I
think I'm still crying, though.
It's
dark by the time they leave. Somewhere I can hear a scream as someone finds me.
I think it's that blonde kid. Life's ironic, ain't it?
Somebody
picks me up, and I feel a prick on my arm as I'm injected with something.
I
think I start laughing as I pass out.
Day 5: the afterlife
I woke up the next
morning. It was Saturday. I decided to go to sleep again.
It's
Monday now. I'm making my way to Philosophy. Told ya I was getting to be a
creature of habit.
They
let me out of the hospital yesterday. I've got a bandage around my waist.
That's about it. No one came to visit me except some people with
questions. I didn't answer any of them.
Guess I was feeling uncooperative at the time.
I
enter the class and everyone stares at me. Talk about déjà vu. Except this time
the quiet boy in the back is staring right along with them.
I
go to sit next to him. He smiles, then looks away. There's a lighter on my
desk. I think it's the one I dropped when he first kissed me.
They're
talking about life after death. Heaven, hell, reincarnation, and all that crap.
I stay quiet, touching the lighter and moving around in my seat whenever
sitting in one position hurt too much.
Mr.
Chang is about to call on me.
I
open my mouth in retaliation, but whatever I was going to say goes unheard as a
piercing scream echoes from the hallway.
Everyone runs to
investigate. I follow at a milder pace with Heero.
The
screams seem to be coming from in front of the equipment room. I can smell
smoke. Students and teachers are running around frantically.
"Alex!"
I
turn to see a sobbing girl lunge herself at Mr. Barton, my English teacher.
"Alex,
Danny, and Joey are in there!" she cries, pointing at the door of the small
room. I can hear muffled thumps as someone inside tries to get out. The
teachers try to pry it open, but to no avail.
The
smoke's getting thicker. The wail of sirens is approaching. I look at Heero in
disbelief. He smirks at me. I look at the lighter still in my hand.
I
walk outside as we're being evacuated. The entire school is in chaos. As soon
as we're out, I start laughing. No one notices in all the commotion. Heero just
waits for me to finish, then takes the lighter from me, lights up a cigarette,
and puts it in his pocket.
"So
where do you want to move to now?" he asks, placing a hand on my shoulder and
taking a puff.
I
put my arm around his waist. "I hear Texas is nice this time of year. And I
could go for some steak."
I
take the cigarette from his mouth and flick it onto the ground.
"Bad
habit, Heero," I admonish. Heero just pulls me closer.
I
watch for a moment as the embers slowly consume the blades of grass surrounding
it.
My
arm around Heero tightens and we walk away together.
OWARI
Author's
note:
Yay! Here's where I get to ramble! Okay, I know that was
weird. Most of my stuff usually is. Anyway, I'd like to say that I do not
dislike Wufei. In fact, one of my friends is in love with the guy, so I'd like
for people to remember that this is written in Duo's POV and Duo would probably
feel that way about any teacher or authority figure in this case.
Also,
even though Duo's not exactly the model student here, he's not stupid. In fact,
he's a little too smart for his own good. And I wasn't making fun of Quatre.
Mostly. All things considered, he's one of my favorite characters. After Duo
and Heero.
As
for the whole pyromania thing, I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.