Involves poetry, but it's not really a poem! Very short...
warnings: blood. angst. tears (?)
//...// is thoughts
this is poetry
Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam W.
Bandai and the Sotsu Agency do.
I'm a poor highschool student; no $.
***
"Duo, you never seem to focus on anything anymore. Not the mission. . .not me. I don't know if I can be with you like this, I--" Heero hung his head in defeat. The poem Duo had been working on lay unfinished.
"You love your words-- your pen and paper more than you love me. . ." Heero's voice was laden with heaviness and long-suffering. "I can't stay here, not if something doesn't change."
Duo was in shock. He had to admit that his writing did take up a lot of his time, but. . .//aha, he leaves. . .and you are left alone to grieve. have we seen this 'ere before? watch him as he leaves you--toss your heart upon the floor, // Duo's demon's recited. Poetic thoughts. There was something wrong about that.
Heero grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. He snatched his car keys from the kitchen counter.
"Heero, where--?" Duo was cut off by the lightning that suddenly struck outside. He cowered away.
"I'm staying with Trowa and Quatre tonight, I need to clear my head and think. I need to get away. . ." Heero said calmly. He exited their apartment, and Duo only stood, dumbfounded. Hurt. Confused. Scared. He wanted to scream-- to run, sobbing outside to Heero-- beg him to stay. Instead he was cursed with only the ability to mutely scribble his torment onto response less paper. He moved robotically back to his personal stationery, so crisp and clean, so sharp--
He cut himself. A long, narrow paper cut. Duo watched with morbid fascination as the blood creeped belatedly down his arm. He raised his pen as the first drops fell to the page.
Blood.
Watching as it
trickles into the crevices of my
skin.
he wrote. splat! more blood.
Pain. Of this I am aware,
if uncomprehending.
The blood from which this
Pain stems.
He reached to touch the edge of the stationery again.
Thirsty and primal.
He brought the cut to his lips.
its metallic taste permeates
my tongue.
Red and beautiful (as he)
it pools about the cut.
Duo had passed out.
***
//Ha. I dream poetry too. . .// Duo thought as he opened his eyes slowly. . . and came face to face with poetry incarnate. Heero sobbed soundlessly, motionlessly over him. Wild hair against bleached white. //Heaven? No, he's crying.//
"You're alive. Baka! Don't ever do that to me again," Heero now embraced him fiercely, wrapping his hand possessively around Duo's braid.
"Never, koi. Not ever again."
This pain that I inflict,
and the blood which is
my own.
***
owari.
comments? criticism? anything at all would be welcome.