(Vampire Hell)
Chapter Two: Kawari no Ikikata
(Alternative Lifestyles)
A tall, slender, elegant woman, her brown hair tied up neatly. She held a leash in her hand. On the other end was a skinny poodle dog with fluffy white hair. No, that woman was poisoned. She had drugs and alcohol in her blood. That simply would not do. An older woman, plump and jolly. She was slow and fat, walking with a slight limp. No, she was too old. Not fresh and ripe like he wanted. A pretty young woman, a mother, pushing a carriage while her young boy followed behind, tapping on lamp posts and trash cans as he walked along.
The boy. Ah, the boy, so young and youthful and full of life. He would be perfect. His blood would be fresh and salty tasting, like a thick wine elixir. Not quite to the age of seven. Merely a young boy of six, his brown hair cropped short and his large blue eyes glistening with interest as he jogged along behind his mother. Perfect. So perfect.
The boy leaned against a blue convertible car, shielding his eyes from the harsh sun that shone down upon his fine, pale skin. He licked his lips viciously, anxious for the bitter-sweet taste that would soon fill his mouth and coat his throat. He walked through the road filled with heavy traffic, paying no mind to the cars that sped past just inches from his body. Upon coming to the sidewalk on the other side, the boy matched pace with the youth, keeping directly behind him, watching his every move out of the corner of his eyes.
The young boy stopped walking and bent down to pick up a shiny bottle cap that glittered in the sunlight, and that's when the boy made his move: he rushed foward and grabbed the child up, wrapping one arm around his tiny chest, and flew into a dark alleyway. No one on the street seemed to have noticed. The vampire had moved so quickly, like lightning, his movements had been unseen by the passers by.
The alleyway was cluttered with trash and empty boxes. The stench of a rancid pile of trash wafted into the young boy's nostrils suddenly, and he looked around, confused. Hadn't he just been out on the street, following behind his mother? He turned around, and a strange-looking boy hovered above him. He looked up at the boy who wore the dark sunglasses with an air of fascination. He'd never seen a boy who looked like that before. He was so pale and smooth, like marble skin, and his hair was a thick, dark brown mass that seemed to stick out from his skull. His mouth, so perfectly sculpted, looked cruel and twisted. It never moved.
The young boy walked closer, fascinated by the man's clothes. They were so clean and crisp. A black overcoat over a dark green shirt and black pants. He stared at the shoes. They were clean, too. And very shiny, very reflective.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, putting his index finger in his mouth.
The young man didn't move. He stared at the little boy like a statue, not caring to answer.
"Where's my mommy?" the boy tried asking, only to get the same response: a menacing stare and an unmoving face.
The older boy knelt down to the youth's height, still staring at him behind the dark sunglasses, and put his heavy hand on the frail shoulder. He pulled him slowly closer and lowered his face to the boy's. "Your mommy," the boy said in a threatening whisper, "can't help you now."
The boy was paralyzed with fear and he stared into space as the vampire lowered his mouth to the warm, healthy skin of his neck and began to suck viciously. He tried to cry out as he felt a sharp sticking in his throat, but no sound arose, only a slight grunt of discomfort. He pushed at the boy's chest, trying in a futile manner to get him away. He touched something cold and metallic and grabbed it tightly, pulling on it as if to sway the evil young man. The red glowing of the charm burned his hand and he dropped it quickly, staring at it, for there was nothing more he could do than stare. It was a silver cross, very old, with a dark, glowing jewel in the middle, a jewel that seemed to pulsate at a regular rhythm; the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The boy tried screaming for his mother once more before darkness shrouded his eyes and he fell limply into the vampire's arms. A moment later, the boy was gone, leaving only a shell of a six year old lying on the ground, shrivelled and sunken skin barely clinging to the thin bones that made up his frame.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dark, and he knew that the park would be deserted. The wind whistled in the tree leaves overhead, casting an eerie feel to his surroundings. The empty swings swayed with the wind and the boy tightened his coat at his neck. He walked past the large, curvy orange slide, stopping only a moment to stare at its emptiness. The fountain, the sandbox, the crude wooden playground, they were all deserted. On nights like this, he felt as if he were the only living human left on earth, and he cherished the feeling. He enjoyed being alone these days. He didn't care for the friendly ears willing to listen to him talk about his feelings. He hated it when the counselors at his school would call him in and ask if everything was okay. "It wasn't your fault," they would say to him. "Everyone dies, and it was just his time to die." They were all wrong. It was his fault, and it wasn't his time to die. He had allowed his own father to die, and now he was all alone, save for an older sister that was now his legal guardian.
The boy snorted in disgust as he kicked a rock down the sidewalk in the park. It scattered and clunked along the concrete, shattering the silence. His legal guardian. That girl was hardly a guardian. Every morning, he would wake up and go downstairs, only to find her sleeping nude on the couch with a naked man lying on the floor beside her, and that was on a good day. Most often, there would be people strewn from one end of the living room to the other, and the entire place reeked of spilled alcohol, vomit, and drugs. And every day, after school, he would come home and straighten up the house. He'd grab the bucket of bleach water and a washcloth and scrub up the vomit in and around the bathroom. He'd pick up the broken glass of the photographs that had fallen to the floor and busted. The photographs of his dead father and mother. He'd place all of the soiled needles into the trash can, and place the mirror and the rolling papers in the top drawer of the table next to the couch, along with any drug bags that still had remains in them. He'd throw away the empty beer bottles and take the dirty cups into the kitchen to wash, only to go through all of this the next day. How he tired of it. He was disgusted by his sister and her drunk lovers that would come over at night and snort at him, asking what the little boy was doing here. With each new man, his siter would have to explain the story, how their father died, and now she was his guardian, but don't worry, he's cool. He would never tell anyone. And he knew he couldn't. They would take him away if they knew.
The boy sat down on a tree stump and pulled his legs up to his chest. He wished he could die right then. Just fall over on the ground and sleep for an eternity. It would be so wonderful to forget the life he was being forced to live.
The wind whistled through the trees again, and the boy sat up, staring through the leaves at the pale moonlight that shone down. Then he noticed that the wind was whistling a tune. A very soothing, peaceful melody. He became confused and looked around the park, trying to locate the source of the sound. He knew the wind could never make music as wonderful as what he was hearing. He stood up and inched down the sidewalk warily, following the sound.
He passed the empty merry-go-round that circled around slowly as if possessed, and down the steep hill that sat adjacent. That's when he saw the figure sitting on the bench, one arm slung carelessly behind it. The moonlight shimmering off the wind-produced waves of the lake in front of the person's resting place cast it entirely in shadow. The whistling stopped a moment and the person raised an arm, lifting a glowing red tip to the face for a moment, and when it exhaled, smoke obscured the moonlight's reflection, and the whistling continued.
The boy gathered his courage, adjusting his coat even tighter on his neck, and approached the mysterious source of the whistling. He thought it strange that there was someone else out this late, and in the same place as he, no less.
As he came closer, he began to notice something swaying behind the figure. Some thick lock of something flowing as the wind blew. A braid. It was a braid flowing behind, and the boy was shocked to realize it must be a girl. But what was a girl doing out this late in a place like this? After all, this was not the best neighborhood to be alone in after dark. Who knows what could happen to an innocent young girl, all alone, sitting on a bench in the middle of a deserted park, no one around to hear her, were she to scream out. She could get raped, or murdered, or robbed.
The boy continued approaching as the whistling continued ahead of him. He was sure now that the girl was the source. It stopped momentarily as the glowing red cigarette was brought to her lips, and smoke exhaled as the whistling resumed. The boy was merely five feet from the bench now, but the girl didn't seem to notice. She continued whistling, whether she did notice or not.
The boy didn't know what to do or say. He stood silently, absorbing the enchanting melody. He could smell the cigarette smoke as the wind drifted it backwards, into his face. The whistling stopped and the boy stood motionless for an eternity, waiting for it to resume. "Are you going to sit down?" the figure asked, and the boy immediately noticed the pitch of the voice. It was not a girl's voice. It was far too deep, and even husky. It sounded like a loud whisper, though. Soft and sweet. Not at all threatening.
"I'm sorry," the boy said, emberrassed. "I just heard a whistling, and I was wondering where it was coming from. I didn't mean to disturb..."
"Have a seat," the boy interrupted, gesturing to the bench with the hand slung behind it. The boy complied, walking around and sitting close to the young man. He felt as if he'd sat down a bit too close, but feared sliding down, as the other boy may think it rude. So he kept his place, close enough that the boy's arm was almost wrapped around behind him.
The boy with the braid continued to stare out over the lake, seeming to absorb the moonlight. He wore a pair of reflective sunglasses, though it was probably far too dark to see anything through them, and he whisltled a few more strains before stopping and turning to the boy next to him.
The boy stared a moment, wondering why the other was wearing the sunglasses, but smirked in a friendly manner, nonetheless. "Are you new to the area?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap.
"Yep," the boy answered before raising the cigarette to his lips again, and exhaling smoke right into the other's face. "Sorry," he said, wafting the smoke away with his hand.
"That's alright," the boy said, shrugging. "I'm used to smoke."
The boy shrugged, still staring at him.
"I was just wondering if you were new here, because you look about my age, and I haven't seen you at school, so I thought..."
"Yeah, I'm new," the boy interrupted again.
"Well, my name's Quatre," he said, holding out his hand.
The boy stared at him a moment, but shook his hand, removing his arm from the bench behind Quatre. It felt like ice. Cold and smooth and soft.
"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Quatre asked, still holding the boy's hand. The boy loosened his grip noticeably, but still held it as he returned to looking at the lake.
"Do you really want to know my name?" the boy asked mysteriously, and Quatre wondered for a moment what he could mean by that.
"Well, yes. I mean, I told you mine, so..." the boy's words faded away as he waited for him to answer. There was silence, and they still held hands in the moonlight.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" the boy asked, putting the cigarette to his lips again.
"Are you going to tell me your name?" the boy asked, slightly impatient.
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
Quatre squeezed the boy's hand slightly. "What is it?"
"What is what?"
"Your name."
"What about it?"
Quatre knew he was toying with him now and he took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. No one had ever acted like this to him before. They'd always walked on eggshells around him, careful not to upset him. But this boy, he was doing all he could to get on his nerves.
"What's your name?" the boy asked, still holding his hands.
The boy turned to Quatre and smiled brilliantly. "Ah!" he said excitedly. "Now that's the question I've been waiting on!" he tightened his grip on Quatre's hand and gave it a quick shake. "Duo."
Quatre pulled his hand away from the icy grip and shoved it into his pocket to warm it. "Nice to meet you," he paused. "Finally," he said meekly.
The boy laughed outloud and patted him on the shoulder. "You too, finally."
"So, what are you doing out here this late?"
The boy turned to face him and smiled playfully. "I should
ask you the same question."
Quatre blushed and looked away. "I always come here at night," he said, shoving his free hand in his pocket and sinking down in the bench.
"Trouble at home, I suppose?" The boy flicked the cigarrette
out towards the lake and it flew in a
glowing red circle before landing on the white sand of the beach.
"You could say that..."
"Your sister got another boyfriend over at the house tonight?"
Quatre paled and stared at the boy a moment. How could he have known? "You could say that, too," he answered finally.
"I did."
"How did you know?"
The boy waved a dismissive hand in his face and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small red and white pack. He held it up inches from Quatre's face. "Cigarrette?"
The boy thought a moment. "Yes, they are."
Duo turned to him and smiled brilliantly, revealing perfect white teeth. "I should have known..." he said laughingly. "Would you like a cigarrette?" he corrected.
"No thank you," Quatre said, looking away. "They're bad for you. Besides, you're supposed to be eighteen to smoke. You shouldn't be doing it, either."
"Trust me, Quatre, I'm plenty old enough to smoke, and I don't worry about them effecting my health in the slightest."
Quatre raised an eyebrow in question. "Oh? How old are you? You don't look any older than me."
Duo chuckled a bit and rubbed his forehead. "I'm a lot older than you. A lot." He put a large amount of emphasis on the word "lot," and Quatre stared at him strangely.
Duo took off his sunglasses and stared at the boy. His eyes were a brilliant violet-gray that seemed to look into your very soul. They were kind eyes, soft and shiny, but there was something deep inside that was cold and dead. Perhaps it was just the moonlight's reflection... "How old do you think I am?"
"Sixteen," Quatre answered quickly. "Maybe seventeen?"
The boy shook his head quickly and smirked. "Way off."
Quatre suddenly became wary. This boy was strange. Not only was he telling him that he was much older than seventeen, he was sitting on a park bench in the middle of nowhere, smoking a cigarrette, whistling, and reading peoples' minds. Not to mention, he seemed to get a great amount of pleasure out of toying with him. "Okay," the boy said, gathering his courage. "How old are you, exactly?"
"Exactly?" the boy asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"Yes."
Duo seemed to think a moment, adding up the numbers in his head. "Do you have the time?" he finally asked.
Quatre looked down at his watch, pressing the internal light on. "Twelve thirty-five," he said, returning his gaze to the boy.
"I am..." the boy said, still staring off into space, "exactly twelve-hundred, thirty-six years, one-hundred twenty-five days, sixteen hours, and fourty-seven, no, wait, fourty-eight minutes old."
Quatre laughed nervously. "You're twelve hundred years old?"
"Twelve-hundred, thirty-six," Duo corrected cooly, placing the sunglasses back on his face.
"So, you're dead?" Quatre asked, scratching his head. Every instinct inside him told him to run, that this was dangerous and crazy, but something held him back. For some reason, he knew this boy would not hurt him. He was a bit crazy, yes, but not dangerous.
Duo frowned a bit and shrugged. "Not exactly," he said, stretching his arms above his head. "Dead people don't smoke. They don't move, they don't breath, they don't eat, and they don't have sex," he said laughingly. "I do."
"A twelve-hundred year old man who smokes in a deserted park at midnight and has sex," Quatre said sarcastically. "Now that's amazing. You must take your vitamins regular."
"Nope," Duo said, staring at the boy.
"How have you lived for so long?" Quatre asked with great sarcasm. This boy was just strange.
"Now, that," Duo said, pointing a finger directly at Quatre's nose, "I can't tell you."
"I thought so," Quatre said, smirking.
~~~~~~~~~~
Relena awoke to the loud creeking of the heavy metal door of the room. How long had she been asleep? Two young men stumbled into the room, drunk, and began kissing viciously and ripping each other's clothes off. Relena shrieked in terror. What kind of perverts would pay no mind to an innocent young girl laying on the bed in this room? The men stopped kissing and glared at the girl angrily. "Get out of here, bitch!" one of them screamed at her, and she sat staring, stupified.
"What are you staring at, you stupid cunt!?" the other screamed, removing his arms from around his lover and walking towards the bed. "Does Duo know you're in here?"
"This room is not for sleeping in!" the other screamed.
These boys were beginning to truly scare Relena and she got up from the bed slowly, backing away towards the door. "I'm sorry," she said shakily, straightening her skirt out of habit. "Duo brought me here, and I fell asleep. I didn't mean to..."
"Whaddaya know!" the blonde standing in the corner laughed.
"Duo finally brought a girl here!"
Relena stared at him strangely. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, still backing slowly toward the door. She felt the cold metal press against her back and reached behind her, searching for the handle.
The black haired boy standing over the bed crossed his arms at his chest and laughed at the girl. He was very attractive, with tan skin and brown eyes. "Usually it's a guy that Duo brings here to play with. I'm just surprised it's a girl this time," he said, still staring at the girl. Relena could tell he was getting impatient, wanting her to leave the two alone, but she ignored the fact for the moment, and dared to ask more questions.
"I still don't know what you mean, sir," she stated in as kind a manner as she could, using the "sir" out of pure kindness, rather than respect. "Play with?"
The blonde stared at the other boy. "Is she for real?" He looked pitifully at the girl. "Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast this morning, girl, or are you just naturally that dense?"
The girl furrowed her eyebrows and frowned at the young man. He certainly was being rude to her, and for no reason. She supposed that this was what she got when she came to a trashy place like this, then fell asleep on a worn down mattress in a cavern of a room.
"Man, she can't help it if she's dumb," the black haired boy said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Just speak slowly to her, and she may understand."
The blonde nodded and faced the girl, sneering down at her as if she were some nasty spider that should be squished underneath the heel of his black army boots. "Duo brings guys here to play with," he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "He brings them here, spends a few hours with the door locked, and then leaves. Sometimes the boys leave later, sometimes they don't."
The girl pulled her hand away. She despised being patronized, and these guys were really getting on her nerves. She could feel the rage inside her begin to build. And her thirst began to wake alongside it. She found herself thinking how their blood would taste. It had been so long since she'd fed. She was becoming weak, and she wondered if she could handle the two of them at once without being injured. "What happens to the boys who don't leave?" she asked, the answer not really mattering to her. She knew what happened to the boys who didn't leave. They probably had become his victims.
The blonde shrugged and pouted down at the little girl, "We don't know. A few of them are killed."
Relena tried her best to look surprised and scared, though she wasn't. Sometimes, she amazed herself, how well she could act innocent when truly she was building up her strength to attack and kill. "A few of them, we never see again," the blonde said, shrugging again. "It's all up to Duo, who lives and dies. That's why we call him the God of Death. He hates it though."
"Apparently," the dark haired boy said, his arms still crossed at his chest, "Duo likes you, otherwise, you'd be buried out back, behind the building.
Relena stared at them a moment, then a smile began to wake upon her lips and the boys stared at her strangely. "You idiots," she whispered loudly. The boys didn't move. "You think I'm stupid enough not to know this!? Do you know why Duo didn't kill me?"
The blonde laughed and put his hand on her shoulder. "Why, little girl? Why didn't he kill you?"
Relena made a growling sound in her throat and the boy jerked his hand away as if it had been shocked. He looked down at it, confused. It was red and burning, and it continued to burn, hotter and hotter, as if being eaten away by acid. He screamed in pain and grabbed his wrist, but the pain continued.
"He didn't kill me, little boy," she said, glaring at the two under the blonde bangs that fell into her eyes, "because I am one of his own!"
"What?" the dark haired boy said, backing away.
Relena screamed loudly and the lights in the room went out, leaving the three in total blackness. The two boys screamed in terror as Relena rushed foward, her sight completely unhindered by the darkness, for her power was at its peak. She could hear their frantic thoughts in her mind as she grabbed the blonde by his hair and scratched deep into his neck with her fingernails. Blood gushed out quickly and splattered onto her face as she lowered her mouth to the gash and began to feed hungrily. It felt so good, the thick, fresh blood coating her throat and filling her stomach. She could feel her entire body warm from the inside out, and when the boy finally died in her arms, she dropped his limp, shrunken body onto the floor and glared at the dark haired boy.
He was still screaming, yelling for help, stumbling helplessly over all of the piles of trash and falling down onto the bed. Relena walked slowly towards him as he flailed his arms violently for protection. "Somebody help me!" he screamed, but no one could hear. Relena knew now why Duo used this room to kill his victims. The walls and door were thick, and the loud music outside blocked out all sounds. There were no windows, and no light, and no way out. This was the ideal killing place.
Relena hovered over the boy, undetected, and he still screamed, frantically scared. She smiled to herself viciously. Blood pumped with adrenaline and fear. This would be even better than the other boy. She crawled onto the bed, breathing heavily. "Shhh..." she said soothingly, and the boy stopped screaming, attempting to find where the sound had come from, so close to his ear. "Don't be afraid, little boy."
"Leave me alone, you stupid bitch!" he said, swinging towards the source of the sound. He missed her by a great distance, and Relena laughed menacingly.
"This won't hurt at all, if you just relax," she said, rubbing his chest with her hand. The boy sat frozen, staring blankly into the darkness. He was so confused and afraid, he had lost all reason, and didn't know what to do. He let Relena rub his chest soothingly. She put a warm hand on his face and carressed his cheek. She twisted her slender fingers in his hair pulled his head back, revealing the entire length of his neck. The boy screamed again, and Relena slashed his neck with her fingernails. The scream ended in a sickening bubbling sound as blood rose from his mouth and Relena attached her mouth to the flowing blood, feeding hungrily. Oh, yes. This was so much better than the other boy's blood. Such a fast heartbeat, so full of fear and adrenaline. It was thick and luxurious and she basked in the feeling for longer than she ever had. She didn't want to ever stop, it felt so good, and finally, the boy lay dead in her arms, and she continued to feed, though the heart had stopped pumping blood into her mouth. She sucked violently, still trying to draw out the blood from the shrivelled corpse, and it was still so flavorful and marvelous. She savored every drop until he was entirely drained, with not a drop of blood left.
Relena stood up from the bed and licked the blood from underneath
her fingernails. She could feel how warm her body had become.
She was energized and refreshed and she knew that this feeding would last
her for at least a month as she wiped the blood from her face with the
faded gray bedspread.
"Shit," she said outloud as she looked down at her soiled garbs, soaked
in blood. "Now I'll have to get a new pair of clothes!" She
kicked the blonde laying on the floor, flipping his body over. She
smiled down at his dead body and stepped on his face hard, shattering his
skull with a sickening snapping of bones. The boy's brains squirted
out of the top of his head as the skull caved entirely in around her foot.
"Jerk," she said to his brains on the cement floor. "you should respect
your elders." She kicked him one last time before walking out the
door, leaving the two disgusting corpses lying on the floor and bed, and
blood coating the entire room.
Relena walked through the large, open room. The people were still there, warming their hands next to the fire burning in the barrels. No one seemed to notice, or even care that she was dripping with blood. She walked back the way she had followed Duo in, up the long, tiny corridor, decorated with graffiti and fencing, and pushed the heavy door open. It was dark and crisp outside, and she breathed in the fresh night air as she began to walk out of the alleyway, searching for a place to get a new pair of clothes.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you ever feel as if dying would be the easiest way out?" Quatre asked, staring out over the water. He and Duo had walked down to the lake, taking off their shoes and wading in the water. It was cold, and it made Quatre shiver, but Duo didn't seem to mind it. In fact, he had enjoyed it, as if he'd never done something so simple as this that could give him pleasure. Quatre was glad he'd suggested it.
Duo sighed and fell back into the white sand beach and interlocked his fingers on his chest. "To tell you the truth, Quatre, no. I don't."
"You never get mad about having to live a bad life?"
"I don't have a bad life," Duo whispered happily as he began counting the stars overhead. They were so small and so numerous, it made him feel tiny and insignificant. And alone.
"Oh," Quatre said, looking away. Duo seemed to be so happy all of the time. Could it be true that he had a good life? That he was never bothered by school or friends or insecurity, or any of the other things that challenge normal teenagers' stability?
"You do, though," Duo said off-handedly.
"Yes," Quatre answered, though he knew it had not been meant as a question. This boy could read every thought in his head. Duo knew more about him than he knew about himself. It was mysterious and strange, but comforting in a way. No one had ever been able to tell what he was truly feeling before.
"Dying," Duo said in a commanding tone, "is not the answer."
Quatre laid back on the sand next to Duo and turned to his side, watching the boy's face intently as he asked, "What is?"
Duo smiled knowingly and looked at Quatre, just inches from his face. The boy looked so innocent, with that platinum blonde hair and those baby blue eyes. No wonder everyone treated him the way they did. He could be easily mistaken for an angel, he was so beautiful. But Duo was not fooled, for he had a knowledge of these things. Quatre was far from innocent. He withheld secrets from the world that no one in their strangest dreams would dare to believe. Like, when he was seven, he'd played with his father's gun and killed a bird. He hadn't felt bad about it. Quite the contrary. He'd enjoyed it, and he later shot a dog, then a cat, and he'd often times set the sight on people from his apartment bedroom window. Of course, he'd never pulled the trigger, he was far too timid, but he'd wanted to. He'd dreamed of killing people, and he yearned for it. He'd done drugs before, as well. Stolen money from his sister and some of her many lovers and bought them on a dark street corner in a bad part of the city in the middle of the night. The man who'd sold it to him had come onto him and Quatre was disgusted, so he shot the man in the knee-cap then beat him up to the point of near death, and he'd enjoyed it. This boy was evil. Not pure evil, but defianately not right in the head.
"The answer is to live, Quatre."
"To live," Quatre said nostalgically. He knew what Duo meant. He meant, don't let the problems bother you. Live your life to the fullest, no matter how awful it becomes.
Duo snorted with laughter. "That's not what I meant, Quatre," he said, squinting his violet gray eyes at the boy. "I meant, live a different life than the one you have now. Only you have the ability to change the way things are going for you."
"Me?" Quatre asked, suddenly confused. Did he mean to just run away from his problems?
"No, Quatre, I don't mean run away. I mean to live a different life. It's like clearing the slate. You're still you, everyone else is still everyone else, but you've got an entirely different life, and in this life, there are no rules and regulations. There's just..." Duo shrugged, "freedom, I suppose."
Quatre snorted, disbelieving. "It sounds like a dream, to me. Is that the way your life is?"
"Just about, yeah!" Duo stated excitedly.
"Are you always stoned?"
Duo laughed again. "Only on the bad days," he said, rubbing his forehead and smiling.
The silence lengthened as they both stared at each other a moment, thinking. Quatre turned his gaze back to the stars above and watched their distant sparkling. Duo watched Quatre watch the stars and smiled. "Such a sweet little one," he thought to himself. "I wonder if he could handle it?" Quatre cleared his throat quickly. "How do I do that?" he asked, looking at Duo again. "How do I clear the slate and get a life so simple?"
Duo smiled to himself. The bait had been taken, now it was time to reel in the little fishy. "All you do," the boy said, standing up in the water and brushing his black pants off, "is follow me, but there is one condition."
"What?" Quatre asked, standing up in the water beside Duo.
"When we get where we are going, you have to remember to forget to be afraid. If you get scared, then I can't help you."
"Why not?" Quatre asked, totally intrigued, and he followed Duo up the beach, still trying to brush the sand out of his hair.
Duo stopped in his tracks and faced Quatre. "Now that," he said, pointing a finger directly at Quatre's nose, "is something I can't tell you."
Quatre smiled at the boy and pushed his finger away. "I
thought so."