Basket Case
Chapter 3: Walking Alone
Earth and Hell blurred. He was in both.
He could definitely feel Hell. It's searing hot claws liquidating around his skin, drawing him into a world of steam and fire and warmth. It was sort of inviting, promising to melt away that awful pressure in his entire body that had been building since last night. It promised to take the foot away before it smashed the pop can. It promised to pull the cork out before the champagne bottle that was Duo cracked and burst. He welcomed it. After all, he was Shinigami and Hell was his domain. Wasn't it?
/Dammit! Dammit! Open!/
Duo wanted to quiet the pain in the voice. The intensity cut through his soul as that sharp feedback suddenly cut into his brainwaves. It began to fade again, like it always had. That voice only lived in his mind for less than half a minute then would leave on the note of sharp feedback. It was filled with cursing and desperation.
/Goddamit! He better not be drowning… I will kill you if you do, I swear! Please…/
It faded. Duo was left alone in silence to sit in the warm of Hell.
Trowa watched from kitchen, while his fingers dialed the hospital wing. Soap opera come to life. Tragedy unfolding. For some reason, he felt like someone should be holding a gun to Heero's head, like a farmer putting a lame horse down. The Heavyarms pilot stared with green eyes.
Heero was screaming. Not girlish by any standards; just a rough, jagged growl that had become louder and louder every time the door wouldn't open. Locked. The Japanese pilot had begun to kick at the steel door, grunting in pain every time his bare feet collided. His Prussian eyes never wavered. From the kitchen, Trowa could hear bones breaking somewhere in the screaming. Blood had begun leaking out on to the floor, but was instantly swept away by the steady stream of water pouring out.
Heero battered the door time and time again. The steel caved in, denting wildly as the lunges became more reckless and painful.
Trowa snapped back to the screen as a nurse picked up the call.
Heero slipped, screaming again. The pilot lost his footing on the slick floor and the rest of his body seized the opportunity to rest by collapsing. He allowed himself to slink to the floor. But once he began to realize that Duo couldn't swim, a well of motivation caused him to crawl on his hands and knees. Like an animal, he used the blunt of his shoulder to push against the door. The Japanese pilot never looked away.
Why was he like this? Wasn't the Perfect soldier trained to be void of emotions?
/He's acting like such a child… I didn't think that Duo's life was that much of an effect on him./
Before Trowa could even answer the nurse standing on the other end of the line, a bright light flooded the mostly dark room, along with a swell of water. The heavy door fell into the standing water and mist sprung up. Heero grunted and lifted his body up. He could feel his bones poking out his skin as well as a burning sensation slowly working up his body. The pilot scrambled to his feet and rushed in.
Even though his eyes were wide open, it was so blurry to Heero. He kept blinking and blinking but that blurriness returned. As the Japanese pilot came to the tub, he nearly was flung into it. In only a few feet, he'd gotten to top speed and now jolted against the tub. He looked down with panicky blue eyes. Blurriness.
His fellow pilot lay unconscious in the water, eyes closed peacefully and lips slightly parted. His face was flooded by unruly hair and his braid was unraveling into a spider web of wet hair. Heero's stomach lurched in disgust as the floating body slowly hit against the side flaccidly. His eyes blurred and a feeling as if he'd been stabbed and suffocated came up in his own chest. But the scary thing was that he felt nothing from Duo.
Nothing.
The Japanese pilot lunged forward and wrapped his arm's around that flushed red body. Heero grunted, pulling Duo out with water flying as he did so. The head of glistening hair lolled limply around, coming to rest as it hit his chest. More disgust, a welling feeling of panic. He rushed to lay Duo down, who still hadn't responded or at least grunted.
"Duo!" Heero screamed. A confused mixture of anger and fear drew his eyebrows down, narrowing them. "Open your fucking eyes!"
A pair of feet paused in the door way and Trowa flinched at the scene. Heero, shaking with panic and rage, kneeled over Duo, screaming at the limp and inactive face that had been smiling like an idiot jus t a half hour ago. And suddenly, Heero had grabbed the unconscious and not breathing Duo by the neck and was roughly shaking him, still screaming. "Damn it Duo, open your eyes! You can't fucking drown in a bathtub!"
By now, the redness that had flushed Duo's face and skin was fading and blueness was overcoming it. As those callused hands ripped into his flight suit collar, his head lolled backwards.
Trowa was getting sick. Watching this ball of drama burst was too much to just stand by. "Heero, that isn't going to help," Trowa said forcefully, with urgency clear in his voice. As the oddly banged pilot hurried in, he could see the muscles in Heero's back tense up.
That's when Heero spun around, still shaking the dying Duo, and the hard knuckles slashed across his chin. Trowa was caught off guard by this violent act and pulled himself up from the floor, fighting against the water current still flooding the apartment. As he vaguely brushed the blood from his lip, which had been cut on his teeth, he blinked in surprise at Heero's face. Heero was mad with panic, and a look similar to that of the Zero system, and there was… no, he never would cr-
"What do I do?!" Heero screamed.
"Heero, he's not breathing. You have to do CPR else he'll be dead in a few minutes," Trowa said calmly, trying to get Heero's head back for him. But his own fear was boiling up too; what if Duo had been not breathing too long?
The panicked pilot's entire body was heaving with each heavy breath. He stared into Trowa's green eyes for a second then stopped holding the dying Duo Maxwell by his collar. His training suddenly flooded him again and the blurriness in his eyes came again. Heero didn't even pause, hesitate, or think before he dove into Duo's bluish and lukewarm lips.
And suddenly, there was no more voice in his head. It had lingered in the back of his mind since yesterday, and now that buzzing presence disappeared. Slowly, as he breathed life back into Duo, he felt the limp body instantly jerk. A torrent of emotion broke into Heero, stirred in a jumble of out-of-focus memories and thoughts. The Japanese pilot recoiled as he could feel those alien feelings fill a void in him and simultaneously, draw a part of his soul out into the dying Duo.
/What the hell? /
/Heero… /
Heero's thin frame shook violently, suddenly. A draining force seemed to drink all the strength from his body. Blood poured from the self-inflicted wound off his lip as he separated from the groaning Duo, staggered back in the steaming water, then hit the wall and slumped unconscious there. Duo, however, recovered himself and sat breathing heavily through his soaping bangs. The American pilot stared at Trowa, bluish lips shaking. The sterile light of the bathroom glittered in his wide violet eyes and he exhaustedly blew a darkened strand of hair from his face. The pressure in his body was gone.
"Is this Hell?"
"Ow! …. Ow!…. Owowowow!" Duo growled, closing an eye. He jerked away as the concerned Quatre Winner checked his throat for anything wrong, since it was burnt reddish and Duo complained of it hurting. Every time he moved his fingers, a sharp sore screamed. "Careful, I think it's broken or something!"
"Maxwell, suck it up and take it like a man," Wufei commented. The Chinese pilot circled the sterile white room with his arms folded and katana glinting at his waist. After ignoring the raspberry Duo returned with, he closed his eyes and left.
As a concerned comrade, Quatre still darted his fingers around Duo's burned neck, checking for an injury. He kept his head titled back and started yelping again. The Arabic pilot finally recoiled his hands and Duo instantly began to rub at his sore throat.
"Gomen Duo," Quatre apologized, picking up a thermometer and poking it at his lip. The American rolled his eyes but lodged the cold metal under his tongue.
"Jeemzee, mhat's mold!"
The platinum blonde laughed. "I know it is. But just bear with us, okay?"
Duo grunted and pointed to the thermometer. With another laugh, Quatre pulled it out and inspected it. "Ya know," Duo said sarcastically, with a grin, "You'd make a wonderful mother one day, Quatre."
"Thanks… I think."
Quatre, still dotted with black grease from fixing up Sandrock, left the side of the hospital bed. He leaned over a large backpack beside the doorway and pulled out a blue glass jar and a tiny bottle of liquid.
The American shrugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders. As the Arabic pilot returned and sat down, he held up the items to see. "Rashid sent this for you. He was worried about you; we're all like sons to him."
Duo maneuvered the thermometer around his lips jauntily, looking up the glinting bottles. He narrowed his violet eyes then cagily drew one arm out of the blanket. "What is it?" he inquired, tapping at the blue jar. There were dozens of herb leaves all mashed together. "Quatre, it isn't pot, right?"
"No." Quatre took back the sculpted glass jar back and popped the wooden cork out. A wafting aroma near to fig newtons and dry dandelions tempted at their noses as it filled the room. "It's an old family remedy of mine."
"Well, it smells okay. And I'm supposed to…"
"Eat it," Quatre finished. As a cautious face came over Duo, the Arabic pilot leaned down and scooped up a bowl from the bedside table. "Like soup." He titled his head in a genuine smile. "It'll help your body cool down and just about anything else ailing you. You did have the water on maximum heat, you know Duo."
"Can you blame me? Hot baths put me right to sleep," Duo said.
The American folded his arms, his right eyebrow popping up as he watched Quatre's pale hands pour the dry, piney green leaves into the bowl, then pour the oily gold liquid into the mixture. It crackled like acid as it melted the herbs. "Rashid always would feed it to me when I would get lost in the desert. He'd find me sitting out in the sun and all red. I felt so awful, like I had sunburn that never would go away. But this always helped," Quatre said softly, offering the whitish-green soup out to Duo.
He accepted it warily, but welcomed the warmth it brought to his fingers. As he cupped it in his hands, Duo sniffed the soup then looked back to Quatre. He had the most innocent, glowing smile planted on his features, like he was offering his proudest work to a critic. Duo really didn't want to, but ended up downing the warm soup. It tasted like Alfredo sauce. It tasted… great!
"Thanks Quatre," he said between eager gulps.
"You're welcome."
"So," Duo squeaked out before once again taking a giant swallow of the delicious substance, "…How's Heero doing?" He licked the white soup dotted green from above his lip.
Quatre ran his fingers once through his platinum blonde hair, tossing it a bit. His big blue eyes locked with Duo with a more serious tone to them. "You really scared him Duo." There was a subtle graveness in his voice that was lost to him in the consuming of the soup.
"Yeah, I know," he said nonchalantly. His massive gulps were draining the bowl faster than a sink drain and he had a soup mustache around his lips.
"I'm serious Duo. I came in right after they had carried you to the hospital wing and saw Heero waking up. He panicked when he didn't see you there. He was really worried you were dead," Quatre said. "He even hit Trowa when he tried explaining to him. Twice. I'm concerned more about Heero now."
"He just volatile. I know, trust me," Duo said.
"Duo, the doctors are going to give him a sanity test. If he doesn't pass, they'll either send him to an institute or retrain him from square one all over again. And I agree with them. Something's wrong with him."
This made him pause. Duo rested the bowl in his lap and rubbed some soup off his face. "Oh yeah? Did you get this from your space heart?"
"Well… that's one of the reasons I'm troubled."
"Well what?" Duo rested his chin in his hand.
Quatre sighed and opened his grave blue eyes. "Well… I didn't get anything from Heero. My space heart read nothing. Like he just wasn't there."
Duo blinked, confused. He twisted up his face and asked, leaning forward, "Is it because he has to be in pain or something?"
"He was. He's in a room just down the hall, setting his shoulder back in place." Quatre shook his blonde head. "I knew he was there. I just didn't get any emotion out of him."
"So you finally realized that he doesn't have heart…"
Quatre was shocked and angered at the same time. "Duo, what are you saying? You're his best friend; you're the one who convinced us that he does."
A slurp. "I changed my mind."
"So you're never going to believe that he's human like the rest of us, whether he acknowledges it or not?"
"Yep."
"Are you going to stop trying to be friends?"
"No." Coldness.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Nothing alright!" Duo yelled.
"Heero is a kind boy, he's just buried under himself. Don't you want him to–"
"Listen, okay? I don't want to do anything to him. He isn't human, he doesn't have a heart, and even if he did, it's impossible to get down there, okay? And stop interrogating me."
Duo closed his eyes and a frown hinted at the corner of his lips. He brought the soup up to his lip and slurped loudly. Quatre sat on the sheets, next to his feet, and began to frown in both distress and exasperation. His blue eyes slowly narrowed.
Duo glanced his violet eyes over, still slurping the green-white soup. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," Quatre said, sighing. With a strange anger about him that Quatre never showed, he left the room without another word. For an odd reason, Duo was left with the impression that he was a stubborn husband and the angry wife was just walking away, silently, again.
The American sourly turned onto his side in the bed, still unreleased by the hospital wing to fight. Duo curled the blanket around his shoulders, dug his head into the pillow, sighed, and then lowered his eyes. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to mull over what he had said, and all he wanted was to forget…
/Heero does not have a heart… I'm pretty damn sure of that. Not after what he did…/
And, listening as he stood stealthily in the doorway, Heero Yuy wondered what that was.
----
Whoo! Finished! The end was all dialogue, man I never thought I could write actual talking like that. Go read the lyrics to the song Walking Alone. I pick these for a reason, ya know. THANK U for all the reviews! I never get that many and my little heart goes piterpater whenever I see one. Please tell me what you think, I"m actually putting some plot down, which I've never really done either. In unrelated news, Notebooks and Pencils and Sometimes Rules has more laundromat comic up!!! It is the cutest, funniest, sexiest english comic ever, and its 1x2!!! Go read it people, in fact go read any of Mr. Bear's Psycharist's stuff, its great. I'm such a plug... In more unrelated news, I finished my Higher video on VHS, which a yaoi gw video... It turned out greater than I expected, I have no way of knowing if I'm timing clips, and it still works even after all the film got twisted in the player and I had to rip it out. ^_^ Anyway, enough chat. R&R!
Come together like a foot in a shoe
Only this time I think I stuck my foot in my mouth.
Thinking out loud and acting in vain.
Knocking over anyone that stands in my way.
Sometimes I need to apologize.
Sometimes I need to admit that I ain't right.
Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut, or only say hello.
Sometimes I still feel I'm walking alone.
Walk on eggshells on my old stomping ground, yet there's really no one left, that's hanging around.
Isn't that another familiar face?
Too drunk to figure out they're fading away.
Chapter 3: Walking Alone
Earth and Hell blurred. He was in both.
He could definitely feel Hell. It's searing hot claws liquidating around his skin, drawing him into a world of steam and fire and warmth. It was sort of inviting, promising to melt away that awful pressure in his entire body that had been building since last night. It promised to take the foot away before it smashed the pop can. It promised to pull the cork out before the champagne bottle that was Duo cracked and burst. He welcomed it. After all, he was Shinigami and Hell was his domain. Wasn't it?
/Dammit! Dammit! Open!/
Duo wanted to quiet the pain in the voice. The intensity cut through his soul as that sharp feedback suddenly cut into his brainwaves. It began to fade again, like it always had. That voice only lived in his mind for less than half a minute then would leave on the note of sharp feedback. It was filled with cursing and desperation.
/Goddamit! He better not be drowning… I will kill you if you do, I swear! Please…/
It faded. Duo was left alone in silence to sit in the warm of Hell.
Trowa watched from kitchen, while his fingers dialed the hospital wing. Soap opera come to life. Tragedy unfolding. For some reason, he felt like someone should be holding a gun to Heero's head, like a farmer putting a lame horse down. The Heavyarms pilot stared with green eyes.
Heero was screaming. Not girlish by any standards; just a rough, jagged growl that had become louder and louder every time the door wouldn't open. Locked. The Japanese pilot had begun to kick at the steel door, grunting in pain every time his bare feet collided. His Prussian eyes never wavered. From the kitchen, Trowa could hear bones breaking somewhere in the screaming. Blood had begun leaking out on to the floor, but was instantly swept away by the steady stream of water pouring out.
Heero battered the door time and time again. The steel caved in, denting wildly as the lunges became more reckless and painful.
Trowa snapped back to the screen as a nurse picked up the call.
Heero slipped, screaming again. The pilot lost his footing on the slick floor and the rest of his body seized the opportunity to rest by collapsing. He allowed himself to slink to the floor. But once he began to realize that Duo couldn't swim, a well of motivation caused him to crawl on his hands and knees. Like an animal, he used the blunt of his shoulder to push against the door. The Japanese pilot never looked away.
Why was he like this? Wasn't the Perfect soldier trained to be void of emotions?
/He's acting like such a child… I didn't think that Duo's life was that much of an effect on him./
Before Trowa could even answer the nurse standing on the other end of the line, a bright light flooded the mostly dark room, along with a swell of water. The heavy door fell into the standing water and mist sprung up. Heero grunted and lifted his body up. He could feel his bones poking out his skin as well as a burning sensation slowly working up his body. The pilot scrambled to his feet and rushed in.
Even though his eyes were wide open, it was so blurry to Heero. He kept blinking and blinking but that blurriness returned. As the Japanese pilot came to the tub, he nearly was flung into it. In only a few feet, he'd gotten to top speed and now jolted against the tub. He looked down with panicky blue eyes. Blurriness.
His fellow pilot lay unconscious in the water, eyes closed peacefully and lips slightly parted. His face was flooded by unruly hair and his braid was unraveling into a spider web of wet hair. Heero's stomach lurched in disgust as the floating body slowly hit against the side flaccidly. His eyes blurred and a feeling as if he'd been stabbed and suffocated came up in his own chest. But the scary thing was that he felt nothing from Duo.
Nothing.
The Japanese pilot lunged forward and wrapped his arm's around that flushed red body. Heero grunted, pulling Duo out with water flying as he did so. The head of glistening hair lolled limply around, coming to rest as it hit his chest. More disgust, a welling feeling of panic. He rushed to lay Duo down, who still hadn't responded or at least grunted.
"Duo!" Heero screamed. A confused mixture of anger and fear drew his eyebrows down, narrowing them. "Open your fucking eyes!"
A pair of feet paused in the door way and Trowa flinched at the scene. Heero, shaking with panic and rage, kneeled over Duo, screaming at the limp and inactive face that had been smiling like an idiot jus t a half hour ago. And suddenly, Heero had grabbed the unconscious and not breathing Duo by the neck and was roughly shaking him, still screaming. "Damn it Duo, open your eyes! You can't fucking drown in a bathtub!"
By now, the redness that had flushed Duo's face and skin was fading and blueness was overcoming it. As those callused hands ripped into his flight suit collar, his head lolled backwards.
Trowa was getting sick. Watching this ball of drama burst was too much to just stand by. "Heero, that isn't going to help," Trowa said forcefully, with urgency clear in his voice. As the oddly banged pilot hurried in, he could see the muscles in Heero's back tense up.
That's when Heero spun around, still shaking the dying Duo, and the hard knuckles slashed across his chin. Trowa was caught off guard by this violent act and pulled himself up from the floor, fighting against the water current still flooding the apartment. As he vaguely brushed the blood from his lip, which had been cut on his teeth, he blinked in surprise at Heero's face. Heero was mad with panic, and a look similar to that of the Zero system, and there was… no, he never would cr-
"What do I do?!" Heero screamed.
"Heero, he's not breathing. You have to do CPR else he'll be dead in a few minutes," Trowa said calmly, trying to get Heero's head back for him. But his own fear was boiling up too; what if Duo had been not breathing too long?
The panicked pilot's entire body was heaving with each heavy breath. He stared into Trowa's green eyes for a second then stopped holding the dying Duo Maxwell by his collar. His training suddenly flooded him again and the blurriness in his eyes came again. Heero didn't even pause, hesitate, or think before he dove into Duo's bluish and lukewarm lips.
And suddenly, there was no more voice in his head. It had lingered in the back of his mind since yesterday, and now that buzzing presence disappeared. Slowly, as he breathed life back into Duo, he felt the limp body instantly jerk. A torrent of emotion broke into Heero, stirred in a jumble of out-of-focus memories and thoughts. The Japanese pilot recoiled as he could feel those alien feelings fill a void in him and simultaneously, draw a part of his soul out into the dying Duo.
/What the hell? /
/Heero… /
Heero's thin frame shook violently, suddenly. A draining force seemed to drink all the strength from his body. Blood poured from the self-inflicted wound off his lip as he separated from the groaning Duo, staggered back in the steaming water, then hit the wall and slumped unconscious there. Duo, however, recovered himself and sat breathing heavily through his soaping bangs. The American pilot stared at Trowa, bluish lips shaking. The sterile light of the bathroom glittered in his wide violet eyes and he exhaustedly blew a darkened strand of hair from his face. The pressure in his body was gone.
"Is this Hell?"
"Ow! …. Ow!…. Owowowow!" Duo growled, closing an eye. He jerked away as the concerned Quatre Winner checked his throat for anything wrong, since it was burnt reddish and Duo complained of it hurting. Every time he moved his fingers, a sharp sore screamed. "Careful, I think it's broken or something!"
"Maxwell, suck it up and take it like a man," Wufei commented. The Chinese pilot circled the sterile white room with his arms folded and katana glinting at his waist. After ignoring the raspberry Duo returned with, he closed his eyes and left.
As a concerned comrade, Quatre still darted his fingers around Duo's burned neck, checking for an injury. He kept his head titled back and started yelping again. The Arabic pilot finally recoiled his hands and Duo instantly began to rub at his sore throat.
"Gomen Duo," Quatre apologized, picking up a thermometer and poking it at his lip. The American rolled his eyes but lodged the cold metal under his tongue.
"Jeemzee, mhat's mold!"
The platinum blonde laughed. "I know it is. But just bear with us, okay?"
Duo grunted and pointed to the thermometer. With another laugh, Quatre pulled it out and inspected it. "Ya know," Duo said sarcastically, with a grin, "You'd make a wonderful mother one day, Quatre."
"Thanks… I think."
Quatre, still dotted with black grease from fixing up Sandrock, left the side of the hospital bed. He leaned over a large backpack beside the doorway and pulled out a blue glass jar and a tiny bottle of liquid.
The American shrugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders. As the Arabic pilot returned and sat down, he held up the items to see. "Rashid sent this for you. He was worried about you; we're all like sons to him."
Duo maneuvered the thermometer around his lips jauntily, looking up the glinting bottles. He narrowed his violet eyes then cagily drew one arm out of the blanket. "What is it?" he inquired, tapping at the blue jar. There were dozens of herb leaves all mashed together. "Quatre, it isn't pot, right?"
"No." Quatre took back the sculpted glass jar back and popped the wooden cork out. A wafting aroma near to fig newtons and dry dandelions tempted at their noses as it filled the room. "It's an old family remedy of mine."
"Well, it smells okay. And I'm supposed to…"
"Eat it," Quatre finished. As a cautious face came over Duo, the Arabic pilot leaned down and scooped up a bowl from the bedside table. "Like soup." He titled his head in a genuine smile. "It'll help your body cool down and just about anything else ailing you. You did have the water on maximum heat, you know Duo."
"Can you blame me? Hot baths put me right to sleep," Duo said.
The American folded his arms, his right eyebrow popping up as he watched Quatre's pale hands pour the dry, piney green leaves into the bowl, then pour the oily gold liquid into the mixture. It crackled like acid as it melted the herbs. "Rashid always would feed it to me when I would get lost in the desert. He'd find me sitting out in the sun and all red. I felt so awful, like I had sunburn that never would go away. But this always helped," Quatre said softly, offering the whitish-green soup out to Duo.
He accepted it warily, but welcomed the warmth it brought to his fingers. As he cupped it in his hands, Duo sniffed the soup then looked back to Quatre. He had the most innocent, glowing smile planted on his features, like he was offering his proudest work to a critic. Duo really didn't want to, but ended up downing the warm soup. It tasted like Alfredo sauce. It tasted… great!
"Thanks Quatre," he said between eager gulps.
"You're welcome."
"So," Duo squeaked out before once again taking a giant swallow of the delicious substance, "…How's Heero doing?" He licked the white soup dotted green from above his lip.
Quatre ran his fingers once through his platinum blonde hair, tossing it a bit. His big blue eyes locked with Duo with a more serious tone to them. "You really scared him Duo." There was a subtle graveness in his voice that was lost to him in the consuming of the soup.
"Yeah, I know," he said nonchalantly. His massive gulps were draining the bowl faster than a sink drain and he had a soup mustache around his lips.
"I'm serious Duo. I came in right after they had carried you to the hospital wing and saw Heero waking up. He panicked when he didn't see you there. He was really worried you were dead," Quatre said. "He even hit Trowa when he tried explaining to him. Twice. I'm concerned more about Heero now."
"He just volatile. I know, trust me," Duo said.
"Duo, the doctors are going to give him a sanity test. If he doesn't pass, they'll either send him to an institute or retrain him from square one all over again. And I agree with them. Something's wrong with him."
This made him pause. Duo rested the bowl in his lap and rubbed some soup off his face. "Oh yeah? Did you get this from your space heart?"
"Well… that's one of the reasons I'm troubled."
"Well what?" Duo rested his chin in his hand.
Quatre sighed and opened his grave blue eyes. "Well… I didn't get anything from Heero. My space heart read nothing. Like he just wasn't there."
Duo blinked, confused. He twisted up his face and asked, leaning forward, "Is it because he has to be in pain or something?"
"He was. He's in a room just down the hall, setting his shoulder back in place." Quatre shook his blonde head. "I knew he was there. I just didn't get any emotion out of him."
"So you finally realized that he doesn't have heart…"
Quatre was shocked and angered at the same time. "Duo, what are you saying? You're his best friend; you're the one who convinced us that he does."
A slurp. "I changed my mind."
"So you're never going to believe that he's human like the rest of us, whether he acknowledges it or not?"
"Yep."
"Are you going to stop trying to be friends?"
"No." Coldness.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Nothing alright!" Duo yelled.
"Heero is a kind boy, he's just buried under himself. Don't you want him to–"
"Listen, okay? I don't want to do anything to him. He isn't human, he doesn't have a heart, and even if he did, it's impossible to get down there, okay? And stop interrogating me."
Duo closed his eyes and a frown hinted at the corner of his lips. He brought the soup up to his lip and slurped loudly. Quatre sat on the sheets, next to his feet, and began to frown in both distress and exasperation. His blue eyes slowly narrowed.
Duo glanced his violet eyes over, still slurping the green-white soup. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," Quatre said, sighing. With a strange anger about him that Quatre never showed, he left the room without another word. For an odd reason, Duo was left with the impression that he was a stubborn husband and the angry wife was just walking away, silently, again.
The American sourly turned onto his side in the bed, still unreleased by the hospital wing to fight. Duo curled the blanket around his shoulders, dug his head into the pillow, sighed, and then lowered his eyes. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to mull over what he had said, and all he wanted was to forget…
/Heero does not have a heart… I'm pretty damn sure of that. Not after what he did…/
And, listening as he stood stealthily in the doorway, Heero Yuy wondered what that was.
----
Whoo! Finished! The end was all dialogue, man I never thought I could write actual talking like that. Go read the lyrics to the song Walking Alone. I pick these for a reason, ya know. THANK U for all the reviews! I never get that many and my little heart goes piterpater whenever I see one. Please tell me what you think, I"m actually putting some plot down, which I've never really done either. In unrelated news, Notebooks and Pencils and Sometimes Rules has more laundromat comic up!!! It is the cutest, funniest, sexiest english comic ever, and its 1x2!!! Go read it people, in fact go read any of Mr. Bear's Psycharist's stuff, its great. I'm such a plug... In more unrelated news, I finished my Higher video on VHS, which a yaoi gw video... It turned out greater than I expected, I have no way of knowing if I'm timing clips, and it still works even after all the film got twisted in the player and I had to rip it out. ^_^ Anyway, enough chat. R&R!
Come together like a foot in a shoe
Only this time I think I stuck my foot in my mouth.
Thinking out loud and acting in vain.
Knocking over anyone that stands in my way.
Sometimes I need to apologize.
Sometimes I need to admit that I ain't right.
Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut, or only say hello.
Sometimes I still feel I'm walking alone.
Walk on eggshells on my old stomping ground, yet there's really no one left, that's hanging around.
Isn't that another familiar face?
Too drunk to figure out they're fading away.