I had just got done putting the finishing touches on myself for the day.
Tight black jeans, dark purple muscle shirt, and my old black suede jacket,
with my combat boots, braided hair, kohl around my eyes, and even lipgloss.
Oh. And the knife up my sleeve. Let's not forget that.
Heh. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. Simple yet elegant, is what I always say. I blew a kiss to my reflection, cast a withering glare at my schoolbooks, and swept out the door of my bedroom to go meet the guys.
I swayed out into the main living area, where my father was sitting in the only decent piece of furniture we - excuse me, HE - owned, an old but not yet beat up recliner. He was flipping through a porn magazine. I was hoping he'd be too interested in that to notice me, but, alas, I'm not that lucky. I was halfway to the door when he spoke up.
"Fuckin' pansy. Where you goin'?"
I didn't stop. Just kept heading straight for the door.
"No where you care about." I threw over my shoulder.
Suddenly, he was right in front of me. Damn, he is fast. I have no idea how he does it, but he used to brag how he was in the Army, or Navy, or some other shit story like that. Like Ithat's/I gonna' make a person damn fast. Yeah right.
Anyway, I glared at him as he was blocking my way. He was sizing me up and down, some bastard mix of a smirk and a sneer spread across his ugly face. He planted his fists on his hips, his gross expression growing even wider, even as I glared daggers straight into his face.
"Gonna' go fuck your little boyfriend?" he taunted.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as well as the urge to cross my arms over my chest, both of which I knew he would perceive as a sign of my weakness, as deference to him.
"Yeah." I let a grin start to spread across my lips. "What do you care? Afraid your little boy is all growed up too soon?" I did let a definite mocking tone edge into my voice.
His expression turned into a scowl, and he raised a hand, as if he was gonna' hit me. But he just held it there, as if he was undecided.
I raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't move.
"Get your fuckin' ass outa' here, fuckin' faggot of a son." He turned and sorta' swaggered back to the chair and his magazine. "I'd be damned lucky if you didn't make it back tonight," he muttered. Finally, I did roll my eyes, and continued on my way out of the apartment. I must admit I was surprised that he didn't hit me, he'd never waited like that before.
Heh. Must have charmed the shit out of him. Yeah, right.
I wish our apartment had stairs. I mean, yeah, the building has stairs, but we're dirt-cheap poor and live on the first floor. So it sorta' defeats the purpose to climb the stairs if you have to go back down anyway, if all you want to do is make some stupid grand appearance that no one's gonna' see anyway. Still, I wanted to make that stupid grand appearance at the top of some steps, just to help me forget my father. Gawd, I hated him. So why didn't I leave? No where else to go. None of the guys either want me around or have room for me around. Nope, not even with Heero. Hell, I don't even know if he really loves me, or if he just says that so he can screw me. Not that I wouldn't screw him anyway. Heh.
Yeah, if you haven't figured it out yet, I am gay. Oh, and the name's Duo. Duo Maxwell.
Oh. And the knife up my sleeve. Let's not forget that.
Heh. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. Simple yet elegant, is what I always say. I blew a kiss to my reflection, cast a withering glare at my schoolbooks, and swept out the door of my bedroom to go meet the guys.
I swayed out into the main living area, where my father was sitting in the only decent piece of furniture we - excuse me, HE - owned, an old but not yet beat up recliner. He was flipping through a porn magazine. I was hoping he'd be too interested in that to notice me, but, alas, I'm not that lucky. I was halfway to the door when he spoke up.
"Fuckin' pansy. Where you goin'?"
I didn't stop. Just kept heading straight for the door.
"No where you care about." I threw over my shoulder.
Suddenly, he was right in front of me. Damn, he is fast. I have no idea how he does it, but he used to brag how he was in the Army, or Navy, or some other shit story like that. Like Ithat's/I gonna' make a person damn fast. Yeah right.
Anyway, I glared at him as he was blocking my way. He was sizing me up and down, some bastard mix of a smirk and a sneer spread across his ugly face. He planted his fists on his hips, his gross expression growing even wider, even as I glared daggers straight into his face.
"Gonna' go fuck your little boyfriend?" he taunted.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as well as the urge to cross my arms over my chest, both of which I knew he would perceive as a sign of my weakness, as deference to him.
"Yeah." I let a grin start to spread across my lips. "What do you care? Afraid your little boy is all growed up too soon?" I did let a definite mocking tone edge into my voice.
His expression turned into a scowl, and he raised a hand, as if he was gonna' hit me. But he just held it there, as if he was undecided.
I raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't move.
"Get your fuckin' ass outa' here, fuckin' faggot of a son." He turned and sorta' swaggered back to the chair and his magazine. "I'd be damned lucky if you didn't make it back tonight," he muttered. Finally, I did roll my eyes, and continued on my way out of the apartment. I must admit I was surprised that he didn't hit me, he'd never waited like that before.
Heh. Must have charmed the shit out of him. Yeah, right.
I wish our apartment had stairs. I mean, yeah, the building has stairs, but we're dirt-cheap poor and live on the first floor. So it sorta' defeats the purpose to climb the stairs if you have to go back down anyway, if all you want to do is make some stupid grand appearance that no one's gonna' see anyway. Still, I wanted to make that stupid grand appearance at the top of some steps, just to help me forget my father. Gawd, I hated him. So why didn't I leave? No where else to go. None of the guys either want me around or have room for me around. Nope, not even with Heero. Hell, I don't even know if he really loves me, or if he just says that so he can screw me. Not that I wouldn't screw him anyway. Heh.
Yeah, if you haven't figured it out yet, I am gay. Oh, and the name's Duo. Duo Maxwell.