by Kentra Shinataku
"Tell me."
It was so quiet. Way too quiet. He didn't like the way the wind was whispering through the crack in the window, taunting him for the words that he hadn't the courage to say. He knew what he felt, and it involved too many contrasting fragments of emotion to formulate into structured sentences.
Duo sighed, and Trowa knew without seeing that Duo's eyes were closed tightly with his forehead creased in that _way_, and his lips slightly parted. He had memorized the little things by now.
"Tro."
"I don't know."
Duo shifted his body, making the sheets graze his skin and each other with a little, unpleasant sound. Trowa saw how tense his shoulders were. The room was cold, and if Trowa touched Duo's back, he knew it would have felt like ice.
"I just want the truth, 'kay?"
His voice had that blunt line of agitation shredded through it, the specific edge that made Trowa feel that he was dragging a dull blade repeatedly over his wrist, and when the blood finally came, it would glisten a little on the sink like desolate rose petals. He didn't answer. He heard Duo breathe a slow, shaky, sigh through his nose, informing him that Duo had his eyes stretched open now, clear liquid residing, for those who cared to see, just in the crevices.
But Duo wouldn't cry. Duo didn't believe in tears; they couldn't solve anything.
"Don't know."
"Fuck, Tro. What's there to know? Can't you hear your own damn thoughts?"
Duo's right bicep tightened, obviously his hands tangled in his share of the sheets. There was a nice-sized bruise surfaced there that Trowa forced himself to ignore. His fingertips reached towards that skin with the intention to touch, but he pulled away before he could give Duo that sensation. Maybe the sensation was only for himself.
"Please. What do you want from me?"
"Duo..."
"What?!"
Duo was definitely irritated, trying harder to cage up his tears. He sniffed, accurately punctuating the sharp retort.
"Nothing."
Duo sighed, brushing the sheets away. He stood up and moved to the window, his feet abandoning their usual grace and pattering with dull thuds against the wooden floor.
"Sometimes I can't stand you, yanno."
Trowa knew he didn't mean it.
"Love you, too."
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