His Biggest Mistake
A.N: I would like to thank you all for the oodles of good reviews. I FEEL LOVED! Yes, to all of you asking the question, Heero did shoot poor Duo. I was as shocked that I had the dirty, dirty mind to write so and I am feeling very crappy towards myself. I am a Duo Otaku. Bwhahaha!!!!~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~
Disclaimer: The G-Boys are not mine. I don't know how many people write that. It's so fricken simple. Like I don't want any of them....except for Duo. Hehe...So what if I have a motive?~~~~
~~~*~~~ AT the Gunpoint Chapter 2- His Biggest Mistake ~~~*~~~
BANG
The shot rang out through the quiet night air of the safe house, rattling the trees outside as a million birds flew off at the startling sound.
Heero Yuy stood frozen in his spot, his small handgun still poised in the air. His mind was impossibly rattled and foggy, he looked nervously about his destroyed room.
What had just happened? He didn't remember anything. His brain was going crazy. And his gun, why was it out of its holster? It would only be a matter of time before the three other pilots would ascend the stairs to investigate the noise.
That's when the blue-eyed wing pilot looked to the ground.
"Heer..." Duo sputtered weakly as he crumpled further to the floor. Suddenly, it all came back to him. Heero knew just what had happened, in seeing his friend there. And what a horrible sight it was.
His mind had been hopelessly shrouded with anger and misconception at the Deathscythe pilot that he let his body do all the work.
Sorry, not work. Physical damage.
The braided boy coughed as pints of crimson liquid emerged from his lips and spilled steadily onto the hardwood floor. Duo's hand clutched at his stomach where more blood trickled through his fingertips.
In truth, Heero never would have dreamed of hurting his violet-eyed love interest.
But right now, the minutes seemed to antagonize him by moving so slowly. Heero dropped to his knees by the dying boy.
Duo was growing pale, his naturally tan skin, a deathly white. He forced his eyes to the Japanese boy, sitting in the pool of American blood. The vivid purple optics no longer shone with the spark of life that had been Duo. Instead they were dull and plagued with thousands of questions and feelings. He mustered up his shortening courage to speak.
"Why Heer...o" he croaked helplessly. Heero was on the verge of tears, and just couldn't find it in himself to speak.
There was no excuse for what he had done, and there was no way to help Duo now. He couldn't be saved. All he could do, and all he wanted to do, was to stay with him. To be with Duo during the last moments of his life. To do anything for him.
Heero grabbed the boys T-shirt and yanked him into his arms. Duo flinched in pain as he was forcibly moved. He clutched Heero's green tank top with his free hand and buried his face in the Wing pilots' shoulder.
Hero noticed just how much colder his poor Duo had gotten. The last of the heat escaped from the other boy's body in those red droplets.
"I am...so sorry Duo" he whimpered into Duo's long chestnut locks. They had fallen ruthlessly out of their braided keep.
Duo looked up at the Japanese boy and smiled. A smile that was so horrific and terrifyingly mournful, Heero almost had the urge to cover Duo's mouth.
Blood stained the corners of his lips and his eyes did not curl up in glee. They just, stayed limp, like deep violet pools, dark and lonely.
"Kiss me?" The braided boy asked quietly. "J...,"coughing. More and more coughing. "Just this once Heero...b...before I go. Please? I just love you Heer...o" Duo retched up more blood, and it spilled out over his chin. Despite all that, Heero obliged.
Softly he brought his lips down over Duo's. One last kiss. Duo's first and last kiss. And it tasted like hell.
Every sadness now weighed upon Heero. The full heaviness of everything in the world and more came crashing down. The blood was fresh and steely on his mouth. The frozen feeling of death overtook his breath, all the way to his heart, and there it pierced him.
Duo was giving the last of his energy to kiss him back. Heero could feel him pull himself up, only to fall back down again. And after moments of struggling, the lips beneath his became rigid. The body in his arms slouched, limp. The tight grip on him lightened as the other mouth fell lifelessly away from the other.
Heero laid the body that was Duo, back onto the floor. It was all over. For Duo anyway. The Deathscythe Pilot had to deal with no more pain. No more suffering. Something he had said, Duo had loved him. Heero internally punched himself for being such a stupid ass. It hadn't helped that he was stubborn either. Heero's real suffering was about to begin.
It was no use holding back anymore. The waterfall of salty tears boiled over. Now it was time for Heero to just cry, just let it out. He screamed Duo's name out, and shook his friend. Maybe it was a joke. It had to be a joke right? Great, now he was in denial.
He looked down at his hands, where Duo's blood had so quickly dried up and crusted beneath his fingernails. His gun lay abandoned on the floor a few feet away, resting on the black Priests outfit Duo had loved so much.
Crawling over to it, he took the revolver in hand and threw it out the hole in the window. Heero would be happy if he never saw any weapons ever again.
Yeah right, when hell freezes over!
Shuffling feet at the open door told him that the three other pilots had indeed come to inspect the trouble.
A stifled sob that belonged undoubtedly to Quatre seemed to be the only sound made. Heero dared to look at them. He always had that crazy fetish for risk taking.
Quatre was, as he had suspected, covering his mouth looking rather ill. Trowa was patting him comfortingly, but his face was screwed up in an unmistakable look of disgust. Not from the mess or blood, but at the low, dirty life form that was Heero. Both had shed their masks.
The picture of Wufei was unlike any of the others. Even though his back was turned, his hands were balled into fists at his sides, and he was shaking. The veins in his fists pulsed, and you could literally see the purple haze around his form. The small hairs on his skin were standing straight up and heat radiated off of him which was rooted to an extreme anger. Even though Duo had been a nuisance to Wufei constantly, he still cared for him. There was no doubt about it.
Heero opened his mouth in explanation but Trowa held out a hand to silence him. "I don't know what your problem is," His voice was dangerously low, and he spoke each word like a dagger. "But you can no longer act this way! I forbid it! So you better clean up your act, or else..." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "...I will make you regret the day you met each of us. That's 4 threats at once." With the one visible eye, he shot a glare that seemed even more menacing than the one Heero himself had.
And with that, he whisked out the doorway and down the hall to the room he shared with Quatre, promptly slamming the door over and over until he got the sound he wanted.
"HE LOVED YOU, YOU BASTARD!" Quatre screamed before he too stormed off in elite bitterness. Heero winced as the sound echoed through the cavernous room and hollered again in his ears.
Now it was Wufei's turn. The Chinese boy had turned around, his eyes closed tightly as he bit his lip to keep from whatever he wanted to do.
He walked over the Heero and looked down upon him, his eyes barely a sliver. Like a rich man hovering over worthless street scum.
Heero hardly expected the blow. It came so fast he didn't even see it until impact. Wufei's fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying backwards in a crumpled heap of clothes. "You asshole." Wufei's voice cut through the painful void as Heero clutched his jaw, trying to overcome dizziness. The Chinese Boy was much stronger than he looked on first sight.
"No, Asshole doesn't even cover all you have become, Yuy. You are a worthless piece of trash that is totally and completely fucked up. Do you even realize what kind of shit you just got yourself into? This could really screw up future plans!" He grabbed Heero by the collar of his shirt, and stood him on his feet. Only this time, to use his foot to karate kick him equally as hard in the chest.
Heero didn't even bother to fight back. He had realized a while back that he deserved every hit he took.
"I'm not going to ask you why you did it, Yuy. I'm sure you've had your fill of the word. Plus, I'm positive I know 'why' anyways." Wufei gave him another kick in the side, knocking the breath out of him.
Wufei stalked out of the room, leaving wet, bloody footprints behind him. Heero panted for breath, and glared after the Chinese boy. He was at a total lack of energy, and collapsed on a pile of glass shards and feathers. ~~~*~~~
Days passed and Heero didn't feel any better. Duo's body had been sent to a dismal morgue and Heero stayed in bed all day long, tending to his own cuts and bruises the best he could.
He found himself screaming in his sleep and waking up tangled in the bed sheet, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. His friends would enter on occasion to bring him his meals or to tell him to get his ass out of bed and take a shower.
A small funeral for the Memory of Duo was going to be held, for just his friends but Heero wasn't planning to attend. He didn't need anymore depression than he was already carrying. No, more than just the agony of depression, but the black bands of guilt as well.
If he walked into the funeral home, and saw what was left of his friend, he would kill himself on the spot. He might have already committed suicide, in fact, if Quatre wasn't always fussing over him. It was a general surprise that the Arab was even talking to him at all. Even after that night where they had found him, basked in the blood of his comrade, the Sandrock pilot hung over him cautiously like a mother hen.
Usually it was a good thing, to have a friend watch over him so keenly, but now it frustrated Heero so.
No, not after what he did, Quatre shouldn't have to care for him. Quatre was too kind and polite. Heero started to feel like a burden to the blond boy. Whenever he felt hungry and Quatre would run in with a bowl of soup, Heero could see the dark circles under the boy's eyes, and how his movements were no longer smooth and cat-like. Quatre was tired, Heero was making him so.
A burden to them all. A load of dead weight. A lazy ass that sat around feeling so sorry for himself. He had given up on himself. When Duo left, the happiness in the house did too. Sure when Quatre smiled it made everyone feel a tad bit good, but now, it was just a mask. And his attempts weren't working.
So Heero decided it was time for he himself, to leave. ~~~*~~~
He picked a special night. A Sunday, nothing to be expected, nothing was going to happen. It was perfect.
At around 2:00 in the morning, Heero hopped out of bed. He was quivering like crazy and he couldn't tell if it was the cold air that invaded him with nothing but his boxers on, or if it was fear.
Taking a look at the rope coiled up in his hands and he realized the house was quite warm. Things flashed through his mind at an unbelievable rate. A pamphlet saying just how you can prevent suicide from happening. The Good Charlotte 'Hold On' music video. Odin Lowe getting shot before his eyes. The little girl and her puppy.
His breath caught in his throat. A time since forgotten. He had tried this before.
His feet took poor Heero to the library. A grand room with an upper floor and balcony. Walls lined to the full with tattered old books entitled in a strange old language. But he hardly noticed. He was looking at the railing attached to the balcony. It was just what he needed.
Pushing a chair over to the chosen spot, Heero threw the rope over the railing. Standing on the soft, cushiony chair, he tied the loop in the thick rope and yanked a couple of times, just to see if it would hold all of his weight. His dead weight. It just wouldn't do if his feet were to touch the ground. ~~~*~~~
As Heero Yuy looked around the darkened room, he thought to himself out loud. "Is this what I truly want? Is this the only way out of my pain?" He had expected an answer. Heero honestly had suspected that someone would shout for him to reconsider. But no. He took it as a simple confirmation.
Singing silent prayers in his head, the Japanese boy fed his head through the loop in the rope. Trembling more than ever now, he struggled to tighten the knot around his neck.
Choking, he was already choking. Still gasping for breath as the rope cut into his flesh, the dark library was the very last thing he saw, before he stuck his hands into his pockets and kicked the chair over.
His last moments, Heero Yuy spent writhing and thrashing on the end of the rope. Like a fish on the end of a line. The bang of the chair hitting the hardwood floor seemed distant in his steadily dulling mind, but he could already hear footsteps. Coming down to inspect. Coming down to find him. But it would already be too late. The thrashing ceased and as everything went black, Heero could hear Quatre scream.
~~~*~~~ TBC (yesh, to be continued!) ~~~*~~~
Mistress Shinigami: I am incredibly sorry for the month long wait! I feel so guilty! *Feels guilty* Yes. So do you want to kill me for the long wait, OR the fact that this situation is not OVER! Bwhahaha!
Karasu: Shut up!
Mistress Shinigami: No there is more! PLEASE PLEASE MY READERS! Stick around for the Epilogue!!! DON'T LEAVE MEEEE! You'll like the epilogue!
PROMISE!
A.N: I would like to thank you all for the oodles of good reviews. I FEEL LOVED! Yes, to all of you asking the question, Heero did shoot poor Duo. I was as shocked that I had the dirty, dirty mind to write so and I am feeling very crappy towards myself. I am a Duo Otaku. Bwhahaha!!!!~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~
Disclaimer: The G-Boys are not mine. I don't know how many people write that. It's so fricken simple. Like I don't want any of them....except for Duo. Hehe...So what if I have a motive?~~~~
~~~*~~~ AT the Gunpoint Chapter 2- His Biggest Mistake ~~~*~~~
BANG
The shot rang out through the quiet night air of the safe house, rattling the trees outside as a million birds flew off at the startling sound.
Heero Yuy stood frozen in his spot, his small handgun still poised in the air. His mind was impossibly rattled and foggy, he looked nervously about his destroyed room.
What had just happened? He didn't remember anything. His brain was going crazy. And his gun, why was it out of its holster? It would only be a matter of time before the three other pilots would ascend the stairs to investigate the noise.
That's when the blue-eyed wing pilot looked to the ground.
"Heer..." Duo sputtered weakly as he crumpled further to the floor. Suddenly, it all came back to him. Heero knew just what had happened, in seeing his friend there. And what a horrible sight it was.
His mind had been hopelessly shrouded with anger and misconception at the Deathscythe pilot that he let his body do all the work.
Sorry, not work. Physical damage.
The braided boy coughed as pints of crimson liquid emerged from his lips and spilled steadily onto the hardwood floor. Duo's hand clutched at his stomach where more blood trickled through his fingertips.
In truth, Heero never would have dreamed of hurting his violet-eyed love interest.
But right now, the minutes seemed to antagonize him by moving so slowly. Heero dropped to his knees by the dying boy.
Duo was growing pale, his naturally tan skin, a deathly white. He forced his eyes to the Japanese boy, sitting in the pool of American blood. The vivid purple optics no longer shone with the spark of life that had been Duo. Instead they were dull and plagued with thousands of questions and feelings. He mustered up his shortening courage to speak.
"Why Heer...o" he croaked helplessly. Heero was on the verge of tears, and just couldn't find it in himself to speak.
There was no excuse for what he had done, and there was no way to help Duo now. He couldn't be saved. All he could do, and all he wanted to do, was to stay with him. To be with Duo during the last moments of his life. To do anything for him.
Heero grabbed the boys T-shirt and yanked him into his arms. Duo flinched in pain as he was forcibly moved. He clutched Heero's green tank top with his free hand and buried his face in the Wing pilots' shoulder.
Hero noticed just how much colder his poor Duo had gotten. The last of the heat escaped from the other boy's body in those red droplets.
"I am...so sorry Duo" he whimpered into Duo's long chestnut locks. They had fallen ruthlessly out of their braided keep.
Duo looked up at the Japanese boy and smiled. A smile that was so horrific and terrifyingly mournful, Heero almost had the urge to cover Duo's mouth.
Blood stained the corners of his lips and his eyes did not curl up in glee. They just, stayed limp, like deep violet pools, dark and lonely.
"Kiss me?" The braided boy asked quietly. "J...,"coughing. More and more coughing. "Just this once Heero...b...before I go. Please? I just love you Heer...o" Duo retched up more blood, and it spilled out over his chin. Despite all that, Heero obliged.
Softly he brought his lips down over Duo's. One last kiss. Duo's first and last kiss. And it tasted like hell.
Every sadness now weighed upon Heero. The full heaviness of everything in the world and more came crashing down. The blood was fresh and steely on his mouth. The frozen feeling of death overtook his breath, all the way to his heart, and there it pierced him.
Duo was giving the last of his energy to kiss him back. Heero could feel him pull himself up, only to fall back down again. And after moments of struggling, the lips beneath his became rigid. The body in his arms slouched, limp. The tight grip on him lightened as the other mouth fell lifelessly away from the other.
Heero laid the body that was Duo, back onto the floor. It was all over. For Duo anyway. The Deathscythe Pilot had to deal with no more pain. No more suffering. Something he had said, Duo had loved him. Heero internally punched himself for being such a stupid ass. It hadn't helped that he was stubborn either. Heero's real suffering was about to begin.
It was no use holding back anymore. The waterfall of salty tears boiled over. Now it was time for Heero to just cry, just let it out. He screamed Duo's name out, and shook his friend. Maybe it was a joke. It had to be a joke right? Great, now he was in denial.
He looked down at his hands, where Duo's blood had so quickly dried up and crusted beneath his fingernails. His gun lay abandoned on the floor a few feet away, resting on the black Priests outfit Duo had loved so much.
Crawling over to it, he took the revolver in hand and threw it out the hole in the window. Heero would be happy if he never saw any weapons ever again.
Yeah right, when hell freezes over!
Shuffling feet at the open door told him that the three other pilots had indeed come to inspect the trouble.
A stifled sob that belonged undoubtedly to Quatre seemed to be the only sound made. Heero dared to look at them. He always had that crazy fetish for risk taking.
Quatre was, as he had suspected, covering his mouth looking rather ill. Trowa was patting him comfortingly, but his face was screwed up in an unmistakable look of disgust. Not from the mess or blood, but at the low, dirty life form that was Heero. Both had shed their masks.
The picture of Wufei was unlike any of the others. Even though his back was turned, his hands were balled into fists at his sides, and he was shaking. The veins in his fists pulsed, and you could literally see the purple haze around his form. The small hairs on his skin were standing straight up and heat radiated off of him which was rooted to an extreme anger. Even though Duo had been a nuisance to Wufei constantly, he still cared for him. There was no doubt about it.
Heero opened his mouth in explanation but Trowa held out a hand to silence him. "I don't know what your problem is," His voice was dangerously low, and he spoke each word like a dagger. "But you can no longer act this way! I forbid it! So you better clean up your act, or else..." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "...I will make you regret the day you met each of us. That's 4 threats at once." With the one visible eye, he shot a glare that seemed even more menacing than the one Heero himself had.
And with that, he whisked out the doorway and down the hall to the room he shared with Quatre, promptly slamming the door over and over until he got the sound he wanted.
"HE LOVED YOU, YOU BASTARD!" Quatre screamed before he too stormed off in elite bitterness. Heero winced as the sound echoed through the cavernous room and hollered again in his ears.
Now it was Wufei's turn. The Chinese boy had turned around, his eyes closed tightly as he bit his lip to keep from whatever he wanted to do.
He walked over the Heero and looked down upon him, his eyes barely a sliver. Like a rich man hovering over worthless street scum.
Heero hardly expected the blow. It came so fast he didn't even see it until impact. Wufei's fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying backwards in a crumpled heap of clothes. "You asshole." Wufei's voice cut through the painful void as Heero clutched his jaw, trying to overcome dizziness. The Chinese Boy was much stronger than he looked on first sight.
"No, Asshole doesn't even cover all you have become, Yuy. You are a worthless piece of trash that is totally and completely fucked up. Do you even realize what kind of shit you just got yourself into? This could really screw up future plans!" He grabbed Heero by the collar of his shirt, and stood him on his feet. Only this time, to use his foot to karate kick him equally as hard in the chest.
Heero didn't even bother to fight back. He had realized a while back that he deserved every hit he took.
"I'm not going to ask you why you did it, Yuy. I'm sure you've had your fill of the word. Plus, I'm positive I know 'why' anyways." Wufei gave him another kick in the side, knocking the breath out of him.
Wufei stalked out of the room, leaving wet, bloody footprints behind him. Heero panted for breath, and glared after the Chinese boy. He was at a total lack of energy, and collapsed on a pile of glass shards and feathers. ~~~*~~~
Days passed and Heero didn't feel any better. Duo's body had been sent to a dismal morgue and Heero stayed in bed all day long, tending to his own cuts and bruises the best he could.
He found himself screaming in his sleep and waking up tangled in the bed sheet, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. His friends would enter on occasion to bring him his meals or to tell him to get his ass out of bed and take a shower.
A small funeral for the Memory of Duo was going to be held, for just his friends but Heero wasn't planning to attend. He didn't need anymore depression than he was already carrying. No, more than just the agony of depression, but the black bands of guilt as well.
If he walked into the funeral home, and saw what was left of his friend, he would kill himself on the spot. He might have already committed suicide, in fact, if Quatre wasn't always fussing over him. It was a general surprise that the Arab was even talking to him at all. Even after that night where they had found him, basked in the blood of his comrade, the Sandrock pilot hung over him cautiously like a mother hen.
Usually it was a good thing, to have a friend watch over him so keenly, but now it frustrated Heero so.
No, not after what he did, Quatre shouldn't have to care for him. Quatre was too kind and polite. Heero started to feel like a burden to the blond boy. Whenever he felt hungry and Quatre would run in with a bowl of soup, Heero could see the dark circles under the boy's eyes, and how his movements were no longer smooth and cat-like. Quatre was tired, Heero was making him so.
A burden to them all. A load of dead weight. A lazy ass that sat around feeling so sorry for himself. He had given up on himself. When Duo left, the happiness in the house did too. Sure when Quatre smiled it made everyone feel a tad bit good, but now, it was just a mask. And his attempts weren't working.
So Heero decided it was time for he himself, to leave. ~~~*~~~
He picked a special night. A Sunday, nothing to be expected, nothing was going to happen. It was perfect.
At around 2:00 in the morning, Heero hopped out of bed. He was quivering like crazy and he couldn't tell if it was the cold air that invaded him with nothing but his boxers on, or if it was fear.
Taking a look at the rope coiled up in his hands and he realized the house was quite warm. Things flashed through his mind at an unbelievable rate. A pamphlet saying just how you can prevent suicide from happening. The Good Charlotte 'Hold On' music video. Odin Lowe getting shot before his eyes. The little girl and her puppy.
His breath caught in his throat. A time since forgotten. He had tried this before.
His feet took poor Heero to the library. A grand room with an upper floor and balcony. Walls lined to the full with tattered old books entitled in a strange old language. But he hardly noticed. He was looking at the railing attached to the balcony. It was just what he needed.
Pushing a chair over to the chosen spot, Heero threw the rope over the railing. Standing on the soft, cushiony chair, he tied the loop in the thick rope and yanked a couple of times, just to see if it would hold all of his weight. His dead weight. It just wouldn't do if his feet were to touch the ground. ~~~*~~~
As Heero Yuy looked around the darkened room, he thought to himself out loud. "Is this what I truly want? Is this the only way out of my pain?" He had expected an answer. Heero honestly had suspected that someone would shout for him to reconsider. But no. He took it as a simple confirmation.
Singing silent prayers in his head, the Japanese boy fed his head through the loop in the rope. Trembling more than ever now, he struggled to tighten the knot around his neck.
Choking, he was already choking. Still gasping for breath as the rope cut into his flesh, the dark library was the very last thing he saw, before he stuck his hands into his pockets and kicked the chair over.
His last moments, Heero Yuy spent writhing and thrashing on the end of the rope. Like a fish on the end of a line. The bang of the chair hitting the hardwood floor seemed distant in his steadily dulling mind, but he could already hear footsteps. Coming down to inspect. Coming down to find him. But it would already be too late. The thrashing ceased and as everything went black, Heero could hear Quatre scream.
~~~*~~~ TBC (yesh, to be continued!) ~~~*~~~
Mistress Shinigami: I am incredibly sorry for the month long wait! I feel so guilty! *Feels guilty* Yes. So do you want to kill me for the long wait, OR the fact that this situation is not OVER! Bwhahaha!
Karasu: Shut up!
Mistress Shinigami: No there is more! PLEASE PLEASE MY READERS! Stick around for the Epilogue!!! DON'T LEAVE MEEEE! You'll like the epilogue!
PROMISE!