Chapter Three: I Have Got to Stop Smiling – It Gives the Wrong Impression
Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "You Stole the Sun from My Heart." by the Manic Street Preachers.
IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;
A/N: I'm not at all happy with how this chapter came out. It's basically just a transitional chapter, this stuff is just filler. Bleh. More soon, and hopefully the future chapters will be better than this one!! I'll be getting more into the psychological aspects of Duo's problem/s later on. Just figured I'd mention that in case anyone was wondering. ;
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"Maxwell?"
One, two, three… bite, chew…. One, two, three four…"Maxwell."
Fork down, knife down. One, two. Drink, one sip, two sips… God, this is annoying."MAXWELL!"
Dropping his glass in surprise, Duo looked up from his plate at the angry Chinese man sitting across the table from him. Glowering at his now snickering friend, Duo cursed under his breath and reached out for a napkin to mop up the water that had soaked into his lap from the fallen cup of water.
"Aw, did Duo wet his pants?" Wufei teased, forgetting all about his original question, earning another death glare in response from the American.
Flipping him off, Duo stood from the table quickly and ran to the room he and Heero still shared, slamming the door shut and sighing deeply. Despite his anger, he was secretly glad for Wufei's distraction. He was starting to lose control of himself during that meal. Four second counts between bites had turned into three, then two, and by the time he had been so rudely called to attention, he had been about to discard the four second ritual completely. It was annoying as all hell, but when followed correctly, was effective in keeping his mind focused on the food, and keeping himself in complete control.
It had been one month since Duo had first visited his first "pro ana" site. At first, he had been horrified, disgusted, shocked. But he couldn't deny that the sites, the underground community of misfits like himself, had a certain pull, something that attracted him, kept him going back for more. He did not consider himself to be pro anorexic. No, never that. That was crazy, and he was not crazy. He was simply… pro thin. Pro perfection.
His plan had been working. Over the course of the past few weeks, he'd caught Heero glancing at him on more than one occasion, then steadfastly refusing to meet his eye when caught. This was progress. He was getting in shape, getting in control of his life, obtaining the perfection that he was so sure the Japanese man desired, and he had never been happier. Not eating – he refused to call what he was doing "starvation" – was the best high he'd ever experienced. Better than any of the drugs he had dabbled with back when the war had first ended. He thought it was amazing: The euphoric feeling of light-headedness, the promising contracting of stomach muscles that told him he was doing a good job, the overall feeling of right he experienced when he talked to other people who just… got it. Understood what it was like to feel so unloved, so small in a crowd of many, invisible even when in the spotlight. This was Duo's logic in continuing with his frequent visits to the sites: "These people get me, understand me better than any of my so-called 'friends' ever did." He was convinced that they would help him achieve his goal of perfection, and not judge him in the manner he chose to go about pursuing it.
Save Heero, his friends were now convinced that Duo's depression was short-term, just some post-war trauma. After all, each of them had experienced that to some degree, hadn't they? And the American was returning to his normal self again. Arguing with Wufei, grinning, laughing, joking. What they didn't realize was that the jokes now had a bitter edge, almost mocking, and were aimed always towards himself. What they failed to see was that the devilish grins always held a bit of resentment in them, and were bitter, almost cruel. Like his jokes. Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were blind to these facts, only seeing in one-dimension, refusing to look past the outer exterior to the grime lurking underneath. Heero, however, noticed the shift in behavior, and was not at all fooled by the mask his friend wore, his force field against the rest of the world.
Heero, of course, never mentioned this to the other pilots. He knew it was not his place, and besides… He was sure he was reading too much into things, trying to make a something out of a nothing. That afternoon though, watching the meticulous way Duo cut up his food, eyeing the precarious way he chewed and sipped from his cup, he decided he would say something to Relena. If nothing else, the girl was his best friend, someone who understood the type of pressure he was always under from J and the other lunatics who had had a hand in raising him.
Relena had not been present that day during lunch. She hadn't been to the estate at all in the past month, since lately she and Heero had been living together in her palace. The past two weeks though, the Japanese man had opted to stay at his other home at Quatre's estate, secluding himself from his girlfriend, and the rest of his friends as well. So when Heero called up on the vidphone and described the odd behavioral patterns he had noticed in Duo, she was surprised, to say the least.
"…And it's not only the behaviors. It's… his whole attitude." Heero took a deep breath, clenching and re-clenching his fists at his side. Talking was not his forte, as his friends knew all too well, but… In the past year since the Eve Wars had ended, he had been getting better at it. Had been loosening up more, and learning to show some of those repressed emotions.
Relena could see right now that the emotion he was trying hard to conceal was concern. A deep worry etched his brow, danced in his eyes, and she didn't know what to make of this.
"So…" she began, haltingly. "He's not been eating much? What else have you noticed?" She hadn't seen Duo in weeks, it was entirely too early for her to jump to conclusions, to say what it was she suspected it might be, from Heero's vague description.
"He taps."
"Excuse me?"
Heero cleared his throat, clenched his fist yet again. "Tapping. He taps."
Relena paused a moment before responding, trying to understand what the ex-pilot meant. "You mean, like his foot?"
"Hn." Nodding, the Japanese man shut his eyes for a second, thinking, then deciding to elaborate. "And his fingers. It's not just fidgeting though, there's almost… a rhythm."
Relena frowned, confusion plaguing her mind. Quietly she asked, "Has… Has he lost any weight, Heero? I mean, you say he hasn't been eating as much…"
"I… don't know," the Wing pilot answered quietly, the words falling harshly from his lips. This was not a phrase he said often, and was one he would not like to repeat. Relena didn't say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. "His clothes are baggy. And black. I cannot see his body."
Relena nodded in understanding. "Have you said anything to him about it?"
"No. It is not my place."
Sighing quietly, Relena twisted a lock of her wheat blonde hair around a slender finger, a nervous habit she'd picked up as a child. What she was about to say next, she feared would only make her friend feel worse. But she knew – had known for a long time, in fact – that she and Heero could never work out. There was chemistry between them, yes, as well as a strong emotional connection. But the pair were simply…too similar. Too concentrated on keeping up appearances, shaping themselves, conforming to fit others' unrealistic expectations, to give the other the attention and love they deserved. The queen also could see that the romance was gone from their relationship. Where once they had spent long nights walking on the beach, hand-in-hand, staring at the stars, they new spent 90% of their time apart – Relena in conferences with colleagues, or with Dorothy and Noin; Heero at the estate with the other pilots. They were little more than good friends at this point, and she knew Heero could see this too.
Finally gathering up her courage, Relena started, "Baby, do you think maybe it's time that you move back to Quatre's… on a more permanent basis?" Upon seeing Heero's confused look, she hurried on, "I mean, with everything that's going on with Duo… It just seems that he needs you more than I do right now. Besides," she paused, sighing a bit before continuing. "You and I… We're not what we used to be, Heero." Her voice was soft, gentle. She could literally feel her heart breaking in two in her chest, her insides twisting painfully as the words poured from her mouth. She loved him so much that sometimes it hurt… She loved him enough to let him go.
"Rel," the ex-pilot started, but was interrupted by the girl's comforting voice.
"It's ok, Heero. I understand. You're still my number one man though," she said, teasing gently. "My best friend."
Accepting the words, Heero frowned, the pain barely concealed in his eyes, but nodded. "Forever," he whispered, placing a tentative hand over his heart.
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I like to give her some depth, lol. Sorry if anyone dislikes that. . This chapter ending makes me want to gag. It's awful, and I'm sorry for that. But I didn't know what else to do. Like I said, this is mostly a transitional chapter.