Chapter Six: Your beautiful triangle of distortion
Disclaimer: Don't own GW, nope, only the plot. The chapter title is from a song by the best band in the entire world, the Manic Street Preachers.
IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;
Notes: /tear/ You guys are so the best! Your reviews are so wonderful, and I'm really glad that people seem to be enjoying the story so far. This chapter is for ShinigamiPhoenix and Dragen Eyes, whose speedy updates inspired me to kick the dreaded writers block. Ok, this chapter was majorly hard to write, that's why it took so long. I couldn't bring myself to add in the cutting just yet.. For a lot of reasons, it's just hard. I tried, but I got so blocked, I eventually just took that section out because it didn't fit, and it wasn't right. Too fake, too forced. And SI is just too real, I couldn't let myself keep that part I'd written because it didn't at all portray what it's really like. I was even thinking about cutting the whole SI thing altogether [no pun intended, haha], but then I wouldn't be getting my point across, and the whole damn reason I started writing this in the first place was BECAUSE of the SI, because… Well, because of things that will be revealed later. I had things to say, because I wanted to make my opinions known. So I swear, soon – very soon – I'll get to it. I will. Really. I can and will do it. /repeats it to self/
Dedication: I was going to dedicate this chapter to my girlfriend, Melissa. But that went to hell. She's no longer my girlfriend, we're probably not even friends. So I think I'm going to dedicate this to the awesome, wonderful Kada, who I'm sure will get a big kick out of the fact that I've dedicated a chapter of an anime story to her. ; /love to Kada/
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The bright light of the sun gleaming in through the open window was the first thing Duo's eyes settled on when they opened the next morning. His head was pounding, his throat sore, his stomach aching, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest, though from what he couldn't say. In the bed on the other side of the room, he could tell that Heero was also starting to wake.
Shifting slightly, the Japanese pilot opened his eyes, then closed them again swiftly, squinting and turning his head away from the harsh reflection of sunlight in the mirror. Then, remembering the events of the previous night, sitting up straight, facing Duo, fixing him with a worried stare. "Are you feeling better this morning?" he asked, taking care to see that his voice came out in a perfect monotone, devoid of emotion.
Duo simply shrugged, looking away from Heero's intense gaze. Sighing inaudibly, Heero got up and made his way over to Duo's side of the room, feeling his forehead for fever, checking his throat for swollen glands.
"Hn. No fever." Upon receiving no response from his friend, Heero barely repressed a sigh, and grabbed Duo by the shoulders, forcing him to stand.
"Heero, what the hell are you doing?"
"You're still dehydrated.. Come drink something."
Duo sighed, but followed Heero into the bathroom nonetheless. After gulping down two large glasses of water, the American stalked out of the room and down the stairs, not even bothering to cover up his anger and humiliation over the previous night's events.
Once in the kitchen, Duo started depositing the boxes and wrappers from the night before, and as he did so, his stomach twisted painfully. There was something inside him, some unnamed emotion causing his body to tense, and his eyes to burn sharply with unshed tears. He could feel his breathing becoming more rapid, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He could not put a name to these troublesome emotions, and because of this, he had no idea how to rid himself of them.
I run, I hide, but I never lie.
Lately, the familiar phrase had begun to take on a new meaning for Duo. When the screaming in his head started, drowning out the small voice of reason still left inside his battered soul, what else could he do but run? And so he did. Both literally and metaphorically.
Looking around the kitchen, the American made sure no one was around before he snuck around to the side door and silently stepped outside.
The grass was springy below his feet, the early morning springtime dew making his trek slippery. He paid this no mind, as he gradually increased his pace, running now, faster, faster, faster. Trying to outrun the things that were eating him up inside, desperate to achieve a level of physical exhaustion that would override the emotional. His harsh breaths and pounding heart drowning out the scolding of the demons in his mind.
Two hours later, Duo slowed his pace as he rounded the corner to Quatre's estate. He knew that there would be a large mess waiting for him inside, and he wanted to prolong the inevitable conversation as long as he possibly could. His heart was now beating dangerously fast, and he could not seem to draw in enough breath as he finally pushed open the kitchen door with a weak hand. He was both surprised and relieved when the door pulled open at the same moment he pushed on it, and he gratefully fell onto the hard body before him. Not knowing whose arms he lay in, and not caring.
A quick intake of breath, and he was dragged further into the dark room. Duo gasped at the sudden change in lighting – the artificial bulbs a stark contrast to the bright glow of the sun – and he once again felt his head swimming, his body lurching alarmingly.
"Heero!"
The scared shriek seemed an explosion of noise to Duo's ears, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the warm body for support, again uncaring, for once unashamed of his physical weakness.
Footsteps pounding on the stairs, two sets of voices conversing rapidly. He could only make out a few words: "Dehydrated…passed out…Sally…hospital."
This last one caught Duo's attention, and he struggled against the firm arms clutched tightly around his back and midsection, holding him upright. Eyes adjusting to the indoor lights, he pushed weakly against the warmth of his friend's body – Quatre's, he realized – and found his footing, able now to draw in oxygen, to stand on his own.
"I'm fine," Duo protested, not allowing the chance for his friends to question as to what just happened.
"Bullshit!" Quatre screamed, and both Duo and Heero jumped back in shock, flinching visibly. This was bad, Duo realized, if the Arabian was worked up enough to shout like this, to show signs of barely repressed angry concern. "Heero told me that you fainted last night, that you threw up, that you're dehydrated. And now I see you are barely able to stand on your own, I can feel every notch in your back, Duo, you can hardly breathe, and you say that you're fine?!"
He'd stopped hearing at the words "I can feel every notch in your back". Barely managing to bite back a smile, Duo was overwhelmed with a strange sense of pride. Never mind the fact that his friends were on the verge of discovering his most hidden secret, or the signs of severe physical illness pointed out to him. "I can feel every notch in your back." He was getting somewhere. It was working.
Fighting the warning signals going off in his mind, the voice of "pro" singing out, Don't say anything, cover your tracks, don't ask the question!, Duo breathed, "Do you mean it?"
At this, Quatre's face took on a look of confusion, and Heero, having a sinking feeling what Duo was referring to, began running his hand down the length of Duo's spine, disguising the bone count as a gesture of comfort and support.
"Mean what?" the Arabian asked slowly. "That you're not okay?"
Gulping, Duo shook his head, and glanced down at the white, immaculate tilling of the kitchen floor. A sudden wave of self-consciousness overwhelming him, Duo pulled away from Heero, moving a few steps closer to the door – his escape.
"What then?" Quatre asked, refusing to let the question drop. Having a feeling that it was somehow important.
"That I'm thin," Duo managed to squeak out, wanting – needing – to know the answer to this most vital question.
A shocked silence filled the room, and Heero, noticing Duo's gradual retreat towards the doorway, grabbed him harshly by the arm and hauled the American back into the kitchen.
The following silence was deafening. Duo could hear the ticking of the second hand of the clock on the nearby wall, as he counted by fours to calm his frazzled nerves. Twenty-two ticks went by before someone spoke. And even then, it was in the softest – but most dangerous – of tones.
"Yes." The answer was simple, the tone clipped, cold, emotionless. Like Heero himself. "Very much so. It matters why?"
"Oh," Duo stammered, once again attempting to back away, "It.. It doesn't, I was just… wondering. That's all. Because…" Should've listened to me. I told you, but you never listen, do you? Baka. Baka baka baka. "…Because, I've noticed it too. And, well, I don't think it looks too good, you know? Miss those muscles, heh heh." Please let them buy it, Duo thought desperately.
A look of great relief washed over Quatre's face, a small smile stretching across his angelic features. Beside him, the American could see that Heero still looked skeptical, but he too began to look more relaxed as the seconds went by.
The question had shocked everyone into forgetting about the original predicament, the reason as to why they were all standing in the kitchen with a small, sickly looking Duo, a shadow of his former vibrant self. Until he turned towards the doorway once more. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and the American drew back reflexively.
"That is why you were running then. Why you got sick?"
Quatre looked to Heero in surprise, and the faintest blush rose to stain the Japanese man's cheeks. Shrugging, he looked away and said, "I saw him out the window."
The lie – his salvation – forming in his mind, Duo nodded eagerly. "Yes! I haven't been feeling well lately," Look down, act ashamed, "and I guess I shouldn't have tried to hide it. But I figured it was just a passing thing, you know? Just a flu. And it is, I'm sure. I'm feeling better already! But…" and here is where a lifetime of lies, masks, hiding, and acting comes in handy, "I just…"
Duo stopped, crocodile tears forming in his amethyst eyes, "Look at me!" he yelled, allowing the tears to splash down his hollow cheeks. "I don't like the way I look anymore, and I'm trying to get back into shape. I guess I just overdid it this morning… I'm sorry. It won't happen again, believe me, it's not worth it." A soft chuckle, really a disguised sob, because the realization hit that his words were not much lies after all.
He could see the tension and remaining suspicion drawing out of his friends' postures and expressions, and Duo breathed a silent sigh of relief, thanking Shinigami that they bought his tale.
"Make sure that it doesn't, Duo" Quatre admonished lightly. Then, his demeanor changing, he reached out and pulled the frail ex-pilot into a desperate embrace. "I was so worried, I thought… Well, I didn't know what to think," he said, unwilling to admit – even to himself – what he really had suspected.
To his right, Duo could see Heero's eyes darken, though from what he could not tell. His expression was unreadable as ever, and that not knowing what was going through his friend's head, perhaps, was what scared Duo the most.
"I promise, Q-Man, from now on I'll be more careful. It's not that important what I look like anyway," he swore, the enormity of the lie weighing on Duo's conscience and heart. Shoving the guilt down inside himself, to be dealt with at a later date, letting the one remaining tear drip lazily down his chin. A sniffle, a hand wiping innocently and childlike across the eyes filled with lies and deceits.
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A/N: Blegh. Feel free to tell me how much you hate it. :/
Another A/N: OH, I got it! I just thought of it, I know what to do with the SI. Heh, it'll probably come into play within the next two chapters. [yay for proof reading!]