Chapter Ten: Will You Accuse Me as I Hide?
Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.
Notes: You are reading this chapter only because blood-poisoning threatened me with no more updates of "So Far, So Good" [and therefore this chapter is for her!]. It sucks, I was so stuck, I'm sorry. I have this all planned out, I know exactly where I'm going with it.. it's just getting there that's the hard part. :( Heero's a bit OOC in this chapter, but for a reason. Oh, and to answer your question blood-poisoning, yup, the other pilots are going to have a huge part later on in the story. Please everyone, let me know what you think of this?
Note to Dragen Eyez: I'm so terrible, I'm so, so sorry. I know you've been waiting forever for me to get back to you, I've been such a horrible beta. But it's 5:30 in the morning right now, and I have nothing to do tomorrow [today], so I'm not going to leave this computer until I've finished both your chapter and your friend's.
IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it.
Tell a lie enough times, and you begin to believe it.
"For the last time, Heero, I'm fucking fine!"
"Hn."
Looking away, Heero could only shake his head sadly in reply.
One month ago, a very shaken-up Heero had locked himself and Duo in their room together, not allowing the other man to leave until he confessed about the cutting. Admitted that the long scars, scabs, and faded lines lacing up and down his all-too-pale arms were, indeed, self-inflicted. Four weeks ago, Duo had struggled against the man he now considered his greatest enemy, too weak to resist or push away the gentle embrace he found himself caught in, the strong arms that wrapped around his form unrelenting until his erratic breathing steadied. Twenty-eight days ago, Heero had settled his gaze on the stranger now inhabiting his best friend's body, so horrified at the intentional bloodshed that he hadn't noticed the protruding ribs, the shadows under the lifeless eyes, nor the paleness of the mutilated[1] flesh.
Before Heero lowered his gaze, Duo had noted that the pain lurking in the cobalt depths were a direct reflection of Duo's own. For what seemed like the millionth time that month, the American felt that intense wave of guilt wash through his body, leaving him standing rigid, teeth grinding together, fists clenched firmly at his sides. A posture he found himself in far too often lately.
Heero's intentions were good, even at his lowest point Duo could see that. But, still, that didn't stop the anger from rising. Couldn't he see that he was only hurting Duo? That by following him around, by hiding the razor blades, checking his arms for recent cuts, he was only proving what little trust he had in his friend?
Duo knew that Heero was only trying to help, but that didn't stop him from yelling, from hiding, from rebelling by using Heero's own knives to hurt himself.
The sound of his friend's voice brought Duo out of his reverie, and he looked up to find Heero staring at him expectantly.
"What?" Duo snapped irritably, though he did not know where the bad mood came from.
"I asked if... if you would like to watch a movie with me," Heero blurted out, then quickly averted his gaze.
Duo's eyes widened slightly as he took a moment to process the question. Slowly, his anger began to drain away, and he was left feeling hollow. Anger was the only emotion he allowed himself to feel these days, and once that faded, there was just... nothing.
"No," the American sighed, turning his back on his friend. If the offer had been made months ago, before any of this came into play, Duo would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Heero, to be close to him, to get to know him better. Now, though, all he wanted was to be left alone, the razorblades and hunger his only friends. He liked it that way, needed it to be that way, and he despised Heero for attempting to change that.
"Then what-"
"I'm going to spend some time alone," Duo stated firmly, fixing Heero with a death glare of his own.
"But," the Japanese began, but he never got a chance to finish, as Duo walked out of the room without giving him a second glance.
"Duo?" Heero called out for the fourth time, the usual monotone rising as it was infused with something akin to panic. Every time this happened, he got more and more frightened.
His pace quickened as he looked in room after room of the estate, until finally he was running, frantically opening doors and praying he would find Duo alive and well behind one of them.
It seemed that nothing he said or did could make a dent in Duo's self-destructive behaviors. He was too hell-bent on killing himself, and every time the American went missing, Heero was terrified that Duo had actually succeeded in his final mission, however unintentional.
Lowering his shoulders in what he refused to term "defeat", Heero let the familiar anguish and concern melt into the anger he tried so hard to suppress, for Duo's sake. But he couldn't hide it any longer, and for once, he didn't want to. He was angry. Angry as hell at being pushed away, yelled at, talked down to, and tricked by the person he used to regard as his best friend. He didn't even know who that person was anymore, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
He stormed into his own room, slamming the door so hard behind him that it shook on its hinges. Suddenly, he was very glad that he hadn't been able to find Duo, because if he had, Heero wasn't so sure he would be able to restrain himself from punching the other man. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping the anger to himself.
Stalking toward the dresser, Heero grabbed a small table lamp and hurled it at the wall, savoring the sound of glass shattering and metal twisting. Then turning to his bed, he grabbed the white, cotton pillow, intending it to follow the same path as the lamp, but he froze as he realized, with horror, that the knife he always kept underneath it was missing.
Like Duo.
Then as quickly as the anger had surfaced, it faded once again, in favor of the terror and concern. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and he realized, with a sinking heart, that it wouldn't be the last. The estate was simply too big for him to search every floor, to look behind every door. And Duo knew this well.
Heero let himself drop down on the bed, resting the pillow on his lap, and his face in his hands. This was ridiculous, he knew. He shouldn't care what the ex-pilot did to himself, as long as it was not a threat to him or to peace. He was trained not to care, to simply turn the other cheek, and this feeling of warmth in his heart, the dread twisting in his stomach, were things that would only cause him trouble that he neither needed nor wanted. He knew this, and yet.. he couldn't stop these strange feelings from overtaking him.
Maybe I should go back to J for retraining, he thought miserably to himself.
When did things get to be so hopeless like this? It seemed like such a short time ago that he had been learning to smile, to enjoy being in the presence of others, to allow himself to let go of the perfect soldier mask. When had all of that reversed? Why did everything suddenly seem so miserable? But even as he asked these silent questions, his mind knew the answer: Duo.
Burying his face further in his hands, Heero felt an unfamiliar sensation behind his closed eyelids. Didn't Duo realize that he wasn't only hurting himself? Couldn't he see how goddamn selfish he was being? He wasn't the only person in pain around here![2] Blinking away the odd burning in his eyes, Heero suddenly remembered something an old friend had said to him once, when he was very little.
Always follow your emotions.
And this time, when the stinging in his eyes returned, the former-perfect soldier allowed the tears to slip by. For the first time in his life, Heero let the saline drops trail lazy rivers down his cheeks, and when his breathing began to hitch, he did nothing to stifle that, either.
Pulling long black sleeves over the still-bleeding cuts, Duo shoved the stolen knife into his boot and took a deep breath before creaking open the door to the closet he'd been hiding out in for the past hour. He knew that there would be a large mess awaiting him on the outside, as usual, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
Duo didn't even bother trying to sneak down the long flight of stairs. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to. His steps were heavy and clumsy, his body lurching forward every so often as he struggled to remain awake. For once, he found himself wishing that Heero had found him, because he suddenly wasn't so sure that he would be able to make it down the stairs and to the ground level by himself.
His head was swimming, and he knew that if he didn't sit down now, his body would fall by itself. As he dropped to the floor heavily, he felt his stomach begin to contract, as it always did nowadays when he got hungry. After months of experience, he knew what was coming, and knew, also, that there was no way to stop it. He figured it was because he had trained his body so well to reject the little food he put into it that now it happened involuntarily; or maybe it was the combination of weakened stomach muscles and stress. But the cause didn't really matter, he thought, because the fact was he was left with this effect, and though he hated throwing up like this – he felt it was a rebellion of his body, and he hated not being able to control it – he refused to give in and start eating again. The thought of gaining weight was simply too scary; in the end, living with the vomiting, and other consequences, far outweighed the other option of feeling healthy, but risk getting fat.
Duo's frail arms struggled to support his full weight as he leaned over, and when he started gagging, gasping for breath, he had the presence of mind to praise himself for not giving into the temptation to indulge in eating that bagel this morning. Dry heaves were awful, but throwing up on Quatre's staircase would have been much, much worse.
The spell seemed to last forever, and when it finally passed, Duo let himself collapse fully onto the ground, too exhausted to even care that he was in open view and bound to be discovered by one of the other pilots. His head was pounding, and he knew that as soon as he was able to lift himself again, he would need to eat something, or risk passing out completely.
Suddenly, a comforting hand rested on Duo's back, both surprising and embarrassing him. Despite his initial struggling, two arms managed to find their way around his waist, and they lifted the American's frail body, carrying him the rest of the way down to the living room.
Feeling something soft and cushiony underneath him, Duo opened his eyes to find two of his friends staring down at him, anxiety and concern written clearly across their faces. Wufei and Trowa, he realized. Thanking Shinigami that both Quatre and Heero were not witness to his embarrassing display of weakness – he knew that they were already suspicious, and this incident could alert them to the fact that he was not "recovered" – Duo's mind flew with excuses and lies that would distract his friends from the truth.
"What was that, Maxwell?" Wufei asked sharply, though from the look in his eyes, Duo could tell that he was concerned, rather than angry. Trowa merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, his expression doing all the speaking for him.
Forming his mouth into the old Maxwell Grin, Duo forced himself to chuckle slightly before he spoke.
"Gods, that was embarrassing." More grinning, an embarrassed laugh. "I guess I shouldn't have eaten your cooking last night, huh Wuffles?" He stuck his tongue out at the words, forgetting that he hadn't been present at dinner the night before.
Duo could see the concern in Wufei's eyes fade, and instead a look of irritation crossed the ex-pilot's face. "Do not call me Wuffles! And my cooking is just fine, thank you, maybe it was your stuffing your face, as usual, that made you ill?"
Although Duo knew his friend was only teasing, he couldn't help but cringe at that last remark. Noticing this, Trowa turned to Wufei and spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument.
"I've got this covered, you can go back to your meditation."
Giving him one last scowl, Wufei retreated, and once he was gone from the room, Trowa turned again to Duo and said quietly, "He doesn't mean what he says. You know that, Duo."
The American nodded, blinking away the tears that had risen, and smiling.
"I know. He's probably right, anyway," Duo forced out. "I just ate too much. Again," he added under his breath, but Trowa caught it all the same.
"You did not eat Wufei's dinner last night. You haven't eaten with the rest of us in a while. And you have not 'stuffed your face' since the war ended over a year ago."
Duo, relieved that Heero had not told the other pilots about the late-night binging, sighed silently. He was surprised to find that his friend was so observant, but didn't let that, or the relief, show on his face. Instead, he smiled again and opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Quatre walking into the room and slipping a shy hand into his lover's.
Gazing at the Arabian affectionately, Trowa faced Duo once more as Quatre tugged on his hand, saying, "We will finish this conversation later, Duo."
But the American felt strangely disappointed at the knowledge that they would not. It always happened like that with those two – they only had eyes for each other, only room in their hearts for one. He supposed he should think it sweet to see two people so obviously in love, but Duo could only conjure up a feeling of bitter jealousy and disgust.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Duo slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, then even more slowly rose from the sofa altogether. The entire process took an entire two minutes, for he knew if he stood too quickly his blood pressure would drop dangerously low, and he wouldn't be able to stop the black from consuming him completely. He had learned this the hard way.
Keeping this in mind, Duo walked into the kitchen and forced down a bowl of rice and some orange juice, the acid in it burning his irritated esophagus and stomach on the way down. But he needed nutrients that only the juice could provide, and it was worth the pain and few extra calories to keep his secret hidden, and suspicions away.
Dropping a hand down to the stomach he thought to be so bloated after the small meal, he caressed each rib he found, letting his fingers bump down each one as he counted, and then sink in sharply as the ribcage ended.
Bones. Lovely bones, he thought to himself, and repeated it through his mind to keep himself from running to the bathroom and throwing the entire thing up.
He was so caught up in the mantra that he didn't even realize he had reached his room until he heard the soft whimpers and gasps from behind the door. Suddenly, thoughts of his bones were forgotten, replaced by confusion, and concern for another – something that he hadn't felt since this whole mess began.
Opening the door as quietly as he could, so as not to alert Heero of his presence, he stepped into the room, eyes widening at the sight before him.
Heero. Heero crumpled into a ball atop his bed. Heeri crying.
As he took in the image, refusing at first to believe that it was real and not some hunger-induced hallucination, an intense fear flooded Duo, and he couldn't stop himself from going over to his friend and taking Heero into his arms. He was overwhelmed with a sense of love and worry, and suddenly he felt as he did all those months ago before the diet began. And he remembered the reason he had started in the first place.
Shocked, Heero pulled away sharply at Duo's touch, wiping at his face frantically and turning his body so that the American would not see the sorrow, or the shame, dancing in his eyes.
Duo was not deterred though. Instead, he only strengthened his embrace and pulled the other pilot closer. Although physically weak, he managed to keep Heero in his arms out of sheer will, and a worry that ran so deep that, for the moment, he forgot about the mass of food still in his stomach.
It was a long moment before either of them spoke. It was Duo who finally broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat, then pulling away slightly so he could look Heero in the eye as he asked quietly, "What happened? What.. what's wrong?"
It had been so long since he'd last comforted someone that he stumbled over the words, unsure of himself and feeling damn uncomfortable.
Heero could only shake his head, refusing to meet Duo's gaze. He realized that, for the first time, the tables were reversed. For the first time, it was Duo worrying about him, Duo trying to comfort and help him. Although ashamed and angry at being seen at his most vulnerable, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of bitter glee that, finally, the American would know what it was like.
"Heero, please.. Please, just look at me."
Duo tentatively placed a bone-thin hand in Heero's own, and the Japanese was so surprised at the gesture of affection that he unwillingly let his remaining walls drop, succumbing to Duo's touch.
Feeling Heero lean in closer, Duo let his free hand rest on his friend's back, rubbing it in small, reassuring circles.
"Tell me what's wrong, Heero.. please?" he tried again, sensing that Heero had stopped resisting.
"You."
It was spoken so softly that Duo almost missed it. But not quite.
"Me? What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. In all the weeks that Heero had been following him around, hiding his razors, spending hours searching for him when he disappeared and then verbally bashing him when he was found, it never occurred to him that Heero was only doing these things because he truly cared. Duo had seen him only as the enemy, someone trying to thwart him and the behaviors he had come to depend on.
"You... I..." Heero let his voice trail off, unsure of what to say next, how to express the worry he experienced each time he couldn't find Duo; the anger he felt every time he found a new cut on Duo's pale forearms, and the all-consuming terror at the thought of Duo cutting too deep and killing himself, intentional or not.
As he was pulled even closer to the American's body, so close that the prolonged embrace could now be called cuddling, it occurred to Heero that the person sitting next to him was Duo. The real Duo, his Duo, not that intolerable, uncaring stranger he had been living with since the war ended. Well, if crying was what it took to get his friend to wake up and pay attention, then he would play this for all it was worth.
Willing the tears back to the surface, Heero twisted out of Duo's arms so that he could wrap his own around the bony shoulders, burying his head against Duo's chest and whimpering into his cotton tee shirt. While part of his mind was yelling at him, barking orders to push away in a voice that sounded suspiciously like J's, another was screaming even louder that this incredible embarrassment was a small price to pay, if it meant getting Duo to listen. Anything to get through to his friend before it was too late.
Forcing himself to continue, Heero whispered, "I'm...scared...that I'm going to lose you, Duo. When I can't find you, I worry that you've hurt yourself so badly that... that by the time I do find you... it will be too late." As he realized that the words he spoke were true, that he wasn't solely acting, it became almost impossible for him to continue. He'd never bared his soul to anyone like this, not even Relena, and it scared the hell out of him, but he refused to back down now. "I don't... I don't like living here anymore, and I don't think I can continue doing it."
Barely keeping the look of horror off his face at Heero's last words, Duo managed to squeak out, "You mean, you don't want to live with me anymore?"
Just the mere thought was unbearable to Duo, and it sent waves of fear throughout his body.
Suddenly an idea flashed through Heero's mind, and he prayed to a god he didn't even fully believe in that this plan would work, that he would have the strength to go through with it and not put the walls back up until it was over.
"Maybe just not here," Heero said, his voice still muffled by Duo's shirt.
"What... what do you mean?" Duo whispered nervously, unsure of what he was getting himself into, and whether or not it was worth it.
"I mean we could get another place. A small apartment maybe, on the other side of town."
The words seemed to echo eerily in the silence that followed, each man replaying the sentence over and over in their mind.
"And if I said no?" Duo asked finally, the old defiance rising once again.
At this, Heero began to fear that his plan might not work, but the stakes were too high for him to back down now. He knew he was taking a chance by saying this, knew that it might very well push Duo away instead of bring him closer, but he saw no other choice at this point.
Praying a little and pulling away, as if to back up his words, Heero said, "Then I will move out on my own."
Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes went by like lifetimes. For a moment, it looked as if Duo would yell and refuse the offer, but the fear of losing the only person who cared for him caused him to soften his features and nod once in agreement.
In resignation.
End notes: EW, THE SAP! I hate it. :S -sigh- It had to be done. But don't think this is the end [it's not even close], or that Duo's given up! The angst shall resume in the next chapter, I promise! This had to be done, for reasons that will become apparent later on.
[1] I really, really hate that word, and I don't like to use it [sounds so cold and heartless, you know?], but in this case, I just thought it sounded better, and more accurately described the picture in my head than some of the other synonyms.
[2] I'm writing this story from two perspectives, because I've been on both sides of similar situations. I don't know which is "right", or whose POV I agree with.. maybe both. Because I can relate to both.