Chapter 14: Your Lack of Ego Offends Male Mentality
Disclaimer: Don't own GW, chapter title is a Manic Street Preachers lyric. I'll say it from now, since I don't want to repeat it in every chapter: Every single chapter title in this story has been, and will be, lyrics from MSP.
A/N: So sorry for waiting this long to update!! This chapter was REALLY hard for me to write. Seriously, I even saved the file as "hard chapter" in my MSWord, lol. :X Because of that, some parts might seem rushed, but I honestly did the best I could. Before going on to the story, I just want to say a few things..
First, I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and encouraged me to continue writing this. I stopped posting this fic on all the mailing lists I was on, and in all the GW communities I'm in, because I was so scared of what other people would think, what conflict it might cause. This is the only place TBtaE will be updated, and I don't think I would have had the strength to do that if it weren't for you guys. I haven't gotten flamed yet, though I'm sure I will before this story is done.. But I'm not so worried about it now, because obviously at least some people can relate to this, and/or enjoy it. So what's so bad about one bad review, when there 99 good ones, right? ;P Thanks again for encouraging me, I really wouldn't have been able to write – and post – as much as I did if it hadn't been for some of you.
Secondly, the reason this chapter was so hard for me to write is because of some of the things that Wufei says to Duo. I just want to make it perfectly clear that I DO NOT agree with them, and they are NOT my personal opinions. My views on the subject are closer to what Duo says in his reply. But I'm staying neutral here. I won't say that anything is right, but I also won't say that anything is wrong.
Third. When I first started writing this, I said that I wanted to make this as close to reality as possible. And what happens at the end of this chapter sort of goes along the lines of what I didn't want to happen. The fairytale happy ending, the "love cures all" cliché. So I want to say from now that this chapter isn't even close to being one of the last, and that this ending isn't what it seems. But.. I think only Jessi know what I'm talking about there. ;P The rest of you shall find out soon! Now the authoress will shut up and let everyone read the story.
Special thanks to: dragen eyez, Shinigami's Forlorn Angel, Koku, and especially to Rashalla Entalio (whose advice and ideas saved this chapter) for the e-mails and Wufei advice – you were all really, really helpful. And, of course, Jessi (blood-poisoning) for her suggestions and opinions on the actual writing part.
"Duo, answer me!" Heero ordered, feeling incredibly helpless.
But Duo, who felt more secure now that he felt his sense of power returning, only sneered and walked into the bathroom where he began his morning ritual.
Four hours of silence had gotten Heero so worked up that he was now pacing in front of the stubborn American. His eyes were wild and bloodshot from stress and lack of sleep, the already messy hair sticking out in all directions from being pulled and ruffled in sheer frustration.
Catching Heero's reflection in the mirror in front of him, Duo couldn't bite back a bitter smile when he saw how agitated he had managed to make the once-perfect soldier. He felt calm now, more in control as he continued to anger Heero simply by staying cool and collected, and remaining totally silent. Seems the roles have reversed now, huh Yuy? he taunted silently.
Seeing the grin Duo cast in his direction, Heero finally snapped. He'd been patient at first; worrying, attempting to talk, to help, to listen, to comfort. But as the minutes stretched into hours, Heero's patience grew thin and the questions turned into demands, the gentle words became frustrated yelling. This was too much, and that damned smug look on Duo's face when he saw all the frustration he was causing was the last straw.
He grabbed Duo by the shoulders, ignoring the whimper of pain coming from the American. The time for caring and talking had passed, and without any other ideas, Heero hauled Duo's fragile body out of the building and physically dragged him down the busy sidewalk, heading towards the nearest bus station.
It was now Duo who received the silent treatment, as he pleaded and begged the ex-pilot to let him go. He struggled, attempting to kick and wiggle himself free, but his efforts were futile. It wasn't a hard fight for Heero to win, as the American's strength was all but gone, the muscles he had once been so proud of now nonexistent in his near-emaciated body.
"Please Heero," he whispered, and the ex-Wing pilot felt himself falter, his resolve weakened by the pain so obvious in the broken plea. Sighing, he released his death-grip on Duo's shoulders, and instead reached down to slip his hand into Duo's, his slender fingers intertwining with those of his friend's. He tried to convince himself that it was only to prevent Duo from running away, but he couldn't ignore the small voice that warned him that he was getting too close, too attached, and that he was headed into dangerous territory.
With this small gesture of comfort, Duo felt himself relax just slightly; relieved, if nothing else, that Heero didn't despise him after everything he had pulled that morning, and in the weeks past.
After walking only a few blocks, Heero began to regret that in his haste, he had opted not to call for a taxi. Duo, no longer resisting, was lagging behind, attempting to hide how tired and sick he felt, but not succeeding. Finally, Heero sighed heavily and stopped walking. Spotting a bench only a few feet away, he helped Duo walk over to the spot and then forced him to sit, rolling his eyes at the American's protests, shouts that he was fine and could make it.
"How do you feel?" Heero asked quietly, attempting to infuse his voice with as much emotion as possible, knowing that the familiar monotone would get him nowhere in this situation. Would, in all probability, only push Duo further away.
Glancing up at his friend in surprise, Duo's protests died on his tongue as he felt those old feelings in his heart return. As much as he tried to convince himself that Heero didn't really care, that he was only acting to get a response out of him, Duo just couldn't bring himself to lie to the face that, for once, looked so open and expressive. So warm and caring. So far from the Heero he had gotten used to over the years.
As he continued to look into those deep, passionate blue eyes, Duo felt the familiar hunger pangs replaced by the butterflies he had all but forgotten about. The warm hand on his knee broke down Duo's remaining walls, and as Heero kneeled down in front of him to get a better look at his face, he found himself responding truthfully without even thinking.
"A.. a little tired," he muttered, hating himself for his weakness. Pathetic, his mind taunted over and over.
Heero frowned and reached for Duo's wrist, rolling up the sleeve and feeling immense relief when he found no new cuts or scratches on the pale forearm. (Annoying A/N: the cutting situation will be explained later, most likely in an A/N, because I think I'm going to have Duo "switch" addictions and have him be mostly ED'ed for the rest of the story, so that way I can focus solely on cutting in the sequel) But as he pressed two fingers above the palm, his renewed hope again shattered when he felt how erratic and weak the pulse throbbed beneath his hand. He didn't let the disappointment or concern show on his face, however.
For the first time in his life, Heero Yuy felt truly scared. This personal war was taking its toll on him, the emotional battles so much harder to fight than the physical ones he'd conquered so easily in his Gundam. But, all the same, he would not admit defeat. Not now, not ever. Raising himself to sit beside Duo on the bench, Heero took the American's thin arm in his hand – part an attempt to comfort, part to prevent him from running – and braced himself as he said, "You.. you need to eat something." Cursing himself as the voice came out so weak, so unsure.
"Fuck you," Duo hissed, and Heero drew back in shock. Stubbornness, anger, indifference, and misery were all emotions that he had grown used to in Duo, but this.. this was something new. Something more. The voice that spoke those harsh words radiated pure, unadulterated hate. And Heero wasn't sure whether it was in response to the suggestion, or he himself. But either way, he felt his mask slipping back into place, the need for comfort gone now that Duo had stopped responding to it.
"You wouldn't have the stamina," Heero snapped in return, surprising even himself with the words. He felt his cheeks begin to burn and he looked away quickly, pulling Duo, who was shocked into compliance, along with him.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Duo finally screamed as he was led into the entrance of a small bus station.
"Because," Heero said gruffly, fed up and tired, "I cannot handle you anymore. You refuse to listen to reason, and I am not equipped to handle this situation alone."
Duo froze, his body stiffening, causing Heero to stop where he was.
"Where are you taking me?" Duo whispered harshly, eyes hardening as he yanked his hand free from Heero's.
"We are going to Quatre's," Heero responded, grabbing Duo by the shoulders and leading him onto the waiting bus.
The rest of the ride was spent in much the same way, the American squirming in his seat, fighting Heero with everything he had. But even as he struggled against the warm arms wrapped around him, he knew that it was useless. They were in a moving vehicle, and even if he did somehow manage to free himself from Heero's iron grip, there would be nowhere for him to go. It was when this realization sunk in that he allowed himself to sag against Heero, at the same time swearing to himself that the fight would resume once they were off the bus.
The sound of the doorbell ringing echoed throughout the estate, but it was Duo's voice, loud and wailing, that drew all three ex-pilots to the door.
A blonde head peeked out, surprised at the scene before him, before hurriedly pulling the door open fully, revealing three shocked and confused men.
Heero grunted as Duo kicked him in the shin, sure that he had acquired many bruises and scratches in the time that ithad takento carry Duo the short distance from the bus station to Quatre's mansion.
"Yuy?" Wufei asked, by way of greeting.
"May we come in?" Heero all but snarled, frustrated that his friends were still blocking his passage.
They moved aside quickly and Heero breathed a quick sigh of relief as he stepped inside, finally relinquishing his weakening grip on Duo. The small American wasted no time in racing towards the nearest bathroom, and Heero had to wonder where the sudden burst of energy came from, when not even an hour ago Duo had barely been able to walk down the sidewalk.
"Yuy, what is going on?" Wufei demanded as the sound of a door slamming was heard in the distance.
And Heero shocked everybody, once again, by throwing his arms up in frustration, recounting the events of the past few months as he sunk wearily into a chair.
In the bathroom, Duo sat curled up in the corner against a wall and the door, his body shaking as he pressed an ear to the wood. He couldn't make out much, for even Heero's yelling was quiet, compared to a normal person's. He heard only a few select words, shouted as loud as Heero's voice would go: "laptop", "eating", "weight", and – he shivered at the last one – "anorexia".
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," he chanted to himself in a whisper, standing up and frantically tearing through the medicine cabinet above the sink, searching for a razor, scissors, safety-pins, anything sharp, anything at all that would allow him that small, but wonderful, moment of relief.
Finding nothing, Duo started pacing, ignoring the dizziness. His hands shook, and he thought in nervous amusement that they looked like a junkie's who needed a fix. But the joke was lost quickly as he realized that that was indeed what he was. An addict lacking their drug of choice.
The reflection in the bathroom mirror as he passed it angered him. He stopped his pacing to take the time to stare at himself, picking out and berating himself for every flaw that he found. The eyes that were too big, the cheeks that were too round, a million other things that he feared he would never be able to correct.
Suddenly, he had an idea and he grabbed the bottle of soap on the sink to smash the mirror with (solving both of his problems, he reasoned), but was shocked when a cool hand clamped down on his raised arm before it could connect with the glass.
Turning around, frightened violet eyes met angry cobalt, and Duo could do nothing but let out a small whimper as Heero guided him out of the small bathroom andinto the kitchen where the ex-pilots were waiting in an eery silence.
He smelled the food before he saw it.
"No," Duo whispered as Quatre approached hesitantly, holding out a plate of what Duo supposed they considered "light, healthy" food.
"Please, Duo," Quatre pleaded, in a whisper similar to Duo's. "Only a little, I promise.. just a few bites?"
Salad, yogurt, a muffin, peanut-butter on wholewheat bread.
Duo let himself be led to the kitchen table, but when Quatre attempted to place the food in front of him, Duo jumped away, frightened by its mere presence.
The salad wouldn't be so bad.. But it's covered in dressing!.. It wouldn't be so terrible, would it? Just a bite of the muffin?.. NO! One bite leads to two, two leads to three, and pretty soon you've scarfed down the entire thing in less than a minute!
Two strong hands pressed him into the seat again, and when Duo looked around, he could plainly see the horror written across each and every face.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STARING AT?" he screamed, mask fully gone, and everyone jumped back in surprise.
The room was silent, save Duo's heavy breathing.
"Someone. Say. Something," Duo ground out, his mind spinning. Anything would be better than the silence, he thought.Yelling he was used to, lectures he was used to, but this..?
"Duo. I told them," Heero began gently, and Duo found himself rolling his eyes. Well, no shit. "Please.. Eat something."
The food was placed in front of Duo again, and the American could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, could hear the blood pounding in his head. No, NO, I can't eat, not here, not in front of them!
Duo found himself paralyzed under everyone's gazes, and before he even realized what he was doing, the plate was thrown across the room, porcelain shards raining down against the opposite wall.
"Maxwell," Wufei growled, but before he could get out another word, Duo jumped out of the kitchen chair, the force knocking it over with a loud crash.
"Don't," Duo hissed, "I know what you're going to say and I don't want to hear it!"
"I… I don't understand," Quatre said quietly, creeping closer to Duo. "I don't understand at all.. We care so much about you, I don't understand why you would hurt yourself like this! What is it that you're doing, Duo?" When the American showed no signs of response, the blonde turned towards the rest of the group. "I've never heard of.. of..."
Wufei sighed, and with sad eyes he glanced up at Duo. "Pro Anorexia," he stated, and everyone froze as the words that had been repeating through everybody's minds were finally said out loud. "It's.. It's an 'undergroud' community, consisting mostly of girls aged 12-19. They create webpages with tips on how to.." his eyes grew colder and he looked away before continuing, "how to starve yourself, and how to hide your condition from friends and family. The people who care about you," he stated, looking pointedly at Duo. "They contain pictures of emaciated models, and these websites often create eating disorders in young girls who view them."
Quatre gasped, and Duo fought the urge to roll his eyes again at the blonde's naiveté.
"That's not exactly it," Duo interjected, glaring at Wufei who could only stare back sadly.
"Yes Maxwell, that is exactly it. These webpages have been around for hundreds of years, and they seem to only be growing in number. What I don't understand," he continued, turning around so that he was fully facing Duo, "is why you are engaging in this behavior, participating in this.. this horror. By the looks of you, I'd say you've been doing this for a long time now, and-"
"What do you mean?" Duo interrupted worriedly, "'by the looks of' me?"
"Your body, Maxwell," Wufei replied, "your weight!"
He knew he shouldn't ask it. He knew that it would only make things a million times worse than they already were, but his insecurities were too great to let the comment go by.
"My weight.. You mean I'm fat?" Duo asked in a meek voice, half praying that nobody had heard.
"NO!" Wufei yelled, appalled. "You've got no fat, you're so.. so tiny, there's nothing to you but skin and bones," he finished, the anger fading, replaced by only a deep concern for a good friend.
Duo only barely resisted the urge to say "thank you", and instead just nodded his head, staring at thewhite tilingof the kitchenfloor.
"Do you understand how serious your condition is, Maxwell? Do you understand that you could die? Yuy has already informed us that your health – your pulse, heart rate, temperature – have been affected, and it worries me to see that you are still only concerned with how your body looks. To know that, despite all the obvious medical and emotional problems, you still continue to view thesedestructive websites."
"Look Wufei, no offense, but you have no right to preach something you know nothing about," Duo stated irritably, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a gesture of defense.
"But you know nothing about it either!" Wufei insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he attempted to get through to his friend. "You don't understand what you're doing to yourself – what you're doing to your online 'friends'! And what about everyone else, the people who truly care about you? What about me, Heero, Quatre and Trowa? Can't you see that you're hurting us by doing this to yourself?"
"Look, I know perfectly well what I'm doing to myself, I don't need this shit from you, Wufei!" Duo exclaimed, his frustration raising along with his voice.
"No, you don't know, Maxwell, and what you're doing is an injustice not only to yourself and to your friends, but to anyone else who happens to come across your 'advice' online. You risked your life every day for three years trying to stop the killing, to save innocent lives – but don't you see that you're doing the very opposite now by.. by promoting this disease? You might as well still be piloting Deathscythe, because what you're doing now is no different. It's killing, it's murder!" Then, voice catching, "It's suicide. I don't understand, Maxwell, why? Why would you want to do something as stupid as this? Surely you know that it's wrong.. that there are other ways? What about coming to us? Any one of us would put their life on the line for you, Ma- Duo, because we care about you. Not those people who claim to be your friends. They don't care, and if they did, they would be saying what I'm saying now, not giving you advice on how to hurt yourself further."
"No, see that's where you're wrong, Wufei," Duo said icily, and the tone made everyone in the room freeze. "I know exactly what I'm doing. To myself, to all of you, to my friends – my real friends – online. I know it's selfish, dammit, I know there are other ways! But coming to you?" he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm as he gestured to the four ex-pilots in the room with wild arms, all of them staring back at him in shock. "You say you care, and maybe you do… now. Now that you know. But what about before? What about right after the war when I couldn't get through the night without crying, without nightmares, when I didn't come out of my room for days at a time, where were you then, huh? What about your 'space-heart', Quatre? You can sense pain from Heero when he broke up with his fucking Perfect Princess, but you can't tell when I'm so miserable that the only thing left for me to do is starve? Even when I'm throwing up, passing out, falling down right in front of you?! Am I mistaken, Quatre, or wasn't it you who caught me in the kitchen that morning? Were the Great Shinigami's lies so believing that they fooled even you, the empath, or were you just too caught up in your own life with Trowa to even give a shit about the person you claim to 'care so much' about!"
By this point, Quatre was sobbing into Trowa's chest, hating himself because, vengeful as they were, the words were true.
"I.. I didn't know," he whispered sadly, half an apology, half by way of explanation. "You told us that you were sick, and…" He let his voice trail off as Duo's hurt and anger suddenly overtook him – and he wondered how he had let himself block it all out before. How he had managed to miss such powerful, overwhelming emotions.
"Yeah, well I was sick," Duo continued, furious now. "Sick and tired of being ignored and left out, of being the only one who couldn't find a place in society after the war. Wufei, you say that what I'm doing is wrong, but tell me: What else was there for me to do?" Met with only a shocked silence, he continued. "And now I'm sure that I made the right decision in not going to any of you. You accuse me, and you blame me, say horrible things about something you know NOTHING ABOUT! It seems to me, Wufei, that that's the injustice. You say it's like murder, but it's not. Because the only person I'm killing is myself. If some little girl happens across a website, she won't 'catch' the 'disease' unless she's already predisposed and would have gotten sick at another point in her life anyway. Be it an eating disorder, cutting, alcohol, drugs, or any other form of self-abuse – take your pick! Someone doesn't just 'develop' anorexia from reading about it on the fucking internet, not unless the seed has already been planted.. and in that case, like I said, the self-abuse would have come out at any other time in any other way. 'Ana' is just.. our chosen method. We – or, at least, I – know that it's not good, and it's not fun, not glamorous, not cool, not anything positive in any way, shape, or form. It's making the best out of an already-bad situation. Yes, already bad, I'm not as disillusioned as you all seem to think! 'Pro ana' is making the decision to continue down that road of self-destruction – the road you would have traveled anyway, pro or not – with friends, with people who care, who won't judge, or try to change you. Essentially, it's the acceptance that draws us in. I never asked to become.." he choked on the word, "..anorexic. But once it became an option, I jumped at it, because it's the only fucking thing that I had. I'm not kind like you, Quatre, not talented like you, Trowa, not strong like Wufei, and not smart like Heero. It was so easy for all of you to get back to a normal life after the war, and I wish I could do that, but I just can't. I tried, I tried so hard but nothing worked, and I just gave up! I'm not like the rest of you, I don't have any of the qualities that make you guys so strong. This is all that I have.. all I've ever had. I can do this, and I can be the best. And I will, because it feels good. It feels fucking good to finally be accepted in a community, in society, to find my place; to find that, after all these years of living as a worthless shit with nothing going for me, I actually am good at something.
"It's too late for the 'We care, Duo' shit now.. Way too damn late." And his voice was barely above a whisper as he finished, exhausted by the longest speech he had given in almost a year. He felt tired, but he refused to sit. He was dizzy, but would not ask for food. He could feel tears pricking behind his closed eyelids, but he was determined not to let them fall. Any of these things would have betrayed his weakness, proving that his friends were right in their accusations and logic. Duo had never felt more exposed or vulnerable in his life.. and the feeling scared the shit out of him.
Heero was the first to pull out of the trance Duo's words had left them in. Walking over to Duo, he rested a hand gently on the other's back, feeling sick – but not pulling away – as he caressed the sharp, protruding bones.
"Come sit, Duo," he urged, noting with alarm the slight sway of the American's body. When Duo made no move to follow the order, Heero took hold of an all-too-thin arm and led him over to a chair in the living room, relaxing when Duo let himself collapse into it.
Shifting uncomfortably in the overstuffed cushions, Duo looked around the room at his friends, taking note of the expressions, the eyes, the postures. Quatre clutched onto Trowa as if he were a lifeline, and Duo could see that the strong hands wrapped tightly around Quatre's back were white, and shaking just slightly. Wufei stood straight and stiff, his head bowed down, expression unreadable. And – he had to stop and do a double take, not trusting his own eyes – Heero was the most expressive of them all, dark eyes shining brightly with saddness, with guilt, with.. concern?
It was Quatre who broke the maddening silence this time as he asked the question that seemed to be on everyone's mind:
"But why, Duo? Why did you decide to start such a thing?"
Duo was impressed that the voice betrayed none of the emotion he could read plainly in Quatre's eyes, but as the question sunk in he began to panic when his reason, long forgotten, came flying back.
Don't do it, his mind screamed at him, don't use this as a distraction!
But it was the only thing he could think of, his head filled with images from so long ago. Memories of him staring in the mirror and asking, Am I perfect yet? Can Heero love me yet?
Glancing away, his guilty conscience not allowing him to look at a single face, he whispered, "Because I love you." Loved, a voice reminded him. He ignored it. "I fucking love you, Heero."
TBC...
OMG, it's finally done. –rejoices- I think that was the hardest thing I've ever written in all the years I've been posting on ffnet. .