Chapter III.
I've read Duo's story, or maybe Duo's ''POV on daily events'' as he called it. He decided not to write anymore since ''he's got better shit to do''. And I liked his stuff. Well, whatever. Strange affinity for departing from things. It's as if he wants to get away before becoming too attached. But I'm no psychiatrist. I'd probably need one myself. Something really strange happened to me the other day. I was walking back from mall and it was raining. Those raindrops weren't the big and slow ones that usually fall in autumn. They were the small and fast ones, like those in summer storms. So, I was walking back without an umbrella. I guess I forgot it (black clouds in the sky obviously didn't tell me much) and decided to walk slowly since I'm going to get all wet anyways. I watched the pavement slipping under my feet, when I saw an envelope. Wet, but not yet ruined. I can't explain why, but I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I had a weird feeling at the moment I took it, as if I stole it and now it was mine. Nobody knows my sin. Weird.
I came home and sat on a couch depositing the envelope on a small wooden desk Catherine got at one of those antique shops. It must have been only a minute that took me to open it. It seemed like ages if that's an excuse. No address. No ''Dear whoever...'' at the beginning. Three pages. Lyrics to song ''Angels would fall'' by Mellisa Etheridge on first page with some lines underlined with red pen. Strange, one of my favourite songs. Such an irony in that verse ''...never know my sin...'' I read it carefully trying to predict the tone of the remaining lines. Impossible. Whoever wrote this letter wasn't the stereotypical person you can just label pathetic/popular/jock/nerd/punk/other.
''I hate you.'' First sentence after the song. Thanks a lot, I think to my self, laughing. This whole letter is full of contradictions. No one normal could have written this. Suicidal. Homicidal. Angsty. Definitely. I think I would like to meet this person. Funny, I keep thinking if I'll ever accidentally pass him/her by in the street or buy newspaper in his/her stand. Probably never. Maybe better.
I played some basketball with Heero yesterday. It seems like that guy just can't do anything without competing. Neither can I. Professional defection. In the end, we were exhausted and sweaty like two oversized women after shopping.
''Did you ever want to disappear?'' he asked me. ''I don't know.'' I said. I lied. I did. Almost every day. Not to die. Only not to be. But how would you know you want to disappear if you have never existed? Paradox.
Catherine made me take her to the cinema to see some movie. I think she only wanted to make me get out of the house worried I'll crack. She feels guilty she can't spent more time with me since she got herself a boyfriend. Nice guy, no argue. Although, he's somewhat scared. Maybe he thinks I'll beat him up if he hurts her. I will.
We've watched some new blockbuster. ''Romantic comedy''. Romance in it was cheap, comedy was pathetic. Yet, I had a nice time. When I'm with Cathy, I can just sit next to her not saying anything and still communicate. That's why a cinema is a logical choice. You can't speak even if you want to, cause some teenager will throw her popcorn at you screaming ''Shut up, you punk!''
Movie ended, John and Jane (or was it Sam and Sally?) got married with that faked ending kiss and we headed home. She asked me if I liked the movie. I said I did. I lied again. She said I must be joking because the movie sucked. I agreed. That's what she's like, simple.
I went into my room and saw that letter again. Had to read it again. It became my obsession. Now, I already knew some parts by heart. Sick. There was this one sentence that made me think. '' Why can't I ever say what I mean?'' Shit.
Memories flooded me. That night when I got drunk. I got into a cab but I didn't went straight home. I went to that old bridge that started collapsing long time ago. I sat on the remaining of the iron construction and stared into the water for some time.
Didn't want to jump or anything like that. Just stared. Hell knows where my thoughts were at the time.
I went home after that and stood in the darkness for a while. Then I took some paper. Three pieces of paper exactly. And wrote a letter to nobody while that song played. That's why I wrote those lines in the first place. Wanted to burn it, but then I went to the attic and threw it from the highest window.
Why couldn't I remember I wrote it? Not one word. Like I had a complete memory loss. Like I wasn't Trowa when I wrote it. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was me. I never felt like this before. Is this a split personality or plain state of being drunk?
Decided that the best way to forget the whole episode would be to let Sex Pistols play their ''God Save The Queen'' while I try to kill as many dragons as I can in this new game Duo gave me.
They'll never know my sin, anyways.
Chapter three...Bored yet? Hehe just joking:) Never would have guessed Trowa will inspire me for this long. Heck, he'll become my muse in a while! Anyways, that ''Duo's story'' Trowa mentions is related to my other fic (''I just want to say something'') but isn't too relevant for Trowa's story since it shows the same events but from Duo's POV. Thanks to everyone who have read this and especially to folks who reviewed. People, your reviews are my food:O
