Chapter Twenty Two: Blindsided
No one made a big deal about Duo and Heero coming in from the back yard together covered in snow after a long absence, and a small voice inside of Duo asked if maybe they were purposefully minding their own business only to trap each of them later to demand details. He wouldn't put it past Wufei. The man was the nosiest of them all.
As they took off their coats Quatre handed a warm up of cocoa to Heero, then one to Duo. The warmth was welcome in Duo's hands, as he hadn't brought gloves, but the drink gave him serious pause. While Quatre moved on to the other side of the room Duo stared into the mug, trying to hold back his anger. He was not about to drink any open beverage provided by the man currently whispering something in Trowa's ear. How could anyone expect him to do that? It was far too soon.
It didn't take long for the room to feel too warm and stuffy again. As much as Duo wanted to remove extra layers of clothing and take off his light hoodie, he self-consciously pulled at it to cover his scar instead. He also felt awkward about ditching the cooling mug of cocoa. If he held onto it perhaps no one would notice how he wasn't drinking, and he could avoid reminders of last week.
Looking about the room everyone seemed comfortable with one another. Heero and Sally were chatting casually. Wufei was laughing with Trowa while Quatre paid close attention and added his two cents from time to time.
He realized he could put down the mug any time he wanted.
Watching them was like an out of body experience. They didn't actually need him there and no one seemed to notice how Duo was left alone. He sat near them, but was engaged with no one. He could've sent a cardboard cutout in his place and it would have the same effect. When he first arrived they made an effort to include him that lasted all of fifteen minutes. After that they fell into what appeared to be a familiar rhythm of conversation, occasionally mentioning him but not actually giving him a chance to participate.
When it got to be too much he quietly left to sit out in the yard, and it took them far longer that it should have to realize he was missing. Duo felt trapped. He wanted to be alone but he also wanted them to want him here and give him a place to feel welcome. Instead he was feeling like a prop, or a duty. They invited him. They made him show up. They satisfied whatever perverse need they had to feel like good people and then went about their business like he wasn't there at all.
The worst part was how they all seemed happy.
A familiar voice in Duo's head told him maybe they really were all happier without him, but they just didn't realize it yet. It whispered to him that he was right to leave them all and stupid to allow himself to be pulled back. That he should disappear again so the others could remain happy.
He felt all of this in spite of knowing that Wufei cared about him and checked in on him when he lost his phone for a couple of days. He felt it even though Sally was good to him and so very reassuring. He felt it even though Trowa, who hadn't seen him in years, refused to entertain the thought that he could be behind that plot against Quatre, confident Duo would not harm anyone. And he felt it even though Heero had been so unusually thoughtful with the dish he brought, and displayed signs of affection that tempted Duo to fall back into his arms not even half an hour earlier. None of that mitigated the feeling they'd all be better off without him.
He hated being emotionally trapped.
Duo's eyes wandered to the dining table and the food spread out across it. He felt too self conscious to have any appetite. He arrived on time but everyone else was already in attendance and it was obvious they'd been there for a while. It seemed his invitation was set to at least 30 minutes after the time given to everyone else. Since then he observed people picking at the food selection with no real designated meal time. This behavior was so normal to them it caused Duo to feel even more out of place. They'd obviously done many Sunday potlucks before. He was, again, the odd man out.
He focused his attention to the dish that Heero surely brought. It was a plate that taunted him with the idea that someone here was thinking about him even when they were apart.
Tamales were one of the few hot foods Duo had in his early childhood. Street vendors on L2 sold them for cheap and when the gang was lucky with thieving or scamming they could buy some and share the bounty. For the gang it was a true feast. The corn masa was a little sweet, the meat filling savory and tender, and it created a balance of flavors that kids who mostly ate tossed away scraps and stolen goods never experienced before.
At the orphanage he recalled it as the most amazing food ever to exist, and begged Sister Helen to buy him some or give him a few credits to get them on his own. When she surprised all the children with tamales a few months later as a reward for Duo's good behavior, she called them a gift from god.
He smiled faintly as he remembered telling her "your god is a street vendor who charges you for gifts!" In retrospect he wasn't as grateful as he should've been, but she knew how happy he was nonetheless.
Whatever restaurant Heero ordered from was probably well reviewed by food critics. It all looked just a little too perfect for Duo. Less like someone's abuelita made them and more like a high end chef trying to needlessly elevate a simple and perfect food. Maybe they tasted great. Maybe they were an abomination, a tamale in technicality only. He didn't know which, but the effort on Heero's part to obtain them was touching. He only ever mentioned them once in passing, many years before.
When he heard his name being called he turned back to the group and found that everyone was looking at him silently.
"Duo?"
He mentally cursed himself. They must have been calling his name for a while.
"Yeah?"
Wufei shot him a concerned look. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just…" he wasn't sure if the truth would make sense. "I guess I was thinking about tamales."
Everyone other than Heero looked puzzled. When Trowa questioned "Why tamales?" it shot a rush of nostalgia through Duo he wasn't prepared to feel. He never before had to express what they meant to him verbally. He never even told Heero why this particular food was so dear to him. Heero accepted that tamales were sentimental to him at face value, as he did with so many of Duo's vague and quick references to his past. This was the first time anyone actually asked for an explanation.
Without thinking too hard he gave Trowa a dopey grin and said wistfully "It's one of my only purely good memories from growing up on the streets."
For a moment it was as though Solo was beside him, and the rest of the kids, long gone, were given a breath of life again through his memory. In that instant he felt like the people he once loved as his closest friends and makeshift family were finally in the same place and time as the people he currently hoped might carry on their roles. But that bittersweet contentment was shockingly short lived when he heard someone scoff and say "Come on. No one grows up on the streets somewhere like L2."
The house was still too warm. The air still too stuffy for his liking. But at those words his blood ran cold and he felt a shiver run up his spine. "What?"
It was Quatre who answered, as it was also Quatre who made the initial comment. Duo couldn't help but think of fucking course it was Quatre as the blonde rattled on oblivious to the duress he was causing.
"The odds of you actually growing up on the streets and becoming a Gundam pilot are next to none. Every one of us was in one way or another groomed for our roles. Even Trowa was raised with mercenaries. Maybe you hung out with some street kids from time to time but you couldn't have actually grown up like that. No one grows up on those streets and makes anything of themselves."
Quatre's sweet and casual voice stabbed him with every additional word. "Did you…" Duo put down the now cold cocoa and brought a hand up to his temple, rubbing it as though he could anticipate a headache coming. "Did you think my entire life was fucking hyperbole?" The anger in Duo's voice rose as he spoke, coming to a deafening crescendo at the word hyperbole as he spit it out with vitriol.
Trowa immediately jumped in. "Wait, Duo—" but the braided man ignored him, continuing to speak with a more measured but slightly raised voice.
"And where do you get off making assumptions about L2 like that? Just like every colony we're a cluster. Ya can't go about spreading lies and misinformation you heard from some pundit tryin to make a damn cause outta us!" His anger was unleashing itself and he didn't care if it was upsetting to anyone. He was done pretending to be okay.
Wufei interjected "Duo—" to no avail.
"We were good people, ya know? But we were so poor. And colonies don't have natural resources either so it's not right to talk down about folks who are just trying to survive. We just wanted to live!"
Quatre found that streak of cruelness Duo was so accustomed to. "Did they?"
The question stopped him cold. "Huh?"
Pulling out of Trowa's warning grasp Quatre asked "Did any of your friends from the street survive the wars?"
The room stilled. Quatre had the audacity to put air quotes around the word friends. It felt to Duo like deija vu from the Christmas party. This was supposed to be an easy social gathering and he couldn't understand why it had to transform into something so difficult.
"No." His voice was even, the last vestiges of his self control keeping him in check. "They all died before the wars. In the plague."
Duo didn't need to look directly at Trowa to know his eyes were widening with realization and panic over where the topic of the conversation, or conflict, was about to lead.
"I read about that."
Duo's eyes narrowed as he spat out "I bet you did, Winner." In his peripheral vision he saw Sally and Wufei exchange worried looks as Heero fixed him with an intense gaze he couldn't place, but he was too focused on Quatre to spare anyone else his attention. As the blonde man looked annoyed and confused something occurred to Duo, the realization hitting him hard.
"Holy shit you still don't know." He barked out a hollow laugh and made the effort to stand. His healing skin uncomfortably tight as he straightened his back. A few days ago it might have pulled his stitches, but a few days ago Quatre was on his best guilt-driven behavior, too. Things change.
"That guy who tried to have you killed last week? The one I was tracking for almost a month? He grew up on the streets of L2. Just like me. And like every L2 street kid including me he had a damn good reason to hate the Winner family. But unlike me he thought revenge was a great way to deal with trauma. Unlike me he couldn't understand that you can't lay the sins of the father on his son."
"What are you—"
"I grew up without shelter. Without money or safety. When we could scrape together a couple of credits we were able to afford tamales from the cheapest food cart around. And even then it would never come to our part of the colony, it stayed just beyond us, closer to the pathetic excuse for a commercial district. And when a plague swept through—"
"Duo-"
"Shut up, Trowa!" Violet eyes dared anyone to interrupt again. They did not.
"Winner Pharmaceuticals withheld life saving treatments and vaccines from us because there was no profit in letting the poor live. Your pacifist father didn't like violence but was totally okay allowing his company to hoard supplies and let us die." Duo was gesturing wildly along with his words. "That's why some nut job went after you. That's why Une had to investigate me to rule me out as a person of interest. The guy who tried to have you killed has more in common with me then you ever will. Fuck he's got more in common with Trowa than you ever will. So don't go flippantly erasing my life, you asshole! Do you even listen to the words that come out of your mouth? Don't gaslight my entire childhood and then look at me with that innocent face of yours! Just because someone had nothing doesn't mean they can't be something!"
His heart was pounding against his rib cage and he could feel the thrum of blood pulsing through his veins. All that energy seemed to pool into his side and his wound was throbbing along with every heartbeat. The awkwardness of the entire situation made his skin itch. No one moved or said a word.
Duo closed his eyes, exhausted. He felt like he did something terrible, but at the same time he felt a bit liberated.
He added, no longer shouting, "this was me trying. Coming here today was me trying. But I just can't be here any longer." He opened his eyes and looked around the room. "I'm not used to people anymore. And I'm still working through what's increasingly looking like a lotta anger. But thank you for inviting me, Sally. I hope you continue to do that even when I keep turning you down."
Duo locked eyes with Sally as he spoke the last part, letting her know he wasn't angry with her, and then did his best to storm out. He didn't pay attention to the chorus of voices that erupted as he grabbed his coat. He didn't look to see who grabbed his arm to unsuccessfully stop him from leaving or register which people ran out into the snow after him as he shut the door of his car and turned over the engine. He didn't even care that he was so angry his lead foot caused a tire to spin out in the snow before he adjusted the pressure he was exerting onto the gas pedal and pulled out onto roads already blanketed in white.
He only cared about getting away from them all.
By the time he turned into center city the streets were mostly clear. Earlier treatment for ice combined with plows at work made the remainder of his drive home easy even with limited visibility. He just wanted to be home where there was no one to hurt him, or carry on conversations without him, or break his heart. He wanted to be home, where he could be alone and didn't need to pretend things were okay when they weren't.
His side was blazing with pain. After parking he needed a few minutes to psych himself into getting out of his car, while his body screamed at him to stay put and not move. He used the open driver's door to steady himself, allowing it to support his weight as he got his footing. His body protested when he unlocked his front door and pushed the heavy object open, fiery pain radiating from his wound. He'd managed to agitate his injury enough that it even stabbed at him as he toed off his shoes.
When he finally reached his couch he let out a pained breath and hoped he wouldn't have to move until tomorrow. Maybe tonight he'd get some well deserved peace. He was very much over people.
Everything was better alone.