Wow. You wouldn't think that up until this point I had only ever written rape scenes. I can create soft and squidgy too. I have wanted them together for the longest time, but it needed to be at the perfect moment. I have a few ideas for more chapters, but it is likely I may just add drabble-style stories like War, so please follow me to keep updated with the boys: The same boys that mean so much to all of us.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and stifling a yawn, I looked around the familiar room and the bed with the naked Japanese man upon it. His hazel mop of hair was sticking up in every direction from his sleep, from our activities the night before. I gently moved the locks from his face to see for the first time his face showing a gentle smile of calm and peace, a look I rarely saw on him.
Lying naked with him for the first time in what felt like forever was comforting, yet my scars /and cuts/ on display still made me nervous. Memories of the night before, Heero whispering 'You are beautiful' flickered across my mind, and made me want to scratch that familiar itch. I rubbed at where the bandage I wore the day before hid cuts from view, but that had come loose during our intimacy. The cuts were scabby and angry, bleeding as I dug my nails into them to gouge the healing flesh away. Realising that I was close to allowing the blood to stain the bed sheets, I gently untangled our limbs and slid from the bed. Smiling sadly at the sleeping man I had come to love as I left the room.
By the time I emptied my bladder in the adjoining bathroom, the cuts had already stopped bleeding /shame/. Cleaning them up the best I could with water and toilet roll, I decided against wasting any more first aid supplies on them. My hair was in need of washing but I just felt so… drained. I managed to brush it out and then quickly re-braid it though, promising myself I would clean it later. A shower would have woken Heero up anyway, and he looked so peaceful there. I ran the water enough so that I could fill a glass with water to wash down all of the prescribed pills. All different shapes and sizes, like pieces in a child's game.
After dressing as quietly as I could, I snuck out into the kitchen. Spotless, of course, the perfect soldier couldn't deal with the mess. I picked up the pizza boxes from the night before, stealing the last slice of cold pizza, before putting them in the recycling bin. The smell of brewing coffee always made me think of the war. How Trowa had introduced us to 'real' coffee.
Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood alert. The soldier's instinct of something wasn't right. The danger was closing in on me. I placed the mug back on the table slowly and allowed my senses to scan the apartment. Heero… Something was wrong. Living with him like this for the longest time somehow had instilled a sixth sense about him. In case he was dreaming /having a night terror about your body you mean/, I silently padded towards the bedroom, regretting that I had closed the door for not wanting to wake him. As I reached for the doorknob, the door flew inwards.
Heero rushed to wrap his arms around me, shaking as he did so. The force was crushing, but I allowed him to take what he needed from me. His eyes were almost black, his skin a cold sweat. I wrapped my own arms around him in return until the shaking subsided. I had seen him in similar states in the past, and this intense need to realise that my presence was not an illusion. I silently punished myself for leaving him, knowing that the stress of waking up alone might have had this effect on him, especially after the night before.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered into the crook of my neck where his face lay buried and breathing in my familiar and comforting scent.
I allowed him to stay there a few moments more before squeezing him gently and pulling back to look into scared ocean-blue eyes. I reached one of my hands up to hold his cheek, which he leaned into. "Heero, I am right here," I whispered. "Not going anywhere, not leaving you 'Ro."
Eventually, when he had calmed down enough, I took him by the hand, hands that were once calloused and war-weary, and led him to the couch where I let him cling to me again. He lay between my legs, head resting against my chest and listening to my heartbeat. I stroked his hair, soothing him like a mother would her child. Moments like this happened more often than I would have liked, but this one felt so intense but familiar. The same panic when I had first woken him from one of his night terrors so long ago, and he had thought that he had hurt me.
"Wanna talk about it?" I squeezed him gently, trying to bring him around.
"You were gone…" He kept his eyes closed, away from my own, from embarrassment perhaps. "I woke up and you were gone." I squeezed him again, letting him find the words. It was something he promised he would try to work on, being able to vocalise his feelings past the occasional grunt. "I just thought… I thought after last night, you weren't going to be here. That I pushed you away."
"Oh Heero," I kissed the top of his head. "I promise you, I am not going to leave you."
"But after everything I have done…" Like disappearing, or stopping my /many/ suicide attempts.
"It's okay. You don't need to worry about me leaving you. I promise." This deep-rooted fear of abandonment was something that I don't think either of us could ever truly banish.
"But what if you cut too deep? What if you cut too deep and I am not around to save you?"
My own breath hitched this time, and the squeeze in turn became tighter. And I was finally realising that this fear was a demon of my own creation. I didn't know what to say. "Why didn't you say that?" The words came tumbling from my mouth, and I tried to hold back tears. My love was in so much pain because of me. My heart broke into so many different pieces. Some wanted to break the habit, some wanted to run, and another to punish myself for making him feel like this.
"What would you have done Duo?" He sat up so that he was now kneeling between my legs and staring at me. "What would you have done?" I couldn't meet his eye this time, couldn't see them asking questions that I didn't know the answer to. "I need to know."
Asking someone to give up the only thing keeping you in the world is dangerous. It defines you on so many levels. And no matter how much you want to escape it, it is always in your mind. You might be able to hide from the intent, but never the memories as you see the damage that you have inflicted and how easy it is to pick up that faithful unquestioning companion. The light glinted like flames across the blade's surface.
Someone may drink to forget. Someone may take drugs to escape. Someone may cut to punish themselves or cut to keep the pain from crushing them and to keep themselves in the world. I fall into both of those categories. I can say that now, but finding the words to describe it to those who have never felt those ants crawl over their skin. The same itch that can only ever be satisfied by the sting of a blade sliding effortlessly through flesh.
"I don't know," I whisper. I wanted to run, to run, keep going and never look back. Not from my love, but from this conversation and demons.
"Duo…" He wrapped his arms around me, acutely aware that the tables had turned and that it was my turn for unrequited love.
"I don't know… I can't… I want to stop… but… I can't…"