09-Jan-2001
::delurks briefly::
Hey, minna-san! Does anyone still remember me? Probably not...Anyway, here's a little something I wrote the other day under the influence of bad weather, PMSing, and the fact that I forgot to refill my Prozac prescription -_- Be advised, it's dark.
Disclamer: GWing ain't mine, duh!
Warning: dark,angsty, POV, self-injury, shounen-ai, some language
Additional warning: I've never cut myself on purpose, so I can't possibly accurately and convincingly tell what goes through the mind of a "cutter" but I tried my best. By no means do I endorse self-injury, or imply that it's easy to deal with.
Additional Additional warning: Please don't read if the idea of self-injury disturbs you in any way. But this fic is NOT a deathfic, promise ^_^
Pairing: 1+2
Archive: GW Addiction, everybody else please ask me first!
Note: //...// denotes inner thoughts
"Duo! Duo, are you all right? You've been in there awfully long."
Fuck you, Quatre, and your concern! Won't you just leave me alone? But I know he will not - worse yet, he might try to barge in here and that's the last thing I want.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Quatre. Just taking care of a few cuts. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
This seems to satisfy him because I hear his footsteps receding down the hall. I turn back to the mirror then, and stare at the reflection staring back at me. I stare at the face in the mirror and try to recall how many times I've stood like this. I can't, but the scars on my arms could probably tell me, I just don't feel like counting at the moment. Instead, I look into the eyes of the stranger in the mirror. The angles, the planes of the face - I've memorized them all by now. It's the face I should have come to recognize by now, but I don't. Every time I look at myself it's like I'm seeing a stranger. How can this - this person - look so nonchalant when there's hell raging inside? How dare he wear such an innocent expression and a carefree smile when so much blood is on my hands I've forgotten what they used to look like? It nags my brain until I want to scream and smash my fist through the mirror - but I don't. After all, I don't want the other to come running. Later, I shall take care of my demons. Almost forcibly, I tear myself away from the sink - and the mirror. As I turn away, I catch the last glimpse of my reflection. It looks back at me, disdainful and mocking. I know you'll be back, it seems to say. I slam the door.
Nights are the worst. It's only me against the demons then, and they don't know the concept of fair play. Every night I swear I will not give in to the nightmares, knowing that I will. There is nothing, absolutely nothing I can do against my ghosts. They come and haunt me - the orphanage kids, the random people, some faceless OZ soldier I didn't even know I killed. They hover and stare at me with their blank eyes and there is nowhere I could hide from them, whether awake or in my sleep. Some nights are better than others are, but they are all bad. Sometimes it gets so bad that I'm afraid I'll lose the remaining shreds of my sanity and God knows I haven't got much left to go on. Those are the nights when I make my way back to the bathroom and the mirror, and that hateful apparition in the mirror. It greets me snickering, a knowing look in its eyes. It joins the little voice inside my head in an endless tirade of self-loathing until I want to curl up into a tiny ball in the corner and simply sob my soul out. But I can't. Somewhere in all this madness I'd forgotten how to cry. So I cry the tears of blood, little droplets of it welling up in the wake of the razor blade.
I used to think that cutting myself, spilling my own blood would somehow make up for all the horrors I had inflicted upon other people - make up for the blood I had shed. I used to believe that my blood would pacify the demons. But they became greedier, thirstier. Eventually, I began to cut myself just so that the pain of the injuries would snap me back to reality. And that's all I do now - try to escape the haze of the nightmares through tears of blood.
I stand there, leaning over the sink, a trickle of red running down my arm, still gripping the knife in the other hand. The pain clears my head a little and I glance in the mirror involuntarily. My nemesis is still there, looking at me condescendingly. I knew you'd come back, it whispers. The reality hurts. Makes me aware of what I'm doing, of the stupidity of what I'm doing, of my utter weakness, of the hopelessness of the situation - reality mocks me, makes me hate myself ever more. I throw the knife down in disgust, begin to clean up. As I leave the bathroom, the mirror sneers at me. Until next time, it seems to say. It's a vicious cycle and I have no idea how to break it. I wish I could tell someone but at the same time I'd rather die than have someone find out what goes on inside my head. Twisted logic, but it makes perfect sense to me. I will be back.
I am in love - madly, utterly, and hopelessly. I am in love with a man. Just another item to add to my already-mile-long list of crimes. I'll never let him know, of course. He's my best and only friend and I'd hate to lose the one friend I have. It's just another way I torture myself. I thought I could deal with it - who was I kidding? The time he went on a month-long solo mission I thought I would die from loneliness and pain. I don't have the courage to put myself out of my misery - yet. But I don't think I could ever survive if Heero left forever. I need him. He doesn't know it, but he's the one anchor still holding me onto reality.
He told me today that he was leaving.
Duo stumbled backward feeling like someone just hit him in the stomach. Heero was still saying something, but the words "leaving" and "Relena" were the only ones that reached the boy's consciousness. They kept turning over and over inside his head until Duo thought he was going to be sick. He made his escape to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Almost falling now, he grabbed the sink for support. He gasped the air, trying to get a grip, to clear his mind. It was not working. His alter ego was there, looking, mocking.
// What a pathetic loser you are! Did you expect Heero to stick around forever? Of course he's going to Relena. Sure, it's just another mission right now, but in time - who knows? We all know how Relena feels about Yuy. Sooner or later, she'll find a way to make him fall in love with her. //
"Shut up."
// You can't shut me up, I am you, after all. And you are just a weak, worthless coward. You deserve whatever suffering you get. //
"Shut up."
// Make me - you can't, can you? Because you are weak, you can't do anything. //
"Shut up!"
// Make me! //
"SHUT UP!!!"
All Duo could see was a smirking face of a stranger in the mirror and he couldn't stand it any longer. Raising his hand, he drove his fist into the glass. The image shuddered, wavered and in the split second before it splintered into a thousand pieces, Duo saw something extraordinary. Where before had been the face of a stranger, now was someone very familiar. For the first time, Duo saw his reflection for what it really was - himself. Where mocking had been before, now was only suffering and uncertainty. The eyes of the image were hollow and filled with pain. It was like a curtain was suddenly yanked aside, allowing Duo a glimpse of his true self. Then the image broke into shards, and all that remained was the searing pain in his bloodied fist.
"Duo? Duo, are you OK in there? What's going on?" Heero's voice sounded mildly concerned.
"Go away, Heero. Just leave me alone."
In the next instant, the door flew open, Heero having kicked the lock. Duo struck out blindly at the intruder, but then Heero grabbed his upper arms, effectively pinning them down to prevent Duo from inflicting any further damage. Then he shook the American violently, trying to knock some sense back into him. Duo struggled furiously and attempted to free himself, calling Heero various names and kicking him in the shins. Eventually, though, his struggles subsided, allowing Heero to half lead, half carry him out of the bathroom.
"Duo, what happened in there? I noticed you've been acting strange lately, is that it? Are you sick?"
"Leave me alone."
"No. Now answer the question."
Canttellhimcanttellhimcanttellhim... I can't tell him! He'll hate me; he'll never talk to me again.
"Heero, I love you."
My God, what am I doing? I must be insane - he'll kill me.
But somehow I find myself blurting out everything to him. He is silent for so long that I begin to wonder whether I imagined myself speaking out loud just now. I keep talking.
"I'm sorry I will never ever bother you with this I'm sure Relena is a great girl please don't hate me I tried to get over it but I couldn't will you please still be my friend, Heero? Please, I'm sorry!"
"Duo."
"Heero, I."
"Duo! Shut up!" He says it so violently it makes me shiver. He grabs me by the shoulder and I tense, expecting a blow. Instead, he kisses me.
I told him everything that night, fully expecting him to turn away from me in disgust. But he didn't. He listened silently and when I was finally done talking he hugged me and held me. He cleaned the lacerations on my hand and bandaged it, his fingers gentle and careful. Somewhere along the way I began to fall asleep, so he carried me to the bed and tucked me in fully clothed. I wouldn't let go of his hand, so in the end he climbed in next to me and put his arm around me and held me like that all night. Whenever I woke, I felt the warmth of his body next to mine, and his soft breathing told me I was safe. That was the first night in years I had spent without my demons.
The healing process wasn't immediate. It took several years, and it had its ups and downs. The night I confessed my feelings to Heero wasn't the last time I hurt myself purposely. But Heero was there every time I woke up screaming from a nightmare. And eventually he was able to make the nightmares back away. The ghosts are still there; I can feel them watching. But somewhere along the way I began to understand that they weren't the ones demanding a sacrifice of blood - it was myself. It wasn't until that realization hit that I was able to deal with things. And even then it wasn't simple. But one day, after a long time, I was able to throw the blades away and I never touched them again. I finally became strong enough to fight my worst enemy - myself. But every now and then the dark pit rises up to taunt me. I pray I will escape this darkness. So far, I have. Some day, though, who knows...? The darkness is there, waiting, patient as death.
The End
Feedback, please? This fic is very important to me so I'd greatly appreciate any C&C!
::resumes lurk mode::
(:./murasaki/making)
