15-Apr-2000
Hi hi! Well I'm not actually finished with this fic but it caught my eye as
I was putzing around, so I'm going to post the first part and maybe that
will make me write the rest of it in a more timely fashion ^_^. Hope you
like it; I don't write too many fics where the G-boys aren't actually
G-boys; well they sort of are in this but anyway you'll judge for yourself
when you read it. :P
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon (in later parts), AU, death (sort of), language
Feedback always appreciated. Thanks! ~TB
///blah/// is dream-sequence; *blah* is emphasis or thoughts.
///"I know you did it," Duo said. "Damnit, what the fuck is your problem? I
know you did it!"
Heero felt the gun press against his skull, and a small smile twisted his lips. He turned to face his lover, and the muzzle pressed chill and hard between his eyes. Duo's face was bruised and angry. "Why?" he whispered.
"It was the mission."
"Damn the mission! What about friendship? Loyalty? They--"
"Get in the way."
Violet eyes cried for even the smallest reassurance. "I loved you," he whispered.
"I know."
His face was stunned. Slowly, the gun began to lower.
Heero grabbed Duo's wrist, twisted, breaking it, then snapped the thin bones of the white hand with his crushing grip, wrestling for the gun, and heard--a muffled shot.
Suddenly cold, he supported Duo's sagging body, pressing the wide-eyed, ghostly face against his shoulder. "No," he said, his voice too loud in the silence.
Duo shuddered lightly. The rushing blood was unbearably hot against Heero's chest.
When it was over, Heero let the body fall to the floor. He wiped a stained palm on his shorts, not noticing that they were already soaked with Duo's life, and kicked the gun over into a corner. Then he changed his mind, and went after it to pick it up.
Might as well finish the mission he'd accidentally begun.///
Heero woke gasping.
Duo stirred beside him. "Sumpin' wrong? Hee-kun?"
He shook his head. "N-no. Go back to sleep." With a sleepy murmur, his friend subsided, and his head drooped back against the pillow.
Heero looked over at the dresser, and to his alarm clock. The green digital numbers read 3:14 AM. It was too early to be up and about--but Heero knew he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. If he slept at all.
When the dreams had started, Heero had figured it was the result of too many video games and movies and junk food right before bed. After all, normal teenagers didn't dream about killing their best friends. The thought of Duo bleeding all over him was abhorent. Duo dying--! It didn't bear thought, that cheeky grin forever smeared with blood like in that nightmare.
But the dreams had persisted. Heero was getting desperate. If they didn't stop soon, he didn't know what he was going to do. Maybe start seeing Duo's shrink.
Heero got himself a drink of water, and sat at his desk to take a stab at his physics homework. That usually put him to sleep. But it wasn't working.
At some point, Duo got out of bed and sat next to him, eyes drooping sleepily and shoulders slumped, but awake and keeping him company. They talked a little, but Duo seemed content just to sit with him and Heero didn't want to tell him about the dream, for obvious reasons.
At six-ten, Duo said, "Man, if we don't get some caffeine, I'm so not going to make it tomorrow at the park."
Heero nodded. "We have soda. Or coffee."
The tired eyes lit. "That stuff your mom makes?"
"Yeah. When I told her you were coming over, she ground a new batch of those funny beans just for you."
"Cool!" Duo was on his feet and heading for the kitchen in his teeny boxers before Heero had even finished. Feeling slightly better, Heero followed.
Duo was a complicated friend, but he was one of the very few people who'd gotten past Heero's tough shell, and once in, he'd stuck to Heero Yuy like American glue. The older boy knew that Duo had a crush on him, but it didn't have anything to do with their friendship, and so Heero didn't worry about that too much, though he knew it would have made some others uncomfortable. Besides, Duo was the only one who could beat him at video games and basketball, and Heero loved little else as much as video games and basketball.
The braided boy set a pot of water to boil and prepared the ground coffee in a filter to make his favourite brew. "Your mom is wicked cool," Duo said, only a little wistfully.
Duo's mother had been shot to death by his father when Duo was eleven. Gossip about the incident abounded, but he never talked about himself--or about his mother. It didn't bother Heero that Duo came over to see *his* mother, Sally, as much as he came to see Heero. Who was going to tell a boy who'd watched one parent murder another that he wasn't allowed to dream?
"Are we still meeting Quatre and Trowa at the park tomorrow--today?" Heero asked.
"Yes--for the thirtieth time. And they're bringing that new kid, Chang Wufei. And after the park closes, we're going clubbing."
"We're only sixteen."
"There're still good clubs around." Duo was adamant about clubs. No one really believed they were going, but they humoured him. "You hungry?"
"I guess."
"I can make you a sandwich."
"Too early."
"Pancakes."
"Too syrupy."
"Eggs? Rice? Broccoli souffle? C'mon, Hee-chan, let me use the kitchen. I swear I won't make a mess like last time!"
Heero was wary. "If you want. But you *are* cleaning, if it comes to that."
"I would anyway." Duo began to rummage in the pantry. "Hey, Hee-kun?" He paused, not quite looking at him. "You wanna talk about it?"
Heero glanced away. "No."
"Okay." Duo hunched his shoulders. "But I'm here. You know, if you ever wanna dump. Everyone does, sometimes."
Heero grunted something that would pass, and they dropped it. Duo made a truly excellent plate of eggs-and-sausage for him, and sucked down a vat of coffee himself. By long habit, they split for the shower and the laundry room by shifts, and at eight they drove out to the amusement park to meet their friends.
By noon, Heero had forgotten that his nightmares even existed.
Chang Wufei hadn't been all that sure about this amusement park thing. Quatre was okay, as far as preppies went, and Trowa was so quiet it was hard to have an opinion one way or another, but he'd heard some things about Heero Yuy and already didn't like him.
But, when Quatre had asked him, quite on the impulse, if he wanted to go, Wufei had practically leapt at the chance.
Duo Maxwell was going to be there.
Becoming friends with the American was one of Wufei's top five short-term goals. He didn't usually go for guys like Maxwell--he tended toward more athletic types, guys with more body than brain who didn't want anything more from him than a fuck-buddy, someone to try out all their muscular fantasies with. Thankfully, America abounded with football players. But Maxwell, now--Duo had physical beauty, even if it was more spunky than Wufei liked, but he was an honour-roll student, a chorus singer, and all-around popular good guy.
Maybe he was just jaded, but Maxwell seemed like a breath of fresh air to Wufei.
Quatre picked him up early, and they drove to the beat of Mozart's finest all the way to the park. Wufei prefered hard rock and Asian rap if he had to listen to music at all, but he endured. The little rich kid was paying for his ticket.
Quatre said, "So? How are you liking the school so far?"
Chang shrugged. "It's alright."
"Do you have Miss Stosvein?"
"Yeah."
"I don't like her. She's pretty mean."
"Yeah."
"Where are you from?"
"California."
"Really?"
Wufei looked at him. "Yes," he said flatly. "Really."
"Oh." The preppie blushed. "Well--it's just, you look like, well, like you just stepped off the plane, is all."
"From some backwater peasant village where we tend rice patties all day and wear pigtails and mustaches from birth?"
Quatre was mortified. "I didn't mean that!"
Wufei laughed, and clapped him on the back, making him swerve in the lane. "I know. I'm teasing. Losen up, kid."
Actually, Wufei looked like he'd stepped out of a Little China gang superstore. He practically screamed "Asian Pride;" he wore his shiny black hair longish, spiky, and his black silk shirt was embroidered with red and silver dragons spurting flame and Mandarin obscenties. His slacks were traditionally cut, except for the hems, which had been taken out with what appeared to be a penknife, leaving them ragged and loose around beat-up sneakers. He had a tattoo on one arm of chinese characters that read something Quatre couldn't translate, and wasn't sure he wanted to.
Quatre thought he was *so* cool.
They met the others already at the park. Heero was patiently holding a backpack for Trowa, who had headed for the ticket booth. Duo, next to him, looked relaxed and warm in a out-of-fashion hockey jersey and jeans. He grinned at Wufei when they were introduced, and obviously thought no more of him.
Wufei was not bothered. There were plenty of chances to sit next to the American on the rides--and he intended to monopolize the American as much as possible.
End Part 1
(:./erin/rising1)
