Author: Atropa Belladonna
Rating: PG mebe PG-13ish?
Notes: Song by NIN, fic for reishin - HA, finally finished it so there
>P Foofiness~ but finally completed foofiness ^^
:: you let me violate you,
you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you ::
The pale silver light of the moon streamed in from the small window, casting
an almost supernatural glow to the entire room. A small bed was tucked
against one corner, across from a desk and chair. Upon that bed lay a
sleeping boy, bathed in the silvery glow. His dark brown hair feel in
silken locks across the pillow, and thick lashes rested upon perfect cheeks.
He looked like a fallen angel, swathed in rumpled white sheets. A low
sigh gusted through the room as the other boy, who had been sitting in
silent regard on the chair, rose. Indigo-violet eyes traced the fine curve
of the sleeping boy's jaw.
Moving to stand by the bed, dressed all in black, the second boy followed
the same line his eyes had with one slender finger. As he stroked along
the smooth skin, that face turned so sweetly unaware into his touch.
"Duo..." the name was whispered from sleeping lips and the violet
eyed boy drew his hand back as if burnt. He watched with almost morbid
fascination as the sleeping boy's eyes twitched lightly under his eyelids
in dreaming. "Duo..." An amazed, wistfully heartfelt statement
overcame Duo's wide eyed face. Heero never dreamed; was trained out of
it. Dreaming was unnecessary; it was a distraction, a complication. The
perfect soldier did not need to dream.
But the perfect soldier was dreaming. Heero Yuy was dreaming, and he,
Duo, was the cause of it. A small, cynical smirk curved his lips. He had
tarnished the fallen angel, desecrated that perfection with his tainted
touch; the seeping poison of emotion bleeding into his soul to bind him
forever to this world. Duo forced the ethereal boy to feel, wedged a crack
in his pure innocence. And Heero let him.
Duo quietly walked back to the chair. Slumping down onto the hard, unforgiving
seat, the black clad pilot wearily stretched. It would be more comfortable
to sleep in the bed, but he couldn't. Not now, when guilt was gnawing
at his gut; when a strangely sweet voice whispered his name in his dreams.
Shinigami had violated the purity of an angel, and Death could not sleep
:: help me i broke apart my insides, help me i've got no soul to sell
help me the only thing that works for me help me get away from myself
Heero's fingers slowly unclenched from around Wing's throttle. His breath
streamed out over his lips as he calmed himself down from the battle high
and surveyed the damage he had wrought. About his Gundam was a wreck of
mangled metal and broken, smouldering buildings. Dozens of lives, at the
very least, had been forever lost, snuffed out by the unparalleled force
of the Gundam, his Wing. Too many lives had been lost in this war, but
none of that mattered to him.
It was said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, but there was
nothing in Heero's eyes as he looked upon the wasteland around him; a
shattered wasteland he had created. He gave a short, mirthless laugh,
echoing harshly in the small cockpit. It was a cold sound that held no
joy, no remorse, nothing. It held no empathy for those brave soldiers
who had died. All there was was a mocking parody of happiness that half
caught in his throat with the bitterness of it. His victims were nothing
more than that; nameless, faceless victims. That was how it was supposed
to be. Perfect soldiers weren't supposed to have souls, weren't supposed
to feel anything, no guilt, no regret, nothing. And he didn't. Heero Yuy
felt nothing, save for the sharp sting of that lie.
That hurt. Inside, where the child he had never been allowed to be cowered,
it hurt. Inside, where the conscience he suppressed clung, it hurt. Inside,
where the soul he was never supposed to have raged defiantly against his
perfect mask, it hurt. It hurt where it mattered. It hurt. The dull ache
throbbing in the heart he shouldn't, couldn't possibly have brought him
back to the present.
As Heero gunned his thrusters and automatically ran through Wing's transformation,
he flipped on his com-unit. "Ninmu kanryou," he stated calmly
without preamble, even before the visuals appeared on the view-screen.
A brightly cheerful face smiled at him from the screen, "Heero-kun!"
Heero's eyes flickered up from where he had been adjusting his controls.
He frowned minutely, almost imperceptibly. Quatre, not Duo. The blonde
boy's mouth was moving, but Heero wasn't paying any attention, only staring
thoughtlessly at him. After a few moments, Quatre stopped and smiled at
him again, wearing a slightly expectant statement. The Japanese pilot
blinked, slightly startled that he had missed everything Quatre had said.
"Ryoukai," Heero muttered, clicking off the transmission. Whatever
it was, he could check his flight log later.
A small scowl formed on his perfect features as he did a quick scan of
all the other secure channels. Duo wasn't on any of them. That was...
slightly upsetting. The long haired boy was almost always there to pester
him with asinine questions about his completed missions. He was always
there to brighten the gloom that threatened to cling to him, to brush
away the dark thoughts of destruction with ribbed humour whether Heero
wanted him to or not.
However, though he wouldn't often admit it to himself, let alone aloud,
he looked forward to that heart shaped face grinning offensively at him
from the view-screen, from anywhere. The concern that the other boy showed
him made him warm inside and he liked it, no matter how strange it was
But Duo wasn't there.
Wing's small cockpit suddenly felt much smaller and the isolation was
amplified. The chill he had been unconsciously staving off flooded his
being. His soft breaths caught almost painfully and rasped harshly as
he struggled to regain control. The wildly erratic sounds in the otherwise
silent cockpit did little to calm him. Suspiciously heavy eyelids slid
shut over cobalt eyes, hiding the glint of sudden hurt in them. Even as
he felt the coldness seeping into his limbs his hands clenched around
the Gundam's throttle, instinctively piloting his beloved Wing; always
the perfect soldier.
He was cold. It was a cold he was supposed to feel. He was supposed to
be the perfect soldier with a block of ice to pass off as a heart. Before,
it had always been what he wanted, needed. The loneliness was a key to
lock away his mind, to keep him from feeling as normal mortals would feel.
It was that separation from human emotion that made him into a machine,
a perfect killing machine; nothing but a weapon, a tool for the colonies.
But that was before. "Duo..." he whispered.
A vision of a broad smirk and a pair of wide indigo eyes, a long brown
braid, and comforting hands flashed, unbidden, across his mind's eye.
Heero's fingers tensed minutely, though enough to cause a tremour to run
through Wing's frame.
That single image called up a myriad of memories, memories of the one
thing that could take the frozen loneliness away. He needed that. He needed
the warmth that a playful jab to the ribs or a slender arm slung carelessly
over his shoulder could bring.
Duo forced him to be human, and to feel human needs; the need for companionship,
to care, the need for another human being. No cold gundanium creation
could ever replace what he now had, what he now wanted. He needed so badly
now, but at the same time he needed to hide those longings away, never
to be seen, never to be exploited. He had to act the perfect soldier,
all for the mission. No petty emotion could be allowed to interfere. It
was all for the mission. Nothing mattered but the mission.
Perhaps if he told himself that enough times, he would start to believe
it again himself.
"Duo... where are you..."
:: i want to fuck you like an animal
i want to feel you from the inside
i want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god ::
Duo roughly shoved Heero up against the wall, breath breaking harshly
over his face. He stared, strangely enthralled, at the startled statement
for several long heartbeats. Then he kissed him hard, with brutal, bruising
intensity. The braided pilot knew he was reacting to the stress, to the
burning guilt that tore at his every waking moment. The only thing that
made it go away was this, this mind numbing passion that blocked out everything
"Duo, what...?" Heero's slightly startled whisper caused a chilled
ripple to run down his spine, the words close to penetrating the frenzied
haze that was clouding his reason.
"Don't," Duo nearly snapped, shaking his head violently, not
allowing his nerves to calm down one bit. He couldn't. His braid whipped
around like a lash to curl around one of Heero's arms. "Don't,"
he choked out again, then crushed his lips to Heero's.
It hurt, the kiss, but in a good way. It was a hurt he could deal with,
could be forgiven for. That slight pain, both physical and deeper, emotional,
was like a rush of light. Being here, with Heero, and feeling something
so sharply akin to the pain of the world, to the pain of his heart, it
was like a purification of the blackened soul he sheltered. Just sharing
in something so singularly free made him forget. For now.
As Heero's hands rose to clasp behind Duo's back, the violet-eyed boy
clenched his own arms around the other's unresisting body, drawing him
inexorably closer. When everything was wrong, and everything in his entire
world, entire being was flawed, this was what he needed. He needed to
feel this one boy's heartbeat racing under his own, to feel Heero's strangely
soft skin under his fingers. It was what he needed to stay sane. It was
the only thing that could make him forget. He needed that.
In a sudden move, Duo pushed away from the wall, drawing Heero with him.
He pressed the other back against the nearby bed, then stared at him as
he had before, desire burning behind his eyes; desire for him, and the
purity he possessed. Heero's breath was already beginning to quicken as
Duo traced the corded line of his neck with his eyes.
This was what he needed to forget, to forget the sins of the past and
those of tomorrow. All he needed was below him right now, looking up at
him with heavy lidded cobalt eyes. It was enough.
Duo leaned over and pressed a light, sweet kiss to the dip in Heero's
throat, sliding his hands down Heero's body. The smooth skin trembled
slightly under the pads of his fingers. This was enough to make him forget.
This was all he needed to make everything okay. For now.
:: you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything ::
Rapid, evenly spaced and uninterrupted clicks of keys tapped in the muggy
pre-noon air, not quite loud enough to fully draw the attention away from
the myriad of sounds from outside. The noise from without was heavily
obscured by the closed window, but, like the pressing head, was not kept
completely from the room.
It was swiftly becoming unbearable to one Heero Yuy, poised straight and
attentive in front of his laptop.
It was the heat. That was it. It was the heat and humidity and general
muggy atmosphere that made it feel like he was breathing in more water
than air with each breath that was irritating him.
It wasn't the faint echoes of happy shouts and cries of jubilation ringing
up through the thin glass pane from the courtyard below. They were playing,
their so-called classmates at the high school he and Duo were currently
enlisted in; just playing, taking joy in the sheer act of being with each
He clenched his fingers into fists, the steady typing finally ceasing
for the first time that morning. Perfect soldiers did not need to play.
They did not need others; they did not need anything. Heero Yuy needed
nothing. Heero Yuy needed...
Unbidden, his piercing blue eyes turned to the face down figure splayed
carelessly across the one bed they used. A small, rare smile graced his
lips, unseen, as he took in the picture. Duo's pale body was bare but
for rumpled black boxers, and somehow, in the course of the morning, he
had managed to kick not only the blanket, but the sheets and pillows off
the mattress. The sleeping boy twitched occasionally, seemingly trying
to find a cooler spot in which to lie.
Heero shook his head at the movement. It was so typically Duo; trying
to make the best of an unpleasant situation, even without realizing it,
even if it was something as menial as appalling weather.
Then Duo squirmed again and flipped himself over onto his back, arms flung
of from his side. The tiny gold crucifix he always worse stuck to the
sweaty skin of his shoulder, the thin, filament chain snaking intricately
back around his neck.
Frowning, Heero was forced to notice how like that small icon of faith
Duo's current pose looked.
Some would have seen it as a sign, a show of belief.
But not Heero Yuy.
With a scowl, he was up before he realized it, and halfway to the bed.
He did not want to see this, this display of all he did not have. What
right did Duo have to show him this, when he believed no more than Heero
Closing his fist around the little gold emblem, he jerked it off suddenly,
snapping the chain so hard that dozens of tiny gleaming links burst apart
to fall like glitter onto sweat glistened skin. Startled indigo eyes opened
just in time to see Heero fling the cross away with such violence that
it smashed a small hole through the thin glass of the window.
Duo opened his mouth to speak, gaze locked on the shattered hole, though
the cross was long gone. However, before he had the chance to utter a
sound, or query, Heero's lips descended on his, hard and bruising, and
obliterating all else.
Outside, the sounds of life and play were clear through the now broken
window, but they were nothing.
This, this room, what they were, and who they were, was nothing. All that
mattered was the kiss. That was everything; Heero's everything. And it
was all for Duo, the only one who knew, the only one who mattered. The
only one who cared. For him, everything.
:: help me tear down my reason, help me it's your sex i can smell
help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else ::
The quiet rasp of a key in the lock and the whisper of the door sliding
open heralded Duo's return. He quickly shut the door behind him with an
inaudible click. A glance at the clock on the nightstand showed 3:52 in
dull, glowing red digital numbers.
Raking a shaking hand through the tangled mess of his hair, he tried to
ignore the grime and wetness that may or may not be sweat that clung to
the long strands. His clothes, especially his shirts, were no better,
stiff and rough against his skin. He felt disgusting and disgusted in
so many ways. His eyes closed for a moment as he slumped back against
the closed door, head bowing until chin rest upon his chest. Everything
hurt. There was nothing he wanted more in this world than a shower right
then and there, but that would have to wait until morning. The school
they were enrolled in had strict rules about curfew hours, so as not to
disturb the other students' sleep.
Speaking of sleep...
A quick look at the bed, visible only by the red glow of the alarm clock,
showed that it was empty. The blanket and sheets were still neatly tucked
into place, like they were just after Heero woke up and made the bed.
It had been a few days since he had gone on his latest mission, but he
could detect the faint smell of sex still clinging to the sheets. He frowned.
Heero periodically changed the sheets every couple days, but he hadn't
this time. It just didn't seem like him to leave them, unless he wasn't
actually sleeping in the bed for some reason.
Eyes skittering over to the desk, he shook his head and sighed. Sitting
in the one chair in the room, head resting on crossed arms on the desk,
was Heero. His laptop rested next to his head, still turned on Duo noticed
from the twin green lights on the front, but the screen had gone dark
from the screen saver. The small spots of light threw a sullen wash of
colour over Heero's sleep slack features. Sharp, dark shadows and an eerie
green glow made him look strangely distant, like he did not belong in
a dingy dorm room, like he belonged to the heavens and had gotten lost
on the way.
Toeing off his black boots and shoving them aside, Duo silently padded
over to the sleeping boy. Heero had discarded the school uniform some
time earlier and was now just clad in his typical shorts and tanktop.
Leaning over him, Duo tapped one of the keys on the laptop, and the screen
flickered into brilliance. A glance at Heero's strangely peaceful face
showed him that the sudden change in light hadn't woken him. Duo's eyes
turned back to the screen, expecting to see their homework, or any of
the innumerable reports Heero frequently skimmed looking for leads on
Oz. But that wasn't what was on the screen.
It was a news bulletin, an account of his attack on a nearby weapons manufacturing
plant that had been disguised as a paper factory.
Something warm and almost painful wrapped itself around his heart and
squeezed, sending a rush of some unknown, sharp emotion through him that
was very much like rapture at the thought of Heero being worried about
him. Shaking off the feeling with more difficulty than he would like to
admit, Duo placed a light hand on Heero's shoulder. The movement made
him wince as he remembered the long gash that graced his left arm, a momento
from his flight to safety.
Heero stirred slightly at the touch, dark eyelashes flickering against
his cheeks as heavy lids rose to reveal glittering blue eyes. "Hn?"
he mumbled into his crossed arms, already beginning falling back into
slumber. It was a measure of his fatigue that he had not instantly woken
the instant the key was in the lock. "Duo...?" He shook his
head slightly, as if trying to clear away the haze of sleep that clouded
"Aa, it's me," Duo murmured in a whisper, gently carding his
hands through Heero's short, surprisingly soft hair in a soothing caress,
"Go back to sleep." Sleepy dark eyes blinked a few times, then
Heero mumbled something incomprehensible into his skin and settled back
Grinning at the picture of peace, Duo quietly closed the laptop with one
hand. He rolled his shoulders to try to work the kinks out, but that just
pulled at the wound on his arm. Duo's smile faltered as he traced the
line of torn flesh through the ripped edges of his ruined sleeve. His
fingers came away bloody and he wiped them disdainfully on his pants.
It was a stupid mistake that had earned him that gash, his own arrogance,
he reflected as he bent slightly and hooked his good arm under Heero's
knees. Winding his other arm around the other boy's back, ignoring the
sharp spikes of agony that sang along his nerves, he hefted the sleeping
boy up and out of the chair. Heero was lighter than he remembered him
being, or perhaps it was just the traces of adrenaline that still coursed
erratically through his veins.
With swift, efficient steps, Duo carried the other pilot over and deposited
him on the bed, mussing the immaculately tucked sheets. Heero grumbled
in his half-asleep state and curled over onto his side, one hand instinctively
reaching out towards the braided boy. Duo's eyes fell on the pale hand
resting on the dark blue comforter. In repose, those hands that could
bend steel looked so fragile, so deceptively delicate.
Heaving an inward sigh, Shinigami's pilot stripped off his two shirts.
A hastily smothered hiss of pain through clenched teeth and Duo dropped
the stiff garments on the floor with a grim satisfaction. Tearing off
the offending articles had been cathartic, but the swift removal had ripped
open the delicate scabs that had already started forming on his cut. Blood
oozed out and trickled down his arm in a sluggish, winding path.
Impersonal indigo eyes appraised the wound now that Duo was finally able
to see it in full. It was neither worse nor better than he had assumed.
The cut itself was jagged, the product of a broken dagger swung by a wildly
desperate girl who had looked too young by far to be a soldier. While
the gash was nearly a half a foot long and uneven, it was fairly shallow.
He wouldn't really need stitches if he cleaned and bandaged it, but it
was probably going to scar. Duo snorted. It wouldn't be the first or the
last; one didn't go through war without being marked by it. His eyes turned
down to Heero. Except for him, the perfect soldier.
Suddenly feeling the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders, Duo
decided to let consequences be damned and flopped down on the bed himself.
He was smearing blood on the blanket and sheets, but he was too tired,
too weary to care. Heero would most likely bitch him out about it in the
morning, but that didn't matter now.
Spooning up against Heero's back, Duo curled a possessive arm around the
dark haired pilot's waist, hand splaying across a rock hard stomach. He
almost wished Heero could have been with him on the mission; Heero would
never have made the stupid mistakes he had. Duo's eyes slid shut. So stupid,
so careless, too cocky by half believing himself to be as indestructible
as his Gundam. Now he had a fresh mark on his body to remind him of his
own frail mortality. If only he could be more like Heero. Heero had no
scars. None. Even that doctor, Sally Po, had commented on it. He was flawless,
even after all the war, all the pain he had endured and the battles fought.
Heero was the perfect soldier that Duo knew he, himself, could never be.
Clutching desperately to the other boy, Duo tucked his head in the crook
of Heero's neck. Hot tears he refused to believe were his leaked down
into dark hair that smelled faintly of shampoo as the braided boy's emotions
suddenly dropped out from under him. They careened wildly out of control
and in their wake they left him exhausted and overwhelmed, too small and
dirty in a room meant for children untainted by the stains of innocent
blood. All he could do was cling to his fellow pilot, the one who knew
the madness of battle, the pain of victory.
Maybe if he held on tight enough, if he held him long enough, he could
take some of that perfection into himself. If only...
Duo just pressed himself tighter against Heero, tumbling into an uneasy
sleep, plagued by dreams of fire.
:: i want to fuck you like an animal
i want to feel you from the inside
i want to fuck you like an animal
you get me closer to god ::
Heero resisted the urge to fidget. It wasn't easy and took his years of
training to suppress it. Intellectually he knew that agitation made people
restless, but that did not make him any less irritated by the impulse.
The cause of his ire was sitting cross-legged on the bed, calmly bent
to his task, oblivious to the glower leveled on him from across the small
room. His concentration was unbroken as he painstakingly mended the tear
in his sleeve. The torn clothing and light gauze bandage almost fully
hidden by one of the many white undershirts he had were the only physical
reminders of the damage Duo had taken during his last mission. The myriad
of minour scrapes and motley bruises had faded and disappeared over the
previous week, but the braided pilot had been too busy making up the school
work he had missed to mend his shirt until now.
Duo's jagged fringe of bangs obscured his eyes from view as he concentrated
on the cloth in his lap. His hand moved back and forth in a steady, controlled
movement, needle strung with black thread grasped between calloused fingers.
He picked out precise little stitches, tiny stitches so carefully done
that the seam between the two rent edges was nearly undetectable.
Frowning, the pilot of Wing turned his eyes back down to the pages he
held in his hands, but they still remained unread as he stared past the
words to the white paper they were printed on. He was not sure what was
bothering him so much. Rather, he knew what was bothering him, he just
did not know why. His gaze flicked back over the top of the paper to his
erstwhile partner again. It bothered him that Duo would put so much effort
into repairing his priest's over shirt, that it meant so much to him.
Heero would have just discarded it and gone on. Not Duo, though. He steadfastly
refused to part with it, despite the innumerable battles it had seen.
The fabric should have been falling apart by then, but each time, Duo
lovingly stitched it back together with meticulous care, as if it were
too precious for him to part with.
A quick glance told Heero that Duo had not replaced the little gold crucifix
that he had ripped off weeks ago. Yet still the braided boy persisted
in clinging to his last show of faith, a simple black over shirt fitted
with a stiff white tab that should have marked him as one of the clergy,
yet he was a killer. Duo was no priest, no man of God, just a terrorist
and Shinigami's own hand, leaving only death in his wake. Heero didn't
understand why he did it, dressed as he did, and it bothered him.
Shuffling sounds and a pleased exclamation drew his attention away from
his musing. Duo had finished with his shirt and was tossing it over with
the rest of his dirty clothes. In his hand he still held the white collar
tab from the collar. He was staring at it with a strange statement that
Heero wasn't sure he could identify if he wanted to. A smear of dry blood
crusted one of the edges, rust coloured flakes occasionally breaking off
onto his fingers as he turned it over and over in his hand. And suddenly,
Heero couldn't take it anymore.
Tossing down the crumpled papers in his hands, he stalked over to the
other pilot and jerked the offending article out of his grasp. "Why?"
he demanded harshly, flinging the collar down to hit the ground at Duo's
feet, "Why do you dress that way? Why do you care?"
"Heero..." Duo began, uncertain, only to be cut off by the unusually
"You told me once that you don't believe in God," Heero went
on, voice suddenly quieter but no less intense, "Was that a lie?
Was everything you've told me a lie? You say you never lie, but you..."
He broke off, chest constricting with a flood of emotions that halted
his outburst. Horrified, he felt the telltale pinpricks of tears at the
back of his eyes, just waiting to be released to fall down pale cheeks.
Maddeningly, Duo's eyes softened, which made the pain in his chest increase
two fold. "No, I don't lie, Heero," he spoke the words softly,
but his gaze locked boldly onto Heero's too blue eyes. "This... this
reminds me..." he gestured vaguely towards the discarded clothes,
"It just reminds me of something I don't ever want to forget. I never
lied to you, especially not you, Heero."
Heero just stood before him, trembling slightly. Duo reached out a hand
for him, but it was slapped away. "Don't."
With a sudden, violent shove, Duo went tumbling backwards onto the bed.
"Don't say it," Heero bit out, crushing the forgotten white
priest's tab under his heel. "You don't need to say it."
A warm, understanding smile quirked Duo's mouth as Heero began to strip
out of his uniform. "I'd say it anyway."
"You don't have to."
"No, but I want to," the braided pilot murmured against lips
that descended upon his own, and then there were no more words to be said.
:: you are the reason i stay alive ::
None were needed.
[back to Singles a - k]