Author: Sita Seraph
See part 1 for pairings and warnings.

Abuse This + Part 3

Most people, like you I guess, would tell me to forget the past and move on. Yeah, it sounded pretty logical. But that's like telling somebody who had just been raped to go fuck someone else and tell him or her that will make it better. There's just no fucking way I was going to let go of the past. I couldn't. It was all I had left.

Back in the days I remember when I held Quatre long into the night. I think those were the best times in my life, being with Quatre, at the end of the war. I wasn't just some fuck buddy to him. I was a friend and he was my friend and... we just happened to wind up in bed together. But it was just when I realized I'd want to spend the rest of my life with Quatre, more then anybody else I screwed around with, that I began to notice the looks and caring words Trowa said to or about Quatre and vice versa.

Why didn't I fight back? I dunno. I just didn't. I think... maybe it could have been the thought that just knowing I was never going to be good enough for Quatre that I pushed him towards Trowa. 'Cause, I knew, that no matter what I said to Quat or what I did, I was never enough. And Trowa could give him more.

I was never enough for any of them. Oh, fuck. You know how hard that is to admit? Knowing that your very best doesn't stand up to what they want? Knowing that you're just a worthless bastard in the end and meant to be alone for the rest of your miserable life. Yeah, its hard to admit... and beyond true.

I stumbled across my living room, days after the episode with the fellow Gundam pilots, and I conveniently tripped over a pizza box. Sailing across the room in my unbalanced fashion, I crashed into a side table next to my couch and knocked over the flickering light. I was howling with laughter, my beer bottle clinking against the wooden furniture as I tried to straighten my swaying body. I was a little tipsy tonight... ah, hell, I was dead-ass drunk. There is only one way to avoid a nasty hangover in the morning! And that's drink tons and tons of beer! See, you're too wasted to get a hangover! Genius, ain't it?

After my laughing fit was over, I thumped on to my favorite couch and took another swig of the bitter liquid from the glass. I had been sleeping here more then in my bed, which was still nicely made since the bastards left. Compliments from Quatre, I suppose. Don't do me any favors, bakayaros! I can do it all by myself!

"That's 'ight!" I slurred to no one in my drunkard speech impediment. "I don't need no 'ne! I can 'alk the 'alk and 'alk the 'alk by meeeeeself(1). So -- " I produced my middle finger out into the air, flipping off the innocent TV in front of me, and grunted so I could act a bit tougher since I was having trouble producing my words. "So, sit on it and spin, motha fuckas!"

You're probably thinking I was drowning out my sorrows. Yeah, you're right. I was trying to drown everything out. I was trying to flood out the memories of my explosion with the others, how I just couldn't stand to be in their presence for much longer then a minute. Trying to forget the way I acted and how it led up to this by drinking my life away.

I was trying to engulf the very root of how it all started, from the very moment I met Professor G. When I was trained and skilled with multiple personalities and masks to play around with in my very grasp. To confuse the enemy, to use him how I wanted, and to find out exactly what made him tick. I did that to Heero. To comfort a pilot while sending subtle hints of the battle on the horizon and that he or she was needed. I did that to Wufei. To forgive a warrior for their mistakes while correcting them. I did that to Quatre. To take control of all situations and force them into play against all wishes or protests. I did that to Trowa.

I was trying to submerge the past in a drugged haze so I couldn't see beyond the fog, so I couldn't see all the stupid things I had done. Like when I tricked Heero into taking his anger out on me. How I seduced Wufei into letting go of his past and join with mine. How I kissed away Quatre's tears which led to his lips and then the floor. And how I had out-right forced Trowa into my bed, promising him more then I thought as I offered my body. I was trying to blur out all of that so I wouldn't remember, wouldn't look back and see all those empty promises and love as I cried out into the night. I was trying to make all the facts disappear as suddenly I had no control over the creations I had made. They had turned against me and in the end; in the first place, I was no match for them. I was used against for what I willingly gave them. My hands were now forced to skim their backs, my nails clawing at their skin. My legs were forced to spread across the terrain of a bed, or across the floor, or the slippery tiles of the shower, or the dirty ground with prickly grass scratching at my feet. My mouth was used to kiss and lick away their sweat, their cum, their bodily fluids as soon as they appeared. My tongue was made to pleasure their mouth, their bodies. My ass became a stress reliever, my little puckered hole an entryway to paradise and sometimes stained with blood when they pushed in too hard, too fast, too eager to reach that heavenly plain. And my dick was my one true betrayer, standing stiff and erect in its ecstatic glory, showing emotions that I, myself, did not feel but my body did. The one true symbol of my whore wanting. My own body was used against me and I was powerless to stop all the proceedings with the stronger males. In the end, I had only one equal... and he, at last, ran away from me as well.

I was trying to saturate my very name, my very existence, so I wouldn't even know who I truly was anymore. So then I would wake up the next morning and look in the mirror and just wonder whom that pathetic person on the other side of the mirror was. Why did he look so tired? Why was he so thin and weak? Maybe if I just drank more and more, I would lose all memory of Duo Maxwell and be someone else. I could go to school and be innocent again. I could walk down the street and not be weary of who was watching me as I went. I could talk with strangers and not be afraid of who they would run to. But best of all, I would be able to stand with the other Gundam pilots and never remember what happened between us. And then... maybe I could begin to forgive them for throwing me away like an old doll.

Maybe I was suicidal. Each day when I woke up, either on the couch, the floor, or the bed, I wondered why I went on. Why didn't I just put a gun to my head and pull the trigger? I was always tired nowadays; an expression of my ever-lasting depression. But why didn't I let myself die? Was I truly afraid of death?

No. Not death.

I was afraid of hell. There, they would know all my secrets and exploit their depths for eternity, torturing me in purgatory like a demon whore. Worst of all, it would be just my luck that I would be screwed for all infinity by either the devil himself or Gundam pilot look-alikes. Either way, no, I wasn't looking forward to death. My second reason is that I'm not a coward. I may run from my problems a lot and I might hide the truth to a lot of people (and equally myself), but I wouldn't make my life so simple as to bring the knife to my throat.

Or maybe I was still just hoping that the past would be forgotten.

Okay. Lets face it. I'm screwed up. Really, really screwed up. I mean, what normal person would be sitting on his couch, wearing week old clothes that were suspiciously smelling of grease, sweat, and piss -- the piss from when I didn't make it to the bathroom in time to empty my alcohol the old fashion way. So sue me. I was drunk off my rocker and you expect me to leap up and go to the bathroom when I could barely even see out of my own eye balls?

If you said 'yes' to the question, maybe both of us have lost a bit of sanity.

It had to be hours later when I finally rolled off the couch. My apartment had gotten steadily darker until I couldn't see anything but the ant races screaming off my TV set. My beer bottle was nearly empty and my vengeance hangover was creeping closer from the obvious tension growing on my forehead. I was in quick emergency for another drink and some music. Some old shit perhaps, blasting out of my stereo in their innocent fashion. So when I finally got my bearings, I fell around my apartment like the whole thing was rockin' wildly like it was hit by a meteor and was spiraling out to space. Kicking empty beer cans around didn't help much either. But eventually, I made it to the kitchen and back before I realized I really, really, really needed to piss. But before I made my way in that general direction, I hopped over to my radio player in my drunk stupor and flipped on the nub. I was greeted with the drawling teenage voice, a bored college boy that had no sense of humor or anything really intelligent to say. I should be on there! I had TONS of things to say. I had TONS of things to teach people. Like... don't screw your friends. And if you do, do yourself a favor and come over to Duo Maxwell's house so we could get drunk together! Happiness!

It was about five minutes later and I was still standing there. Or squatting anyway. My legs were intertwined with each other and I was bobbing up and down to keep my pee from spurting out or praying to God my bladder didn't explode. And the guy was still ranting on about... what was it? Oh... Oh yeah. About a fight with Godzilla and... Pee Wee Herman?

Okay, that was enough of THAT.

The next thing I know, I've dialed the phone number to the station. I started bouncing up and down to keep all my contents inside. Which didn't help my body parts any as I felt that familiar cramping sensation of bladder overload or the stinging commotion in my lower regions as it became infected. Nor did it help my balance as I stumbled and crushed beer cans and nearly did a back flip as I stepped on and slipped on a bottle of wine. I squealed and maintained balance by grabbing onto my stereo for dear life, which cranked up the volume another kilo. Just then, the college guy finally answered.



Together, the radio technician and I screamed bloody murder, followed closely by dirty language.

"Fucking A!"

"'oly Fuckin' Shit!"

"Fucking Faggot!"

"Fuck 'ou!"

After the mutual greeting, I hastily reached over to my stereo, on the floor now from where I threw myself where I was molested in the ear, and whirled down the volume button before that annoying squeal from the college boy's microphone damaged even more of our heads. "What the fuck do you think you're thinking!?"

Well... at least he sounded interesting now...

Taking another swig of my beer, I fell back to my floor, crushed cans and bottles biting into my back. I hiccupped a couple times into the phone before finally barking out...

"*hic* S-*hic*Sss-*hic*-I'm-*hic*-."

Perfect timing for my hiccups to come in.

"Okay, whatever, man. What do you want?"


"Are you drunk?"

"Yeppers!" I laughed then promptly hiccupped my way into another monologue.

"Let me guess; this is Duo Maxwell and you want to listen to 'You Don't Own Me', right?"

"Yeppers!" Gosh, he must be psychic or somethin'...

"Dude, stop calling here! You call every day with that song! Why don't you just buy it!?"

... Then again, maybe not...

"I donst 'ave the money! Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," I said cheerfully into the phone and lifted it away, waving happily towards the white cordless communicator before clicking it off. I sat up slowly, slipping on the beer along the way and turned up the radioagain. He was already playing my song.

I sighed happily and forced my cramping body up from the floor. It was time to go to the bathroom.


I never thought pissing would be so painful before. I was ready to die. I leaned against the cool tiles of my bathroom, the drilling of pee emptying itself into the toilet. I was beginning to sweat. Heat rushing across my skin and the cool tile was something I wanted... badly. And this pain, this agonized stinging in my pelvis wouldn't be missed too much. It was like an internal burning sensation that was ripping my lower regions out. Ah, hell, I will NEVER pee again if this is the result...

"I'm 'oung, I'm 'oung," I sang with the radio, my voice mixed with pain and my drunken slur. "And I 'ove to be 'oung... "

Even after I was finished refreshing myself, the pain didn't go away. I was wincing with agony, tears in my eyes, but I still managed to fumble with my zipper and roll it up. The room was spinning a little faster now and I swayed by my forehead against the white tiles. It was a good thing I could hold my liquor or my head would be in the toilet right now. But either way, my hands were beginning to shake, quite noticeably in fact, as I flushed the toilet. The whirl of flushing water seemed to echo in my head. Something was seriously wrong with me.

Groaning, I tried to push away from the wall but it was like my muscles had turned into jelly. I pressed and pressed and pushed with all my strength (at least, I think with all my strength) but it was like my head was glued to the tiles. I was beginning to lose my footing as well and before I knew it, I was on the floor and my head clashed against the sink on my way down.


"... o. Duo... ?"

I was coming to. I sighed slightly, clinging onto the darkness a little bit tighter. I didn't want to wake up quiet yet. I enjoyed being unconscious for once. I really didn't dream anything then. I could dream... blackness! Space... those kind of things.

But god damn, who could sleep through that insistent beeping... ? I thought I broke my alarm clock...

Groaning in half-sleep, I waved my hand around for my bedside table and encountered nothing but air... well, that is for awhile I did. Then my fingers touched something... soft... and fluffy... and then that fluffy thing began to crawl up my leg...

Eyes snapping open, I lifted my pain-retched eyes and squinted at the ceiling. Slowly, I raised by ever-so heavy head and... nearly head butt a gray cat. We blinked at each other for a couple of seconds before it decided to crawl off, little bell on its collar jingling like crazy along the way.

"Duo... ? Duo, where are you? I can hear you!" (3)

I blinked sleepily and looked around the nice room. Cream colored walls with a flowered borderline going along them. There was one large window, nearly reaching the ceiling and emulsion drapes fell down their sides. The window was open, the drapes fluttering with the sunlight dripping across the polished wooden floors. The bed spread, that I conveniently tore apart in my sleep, was white with golden lining and there were so many pillows that some had been thrown to the floor... probably special thanks to me, as well.

Oh yeah... Definitely a girl's room...

And come to think of it, where the hell was I?

"Duooooooo... "

"I'm in here, damnit!"

I mean, honestly. Here I was in some stranger's house and they didn't even know where I was? My god, maybe I walked in my sleep as well...

"Oh, Duo!"

And just like that, hell opened up with their pricks and thorns... for all of a sudden, Quatre was filling my doorway with sunshine and flowers. He was wearing a primp blue shirt and white khakis, running around in some white fluffy slippers adorning his feet. He looked casual, cute, and so adorably happy that I wanted to scream. Life certainly wasn't fair...

"You're awake!"

I groaned and fell back onto the massive pillows, my hair, surprisingly, in a neat braid (since it was digging in my back). I didn't even smell that bad either. Curiously, I lifted my arm and took a long big whiff. Quatre started laughing on his side of the room.

"Let me tell you, Duo. That was no easy task hauling your unconscious butt in the shower."

I was sure that he was right... But... I didn't quite understand what happened. Okay, moving back to the basics, I remembered feeling like I was peeing out blood before collapsing to the floor.

... Oh shit...


He had moved across the room and was currently trying to fix up the girly bed I had been occupying, humming a happy tune under his breath. I watched him for a minute, growing steadily envious of the happy expression he was radiating. I knew, deep down inside, that I could never make him that happy.

"Did... I... O.D.?" I asked slowly. Quatre paused from smoothing out the sheets, staring at them. For a second, I saw that flash of sadness flicker in my friend's eyes. And I caused that. I caused that sadness Quatre always got around me. It made me sick... Or more sick, since my stomach was beginning to get nausea.

"Yeah, Duo," Quatre answered slowly, finishing his chore before looking up at me. "It was lucky that Heero found you."


"Well, he came by to give you money... for your door. Remember?"

Wow... that was... nice of him. I guess. But it still was his fucking fault.

When I didn't answer, Quatre continued, "He got you to the hospital and they pumped your stomach. Since then, yesterday, you've been here with me and Trowa. We gave you a bath, since you were in horrible shape. We've also had to give you meds to keep your alcohol poisoning from getting too bad. How do you feel?"

"Oh... fuck... " came Quatre's answer. Before I knew it, I threw myself over the bed to its side and began giving up to dry heaves. Dying would be such a good thing right now...

And Quatre was laughing at me! I felt his hand on my back, soothingly rubbing it in tiny circles around my spine.

"It'll be okay, Duo. But maybe this will teach you not to drink so much, hmm?"


I have two lessons to teach you today. First is never, ever go overboard with beer. After I woke up, I was beyond crazy for the first day and sick for the rest of the week. My muscles would have such heavy spasms that I was forced to have my hands tied to the bed. This was only maximized by pain in my abdomen area that it felt like I was going through my own personal menstrual period! Not to mention my bladder was like shit and kept on ripping my insides whenever I moved or stretched. Plus, along with having no control of my body, I was having a horrible time at controlling my emotions. I was always angry. I mean, I was so bad that Quatre begged Heero and Wufei to move in to help with my 'problem'. I wasn't really happy about the idea but at least I could keep them up in unspeakable hours of the night. Am I evil or what?

Anyway, I think the climax was when I was groaning and fighting my bonds sometime in the afternoon, right after Quatre had to put them on again because I started getting a little violent with the girly area I was surrounded in day and night. What can I say? My anger controls my emotions. So, moving on, it was extremely hot in the room, the window not giving me enough air-conditioning, and the blankets that Quatre piled on top of me were giving me a personal sauna. I wanted to scream bloody murder and the blankets were too heavy (for my drug-reduced limbs anyway) to lift and kick off. So I chose fighting with the scarves Trowa used on my wrist. This only frustrated me to no end. No matter what my thievy mind could come up with, the scarves wouldn't unknot. And my efforts were getting me closer and closer to blowing my rocket. I was so furious that I couldn't twist my wrist far enough or stretch my fingers long enough that my anger was fuming my already hot body up. I could feel cheeks flushing, like they always did when I got pissed, and making them burn with my red-hot temper. Sweat was lining my upper lip and I had the biggest itch on my chin that I wanted to bite it to make it go away. This was perfect fuel to the choking feeling I was getting in my throat as my enraged feelings bubbled over.

"FUCKING A!!!" I screamed and started thrashing about so I could pour it all out somehow, on something! The bed started creaking in protest, springs bouncing my body around like a bouncy ball out of control. I didn't even realize my covers were slipping off and falling to the floor.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" I screamed, panting as I stopped bouncing for a minute to tear at the scarves. I wanted to rip them to shreds! I wanted to break this stupid bed apart! I wanted to go on a rampage until I couldn't even stand! AHHHH!!!!




If I were sane, which I wasn't at that particular time, I would have stopped thrashing about like a spoiled child and kept my lips glued shut instead of tempting my perfect soldier upstairs to give me a thrashing of his own. But, like I said before, I WASN'T, so I concluded it to be one of the worst decisions of my life (like I didn't have enough already).

I paused on my scarf tearing to listen with rising terror at the stomps that were echoing on the staircase. It sounded like he was taking two at a time and pounding against the floorboards with each foot just for my benefit. So when he appeared a second later in all his spandex glory, I did the only thing a normal sane person would do.

I screamed bloody murder.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I... ahem, screamed. I panted for a second as he flinched and started coming towards me with rising speed. Maybe if I acted like Relena, he would turn tail and run like a bat out of hell like every other time the pink jiggily puff arrived. It was worth a try...

So before he could reach the bed, I changed my voice desperately into a high squeaky wail. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

And to my massive amusement, Heero not only flinched physically, but he had this horrible look on his face like he was ready to leap out of the window to get away from my Relena-mimic voice. I even watched him pivot, almost bolting for the door before coming back to terms with himself and turning back around with this half-embarrassed expression on his face while he tried to look casual and in control of his natural instincts to run through the wall to get away. So I thought it would be a good idea to try it again.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I wailed and started kicking my legs around in wild abandonment. And I think that was all Heero could take. He suddenly leaped forward, got on the bed, and dodged my wild leg kicking, successfully reaching and covering my mouth. I blinked stupidly at him and then he did something to make me hate him even more.

He smirked.

He SMIRKED at me!

I was just about to bite right through his fingers and to his face when suddenly his hand was gone -- and replaced with duck tape. I think I went into shock right then and there. Not only had that roll of tape appeared out of NO WHERE but Heero NEVER duck taped me before... hell, no one ever had.

They always liked me very vocal...

Heero was grinning again and began crawling off the bed and me. But like on second thoughts, he stopped, halfway on and off the bed, and looked at me. He didn't say anything at first, just looked me straight in the eye before his own began to wander very slowly from my tied hands, my gagged mouth, my baggy shirt (complimentary to Trowa) that reached nearly to my knees, and the sheets that covered my naked legs. It was sickening, that look on his face. I wanted to claw it off his face and throw the scarred tissue across the room. I remember that look too well, way too well. It was always that warning glance, the predatory gleam barely surfacing in those blue pools. He would stand just on the other side of the room and stare at my body like a hungry man, eyeing the feast before him. And then all of a sudden, I would be on the floor, on the bed, or shoved against the wall and Heero would be all over me, kissing me, touching me, using me... Yes, a hungry man and I was the sweet. He couldn't get enough of me... and that made me sick.

Trying to act casual, I closed my legs a little bit more, curling them under me. His hand was moving closer to my bare feet, his eyes now running back up the length of my body and back to my eyes. I noticed something different in his lazy sitting, something more gentle... but it didn't change the fact that Heero was going to 'do' me right here and now to satisfy his little thirst. It was a dangerous game to refuse Heero anything; even dangerous to fall in love with him. But that's where it just turns ironic. I was in love with someone but I hated his touch, his looks. I was in love with someone but almost every day I wanted to kill him. And here he was, a mere foot away, and he was touching my leg, running his dry hands up towards my thigh... most likely to spread them open so I could accept his dick. And all I could think about, instead of getting aroused and excited that one of my lovers was going to pin me to the mattress, was how much I wanted my leg be to be chopped off. Bile was rising to my throat but I couldn't let it through my tightly closed jaw, and choked it back down. My skin was just crawling with his sinful deeds marked on his hands. I had no way of washing it off, because it was all in my mind. But it felt so real that I wanted to cry. I wanted SO much to take a blade and peel the skin away, so I could feel pain and not this ill sickening feeling twisting my body and my head around.

His hand was now grazing my knee, right where the shirt began and slowly, his fingers began to push it down. I watched with fearful eyes, tensing up. He was going to take me like some whore, all over again! And I couldn't do anything, not even cry out for him to fucking stop. My rage again was bristled and I shut my eyes, shuddering. I was sick and I was pissed. I didn't know which emotion was stronger. I just wanted... I just had to do something! I had to stand up for myself... I had to stop from feeling so vile all over again!! Suddenly, I jerked my leg away from his seeking fingers and opened my furious eyes to look at his confused, gentle face. And then...

I kicked him across the face.

I was satisfied to see him stumble then slip behind the bed where I could no longer see him. My muffled language followed him, telling him exactly what I thought of his dick and balls, but not even I could understand what I was saying behind my sealed lips. The little ball of hormones was just about to jump me, wasn't he? Hah! Not today, asshole!

All thoughts were broken when I found a face full of Heero Yuy and the coldest glare aimed at my direction that I felt my own bangs freezing up. I felt myself begin to cower up again, curling up into a little ball... or worse yet, just let myself open my legs and take in that sinful cock back up my ass. I hated that look, that cold, distant expression he would get sometimes... when we were making 'love', when I was trying to get him to warm up to me, kissing away at his cheeks like a love-sick puppy. And yet I felt that bristled burning rage still in the pit of my stomach. I was afraid of him... and yet I still wanted to push my luck and punch Heero Yuy into yesterday. Who did he think he was? The Perfect Lay?

"I don't understand you at all, Duo," Heero muttered, tight lipped. Well, Heero, I didn't understand myself half the time. I was really hoping you'd have better luck.

Then, after the small call from Quatre downstairs, Heero slid off me and made his way out of the room.

The moral of this first lesson? Never get drunk and vulnerable with one of your old boy friends.

Okay, my second lesson. Never hold your piss. EVER. When I was under control of my emotions and body again, I dreaded going to the bathroom more then seeing Heero around the house. I didn't want to drink anything, just so I could avoid the hour-worth of agony that would follow after relieving myself. But Quatre insisted that the only way to get better was to drink a lot of water... to drain out my system. And I so hated him for that. The agony that was going inside my body was worse then a bullet wound. Because I couldn't clean it up or ignore it. This stupid bacteria or whatever was inside me was like eating away my bladder and it hurt so much that if I wanted to walk after going pee that I would have to cower around so my body was compacted together so the pain would go away. It was even worse when it would go away for a couple of hours and I would forget. Then I would go to stretch and with it my bladder would no longer be compressed and it would remind me of my internal injury... forcefully. It was probably the worst thing in the world. But when I was finally healed up, I did a cartwheel in the hallway... and then my alcoholic brain and body demanded another beer.


"Good morning, Duo!" Quatre greeted cheerfully when I decided to roll out of bed around 11 o'clock. I waved in response, not particularly up to chatting away like the old days and headed straight for the frig. I wasn't hungry, like every morning, but I did have the craving for the buzz I'd missed after I collapsed at home. Beside, I had a light headache for some reason, so I knew a cold beer or wine would take that away after a few sips.

"Are you hungry?" Quatre asked helpfully, cutting up his gushing pancake. Steam was rising from his light yellow cup on the counter, the Arabian pilot sitting at the counter in direct line of the light. Morning rays warmed up the white tiled floors where it spilled from the many windows and they seemed very fond of Quatre's hair that lit up with honey dew. The flashing beam caught the light of the silver lining of the fridge as I swung it open, looking eagerly inside. I was then suddenly momentarily distracted by this growing feeling in my stomach and slowly I looked over at Quatre.

Quatre had lifted up his folded newspaper, cup up and tilted towards his childish lips. He was literally shining this morning, the light clothing he was wearing sucking in the envious rays of the garish sun. The kitchen smelled of warm pancakes and the light scent of cream coffee. Everything I touched was warm, many thanks to the summer singing outside. But there was this feeling, this certain calm closing in on me. I would always get these feelings, these certain scents that would only last for a minute but stay in my memory forever. This was one of them. The way I felt in this room, watching Quatre read and finish his breakfast was so powerful that I wanted to hold onto it so tightly... but every time I noticed these special feelings, every time I tried to hold onto it, it would come apart in my very hands and shatter into dust, only to live in my memory. And it began to do just that.

I felt peace. A calm. A beautiful, warming feeling that left me all too soon.

Sighing, I turned back to the frig, reaching in and grabbing a small can of beer. When I closed the ice box, I looked over to see Quatre watching me. I raised an eyebrow slightly as he stared at my drink and slowly I lifted a hand and hooked my fingers under the flip cap. I was about to pop the cool liquid in my hand when Quatre put down his drink loudly.

"Duo, we have to talk about that."

"Talk about what?" I asked casually, releasing my fingers. Instead, like on second thoughts, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and cleaned off the top of the can in a cool manner. I knew what Quatre was talking about.

"The doctors suggested you should stop drinking... all together," Quatre explained with that inhuman patience, lightly pushing away his distracting food. "I don't understand why you don't, after that horrible experience."

"I'm an alcoholic," I said simply, about to crack open the drink again.

"What?" Quatre said, startled.

"Well, its rather simple, Quat," I explain with my own 'patient' voice. Except I sounded like I was talking to a kid. "It means that my body needs something to keep functioning... "

Quatre, for a split moment, looked hurt from my attitude and tone of voice. But like every good Gundam pilot, he pushed away the emotion and folded his hands in front of him, on the table, like some psychiatrist.

"Your body doesn't need it, Duo," Quatre said calmly. "That's why, to help you, all of us have decided to go to the cabin for a two week break from the world."


1. "I can 'alk the 'alk and 'alk the 'alk by meeeeeself." -- I can talk the talk and walk the walk by myself."
2. SQUEAK!! -- I've seen this happen (in a play, though... )! But its with a crappy system I guess... Anyway, its when you turn the volume up real loud and then call the stereo for live talk or something. Usually, only the radio guy will get that high squeak but I think its possible for the caller to make it go through the whole radio as well. Something about microphones and shit. I don't suggest you try it though. It's not faulty-proof.
3. "Duo! Duo, where are you? I can hear you!" -- Quatre calling for his cat. Yeah, isn't that sweet? Duo is the gray cat! ^___^


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