Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Bleed Like Me ❯ Chapter 1

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

TITLE: “Bleed Like Me”
AUTHOR: Jadah Krayne
RATING: Y
PAIRINGS: None, but there are thoughts of who and what they want.
TIMELINE: Sometime during the Wars
WARNINGS:Angst. Lots of it. Also mentions of the following: transgender, self-mutilation, attempted suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, and eating disorders. You have been warned.
SUMMARY: As the boys are eating breakfast one morning, a song comes on and jolts them into their own thoughts about themselves. Mind you, this fic is supposed to take place over a matter of minutes (the length of the song). Part I of a three part series I have in mind.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gundam Wing. It is owned by Sunrise Entertainment and Bandai. I also do not own the song used in this fic; that belongs to Garbage and the wonderful Shirley Manson. They don’t know I’m using them, but what the hell.

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It was a quiet morning, just like all the rest of them. Each pilot sat observing their own unique morning rituals and going about their business. The radio hummed an unknown tune, but none of them paid any attention. At least, until the next song came on. There was no warning announcement that could have deterred them from hearing it.

It began to play:

avalanche is sullen and too thin
she starves herself to rid herself of sin
and the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath her skin
and she says:
hey baby can you bleed like me?
c'mon baby can you bleed like me

Trowa nearly dropped his cup of orange juice. He looked at the radio, startled, as though it were speaking to him. He was sure the others were clueless, knowing that he hid it well. He looked down at the orange juice in his hand, as though it were going to offer him some answers. He realized that this was the only nourishment he had had in nearly three days. When was the last time he had eaten? The others asked him why he was so thin, why he looked so gaunt. He had never noticed, thinking food secondary to what else he had to do. Who needed to eat anyway? There were more pressing matters than putting food into his mouth, like winning this war. His stomach growled, as if on cue, and he fumbled to mute it before the others heard it. He had gotten quite practiced at forgetting about it, making the hunger non-existent. He ate, when he felt he needed it. Never mind the dizzy spells, the constant headaches, or the fact that he bruised like a peach now. The others couldn’t know, would never know. It was his cross to bear.
He had to admit, he got off on the feeling of the world spinning beneath him when his head felt as though it would float off his shoulders. It made it like a game, pressing to see how far it would go. After all, wasn’t that the mission of being a Gundam pilot? Testing limits to see how far they could be pushed? Yes, that was what it was all about. Pushing your luck and seeing just how much luck you really had.
Is it worth dying for? Your mind slips a bit more every day…you can feel your muscles eating themselves in an attempt to keep you alive. Is that what you want? an annoying little voice asked him, distant in the back of his head. It reminded him of the little blonde’s sweet voice, and almost made him want to… He pushed it farther back, not wanting to face what it had to say. He knew it was right, but that part of him couldn’t fathom it. It was a game, and he was in control. Always in control.

chrissie's all dressed up and acting coy
painted like a brand new christmas toy
he's trying to figure out if he's a girl or he's a boy
he says:
hey baby can you bleed like me?
c'mon baby can you bleed like me

Quatre looked up from his toast, coughing a bit on the rough texture of the bread as the words filled the air. He had been asking himself the same question just the other day, realizing that he honestly didn’t know. He envied the women he saw around him, mostly because he wanted to be them. Wanted the attention, the men at his side. Wanted to be just a little less strong and a little more delicate.
He thought back to a time when Irea had caught him in her room. He had been so young then, but that was only the beginning. She thought it was amusing, seeing her baby brother dressed in one of her outfits and an attempt at make-up on his face. Little did she know that baby Quatre had reveled in the reflection he saw, not disgusted like he was now with what he saw. He hated the fuzz that was starting to grace his chin, the body that was filling into a man’s. Hated it all. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a slender body, soft and supple to the touch, the appearance of breasts where he found muscles rippling beneath his skin.
Of course, the others could never know about this. What would they think, knowing that a Gundam pilot wanted more than anything to be a girl instead of a boy? They would think him weak, and a liability. Especially Wufei. And Quatre couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t bear his best friend thinking him weak, or seeming so in front of the green-eyed boy that he wished would save him. Would love him for who he was and what he wanted to be. He needed them, and a little gender confusion wasn’t going to get in the way. Not now, not ever. No, he would continue to be trapped in the body that he hated the most, never letting them now. They could never know.

doodle takes dad's scissors to her skin
and when she does relief comes setting in
while she hides the scars she's making underneath her pretty clothes
she sings:
hey baby can you bleed like me?
c'mon baby can you bleed like me

Duo didn’t even look up when he heard the words to the song, but instead chose to tug his sleeves a little tighter around his wrists. The cuts there weren’t as bad as the ones on his ankles, but he didn’t want them to see. His private pleasure, the blood that he knew so well. He thought about the night before, the angry red line on his wrist a throbbing reminder of the relief he sought so often now. That one had bled like crazy, almost scaring Duo into calling for one of the others for help. So close to the vein, it was. But what would they say? What could they say?
He was in love with the sight of his blood bubbling up through the surface of his skin, the pain in brought with it a supplication for the misdeeds that he committed. Father Maxwell had taught him about penance, paying for your sins in one way or another. It was his relief, getting rid of the bad blood that caused him to do so many things that he would rather forget.
No one noticed, and the one time the blonde did he told him it was from Deathsycthe’s cockpit. They couldn’t know about this, his perverted form of ridding himself of his sins. He had to be strong, like the Perfect Soldier, the one he admired so much. And if he was to catch the strong boy’s attention, he had to be strong. His mask was a perfected one, and he could easily play the part. The perfect fool, the happy-go-lucky one who was untouched by pain. That was what he wanted them to see. They couldn’t see his darkness. There was no way.

therapy is speedie's brand new drug
dancing with the devil's past has never been too fun
it's better off than trying to take a bullet from a gun
and she cries:
hey baby can you bleed like me?
c'mon baby can you bleed like me

Heero snorted bubbles into his black coffee at that. His grip on the coffee mug was already shaky and unsteady, as he hadn’t had his morning fix. Sure, the coffee did a job on keeping his nerves steady, but it wasn’t until he popped that little white pill that the world stopped trembling. That was the little pill that allowed him to be the Perfect Soldier that everyone expected him to be, gave him his strength. Allowed him to face another day and to perform another duty.
The pills kept him sane, kept his focus on the mission at hand. Kept him from expelling his existence once and for all. So many times he wished that his self-detonation had succeeded completely, taking his pathetic life away. But he knew he couldn’t die, not yet. He had too much to do until that time. The pills helped keep that in perspective for him. Made the edges of his vision stay together and not dance like loosened stars. His head hurt from the lack of drugs in his system, but he would take care of that.
He stole a glance at the braided boy who sat on his other side, just for a moment, and wished that he could be like that. Simple, but strong. How he wished the others could see the truth, see the scared little boy that was crying out for someone to talk to him. To relieve him of his demons that he carried. Her face still haunted his thoughts, but the little white miracle made those go away as well. Focus. That was it. He couldn’t think of losing his focus. It was all he had, and all he needed. As much as he wanted them to know, to see, he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. Couldn’t imagine what it would do for them to know their leader was so weak. They needed his strength, chemically induced or not. He was not going to fail. There was no room for failure.

it's gets all fucked up in some karaoke bar
after two drinks he's a loser after three drinks he's a star
getting all nostalgic as he sings 'I will survive'
hey baby can you bleed like me?
c'mon baby can you bleed like me

Wufei threw a glare at the radio, his head pounding as though a hurricane were swirling inside his brain. He could barely remember the night before, crawling inside a sake bottle and drowning in it. The circles under his eyes were more than apparent, but he convinced himself that the others wouldn’t notice. They did not know where he would slip off to, losing himself at some bar and drinking his sorrows away. Life seemed easier with a bit of an alcoholic edge to it. It was fuzzy and clear, all at the same time. That was what he lived for now, that sweet distortion.
Never mind that he was trying to drown the ginger-haired demon that plagued his thoughts, or the distant fires of yet another successful mission. Distortion. Made the pain go away. Made it all less real. Such an injustice he was to himself, but he didn’t have the strength to care any more. He would rant to the others, but he had no faith in justice any more. It was no good. It lived no where and thrived until it sucked its victim dry. Just like it had done Wufei and his colony.
He grimaced as he lowered his head, the light too much. He had hoped the hangover would be kinder, but it was no use. At least he wasn’t throwing up. That was definitely a plus. Then the others would know, just like that platinum haired abomination that he had found at the bar that night. Two lost young men, sharing a bottle or two, or three and drowning their problems. In his hazy memory they talked of the same fallen angel that was eating them both alive, but he pushed it away. He had thought the man would be different, but he wasn’t. He wished he had cared, that the others cared. Not that he would tell them so they could. He would never admit his weakness. His suffering. His pain. He had to be the warrior, strong and filled with honor. Honor was all that mattered.

you should see my scars
you should see my scars
you should see my scars
you should see my scars
and try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend

“And that was ‘Bleed Like Me’, a golden oldie from the days before the colonies! Next up on…” the radio announcer said cheerily, but his words were cut short when Heero got up and turned it off. The five exchanged looks, cautious and knowing, but no words were said. What could they say? It hit too close to home, and none of them knew what to say to the other. Pained eyes met worried glances, but still no one spoke.

Trowa sipped his orange juice, getting up and pouring the rest down the sink.

Quatre choked down the last bit of toast and fiddled with the end of his hated shirt.

Duo pulled on his sleeve one more time, rubbing his ankles harshly together.

Heero fluidly pulled the pill from his pocket, swallowing it in one gulp.

Wufei laid his head on the table, shying away from the light.

None of them spoke, the silence deafening. But, even silent as they were, they all screamed at one another, Hey baby can you bleed like me?

-END-

A/N: First of all, though this story may not be the best that I have ever written, but I must say I am very proud of this. This is dedicated to my one and only love, who asks herself that question every single day. One day, you will see that you don’t need to bleed. Secondly, there is going to be a sequel. As soon as I typed that last sentence, it instantly sprang to mind. Of course, you will have to wait and see what happens.

~Jadah Krayne