Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Shame/Possession ❯ Shame ( Chapter 1 )

GW and its characters obviously don't belong to me but to Sunrise/SOSTU Agency etc. etc.

Also Stabbing Westward and their song SHAME do not belong to me either...I'm just a really big fan.

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The flashes of light from the TV screen illuminated Heero's face in blue and white. Trance-like as a moth drawn to the flame he reached his hand up to the smooth glass, tracing with his fingers the face that it imprisoned. He stared into her eyes. Her gentle gaze of blue-green seemed to be looking straight at him, though he knew it was only an illusion. Her feelings for him had only been an illusion. He coiled his hand back as the lights flashed again and the picture changed. No. Bring her back! He punched at the screen but to no avail, it was deaf to his cries, blind to his soul, just as she had become. She had lost her faith in him, in them, a long while ago. It was his own fault he knew, but then again if he had known he would be this lost without her... "Get it together Yuy." He scolded himself, turning away with his head hung low, leaving the store.

//I only see myself reflected in your eyes//
//So all that I believe I am essentially are lies//
//and everything I've hoped to be or ever thought I was//
//Died with your belief in me so who the hell am I//

He ducked quickly into a phone booth his hand shook slightly as he picked up the phone and punched in the number. Why was he calling her? What did he hope to accomplish? He knew she would only... "Hello?"

He held his breath hearing her simple greeting, but forced himself to speak. "Relena." He heard the click and then dead silence on the line before he could even finish speaking her name. "Ahhh!!" His cry of pain was primal as he smashed the receiver against the side of the booth, one of its glass windows shattering. He slammed open the door to the booth, ignoring the pieces of glass embedded into his skin, ignoring the sting of the blood that slowly oozed out of the lacerations. He looked to the left and then to the right but as usual he was unsure of where to go.

//I'm wondering 'round confused//
//wondering why I try//
//the more that you deny my pain//
//the more it intensifies...//
//I pray for someone to ache for me the way I ache for you//
//If you ignore that I'm alive//
//I've nothing to cling to//

He stepped into the small diner across the street, not caring about the looks he received from its patrons as he made his way to the bathroom. He stood at one of the tiny sinks, its fixtures dripping with rust. He turned on the water, and tilted back his head eyes closed, swallowing the pain of the burning as the stream of warm water seeped into the cuts of his injured hand; but that pain was nothing compared to the emotional torture he had been putting himself through. He straightened his head and looked into the mirror, studying himself. He had not really looked at himself lately; he looked like hell.

He had lost about twenty pounds and his face was pale and sunk in. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, replacing any color of blue that might have remained in them. His hair was a tangle of knots; he had not even bathed in a week. But then what did he care? She certainly didn't. The princess of peace turned diplomat, the one person he had vowed to protect, did not want his protection. Why couldn't she understand he wasn't trying to control her, he wasn't trying to smother her, he had always been willing to die for her, die for her, though he thought his death would be swift and glorious, saving the one he loved, but instead he was dying slow, and pitiful, a broken man with an even more broken soul. "Pathetic." He growled at his reflection.

//I stare into this mirror//
//So tired of this life//
//If only you would speak to me or cared if I'm alive//
//once I swore I would die for you//
//but I never meant like this//
//I never meant like this//
//I never meant like this//

He stormed back out onto the street determined to see her, to make her listen to him, to make her understand that he was not letting her go so easily. Whatever extreme he had to go or method he had to use he would get through to her. He knew he had fallen into a state of obsession and had become a borderline psychotic, but she had become the only reality he knew and he could not let go at his last chance of salvation. He had lost his gun a few days ago, but there were other ways, for if in fact death were to take him tonight he would make sure it took her as well.

//I don't know what's real without you//
//what is left with me without you//
//I don't know what's real without you//
//HOW CAN I EXIST WITHOUT YOU//

TBC…