Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Hoobastank Conspiracy Arc #3: Pieces ❯ Chapter 2
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KentraShinataku02 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 08.23.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 08.23.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Pairings: 2+5, 2x3x2; mentions of past 1x3 & 1x2
Warnings: Angst, mentions of NCS, Sap, lemon, Heero bastardization,
language, post-war setting, abuse
Category: Angst
Spoilers: No
Disclaimer: I own nothing.. at least not Gundam Wing or any of
Hoobastank's songs.
Summary: Duo flees to escape the truth, but only had one place to
run... to the past.
Notes: Each song in this arc is supposed to be a songfic from the
Hoobastank CD, but this one was more based off of the sound/feel of
the music, and not so much the words (though they did have a big
part) so this isn't really a songfic. It's just sort of based from
the music (Hoobastank, Track #4, Pieces).
**********
The Hoobastank Conspiracy Arc #3
Pieces: Part Two
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Duo's heart thudded with anxiety in his chest and the plastic cover of his cell phone was damp and sticky against his palm. He let the phone ring long after he had reached the conclusion that it would not be answered. Where the hell was Wufei? He wasn't a very deep sleeper and would have woken immediately at the ringing of the old fashioned telephone on the end table next to the couch, and even if he had been in the shower, he would have gotten out to answer, probably expecting his fiancé's call.
Unless, of course, he was too upset and angry with Duo that he didn't wish to speak to him, which was Duo's worst fear right now. He had been so stupid to let Wufei know so much. He was such a coward for running away. He was such an asshole to come to Trowa for a shred of acceptance among blind faces.
But it was too late now, he had already made the phone call. Twice. And if not to Trowa, where could he go? He didn't dare go back home, back to Wufei, not yet. Wufei was too upset with him. He wouldn't even answer the phone.
He sat, almost lethargic in the car, leaning back with his knees propped against the steering wheel. What could he do now? What had he already done? He had single-handedly destroyed what was most important in his life, he had snipped the thin, transparent thread he called a lifeline, the one cord that was clinging to his shattered existence. He had fucked up the love he shared with Wufei all too easily.
Suddenly, he felt sick, and his hand flew to his mouth, forcing him to swallow the acid that was rushing upwards from his stomach. 'My god,' he thought with a sick sense of realization, 'what the hell have I done?'
Yet that thought didn't stay his shoeless feet when he stepped from the car and made his way blindly to Trowa's front door, duffle bag in hand. The thought didn't force him to rethink when he pressed the doorbell with the side of his palm. He knew he was making a mistake the entire time, but he just stood dumbly before the door, waiting for Trowa to open it and offer a humble welcome to his home, or some ridiculous shit like that.
Trowa did appear at the door after a moment, slightly more refreshed and awake than he had appeared on the phone, though still obviously in night clothes: grey sweat pants and a wrinkled white t-shirt.
"Sorry for just showing up like this," Duo began nervously, fidgeting as if his body was helpless to the control of his mind.
"It's okay. Really." Trowa punctuated the last word in reassurance and took Duo's duffle bag, setting it on a recliner near the door and indicated for Duo to enter.
"Nice shoes," he commented with a hint of a smile.
Duo, however, wasn't so amused, and walked inside without reply. He had been afraid Trowa would make some sort of demeaning remark about the issue, but now he wasn't sure if it would have been worse than the quiet humor. He didn't need to be reminded of what he had done.
He stopped a few steps past the doorway and stared at the interior of Trowa's house, a place that formerly housed Heero.
Same. Everything was the same as it had been back then, everything down to the way the green and grey plaid afghan was settled not-quite neatly over the back of the couch and a balled up pair of socks peaked out from beneath the rocking chair. Trowa seemed someone who would be as picky as Wufei in the organisation department, but he wasn't, not really. He tried to keep things neat, but it was often a failed attempt. Strangely, the random messiness didn't seem as out of place in the house as it would in his own, if he even had a place to call home anymore. The place was very spacious, even though it didn't look it from the outside.
"Why don't you sit down?" Trowa managed to make the question a polite command, one that Duo couldn't argue with in this mindset. He turned toward Trowa, evident panic blazing violet in his eyes and pressed a hand to the side of his face. Trowa only nodded toward the couch, which Duo sank into in frustration. He leaned forward, pressing his face against his knees, his hands playing with the fringed tail of his braid.
"What am I gonna do, Tro? What the fuck am I gonna do?" he murmured against his legs. The only response was the motion of Trowa sitting down on the cushion besides him. He made sure he wasn't close enough to touch him.
They sat together for some time, Trowa quietly watching Duo's body quiver with breathy sobs. He had begun to tangle his fingers through his braid, his hair being such a comfort to him. He wanted to cry, he was frantic and afraid, but he wouldn't give that release to himself. He wasn't ashamed to cry under Trowa's eyes; it wouldn't be the first time, after all. He and Trowa had already gone through shit together. Tears had been exchanged between them in the past, and hiding them now would be pointless. They could be open with each other. Well, more easily than with anyone else. Just not right now, not right now.
He finally dared a look up at Trowa with glistening indigo eyes, shining with tears that he couldn't yet release.
"I did it, Tro," he whispered, his eyes desperate, pleading, "I told Wufei everything. I fucked up, man," Trowa offered a surprised look, opening his mouth to speak, but Duo quickly added, "Don't worry, I didn't tell him about you. I didn't tell him about us an' what Heero made us..." his voice faltered, allowing Trowa an opportunity to speak.
"I don't know how that feels," Trowa admitted, "I've never had anyone to tell. But... I can imagine how difficult it would be." Duo merely nodded, having so much to say and no idea _what_ to say.
"I'll make you something to eat," Trowa decided, correct in his assumption that his friend hadn't had anything yet, "Come to the kitchen."
Duo shrugged. "Okay." He wasn't particularly hungry, despite skipping breakfast, but he knew how Trowa was; he had to have something to do with his hands. He would be able to converse much easier with something to concentrate on. He was a natural multi-tasker.
Trowa stood and Duo followed him down the wooden arched hallway toward the kitchen. There was a new addition since Duo's previous visit: pictures lining the hallway. There were photographs, mostly of people, but a few of animals or landscapes. The same lion definitely appeared in more than one frame. There were many featuring Duo and Wufei together and a few of Duo and Trowa. Quatre only made an appearance in one frame, joined with Catherine, and Heero didn't seem to be present at all, with good reason. At least, he was thought to be missing until the end of the corridor where a cherry wood frame encased a tape-repaired portrait of Heero, right arm around Trowa and left arm draped carefully about Duo's shoulder. Duo glared as he passed it, developing a sick feeling that Trowa kept it hanging only to taunt himself. He wasn't the greatest at getting rid of the past.
"You can just sit down," Trowa said as they entered the kitchen, indicating the table and chairs, "I'll fix everything."
Duo nodded and took a seat, his heart slowing to a healthier rate. Though he had to wonder if Trowa intended to fix everything meaning breakfast, or if he wanted to fix everything in general.
He leaned the chair on it's two hind legs and gripped the bottom of the table, his palms turned up, listening to the somehow soothing sounds of clattering pans in search of the right ones. Duo leaned far enough so that the tail of his braid tickled the floor behind him. He wasn't surprised to see some dishes in the sink that were stuck with food a few days old and a garbage bag tied next to the already overflowing trash can. Yet somehow, the kitchen still seemed neat and uncluttered. Maybe it was the colour scheme, Duo thought, pastel yellows and creams did that for a room.
The companionable quiet rested softly upon them for a time, allowing Duo to calm as much as he was able and for Trowa to ponder what it would be like if the roles were reversed. By time eggs had begun to sizzle in a greased skillet, Trowa was prepared to pry into Duo's thoughts.
"So what did he say?"
Duo didn't have to ask who he was referring to. "He.. well, you know, I tried to sugar coat it, tried to leave it at just the bruises, but he just pushed farther. He saw right through it."
"But how did he react?" Trowa pressed.
"I- well... he.. he asked me if I even loved him. He was still supportive and all, but... I'm scared of what he's _not_ saying, you know?" Duo's eyes were shimmering still. Trowa paused in his ministrations, not turning to meet the gaze of his friend. Duo's eyes were glued to the ceiling, anyways.
"I would be, too," Trowa whispered, almost inaudibly. Duo ignored it.
"I mean, he actually had to _ask_ me if I loved him. Maybe he was asking because I made _him_ not love me anymore. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to get rid of me."
"Well, you two have a house together," Trowa disputed, "I understand that it's hard to trust anybody now, believe me, I have that problem, too. Why do you think I'm alone? You have a house together," he repeated, "I don't think his love for you would break that easily after creating that bond."
"This house used to belong to you and Heero and look how it is now," argued Duo. Trowa's shoulder blades stiffened visibly.
"That was different. You _know_ why we shared a house."
Duo felt the belated need to apologize after he had managed to turn his friend's tone cold. Of course he knew why they owned a house together; Heero had insisted. Trowa had disapproved of setting down such sturdy roots, he thought an apartment would be a more suitable plan. No, Heero had argued, they couldn't risk an apartment. Of course, Trowa didn't know why until it was too late. He didn't understand, thought it was one of Heero's safety quirks. Even after the war, Heero would still swear everyone and anyone was out to get him. But it wasn't for that reason that he had insisted on a house, at least not entirely. He needed a place with firm walls, a place that escaped the prying ears of the innocents. He needed somewhere where he could take Trowa's consent and shred it to pieces before his lover's eyes. Heero had insisted upon a private residence so that he could have his way with Trowa whenever and however he wanted and never get caught for the damage he caused. As long as he was safe inside these walls, no one would be any wiser.
"I'm sorry, Tro, I know how it is," he muttered with honest remorse, "I just can't help what I say when I'm like this. Sorry."
Trowa didn't feel the need to accept.
"I'm assuming you didn't tell him where you were going." It wasn't a question.
"Remember that time at that safehouse, the shitty little cabin back in the woods? It was just you, me, and Wufei. Remember when I left without telling him goodbye?"
Trowa finally turned his head to face him, an emotion undecipherable piercing through his emerald eyes.
"I did the same thing, I did it again." Duo couldn't keep his voice from cracking mid-sentence.
"You know how much that upset him, Duo."
"I.. left him a note." Thinking back from now, the note seemed rather pointless.
"And what did it say?" Trowa inquired.
There was no reason to tell about his shaking hands or Chinese words or sneaking the paper into his fiancé's fingers. Instead, he simply whispered, "I love you."
**********
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Pairings: 2+5, 2x3x2; mentions of past 1x3 & 1x2
Warnings: Angst, mentions of NCS, Sap, lemon, Heero bastardization,
language, post-war setting, abuse
Category: Angst
Spoilers: No
Disclaimer: I own nothing.. at least not Gundam Wing or any of
Hoobastank's songs.
Summary: Duo flees to escape the truth, but only had one place to
run... to the past.
Notes: Each song in this arc is supposed to be a songfic from the
Hoobastank CD, but this one was more based off of the sound/feel of
the music, and not so much the words (though they did have a big
part) so this isn't really a songfic. It's just sort of based from
the music (Hoobastank, Track #4, Pieces).
**********
The Hoobastank Conspiracy Arc #3
Pieces: Part Two
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Duo's heart thudded with anxiety in his chest and the plastic cover of his cell phone was damp and sticky against his palm. He let the phone ring long after he had reached the conclusion that it would not be answered. Where the hell was Wufei? He wasn't a very deep sleeper and would have woken immediately at the ringing of the old fashioned telephone on the end table next to the couch, and even if he had been in the shower, he would have gotten out to answer, probably expecting his fiancé's call.
Unless, of course, he was too upset and angry with Duo that he didn't wish to speak to him, which was Duo's worst fear right now. He had been so stupid to let Wufei know so much. He was such a coward for running away. He was such an asshole to come to Trowa for a shred of acceptance among blind faces.
But it was too late now, he had already made the phone call. Twice. And if not to Trowa, where could he go? He didn't dare go back home, back to Wufei, not yet. Wufei was too upset with him. He wouldn't even answer the phone.
He sat, almost lethargic in the car, leaning back with his knees propped against the steering wheel. What could he do now? What had he already done? He had single-handedly destroyed what was most important in his life, he had snipped the thin, transparent thread he called a lifeline, the one cord that was clinging to his shattered existence. He had fucked up the love he shared with Wufei all too easily.
Suddenly, he felt sick, and his hand flew to his mouth, forcing him to swallow the acid that was rushing upwards from his stomach. 'My god,' he thought with a sick sense of realization, 'what the hell have I done?'
Yet that thought didn't stay his shoeless feet when he stepped from the car and made his way blindly to Trowa's front door, duffle bag in hand. The thought didn't force him to rethink when he pressed the doorbell with the side of his palm. He knew he was making a mistake the entire time, but he just stood dumbly before the door, waiting for Trowa to open it and offer a humble welcome to his home, or some ridiculous shit like that.
Trowa did appear at the door after a moment, slightly more refreshed and awake than he had appeared on the phone, though still obviously in night clothes: grey sweat pants and a wrinkled white t-shirt.
"Sorry for just showing up like this," Duo began nervously, fidgeting as if his body was helpless to the control of his mind.
"It's okay. Really." Trowa punctuated the last word in reassurance and took Duo's duffle bag, setting it on a recliner near the door and indicated for Duo to enter.
"Nice shoes," he commented with a hint of a smile.
Duo, however, wasn't so amused, and walked inside without reply. He had been afraid Trowa would make some sort of demeaning remark about the issue, but now he wasn't sure if it would have been worse than the quiet humor. He didn't need to be reminded of what he had done.
He stopped a few steps past the doorway and stared at the interior of Trowa's house, a place that formerly housed Heero.
Same. Everything was the same as it had been back then, everything down to the way the green and grey plaid afghan was settled not-quite neatly over the back of the couch and a balled up pair of socks peaked out from beneath the rocking chair. Trowa seemed someone who would be as picky as Wufei in the organisation department, but he wasn't, not really. He tried to keep things neat, but it was often a failed attempt. Strangely, the random messiness didn't seem as out of place in the house as it would in his own, if he even had a place to call home anymore. The place was very spacious, even though it didn't look it from the outside.
"Why don't you sit down?" Trowa managed to make the question a polite command, one that Duo couldn't argue with in this mindset. He turned toward Trowa, evident panic blazing violet in his eyes and pressed a hand to the side of his face. Trowa only nodded toward the couch, which Duo sank into in frustration. He leaned forward, pressing his face against his knees, his hands playing with the fringed tail of his braid.
"What am I gonna do, Tro? What the fuck am I gonna do?" he murmured against his legs. The only response was the motion of Trowa sitting down on the cushion besides him. He made sure he wasn't close enough to touch him.
They sat together for some time, Trowa quietly watching Duo's body quiver with breathy sobs. He had begun to tangle his fingers through his braid, his hair being such a comfort to him. He wanted to cry, he was frantic and afraid, but he wouldn't give that release to himself. He wasn't ashamed to cry under Trowa's eyes; it wouldn't be the first time, after all. He and Trowa had already gone through shit together. Tears had been exchanged between them in the past, and hiding them now would be pointless. They could be open with each other. Well, more easily than with anyone else. Just not right now, not right now.
He finally dared a look up at Trowa with glistening indigo eyes, shining with tears that he couldn't yet release.
"I did it, Tro," he whispered, his eyes desperate, pleading, "I told Wufei everything. I fucked up, man," Trowa offered a surprised look, opening his mouth to speak, but Duo quickly added, "Don't worry, I didn't tell him about you. I didn't tell him about us an' what Heero made us..." his voice faltered, allowing Trowa an opportunity to speak.
"I don't know how that feels," Trowa admitted, "I've never had anyone to tell. But... I can imagine how difficult it would be." Duo merely nodded, having so much to say and no idea _what_ to say.
"I'll make you something to eat," Trowa decided, correct in his assumption that his friend hadn't had anything yet, "Come to the kitchen."
Duo shrugged. "Okay." He wasn't particularly hungry, despite skipping breakfast, but he knew how Trowa was; he had to have something to do with his hands. He would be able to converse much easier with something to concentrate on. He was a natural multi-tasker.
Trowa stood and Duo followed him down the wooden arched hallway toward the kitchen. There was a new addition since Duo's previous visit: pictures lining the hallway. There were photographs, mostly of people, but a few of animals or landscapes. The same lion definitely appeared in more than one frame. There were many featuring Duo and Wufei together and a few of Duo and Trowa. Quatre only made an appearance in one frame, joined with Catherine, and Heero didn't seem to be present at all, with good reason. At least, he was thought to be missing until the end of the corridor where a cherry wood frame encased a tape-repaired portrait of Heero, right arm around Trowa and left arm draped carefully about Duo's shoulder. Duo glared as he passed it, developing a sick feeling that Trowa kept it hanging only to taunt himself. He wasn't the greatest at getting rid of the past.
"You can just sit down," Trowa said as they entered the kitchen, indicating the table and chairs, "I'll fix everything."
Duo nodded and took a seat, his heart slowing to a healthier rate. Though he had to wonder if Trowa intended to fix everything meaning breakfast, or if he wanted to fix everything in general.
He leaned the chair on it's two hind legs and gripped the bottom of the table, his palms turned up, listening to the somehow soothing sounds of clattering pans in search of the right ones. Duo leaned far enough so that the tail of his braid tickled the floor behind him. He wasn't surprised to see some dishes in the sink that were stuck with food a few days old and a garbage bag tied next to the already overflowing trash can. Yet somehow, the kitchen still seemed neat and uncluttered. Maybe it was the colour scheme, Duo thought, pastel yellows and creams did that for a room.
The companionable quiet rested softly upon them for a time, allowing Duo to calm as much as he was able and for Trowa to ponder what it would be like if the roles were reversed. By time eggs had begun to sizzle in a greased skillet, Trowa was prepared to pry into Duo's thoughts.
"So what did he say?"
Duo didn't have to ask who he was referring to. "He.. well, you know, I tried to sugar coat it, tried to leave it at just the bruises, but he just pushed farther. He saw right through it."
"But how did he react?" Trowa pressed.
"I- well... he.. he asked me if I even loved him. He was still supportive and all, but... I'm scared of what he's _not_ saying, you know?" Duo's eyes were shimmering still. Trowa paused in his ministrations, not turning to meet the gaze of his friend. Duo's eyes were glued to the ceiling, anyways.
"I would be, too," Trowa whispered, almost inaudibly. Duo ignored it.
"I mean, he actually had to _ask_ me if I loved him. Maybe he was asking because I made _him_ not love me anymore. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to get rid of me."
"Well, you two have a house together," Trowa disputed, "I understand that it's hard to trust anybody now, believe me, I have that problem, too. Why do you think I'm alone? You have a house together," he repeated, "I don't think his love for you would break that easily after creating that bond."
"This house used to belong to you and Heero and look how it is now," argued Duo. Trowa's shoulder blades stiffened visibly.
"That was different. You _know_ why we shared a house."
Duo felt the belated need to apologize after he had managed to turn his friend's tone cold. Of course he knew why they owned a house together; Heero had insisted. Trowa had disapproved of setting down such sturdy roots, he thought an apartment would be a more suitable plan. No, Heero had argued, they couldn't risk an apartment. Of course, Trowa didn't know why until it was too late. He didn't understand, thought it was one of Heero's safety quirks. Even after the war, Heero would still swear everyone and anyone was out to get him. But it wasn't for that reason that he had insisted on a house, at least not entirely. He needed a place with firm walls, a place that escaped the prying ears of the innocents. He needed somewhere where he could take Trowa's consent and shred it to pieces before his lover's eyes. Heero had insisted upon a private residence so that he could have his way with Trowa whenever and however he wanted and never get caught for the damage he caused. As long as he was safe inside these walls, no one would be any wiser.
"I'm sorry, Tro, I know how it is," he muttered with honest remorse, "I just can't help what I say when I'm like this. Sorry."
Trowa didn't feel the need to accept.
"I'm assuming you didn't tell him where you were going." It wasn't a question.
"Remember that time at that safehouse, the shitty little cabin back in the woods? It was just you, me, and Wufei. Remember when I left without telling him goodbye?"
Trowa finally turned his head to face him, an emotion undecipherable piercing through his emerald eyes.
"I did the same thing, I did it again." Duo couldn't keep his voice from cracking mid-sentence.
"You know how much that upset him, Duo."
"I.. left him a note." Thinking back from now, the note seemed rather pointless.
"And what did it say?" Trowa inquired.
There was no reason to tell about his shaking hands or Chinese words or sneaking the paper into his fiancé's fingers. Instead, he simply whispered, "I love you."
**********