Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ Duo - 4 ( Chapter 9 )

Part IX

Duo stared off into the distance, holding the warm mug in his hands. His elbows rested on the table as he watched various people walk by the café. He rubbed his thumbs along the rim of the steaming mug as he vacantly thought of the previous night. He brought the mug to his lips, eyes never leaving the landscape, and took a sip. Did he love Heero anymore? Duo put the mug back down and sighed. He released one of his hands from the mug to rub vigorously at his eyes. He removed his hands to stare absently at the moisture there. Damnit. He was crying again. He wrapped his hands around the mug again, staring this time into his coffee. He did love Heero. He loved him with everything that was inside him, with all of his heart. He couldn't love another, but. . . That was the problem. There was a But. A drop of rain fell into his drink and he watched as the ripples moved outward to bounce off of the side of the mug. It was then that he realized that it wasn't raining. Those were his tears.

"Fuck." He muttered, wiping furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the But was him. No, it was the drugs that he consumed on a multiple-daily basis. It was the drugs that interfered in the relationship. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. He wasn't strong enough to quit the drugs on his own, and he knew he couldn't ask for help from Heero because Heero would just get mad. Heero would probably do worse than throw him out this time. He shook his head, lifting the mug to his lips again. He shuddered at the thought of bawling in the rain on some uncomfortable bus stop bench. He knew that he wouldn't be able to survive that again. Whatever happened, he could not go through that again.

Why was it so difficult for him to admit to himself that he had an addiction? Duo narrowed his eyes. He did not have an addiction, he just. . . He just. . .

"Fuck." He couldn't even lie to himself anymore. He set the mug down and dropped his head into his folded arms. He was officially pathetic. He had hit the lowest of lows and nobody would help him scrabble up the incline to dig himself out. He screamed in his mind's eye as he watched muddied fingers slip in the slimy mud as he clawed at the shifting wall. He shook his head to try to get the metal image to fade. It did fade, but only slowly. He raised his head only enough so he could gaze out over the plaza through his bangs. Maybe, if he couldn't talk to Heero, maybe he could talk to Quatre. Quatre would not yell at him or call him stupid, Quatre would just listen and help, offer advice. Quatre would throw a rope down to him and help haul his tired ass out of the hole. Quatre could help him.

Quatre wouldn't get mad at him because he no longer took Angel Dust. Quatre wouldn't get mad at him because he had moved on to Heroin. Heero would. Relena would have a hey-day if she ever got wind of this. Duo: addicted to Heroin. Oh yeah, she'd love that.

He didn't have an addiction. Period. He relied on the Heroin, yes, but he did not have an addiction. He was stronger than that. He didn't need anything; he just wanted. It really would do no good to talk to anyone, since he really didn't need any help. If he wanted to quit, he would quit, but until that point, he had no reason to go to anyone. Anyway, when he did quit, he wouldn't need anybody's help -- no matter how hard it was for him to go even fifteen minutes without being high.

That was the only time that he was sober and conscious at the same time, in the mornings as soon as he woke up with an earth-splitting headache, protesting muscles and a cottony and bitter tasting mouth. It always took him a few minutes to orientate himself enough to drag himself out of bed to where his supplies faithfully rested and prepare himself an injection to shoot wearily into his arm to wake up. Once he had finished shooting up in the morning, he could go about extraneous things like taking a shower, or eating breakfast. He'd than take another hit before moving on with his day. He would shoot up at various times throughout the day, and his last injection would be about an hour before he went to sleep.

He sighed as he stood up to pay his bill. It was time he got home. He needed another injection of Heroin anyway. He sighed again. Since when had he gotten so fucked up? He didn't know, but he accepted it and moved on -- to Heroin. Ahh, chemical infatuation, and the numbness that always followed. It made life so much easier to deal with.

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Heero looked absently around the empty house. Duo had gone out hours ago, probably for coffee. He felt lost, like he was being tossed about in the wind, desperately grasping onto a thread. He wandered aimlessly through the living room and kitchen before staring at himself in the guest bathroom mirror. He touched his cheeks to see if they were really that sunken in -- they were. He was haggard looking due to the fact that he hadn't slept since the fight. Duo hadn't smiled at him since, and he hadn't touched Duo since. It was pure Hell. Heero didn't know what he would do if Duo didn't love him; he didn't know what would happen to him if Duo left. His entire world was Duo, and without him, the world was not just a bleak place, but also an empty one. Heero believed that the world would just cease to exist, and he would be dead. There was nothing without Duo. Nothing.

Duo was the fuel that kept him going. Duo was his heart, his lungs. Duo was the underlying energy of Heero Yuy. Duo was his life.

There was something wrong. Ever since he had found Duo in that dingy, run-down hotel room, Duo had been acting weird. Not weird as in funny, but weird as in strange. Like there was something not right. Heero had sensed it that first night with Duo, but had wanted everything to be perfect that he had ignored it. And he had continued to ignore it until now.

It was said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and in this case, they were the answer. There was something wrong with Duo, and it had to do with his glassy eyes. It was almost as if. . .

Heero shook his head. He was so close to the answer, but it still eluded him as he failed to grasp it and hold on with both hands. It was bothering him to no end, and he wouldn't sleep until he knew. Something was drastically wrong with Duo, and that was all the farther he had gotten. He was missing something, there was another clue, but he was missing it. It was key, he knew that, but for some reason, he couldn't -- or didn't want to -- see it.

He knew that people usually only saw what they wanted to see, heard what they wanted to hear. And it was hardest to look critically at your own loved ones and see what was real, and not what you wanted to be true.

Maybe whatever he was looking for was right in front of his eyes and he was too blinded by his own feelings to see it.

But whatever it was, it was there. He just had to look close enough to find it.

Maybe he had to look deep within himself.

He had long since stopped looking at himself in the mirror, instead bowing his head as he supported himself by the palms of his hands on the bathroom counter. He pushed against the counter, his calf muscles stretching in the defeated posture. His eyes stung as the thoughts whipped around his head.

He was failing Duo again. He didn't realize it until now, but he was still failing. Simply because he didn't want to see the truth. Because he didn't want to see anything wrong. Because he didn't want to admit that he had fucked up as badly as he had, and hurt Duo in the worst way. Because he wanted everything to be perfect, like it was before Relena came along.

No matter what he did, he always seemed to betray Duo.

Was he even strong enough to see the answer if it slapped him? Was he strong enough to handle the truth?

No! No more! Enough of this self-mourning. You fucked up, and that's that. Move on! Learn from your mistake, but don't dwell on it. If you dwell in the past, then you can never move on in the future.

Duo was his future.

Heero pushed himself away from the counter and moved with a newfound resolution toward the bedroom. The bedroom that he hadn't stepped foot in in almost a week. He had to find out what was bothering Duo, what was wrong with Duo. And in order to do that, he had to look through Duo's stuff. Maybe in Duo's things he could find the missing piece in the puzzle. Maybe then he could figure everything out. He gently pushed open the door, and froze.

It was all laid out, nice and neat in the soft sunlight that filtered through the partially closed blinds hanging from the lone window. The comforter had been meticulously smoothed out to leave a large area for the items that glinted sensuously on the bed. The room was otherwise picked up and clean save for a framed picture that rested on the bed with everything else. The only things out of place in the room were the items that had been painstakingly lined up perfectly on the bedspread.

Heero forced himself to walk into the room. He felt detached, as if he were simply watching himself enter the room, rather then actually walking toward the bed. He towered over the needles and syringes that decorated the bed. He didn't make a sound as he picked up the framed picture.

It was a picture of Duo and him from a vacation they had taken about two years ago. They had their arms wrapped around each other, and Duo's leg was wrapped around Heero's waist. They were both smiling.

The glass was broken.

A tear feel on the splintered glass, and Heero used his thumb to wipe up the moisture, rubbing along Duo face in tenderness. He replaced the picture on the bed, sinking to his knees as if in worship to the syringes and other tools resting in the mottled sunlight as he brought his attention back to those items waiting on the comforter. He sat back on his heels as he brushed an unfeeling hand over the syringes, wincing as his hand encountered a balloon full of white powder. He couldn't think past what he was seeing. Duo didn't actually use these? He couldn't. But the proof was there in dappled highlights. Heero had no choice but to fully accept the truth behind Duo's strange looks and actions. This was the answer he had been looking for. This was the missing piece, the vowel that brought meaning to some scattered consonants. He fingered a length of rubber, presumably to tie off the veins, before picking a syringe up. He shifted to the side, sitting on his hip as he folded his hands in his lap, cradling the syringe. He knew that he wasn't strong enough. Nothing could have prepared him for this. He leaned his forehead against the mattress and cried.

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Duo unlocked the front door and slowly opened the door. He felt tired; it was well past his designated time to shoot up. He needed his Heroin and then he'd be fine. He had thought about bringing all of his supplies along, but decided against it just in case he lost it somewhere.

The house was silent, except for a barely discernable muffled sobbing that drifted down the hall from the bedroom; but then again, it could have just been his imagination. Heero was supposed to be home, but something probably called him away from home -- most likely something to do with work. Duo sighed. It was better that Heero wasn't home, he didn't like shooting up when Heero was one room away. He felt wrong, somehow, like he shouldn't be doing this under Heero's roof. He shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, nothing would stop him from getting his fix.

He moved silently down the hall -- mainly out of habit than any real need -- and the sobbing got louder as he neared the bedroom. He noticed that the door was halfway open. It shouldn't have been open though, he was positive he had shut the door when he left earlier. He placed his hand upon the smooth surface of the door, pausing to listen to the anguished sobs emanating within. It had to be Heero. There wasn't anyone else that would have access to the bedroom, but Duo didn't think that Heero would have entered the room, but faced with the obvious sounds of crying from inside the room, Heero had to be inside.

Duo felt a rush of anger and indignation at the thought that Heero would violate his privacy, but he couldn't stay mad for long, because in reality, it was Heero's room, just as much as it was his. Duo's heart stopped as he remembered that he hadn't put his paraphernalia away before he had left. It was probably still laid out on the bed. If Heero was in the room, then Heero had to have seen. . .

Duo swallowed past a suddenly large lump in his throat. He glanced back the way he had come at the front door and seriously contemplated running away, but he couldn't leave his drugs in there. And he knew that he would have to face Heero sooner or later, at least this way, he could get everything over with and move on with his life -- wherever it may lie. One way or another, he would know if he was to remain in Heero's life, or be cast onto the streets again.

He nervously pushed the door all of the way open.

Heero sat on the floor in front of the bed with his head resting against the mattress. There were more comfortable positions to be in, but Heero obviously wasn't thinking of any of them. Heero made no move except the shuddering of his shoulders that accompanied every dismal sob. Duo remained frozen in the doorway, taken aback by the absolute intensity of pain that was radiating from Heero's slumped form. Time seemed to grind to a halt as Duo stared at the slouched and shaking back of his love.

"Why?" Duo at first didn't hear the raspy question, thinking that it was just apart of another body-racking sob. But slowly the question sank in and Duo remained silent. He didn't really know why, nor did he want to depart that information to Heero. So he stood watching. "Come here, Duo." Heero still hadn't looked at him, but he couldn't argue anymore. He was too tired, so he slowly moved over to where Heero was hunched over. As he got closer, he noticed the syringe that Heero was cradling in his hands. "Sit down."

Duo lowered himself beside Heero. He watched Heero expectantly, waiting for an outburst. Instead, Heero threw his arms around his shoulders, pressing his face into Duo's chest and began sobbing even harder. Stunned, Duo slowly slipped his arms around Heero's waist, holding him tightly against him. He would let Heero purge himself and then run like hell. However, he knew he wouldn't leave. Heero never cried, especially this hard and this openly. For Heero to cry. . .well, it meant something, and Duo knew he had to stick around. Maybe Heero wouldn't be so bad after all, maybe he would yell at him. Maybe Heero would still love him.

His knees began to ache as he knelt on the floor, but he continued to hold onto Heero, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Heero's deep sobs finally began to subdue though they stubbornly clung to Heero.

"I love you, Duo. Please don't leave me." Heero choked out. Duo felt tears finally stinging his own eyes at Heero's words, and he knew that he would never stop loving Heero. But he couldn't find his voice, so he just tightened his embrace, rocking Heero slowly back and forth. "Please don't leave me."