Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Waiting For The Dawn ❯ One-Shot

Waiting For The Dawn

By Red Pearl

The walls are too thin.

Wufei squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head under the pillow, wishing there was a way that he could tune out the carnal sounds coming from next room; the muffled cries, squeals of bed strings, the flapping of flesh against flesh…

Don't they ever sleep?

It was unbearable, hearing the sounds of pleasure night after night. It brought home too many memories that Wufei was desperate to forget. He could feel the threads of remembrance slithering to the forefront of his mind, and tried franticly to escape them. He was already trembling, like a bow that's been held taut too long.

On the other side of the wall, Duo screamed.

Wufei rolled out of the bed in a rush and landed on his knees, on the floor. He stayed there, on all fours, head hanging low and breathing heavily and feeling the bile rose up in his throat. He was going to be sick.

Running to the toilet in the next room, he heaved whatever little food was in his stomach. He hadn't been eating much lately, and didn't sleep well either. On the few nights that the activities from next door didn't kept him awake all night, his sleep was disturbed by nightmares.

Nightmares of what happened only three months ago. Nightmares of things he could never hope to forget. The memories of that night played themselves out behind his eyelids over and over again and there was nothing Wufei could do to ward them off.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in that room again. Spacious, luxurious, elegantly decorated, he could smell the scent of roses from the vases of banquette scattered throughout the room. He could feel sharpness of the blade pressed against his neck, drawing blood, and the hard handprint that that burned on his cheeks long after the slap ended. He could see, again, the coldly amused blue eyes, watching him, soaking up his anguish, and he could hear the silky voice whispering in a parody of tenderness, "Pretty child…"

Just a child. A helpless child.

A child frozen by shock and fear, a child lying underneath his enemy that could only wait to for the razor-edged pain that splitting him open and cutting inside him a web of agony… A child that was useless.

And used.

Treize had seen through him, had broken through his self-delusion and showed Wufei the truth of himself. The truth that despite all the armour and polish, deep down inside he was still that weak, worthless child who hid his cowardice behind his words and books. Wufei may have taken up the sword and fought for his wife's Justice, but he still didn't have a belief of his own.

In the dimness of his bathroom, kneeling on the cold, tiled floor, Wufei wept bitterly for his self-discovery.

He should not have gone back for the rematch; he should not stayed for the chess game after he lost for a second time; he definitely should not have taken the glass of drugged wine, but the it had been difficult to refuse the warmth he thought he saw in those blue eyes, the reject the comfort of companionship, when he was so lonely inside.

He should not have done any of those things, and he had been punished for his transgressions. Punished, with him lying stiff and still on Treize's bed, watching helplessly as the knife sliced his clothing open, trembling as the sharp tip leaving shallow red lines across his skin, as Treize carving down his name into Wufei naked skin… With the hours torture that followed… hours of degrading, terrible, unspeakable acts…

When he had lain down on that bed it was near midnight, and when Treize let him leave it had been already early morning. In those few hours in between, Wufei had lost everything he held dear, his innocence, his self-respect, and his secret, wistful hope for love…

Treize had broken his masks. Treize had broken him.

Slowly the tears abated and the sobs stopped, and Wufei stood up to wash his face and rinse out of his mouth. He stared at the image in the mirror: haunted reddened eyes in too thin a face. He looked weak and fragile. Where had the proud warrior gone? Could the others see him as the pathetic thing that he was?

He treaded out of the bathroom listlessly and stood in the dark corridors, uncertain of what to do. He didn't want to go back to his solitary bedroom, but there wasn't much choice. He couldn't hang out here all night.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Wufei could only be grateful that Heero and Duo's room was silent now. Still, he didn't go back to bed; there wasn't much point, as he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep tonight.

Wufei leaned back against the wall and slid down limply, weary beyond words. He ended up sitting on the cold floor with his head cradled against the wall.

Now that he had silence, he found the night too quiet. Wufei couldn't stop himself to think… to remember a pair of beautiful green eyes, the smooth curve of a pale neck, and the quiet intensity underneath that elegant form… Wufei closed his eyes and wished there was someone sitting beside him during this lonely night.

It was better this way. Wufei told the loneliness that gnawed at his heart. It was better to be alone than to see those green eyes filled with disappointment and contempt when, inevitably, it was revealed how unworthy he really was. Besides, there was Quatre to consider and who would want Wufei when they could have had Quatre - perfect and strong and golden?

Yes, it was better to be alone.

Wufei was well aware how the other boys saw him. The mere mention of sex was enough to send him out of the room, but it was better to be thought of as a prude than as a coward. The truth was that the mere thought of sex made him sick, but it was his secret shame and he wouldn't burden anyone else with his weakness.

His friends didn't need to know that he was plagued with nightmares, waking up night after night with screams in his throat and sweat on his skin. They didn't need to know he tensed up every time a friend put a hand on his shoulder and a stranger brushed past him in street. They didn't need to know that he was a porcelain doll with crack running just beneath the painted surface.

Wufei hugged his knees to his chest and his eyes fell on the sword hanging over his bed.

It was tempting, just to end everything.

Wufei breathed in deeply and felt the sweat in his palms. He couldn't. He couldn't. He was a Gundam pilot. He still had responsibilities. There was still a war to fight. But his eyes couldn't leave the sword, proud and lethal on the wall, tempting Wufei with its existence.

Wufei sighed, and somehow the dampness of his spirit lifted a little. It was nice, to have an option; to know there was a way out, when he couldn't endure it any longer.

The sky outside his small window was still dark, but in a few hours dawn would break and bring with it bright morning rays. Wufei crossed his arms over his knees and settled down to wait for the dawn, his eyes still on the sword.

The End.