Beyond the Flesh

My eyes, my violet eyes, they burn and hurt, and no matter how many times I rub at them, ground my knuckled fists into them, it won’t stop. It feels like there’s something in there, but it refuses to come out, stubbornly insolent. Have my eyes always been like this? I’m afraid to go to the doctor, afraid to have someone look at me, pry me, analyze me, nothing more than some insect stuck through on a pin.

What odd thoughts I entertain, yes?

My hair, long, so long, gets tangled as I braid it and my bangs refuse to go into spikes and instead fan out against my forehead. Have I always had so many problems with it? It’s so hard to control, to do things with, and I wish for nothing more than to cut it off, sever it at the base. I can’t remember why I don’t or what exactly compels me to keep the dreadful thing, but I know I have to, know to cut it would be something terrible.

Anyway, he likes it.

The one with cerulean eyes that burn fire through steel…

You know, that is the first thing I fell in love with that day by the water: his eyes, so wide, so deep.

The boxers, midnight silk that brushes against my flesh like gossamer thread, are a bit tight over my hips and behind, and I wonder if I need to go onto a diet. The pants, equally as tight around my hips, look nice in the mirror, while the red turtleneck, complete with a frigid metal zipper that is so cold against my smooth throat, fits snuggly in the chest. Definitely a diet… The leather coat soon rests atop it, but it’s heavy and weighs the shoulders down. I must really look into a new wardrobe.

Even from the bathroom, I can hear the cheap doorknob moving, hear the swing of the door as it moves open. For a moment, I was worried that it might be locked, but then again, why would it be if I’m here, right?

I walk out of the room, the brown boots that seem a bit too big for my petite feet clunking against the ground as I watch your back while shutting the door. Your jeans are molded to you perfectly, while your shirt, that damnable green tanktop, hangs a bit off your narrow body. With hair mussed so gently by fingers from the wind, you are the picture of romanticism and don’t even know it.

Anything in the Sanq, the world, for you.

“Hello, Heero.”

You tense, tense so delightfully, and I know, know that you’re so pleased to see me. I know you must have missed me, missed me as much as I missed you. Slowly, you turn, your profile visible in the dimming light of a dusk that slips through the uncurtained window of the living room apartment that is so sparsely furnished. I really would have to take care of that, wouldn’t I?

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” you growl, but I know that can’t be right; you wouldn’t growl at me.

“I know you didn’t mean it! We’ve always been together, Heero, always been partners; you wouldn’t abandon me!”

Your thin lips tighten as you turn fully to face me, glaciers for eyes, fists clenched so tightly that your dark skin seems so bone white, like snow…the land of the ice and snow. How amusing! I’m so nervous; my hands are shaking and my head feels like it’s going to explode. Pulled in two directions, two different paths, and I can’t remember who I am for a moment.

Duo Maxwell. I am Heero’s lover, Duo Maxwell. Streetrat, trash, thief, pilot…

“Why are you wearing that?” you ask, cutting through my thoughts.

The laugh I shed is nothing more than a titter, confused and a bit off. “I always wear this, Heero. Whatever do you mean?”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“You know damn well, who!” He flashes his teeth, baring them almost like some savage animal, and I dimly realize that my palms are sweating. “Where the fuck is he?!”

“But I’m the one you’re looking for!” I try again, my voice beginning to crack, high-pitched, squeaking, as hands reach out for you in earnest. “I’ve come home, koi!”

Stomping towards me, I shrink back a bit, staggering one step behind me. You frighten me for once, as all the demons of Hell run rampant in your eyes, eyes that won’t leave me, won’t stray from my face. Your fist is iron as it grasps my wrist, pulling me to the bathroom, even as I try to fight, try to squirm and break free. Anything, anything to get away, to get free, because I am afraid, afraid of what you may show me. I don’t want to know…I don’t want to know!

Your body is hard and warm behind me as one arm snakes around my narrow, leather-clad waist and the other hand grabs my chin, holding it towards the mirror. I see myself in it, see the contours of a face that I despise, the hair that refuses to obey my command, violet eyes that burn and are bloodshot, so glaring pink. No more!! My nails claw at your hand in a desperate attempt to break free, but it’s useless, as I should have realized; after all, I saw you take two bullets and still live. Bullets…that were because of me.

“Look in the damn mirror!”

My honeyed lashes slip shut in a vain attempt to resist, but your hand clenches harder until my eyes pop open. “Please…” I plead.

“Shut up!” you hiss in my ear, a mouth so deliciously close. Worth it? Worth this hassle to feel you so close? Yes…God yes. “Contacts? A hair dye job? Stealing his clothes? You make me sick!” Savagely, you shove me away, and I double over the porcelain sink as my stomach harshly connects with it. “Where the hell is Duo?”

“But…but, I’m Duo…” I whisper and my eyes ignite in flames as I want to cry, standing on that painful precipice. “I’m Duo Maxwell…I’m…Duo…”

“Shut up, Relena, just shut the fuck up!”

Relena…that word, that name, echoes through my head like screams of the damned, and I slowly side down the sink, feeling dimly as my chin hits the edge before I finally sit down. Relena…Relena Peacecraft…Queen of the World…or…I was, in another life. Now…just alone, so alone, while the rat had the one I was supposed to be with. That rat! I could become him, could find my happiness by being someone else, by being with my beloved, the one Fates bade me to be beside. Yes…I was Relena, but I was Duo, Duo so I could make Heero happy, so I could…

I could find my own happiness.

“Relena?” I murmur, my hand slipping to the front of my pants, and I distantly wonder how you missed this when I was so close to you. Fingers, with manicured pink nails, clutch the black butt and began to pull it out. Silver flashed in the overhead fluorescent lights, brilliant and gleaming, and I realize I have never fired this, never even pulled such a thing out before. It promised me happiness, peace, something no one else could give me, as I pressed the barrel against the center of my forehead. You stand, transfixed, watching me, and I realize, I finally got your attention. Me, all me, nothing else but me shining in your eyes.

“Relena doesn’t exist anymore.”

Somewhere, I hear the door opening, a voice calling out for you, happy and joyful, all the things I tried to be, wanted to be. But that doesn’t matter any more, as the trigger clicks back and its all one deafening blast, like the world has exploded.

I got blood on your mustard shoes. So much…so much…a sea on fire…a…

Beyond the Flesh

The End