Author: Chauni
Email: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com
Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Angst, Language, Verbal and physical abuse, AU, Death
(not pilot’s though), Original characters (parents), Shonen-ai
Pairings: 2+5, 3+4
Disclaimer: I don’t own GW or the song “Wonderful”, by Everclear. I
made no money off this…blah.
“It’s
sad, really, Miss Maxwell. I’m afraid that he hasn’t responded to any of the treatments
we have attempted concerning his current state of withdrawal and rage. We may
have to commit him for a longer term than the courts dictated.”
“But,
I thought you said there was some progress with the Paxil and the other
medications, Dr. Silverstien.”
“At
first, we believed there had been, but unfortunately, there was a relapse; one
more pronounced than any of the others. Do you know, perhaps, what caused such
a thing?”
I close my eyes when I get too sad
I think thoughts that I know are bad
Hope it's over when I open them
Lying
in the simple twin bed, the young boy with the braid almost as long as he was
tall stared at the ceiling with eyes that tore into his soul. His gaze, try as
hard as he might, still fell just short of dispassionate, and lazily traced
that same crack along the ceiling for the fifteenth time during the last twelve
minutes. God, he hated knowing the time that passed; when he counted those
endless moments, they always lasted an eternity. It was like watching water
boil; it never happened quickly if you stared at it.
The
voices always surrounded him, wrapping him so thoroughly, he had even begun to
wonder if they were solely in his head. But…he could hear them now, as they
rampaged throughout the house, bouncing off painted pleasant walls, a mockery
of a happy life.
“I
don’t care what the fuck you have to say anymore!”
“Go
to hell, you son of a bitch! I’m tired of your lies! I’m sick of your pointless
shit and comments that make me feel like I’m worth nothing!”
“It’s
cause you’re not, you cheap-ass whore!”
Ah,
back to that popular retort. Sure, his mother had cheated once, with
some guy she had met at work, what was his name? Treize? Yeah, something like
that. But, can you blame her? His father did nothing but scream and yell,
degrading her and everything she was. Sure, she looked different from the
tender age of seventeen when they had met, but that happened with time. But, to
call her stupid, pointless, lazy…Hell, anyone would look for love after hearing
that for years on end.
Violet
pools shifted to the window, gazing out it solemnly. Did they know he could
hear him? Probably… Did they care?
When
did they ever?
I want the things that I had before
Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door
I wish I could count to ten
Make everything be wonderful again
God,
what, maybe six years ago, when he was ten years old, so impressionable, so
young and tender, they had lived in Detroit, actually, in a nice little suburb called
Milford. Glass encased a perfect picture-frame of a life, outward appearances
being that of the polished silver that they had been ordered to live.
But,
of course, although it hadn’t been perfect, for nothing ever truly was, other
than sunsets and the smell of fresh rain, it had been an odd shade of
happiness. His toys had been numerous, his parents wore hollow smiles with
solid eyes like soulless dolls, and their arguments had been hushed and out of
earshot. Who could ask for anything more, really?
Smiling
now, as he traced that crack once again, he remembered with a forlorn hazy
cloud of the fractured fragility of everything in that crystal life. How much
they had cared not to battle in front of him, since he was impressionable and
young.
They
had waited a whole year to begin that.
They
had loved him…once.
Hope my mom and I hope my dad
Will figure out why they get so mad
Hear them scream, I hear them fight
They say bad words that make me
wanna cry
Then
the news had come, that horrifying news of moving to Topeka, Kansas, away from
their convenient little home in their picturesque little town to somewhere far
away. Father had gotten a transfer with his job, and even though Mother had
wished to remain, she left with him, following along always, even as he
screamed that she was lagging behind…screaming that she had to whether she
wanted to or not…screaming even as Duo, young eleven year old child Duo,
flinched and looked down, afraid.
How
it had digressed from there, as they lived within a small two bedroom bungalow
worth only a quarter of what their other house had been. Father had claimed
they needed nothing more than this, as he was tired of his mother wasting all
of his money on frivolous objects. She had denied such accusations, but he had
glared, had growled, and had threatened things that young ears thankfully
missed, and she objected no longer.
But,
then entire house, the entire town, begged for battle, whispered evil promises
in the depths of the night, and those callings fell on eager ears. The
arguments began to escalate, and even revealed themselves to a pair of soft
amethyst eyes that peeked around corners, spying where they should not have
been.
“I
told you, you can’t use our fucking money for stupid shit like that!”
“He
needs clothes, damnit! Can’t you see the holes in the knees of his pants?”
“He’s
a growing boy; of course he’s going to have holes in his fucking clothes! Now,
shut the hell up and quit bugging me before I make you, bitch!”
But,
that threat was fulfilled before she could even provoke him any longer, as his
hand cut through the air like a gunshot and struck her across the face, sending
her to the ground in a weeping heap.
And
those amethyst orbs, wide with fear, disappeared from around the corner,
leaking diamond tears as the bearer of them ran to a small little room, ran to
cry, to cry away all the pain and fear that had grasped his soul with steel
hands and began to squeeze it dry.
Close my eyes when I go to bed
And I dream of angels who make me smile
Everything will be wonderful someday
And
now, it was five years later, and those arguments still rang in the confines of
the small little bungalow that had outgrown Duo months after they had moved in.
His smile had grown strained; his eyes had grown dull with weary acceptance of
what life held for him.
Escape.
Such a fleeting dream, like the ones where you wake up and wish nothing more
for the world to end after, since life can never make you as happy as you were
for those few slumbering seconds.
Who
knew that angel’s wings were so warm? That they could be so gentle and so happy
and bear such simple names like “Solo” and “Heero”?
He
grew to despise the daylight and the reality it bore with it on dusty wings.
Promises mean everything when you're little and the world's so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
Tell me everything is wonderful now
The
morning brought him down to the small alcove of a kitchen, sitting at the
Formica table and staring at the runny eggs before him as if he had never seen
such things before. Slowly, he drug his gaze up to the one black ring that
circled his mother’s beautiful cerulean eye, and then fell once more with a
small hateful need for vengeance.
Slowly,
she took a seat beside him, resting a consoling hand on his back as she stared
at him with crystal tears forming in the one perfect orb. Her fingernails
lightly moved up his back as if wishing to draw the tears from his own small
body.
“We’ll
get away, honey, I promise. Your father won’t be able to find us, and
everything will be perfect. You just listen to me, okay? Everything will be
wonderful.”
His
gaze ripped itself from the breakfast before him to her battered face, as he
parted his full lips to make a comment. But the desperation of believing in a
better life was clear in her eyes, so he nodded, shedding her a small, hollow
smile, and nibbled at the eggs. “Sure, mom, wonderful.”
I go to school and I run and play
I tell the kids that it's all okay
I laugh aloud so my friends won't know
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home
“Duo,
you’re coming over tonight, right?”
His
violet oculars shifted over to the owner of the voice, and spied the soft
golden locks of his best friend, his confident, the one that knew it all…or at
least, knew the most.
“Quatre!
Yeah, I’m going to try, but I have to ask my dad,” he replied, his voice slowly
trailing off, even as his eyes held that false brilliance that never faded in
their lies.
“Are
you sure you’re all right, Duo?” the blonde boy whispered, his face filled with
his customary concern when dealing with those fake eyes.
“Never
better!” Ah, have ever such lies dripped from soft lips so easily?
Quatre,
having dealt with the braided boy for a good many years now, since his initial
arrival to quiet Topeka, just nodded and smiled in return, knowing full well
that the boy would come to him when he was comfortable…if there would ever be
such a time. “All right, Duo. I hope to see you at my house around three. I got
the new Gundam video game.”
“And
we all know that I’m going to win,” interjected Wufei, who was coming up to the
two comrades, all the while pushing the obsidian locks that shimmered in the
overhead fluorescent lights away from his face.
“In
your dreams!” Duo cried, smiling fully for the first time that day. It came
natural when he was around the sloe-eyed Asian man, that man who had captured
his heart and didn’t know it.
“So
you think, Maxwell, so you think,” but he was smirking and winking. Maybe he
did know after all.
“Three
o’ clock, Duo,” Quatre reminded while walking away to his own lover, the stoic
Trowa Barton, who was currently rooting through his locker on the other end of
the hall.
“I’ll
be there, Q.”
God
knows, any place is better than home…
Go to my room and I close my eyes
I make believe that I have a new life
Everything will be wonderful someday
The
response to his inquiry had been “no”, just as it usually was. So, sighing, he
had escaped once more to his room, practicing broken smiles and happy eyes into
the mirror on his dresser. God, he looked shattered and whipped, flogged beyond
belief even to himself as he stared onward.
Somewhere,
far away, the phone rang, a shrill cry that rang above the loud all-mighty
television. His father had grabbed it, had yelled into it, saying that no, Duo
couldn’t talk, that no, Duo couldn’t come over, that no, Duo wouldn’t be seeing
him, and finally growling and slamming the phone down.
And,
as customary, the yelling ensued, bouncing through random vents to fill his
room with cruel words and accusations, whip his ears with thoughts and fears.
“Our
son isn’t hanging around some blonde faggot, damnit! That Winner kid is nothing
but a fucking pansy-bitch!”
“Honey,
calm down! You don’t know that!”
Hmph.
How amusing would it be if you knew I wasn’t that different from Quatre…if you
knew how I felt? Of course, I’m sure you wouldn’t care enough to dig either
way, would you? I’m open wide…come and clean me.
“I’ve
fucking seen the little bitch looking at Duo, damn near drooling all over him!
And speaking of our brat, I wanted to talk to you about his hair! It’s too
fucking long! He looks like a hippie homo little shit! I won’t stand for our
kid to be a faggot, too, damnit! Get me the scissors!”
As
the footsteps sounded under the door, Duo’s hands found their way around the
cherished rope, hot tears burning his amethyst pools. Oh, God, no… NO!
Promises mean everything when
you're little and the world is so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
When you tell me everything is wonderful now
“I’m
sorry, Duo, really I am. I didn’t know...that he would go this far.”
The
dull words fell on oblivious ears; his mother’s begging for forgiveness
mattered no more than the fly that buzzed repeatedly against the window,
begging to be let out. His eyes were glued to the vanity mirror before him, to
the broken violet eyes that housed dangling bangs and jagged short chestnut
hair that ended in small spikes at the base of his neck.
I’m
so ugly. My… my hair…how could he…?
“Long
hair is for pussies and women, and no son of mine will be either one of those,
damnit!”
His
father…gruff, eyes dark and storming as he took the shears to his hair, his
long shimmering vanity and cut it off as he struggled, screaming…and that
sound, high-pitched screeching as the scissors cut through his beloved
tresses... He could think of nothing more.
His
oculars, smoky and flat, slipped over his reflections shoulder to see the
hollow smile of his mother, trying so desperately to reassure him it would all
be all right, although seeming to convince herself of the same thing. Was she
talking to herself or to him? Her lips moved soundlessly for a second, until he
realized he had just mentally tuned her out, and then dimly, kicked his senses
back in.
“-
and I promise you, we’ll be out of here by next week and safe, where he won’t
lay a fin-”
And
he turned the sound off once more, having heard all of these lies before.
Hit
mute and it all goes away. Hit power and the world fades away. Background
noises, all of them. I don’t know them anymore.
No
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
No
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
I don't wanna hear you say
That I will understand someday
No, no, no, no
“Duo?!
What happ-”
“Heh.
Just got sick of it is all, Quatre. Nothing to be worried about!” His eyes,
dancing in that mechanical, autopilot way, shifted to the blonde boy, as his
smile turned to ice in the warm shallows of his face. Wufei…And here
walked the object of his need, his desire, as his father’s voice rang hard in
his head.
“I
won’t stand for our kid to be a faggot, too, damnit!”
“Maxwell?
Is…that you?” The stunned question was almost comical as it spilled from bronze
lips, a few escaped strands of obsidian silk brushing across his palmers. “Your
hair…”
My
face is hurting from smiling so hard. It hurts, I hurt…
“You
don’t like it, ‘Fei-fei?” He threw in an adorable pout for good measure, his
eyelashes flickering up and down.
But
the Asian boy never got to respond as Quatre intervened, his ocean eyes steel
amongst the waves. “Your father did this, didn’t he?”
There
it was, laid out on the table, where his brain couldn’t deny the existence any
longer. His face crumbled like an avalanche, gaze finding the security of the
floor and adoring the tiles of the school hallway for the moment.
“That’s
it! I’m getting you out of that house, Duo! You can’t-”
“No!”
he shouted, his head snapping up with the panic of a trapped animal. “You can’t
make it okay! No one can! I can’t leave my mother, and I can’t take her with
me! This is the way things are going to be, and someday… someday… it’ll be all
good, but ‘til then, I have to do what I can to survive.”
“Is
this survival?” Wufei interjected, laying a soft hand against the American’s elbow.
“Physically, perhaps, but your spirit is broken. Aren’t you already dead then,
for what is a body without a spirit?”
“I-”
I don't wanna hear you say
You both have grown in a different way
No, no, no, no
The
screams surrounded him before he even made his way through the doorway, as he
found himself standing frozen on the front porch, hand poised before the knob.
Alone, to return to the yells, the suffering, the burning fires of Hades, he
didn’t know what to do. He glanced over his shoulder, still in shock that he
had turned down his friends offers to shelter him, but his mother’s promises on
some perfect life still lingered.
But
now, he heard the screaming, frightened shrieks that ran like icy tendrils and
gripped his body, freezing him to the spot. Words were mangled in that mess,
his mother crying out not in her customary pain, but in a relieving rage that
seemed as though she had finally accepted all that came about her…and changed
it.
“I
said NO! You bastard! You fucker! You asshole! This is your fault! Do you hear
me? YOUR FAULT! I wanted to leave you finally, but you wouldn’t let me! YOUR
FAULT!”
He
didn’t know what broke his paralysis, but it lifted like a fog and he bolted
into the house, a house that he couldn’t recognize any longer from the tumbled
over furniture, the glaring cries, the maroon paint splattered across the
walls.
Not
paint. Blood.
He
broke into a sprint, tearing through the living room to the kitchen to find his
hysterical mother still punctuating each word with a knife slash, each wail
with a stab. Her hair lay in matted streams against her bruised and bloodied
cheeks, the black marks so dark against her ghost cheeks. Her cerulean eyes
were wide, blank, hollow, and didn’t even register Duo as he came in and
stopped in the doorway, numb and oh-so-pale.
“Mother…”
I don't wanna meet your friends
And I don't wanna start over again
I just want my life to be the same, just like it used to be
“Duo…”
The
knife clattered to the floor, beside the tattered cadaver of his father, and he
watched it’s decent in shock, before turning back to face his mother. “What…?”
“He
wouldn’t let us go, Duo,” she explained, her voice smooth like satin as if
trying to convince him of her sanity. “He said he would kill us. I couldn’t let
that happen, now could I?”
His
breath locked in his throat as he leaned against the doorway, sliding down it
slowly. His hand reached down to automatically still his decent, but slipped
through a blood patch and caused him to fall hard and fast. “You…killed….him….”
“I
had to, son!” Quickly, she went to him, kneeling beside him as drawing him into
a hug, which he bore no emotion in, blank doll, marionette. “I promised you a
new life, and I meant it. We’re free.”
“Free…”
He tasted the word as if he had never beheld such a fantastic ideal before.
“Free…”
“See?
I did it for us!” Her words grew frantic, and he realized dully that she was
trying to convince herself more than she was him, again, rationalizing it all
totally. Somewhere, his brain screamed out her insanity, but the shock made
everything hard to hear, hard to realize. “Everything is for us!”
And
somewhere far away, sirens sounded, and she bore that frightened animal look in
a heartbeat, her eyes flickering to him, the poor child still consumed in shock.
She darted across the floor, grabbing the knife and handing it out to him,
handle first.
“Duo,
the police are coming, and they’re going to try to take me away, but you can’t
let them.” Half-pleading, half-mad, she turned her cerulean eyes to him in a frantic
gesture, lips working faster and faster as the words spilled out.
Mom…
“I’ll
die in jail, Duo, but you, you they won’t hurt! They can’t send you to prison,
cause you’re so young. Please, please, son, I love you, don’t let them take me away!
Please! Say you did it! Protect me as I did you all these years! Please!”
And
the world fell into mute as he nodded slowly, taking that knife, his glazed
eyes staring emotionlessly over her shoulder as the police burst into the room,
guns aimed at a small pale boy sitting on the blood-covered floor, holding a
butcher knife beside his apparent grieving mother.
Some days I hate everything
I hate everything
Everyone and everything
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now
“I
can’t believe they let that murdering asshole off an temporary insanity! They
let people get away with too much shit nowadays!”
It
seemed the home of the “Fighting Panthers of Topeka” were more and more filled
with these comments, these shouts of anger and rage, with voices that bounced
down the half-filled cement corridors and in classrooms that were forever too
small for the large number of student body. Of course…what did they know?
Wufei
grit his teeth against the ignorant high school students, shoving his hands
into his pockets as he walked through the hallways to find Quatre. Dimly, he
felt the eyes of every person on him, making him a bit self-conscious, until he
found the blonde boy standing at his locker. It had been three months now, the
trial having finally worn itself to a conclusion, with help of Quatre and his
testimony on the grievous abuse by his deranged father. But, none of it ever
sat correctly with the Asian boy, none of it ever seemed real.
“Wufei,
I got this in the mail today,” Quatre whispered, handing an envelope with
scratchy writing across it, script he found strikingly familiar.
Duo…
Immediately, he tore into the letter, reading it frantically. God, Duo, the
things he never got to say, sitting so desperately on his tongue, tasting
bittersweet since he wouldn’t see him to share them fully.
Dear
Wufei,
Hey,
funny how things turn out, eh? It’s been a fun ride,
and
I’m sorry I can’t be there right now, but from what I
hear
I’ll only be hospitalized for a year before they let me
out.
Something about dealing with stress or some shit. I
don’t
know, don’t care. I’m sorry for turning your guys’ lives
into
hell, cause I know the kids there ain’t that forgiving.
Heh,
tell them they’ll be next if they don’t stop.
We
gotta protect what’s ours, right? Perfect lives aren’t
handed
to you; you gotta make them yourselves. My mom’s
happy,
and I want you guys to be, too. My soul’s still here
since I
got to help her and you; I ain’t dead. Love you all.
Shinigami
“What’s
Shinigami?” Quatre asked in a breathless wonder as he read over the boy’s
shoulder.
“God
of Death,” Wufei muttered, his mouth dry and obsidian eyes slipping shut. “He
didn’t do it, Quatre. His mother did.”
A
small gasp was his response, and when his lashes parted, he could see the
blonde holding his heart. “How do you know, Wufei?”
“I
just read between the lines.”
“No,
Doctor, I don’t know what really ever triggered it,” Miss Maxwell said, brushing
the hair from her cerulean eyes with an errant hand. “Now, if we’re finished
here…?”
“Yes,
yes, Ma’am,” the older man replied, looking down at the charts laid across his
desk. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”
“You,
too, sir,” and with that, she left, walking out to the smiling arms of her
lover, and the freedom her perfect life had finally given her.
“Everything
all right with your son, love?” Treize asked, holding open the car door for
her.
“Everything
is wonderful.”