|
Actually Actually, I'm sick and tired of this. You know, always being the punching bag. It gets kind of boring after a while. You think it'll get better. At least, if the punches won't change in strength or frequency, maybe your skin'll grow thicker? But no. It's like banging your head against a brick wall. I'm mixing my metaphors here, I know. But when you're at the end of your rope, you don't have a mission, it's raining so you can't go outside, and everyone else in the house is *pissed* at you for one reason or another, it's kind of hard to keep your mind from going in never-ending circles. But I was disgressing, wasn't I. Back to the topic at hand. I'm sick and tired of being the one to take up all the emotional slack. And I know the first thing that comes to mind is, "What about Quatre?" Normally, I'd agree with what you're thinking. But in truth, he doesn't really pick up the slack, if you know what I mean. He kind of adds to the problem. Not his fault. He can't help being nice. That's just the way he is. But there are times when you don't *want* nice. You want mean and nasty and provoking and beating and all those other words that conjure dark and painful and yes, *satisfying*, images. I know Trowa sees it. He's always quiet and assessing and observing with those knowing green eyes of his. He alone would understand me if I tried to explain it to him. Then again, I probably wouldn't even have to explain it, y'know? Quatre can't resolve the subtle differences in what he feels and what he sees, so he ignores it and hopes for the best. To give him credit, he's always ready and willing to help if anything actually happens. But there are some things that don't happen. They build up and build up and build up until one day they're either gone or you are. And by that time, if they're the ones that are gone then you can bet *someone's* ass that you're not sitting pretty, laughing in triumph somewhere. Chances are, you're too out of your mind -- in one way or another -- to care. The other two are just as blind. Not that I'm no blind in my own ways, but hey, I'm not talking about myself here. You'll have to excuse me 'cause I really *am* enjoying my wallow in self-pity. There are so few chances to really take a good wallow. Anyway, Wufei has his "honor" to occupy his mind. I roll my eyes as I look up at the ceiling. What? Did you think I was having my pity party on the edge of a steep cliff, just waiting for a strong breeze to topple me over? Sorry to disappoint you. Ch'! I'm Shinigami and what would all the dead-to-be do without Shinigami to take their lives? So, Wufei is up there in the clouds of honor and justice and blah blah blah. Wouldn't it be funny if I said that Heero's the only one I couldn't figure out? That that's part of the attraction? That I don't know what he's thinking so I have something to look forward to? I seem to be disappointing everyone lately 'cause that's not the case. I know him like the back of my hand. It's true he isn't unemotional. For Shinigami's sake, *Trowa* exhibits less emotion than Heero does! The boy is just full of repressed emotion. Heero, that is. Everything he does, no matter how he tries to hide it, is based on emotion. I mean, look at the evidence. He can't kill Relena. (That, I think, is the biggest piece of evidence in and of itself.) But, after killing General Noventa and the other peace-lovers did he get on with his life? No. He had to go and subject himself to the trial of Noventa's family. Why should they get to decide his fate? I'm still a bit pissed over *that* debacle. I don't know where I'm going with this line of thought. So what about me? //Ore wa Duo. Duo Maxwell. Nigemo, kakuremo, surunda, uso wa iwanai. Duo Maxwell da.// [1] Ah yes, the famous lines. He runs, he hides, he does *everything*, but he never lies. Well, it's true. I can even lay claim to never lying to myself when I knew better. I haven't lied in my impromptu analysis of my friends, have I? All that I say is true. Now, about myself. Well, I laugh and joke around in order to relieve tension around here. I tease and taunt Wufei because he likes it. No matter how much he protests otherwise, he really enjoys trying to get back at me. Gives him a challenge to face every morning. Quatre can't be that fragile. I mean, he went Zero-system on us and practically blew his beloved Trowa to the ends of the universe (and not in a good way, either). But even so, I can't bring myself to let him see the other side of me. It's not that I think he can't handle it, but I don't want to be disillusioned. I like seeing him as the innocent one -- the one least touched by all the crap we deal with day in and day out. Even as I think that, I acknowledge the fact that I *would* be disillusioned. But if it doesn't have the chance to happen, all's well, ne? Trowa sees everything. Period. As the saying goes, it's always the quiet ones. Somehow, everything seems to get back to Heero. I wonder why that is? Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little when I said I knew Heero like the back of my hand. But not by much. The only thing I'm not sure about is the way he feels about me, deep down inside, past all the Perfect Soldier crap, all the booby traps, the fail-safes that protect and ward his inner core from invasion. He seems content to put me into the "best friend" category for lack of a better one. I'm stuck on him like a leech -- never going away, always trying to get more out of him. I know it. I know he hates it, at least superficially. But I think he's come to depend on it. And on me. That much I know, that much I can count on when I get... So there are some times when I have to leave the 'house -- get away from my comrades-in-arms. 'Cause they need to calm down over one of "Duo's latest pranks" or whatever. But mostly because *I* need to take a breather. Carrying all this weight around -- it's like being Atlas, holding the world on my shoulders. Sound conceited, don't I? Each of the others holds up their share too. There are just some times when I *feel* like I'm all alone, holding up the weight of the world. I look around and see my *own* goddamn emotional baggage adding to the weight and there doesn't seem to be any way to get rid of it. So that's when I do this little ritual -- laying down in bed, thinking about nothing, about everything, about the world as it is, as it could be. Sometimes I wonder if we're all just dolls in a doll house and some sadistic kid is pushing us around, making us do these horrible things, pleasurable things, keeping us going -- the war may be just some neighborhood game: the GI Joes against the Transformers, or something like that. Some times I talk to you. The "you" that can't hear me, can't talk back, doesn't exist. "Damn, Maxwell, you're one screwed up kid." I say aloud. Ain't it the truth, though. But none of us are kids. Maybe we never have been. And I don't want to be Heero's "best friend." I want to shake up his comfortable world, destroy it, stun him like he did me when I first met him. Pry open his heart and mind with a crowbar and let the light and dark that is life and love and *me* seep through. The muscles in my chest contract at the image. I want it. I want it so badly. But not enough to do it. Not enough. Because I want Heero to be the one to pry his heart and mind open and let me in. That's something I want more than life, more than death, more than my own desires, more than a banana split ice cream sundae with hot fudge and a cherry on top. And until then I'm content to slide in, a bit at a time, until he realizes that I'm there and I'm not planning on going anywhere, and he lets me in all the way. The door swings open and thuds softly against the wall. Heero stands there, with an exasperated and impatient look on his face. The soft morning light shining down the hall lights up his short brown hair. Without even pausing to find out if I'm listening or not, he begins "Wufei's agreed to forget about it this time if you buy him some mint chocolate chip ice cream." Heero lets out a long-suffering sigh. I know my antics strain his patience. And he always ends up being go-between to me and Wu-man 'cause Quatre has this uncanny ability to be somewhere else whenever the occasion arises. Coincidentally, he takes a highly amused Trowa along with him. I blow out a breath, making my bangs flutter over my face. "Sure thing, man." Heero's face changes almost imperceptibly. His face softens. Well, Heero's version of a softened face. As in, his eyebrows dip in a little at the sides. The skin between his eyebrows and his eyelids relax a little. It's taken me quite a while to figure out his facial expressions. It took me quite a while to figure out that he even *had* facial expressions. I'm still learning them, though. What a challenge. What a guy. "Daijoubu ka, Duo." Sheesh. Even his questions sound like statements. Or orders. "Actually..." My voice trails off for a second as I pause to collect my wandering thoughts. "Daijoubu da, Hee-chan." He made a face at the name, but didn't protest as I dragged him down the hall. //Daijoubu da yo.// ==================================== |