Angels in America
Part Three: Departure
****** Duo ******
He could hear the pants, the moans...the smell of cheap beer and sex
wafting up to his nostrils... but he was away, far away from this dingy
motel room. An arm covered his eyes, forcing back the tears he had
grown accustomed to, and then there was a snap, and the man moving
within him stopped. Some random man, picked up at some random bar...
and he just wanted to escape. He wanted to hurt, to feel pain. Murmured
words, and Duo realized it might have been important. The words were
distant, though, barely audible through his pseudo-oblivion.
"...broke. Should I keep going or pull out?"
"Don't care. Infect me. I don't care any more."
Even his own near sobs were remote in his own ears, and he could feel
the other man pull out. Mumbled apologies, an excuse to leave, and then
the man was gone. Duo blinked opened bleary eyes, reaching down to
slowly pull up his pants. He felt horrible. He felt useless,
cumbersome...just another worthless ex junkee who couldn't even stick
around when things got tough.
But death...it was the hardest thing in the world to deal with. And he
knew, he wouldn't be able to cope with Heero's.
****** Quatre ******
Muslims weren't supposed to drink. But this one time, just this once,
Quatre would make an exception.
It was strange to admit, but Trowa Barton was like a father figure to
him. And now, the man had just told him...he was being disbarred.
Questionable conduct...stealing from his clients. And he was dying.
Then there was his wife. Relena. Who he loved, but he could never be in
love with. He could never be in love with Relena.
He stumbled into a telephone booth, fingers clumsily dialing for his
sister. After a few moments Iria came onto the phone, and Quatre could
make out snippets of her voice through the static of the phone line and
the noise in his head.
"... Quatre.... three am.... drunk?... what..."
"Iria..." his voiced was slurred, he knew, but he didn't care, "did dad
ever love me?"
There was only static for a little, and then more gentle scolding.
Quatre raised the bottle he was holding up to his lips, trying to gain
the courage to get through to Iria again.
"Iria...I'm...I'm gay."
There was silence, then her voice came through again, clear as anything.
"Quatre. Go home to Relena. And you should be old enough to know that
your father never loved you."
And then there was only dial tone.
****** Trowa ******
He hated himself. Just like, he guessed, every one else did. His life,
though...he didn't regret. He was immortal...living on in the pages of
history. He had forced his way there.
He had never felt pain like this before. It was crippling, forcing him
first to his knees, then all the way to the floor, gasping for breath.
He couldn't even call for help. His vision blacked out, then faded in
again, a brown haired girl standing where there was only empty space a
moment before.
"What... Catherine... but you're dead..."
Catherine Bloom smiled, though there was nothing kind in the
expression. "You deserve this, Trowa. But it's not your turn yet. No,
you have to suffer some more."
The last thing that Trowa saw, before blacking out, was Catherine
dialing 911.
****** Heero ******
I told him I would hate him if he left. Now that he has, I've found
that I can't. I was expecting it, after all. I hope he's consumed with
remorse right now. And then, I feel guilty, because I know he is. Duo
Maxwell is many things, but he is not a liar. He loves me, as much as I
love him, and he's suffering as much as I am.
Not that that makes this okay. Because it still hurts, not having
him here with me. And he's still a selfish asshole for leaving.
I had Wufei bring up some stuff to the hospital...it's strange, he
doesn't condemn Duo's behavior any more than I do. I listen to my cds
all day long, and they remind me of my missing lover. Driving beats,
the kind you could get lost in, the kind of music playing when we first
met.
As for Duo, he hasn't been home. No one's heard from him in awhile. I
hope he's okay.
****** Duo and Quatre ******
Quatre sat down on the curb, placing his lunch down next to him. Three
hotdogs, hot from the vendor outside the courthouse.
"You shouldn't eat those, they're bad for you."
Quatre looked up to find Duo standing above him. "You're eating one."
"Yeah, well, it's the shape- I can't help myself. Besides, I'm trying
to commit suicide."
Duo sat down on the curb beside the blond lawyer, and they both ate in
silence. Water from yesterday's rain fell occassionally from the tree
leaves above them, dripping with wet noises onto the pavement below.
"It's kind of like music."
Quatre nodded.
"Music is what bought us together, kind of."
Quatre looked over at the other man, essentially a stranger,
questioningly.
"My friend and I. He doesn't think I remember, but it was the first
time we met. We danced all night. He found me again a week later, and
pretended to be reaching for the same magazine I was. It was sweet,
really. I love him."
Quatre nodded. "Are you two going to be all right?"
"No...I don't think we ever will."
And then there were only two boys, eating lunch, wondering if things
were ever going to be okay again.
~owari~
excerpt from Angels in America by Tony Kushner:
Louis [Duo]: You followed me. You probably saw me that day in the
washroom and thought: there's a sweet guy, senstive, cries for friends
in trouble.
Joe [Quatre]: Yes.
Louis: You thought maybe I'll cry for you.
Joe: Yes.
Louis: Well I fooled you. Crocodile tears. Nothing...(he touches his
heart, shrugs)
(Joe reaches tentatively to touch Louis's face)
Louis (pulling back): What are you doing? Don't do that.
Joe (withdrawing his hand): Sorry. I'm sorry.
Louis: I'm...just not...I think, if you touch me, your hand might fall
off or something. Worse things have happened to people who have touched
me.
...
Joe: I'm a pretty terrible person, Louis.
Louis: Lou.
Joe: No, I really really am. I don't think I deserve being loved.
Louis: There? See? We already have a lot in common.