The Witching Hour : Duo

By : J. Helios

 

Most normal people would be still asleep by now. The clock blinked back at me with a stoic countenance, merely telling me it was 2:30 in the morning. The witching hour if you will. I really should go back to sleep now.

 

Then again, I’m not normal. Nor am I like most people.

 

And then again, I can’t go back to sleep now.

 

The blanket had long been kicked to the foot of my bed and I believe that’s the reason why my legs feel cold. Curling up and around my hotdog pillow, I reach over and grab the only stuffed toy I’d ever admit to having.

 

The tiger looked back at me with stoic, stuff-toy glass eyes. Most people would find it creepy, but as I’ve said, I’m not like most people. I find it reassuring to find Will’s eyes shining in the darkness.

 

          Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,

          In the forest of the night.

          What immortal hand or eye,

          Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

Yes, he’s named after that poem by William Blake. In fact, he’s mine because of that poem. Hugging him closer, I feel the plastic whiskers tickling my chin. I inhale deeply of the scent of his fake fur. It smells like just that, fake fur. But beneath it all I can smell the bed and my own scent. He belongs to me, that’s why he has the absolute honor, amongst all my abandoned toys, of staying by my bedside.

 

It is with him to do I spend time with when I’m writing my poems.

 

          In what distant deeps or skies

          Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

 

I wish I had eyes like Will. Eyes that look innocent in the light of the cold fluorescents, fiery and burning with the darkness of the night. If Will were a real person, instead of a stuffed toy tiger, I would probably fall in love with him.

 

I always had a thing for eyes when it came to men, I guess.

 

The more haunting the better.

 

Like deep Prussian eyes that no one can stare down. Deep blue pools of savage emotion, barely held back by a sheen of self-control and long hours and days of training. Savage and bloodthirsty emotions, lust of every kind, and it’s all locked up.

 

With me, and my trusty lock pick.

 

Cursing, I let go of both the toy and the pillow, turning spread eagle on my bed. On my heel I can feel the cold concrete wall.

 

I should’ve never started the line of thinking. It would end up in the same place, and I hate going around in circles. What’s the point really? It’s a hopeless case really.

 

Then again, what did Alanis say?

 

          The more tragic the better…

 

Damn, that woman knew what she was talking about.

 

But it still doesn’t help my situation any. Damn you Yuy! I’d kill you if it’d stop me from lusting after you. But I have a creepy feeling I might still do even if you’re dead.

 

Gawd! I’m disgusting!

 

Itai!

 

Damn these beds. It’s too damn close to the damn wall. I hit the damn wall. Hell, I’m damned anyway.

 

Damn.

 

I’m trying to breathe a little calmer now, maybe the hit on the head would help me get to sleep. But I recall Sister Helen telling me not to go to sleep after hitting my head on the wall. I might not wake up, she said.

 

Actually, never, ever waking up might help. Not only will it get me out of Mr. Perfect Soldier’s miserable life, it’ll help me live my dreams. Besides, I don’t think he’ll miss me anyway. Heck, none of them will miss me.

 

But I sure as hell would be embarrassed to die out of the battlefield. That would be so uncool.

 

But it sure is tempting to die just so I can go live my dreams.

 

My dreams of being normal. Not having to pilot a gundam and killing all those people. Of being just a perfectly normal, sane, hormone driven boy that would get all the GIRLS he likes.…

 

Crap, even in my dreams he haunts me.

 

Looking up to the tinkling sound, I find the wind chimes I brought last week swaying to the slight wind coming from the window. With every separate movement, the small tubes emitted a high but actually pleasant note. It was supposed to be relaxing, the shop owner said. Relax Maxwell, Relax….

 

Hm, actually, it’s sorta fair. He haunts me in my dreams, I pick on him every…oh, lets say…minute? Much to his irritation I know.

 

But then again, I think it’s unfair. I get good dreams every so often, not necessarily Hentai, not necessarily of him, but good dreams nonetheless. I don’t think he ever gets good dreams.

 

Oh he gets nightmares. That much I know. Turning my head slightly, I see the occupant of the other bed, rigidly asleep in it. At least tonight I didn’t have to wake him up from some nightmare again.

 

          As I lay me down to sleep,

          I pray to God my soul to keep.

          And if I should die before I wake,

          I pray to God my soul to take.

 

Thing is, should we all die in our sleep…would there be a soul to take?

 

That’s it I give up. The bed springs creak noisily as I sit up. Damn! I’ve gotta lose weight. I turn to look at Heero but he’s still dead asleep. It’s either that or he’s doing a very good impression of a corpse.

 

Swinging my legs down, I shiver momentarily as my feet touch the cold floor. I’ve forgotten where my slippers are. Jeez, my scatter brainedness would probably get me killed one of these days. It’s either that or Heero Yuy would finally take his threats and shove it down my throat…with his gun.

 

Walking to the messier part of the room, a.k.a. my closet/desk/and something else I haven’t seen for a long time, I look for my note pad. If I can’t sleep, might as well be productive right?

 

My long hair is actually blocking my sight. Tying it back with a piece of rubber band I randomly picked out of my mess, I realize it’s really more trouble than it’s worth actually. But I can’t bring myself to cut it, no, not yet anyway.

 

“Tasukete…”

 

Eh? Turning around, I look at Heero. Did he just say what I thought he said? Is he sleep talking again…

 

“Onegai…leave me alone…!” Okay, that WAS him. How do I know? Well, he just tried to lift himself off the bed with his shoulders. He’ll push himself off the bed if he keeps on doing that, say I as yours truly moves to the bed.

 

His teeth are gritted, as if he’s trying not to cry out loud. Every muscle on him is tense, and there’s a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He’s kicking the covers, as if trying to run away from some demon. I reach over and find his hands in the shape of fists, hard as a rock.

 

And he was hot as hell.

 

I am probably panicking right now, but what else would you expect? My partner is having a nightmare again.

 

“Heero!” C’mon Yuy, wake up! Dammit… I slap him, I really shouldn’t but it still doesn’t work.

 

He’s still moaning, and he’s trashing about again. Gawd….

 

Ah, itai… he just grabbed my shoulder and is squeezing tightly. Man, is he strong. “Heero! Wake up!” That was louder than I wanted it to be. I don’t want to wake the others but I sure as hell am getting hurt. “Heero! Wake up! Don’t do this to me!”

 

And he wakes up with a start. For a moment, they were blank and cold and looked back at me like he wanted to kill me. Old news maybe, but this time it seemed like he really WANTED to kill me.

 

But he blinked and thankfully, they softened…sorta, whatever counts as soft for Heero anyway.

 

And as objective as usual. “What the hell are you doing on my bed?” and a narrowing of those eyes.

 

I didn’t expect a ‘Gee Duo, you just saved me from a horrible nightmare. You have my endless gratitude. Marry me!’ Or even him admitting to a nightmare but, jeez! Didn’t those freaky doctors teach him that normal humans actually say thank you? I guess not.

 

I just wince at him and say, “You were making too much noise.” I place my hand on his, still gripping my shoulder. “You mind?”

 

His grip loosened but it remained there. “What noise?” He looked…I dunno, scared somehow, like I discovered some deep dark secret. Who knows, maybe I did…

 

Oh shit, that means he really has a reason to kill me now.

 

I know I look pretty sheepish and scared as I say, “Oh nothing, you were snoring. Good night now.” I can’t move. His grip tightened again, not enough to hurt again but enough to hold me in place. Damn calculating bastard.

 

“What noise?” he’s repeating his question. It’s either he really wants to know or he has been infected with my senility.

 

“It’s nothing, nothing…” I try to wrench his fingers off me. No dice. His grip is like a vice and so is his stare….damn those eyes!

 

“You woke me up from a…nightmare?” he said it like was so unused to admitting that he did have nightmares. Heero, you have one every night, just not as bad as this, wake up call honey.

 

“Ah, yeah. That’s all…” I’m officially scared. The look in his eyes is the same as the one he gets whenever he convinces himself to do something. Oh my god he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna…

 

hunh?

 

One minute I’m praying for a quick death and now I’m…in his arms? Hunh? My face met his pillow and to the side, I can see his ear and his neck and…is that his arms around me? What great dream is this? Don’t wake me up!

 

“Arigato Duo” Okay…that was right beside my ear….oh my god…

 

Oh. I know my eyes are narrowing and I’m stiffening but I just realized it. How DARE you Heero? Of all the things you have to make fun of, it had to be my love for you. “Yeah you’re welcome.” I know I sound cold. But so are you Heero. You know how much I want this. Are you just doing it for the sake of some twisted mission…? Somehow I don’t think you know what you’re doing. But if you are just playing…damn you. Liar.

 

          Cross my heart

And hope to die

          Drop down dead

If I tell a lie

 

Whether or not you’re playing with me, I push off your bed and detangle myself in your arms. I stand up and crawl back into my bed, my back to you. Damn you. I wish I could hate you Heero, but I can’t.

 

“Duo?” I feel him start to rise. “Duo, what…?”

 

“Go to sleep Heero.” I say, pulling my covers up to my chin. “It’s the witching hour.”

 

“Duo…I…” No, you can’t possibly love me. You can’t love me back. No one ever loves me back. And you know that. You’re making fun of me dammit!

 

“If you can’t sleep go look for a mission or something.” I snort, I know I’m being cold but I’m hurt to the core. “that what you’re good at anyway.”

 

The only thing I can hear is the wind chimes.

 

I’ve burned all my bridges, I know. It was more real when I heard him turn in his bed and pull up the covers as well. Well, not all my bridges.

 

Serves me right I suppose. Here I am, hoping that Mister gundanium-face over there would actually reciprocate my feelings. I betcha he just picked up on that and took pity on the poor war orphan with no one else to love. Pity. I HATE pity.

 

When I hear his breathing even out again, I rise from the bed. Glaring at his broad back, I reach under the bed and pull out a small box.

 

Doctor G gave this to me as an actual birthday present. I was pretty suspicious when I opened it up, like I am now. It was simply beautiful. The handle was made out of deep black ebony and was engraved with a Hebrew sign for death. The rest of it had engravings in Hebrew, some ancient text I had forgotten what. but what was suspicious was that it only had one chamber. One chamber, one bullet.

 

Pretty obvious in it’s use actually.

 

I never thought that I would use the damn thing.

 

But it’s the witching hour and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

Because it’s the witching hour and I know I’m already more than slightly insane.

And it’s the witching hour and I can’t help but be hurt because Heero just lied to me.

Then again…he always lied to me…

Liar…

Liar…

Liar……!

 

And the tiger watched on, stuffed toy eyes looking on with a stoic indifference for the world. A muffled shot rang out and drops of blood fell upon his fake fur that smelled like his owner. Drops of blood that smattered against his stuffed toy glass eyes, collecting at the bottom of them and streaming down…tears of blood.

 

Cry Will, Cry.

 

*** Owari ***

 

Author’s Notes : this started out as a personal story, about me, thus the beginning about my poetry and my tiger. But as I typed on, it developed into a Duo fic. As I went, on it became a deathfic. My golly. *shakes head* As the title suggests, Heero’ll have a say on this too, just a little darker I guess. As for the reference to the Hebrew stuff, please don’t be insulted….it’s just that my class went to a museum with a Hebrew exhibit. I just thought that the writings were really nice to be engraved somewhere. I don’t even know if there IS a Hebrew symbol for death, so please don’t get mad at me ne? I’m just a poor writer. Also, “Tyger, Tyger” belongs to William Blake, the quote from “Unsent” belongs to Alanis Morrisette, I really don’t know who owns the prayer, and I just heard that from “Enter Sandman” (my dad’s theme song. Hehe, he’s the sandman and I’m death…. We make a good insane pair!) and for the “Liar” nursery rhyme, *shrugs* almost every one uses that so I guess that’s pretty much useable by moi. And of course I do not own Gundam Wing and all it’s great suicidal/homicidal/more-that-slightly-insane bishonen. That’s Bandai’s I think. So that’s it from me. Send all  C&C, flames, comments, suggestions, bishonen and whatnot to [email protected].