Warnings: Shounen ai (1+2, 3+4), language (how repetitive...)

You called yourself an angel, when you knew there was no heavan for me. Were you purposely trying to remain higher than me? The pristine shimmer of arctic winds, I have seen in your frigid gaze. Your eyes burn through my own, morphing and manipulating my body into... Him.

Is that who you're trying to see? Him?

You're gaze lingers as the hard, freezing, blues of your eyes seem to narrow. Though you make no response to me, I know what you see. You see him. Beneath me. Inside me. You see me, when no one else will. You see me and all I have to hide.

Was my mask to thin? To stretched? Translucent in your vision? Or did you find a hole that I'd forgotten to close? I know I can't ask you; you still hold my gaze. You are an angel. You are higher in the heavans, nonexistant to any source of my being's power. I am a lowly, faceless, wanderer, with the mask of a clown. And you see that, don't you?

Heero, please answer me...

The darkness of the room parted for a passing glow, as the hall light flickered through the doorway. Wavering beams of a dying bulb hazed upon the carpet of the den, where the braided pilot lay, restless upon the messy sofa. Surely, he had remained in the darkness for a long while since Quatre had left his side, earlier that evening. He was silent, his violet eyes flickering a low gaze at the light upon the carpet.

Nearly silent footsteps patted softly down the hallway. Their coordinated weight shifting seemed to eliminate all possibilities of who was roaming through the hallways so early in the morning. The perfect soldier. Heero's attempts at silent footstepping was largely successful, but lazy for one such as himself. Perhaps he gave no piece of mind to waking up the braided pilot, supposedly asleep in the den.

The cabel connection box, set below the TV with the VCR and DVD, had a small corner of illumination sent by the time 2:47:36 AM in digital yellow numbers. The boy on the sofa sighed lightly, and rolled over to hug the pillow beside him, up close to his chest loosely. He stretched his neck, burying his face into the pillow's soft covering, in attempt to wipe away the beads of sweat covering his hot face and neck. He ignored the covers still pulled up to his shoulders, and his hair, sticking lightly to the sweaty skin of his bare back.

He was in no sense asleep, instead he only lay in silence. Thinking.

The footsteps in the hallway paused as the den's silent occupant made only a few light noises, accompanied by a sigh, as he turned on the sofa. In what seemed to him as dim curiosity, he made a light step into the den, eyes of chilling winter peering through the darkness to the form that lay upon the couch. He paused as he noticed the two violet orbs that watched him back with a calm gaze... devoid of any visable thought or emotion.

"Duo...?" Heero's voice was a low whisper, watching the boy upon the couch in a chilling stare.

The boy upon the couch simply stared back in a dark gaze. His violet eyes seemed dark in the ways he made no responce, and their gaze lingered slightly clouded to the point of mischevious thinking. Was there some wicked reminence flashing behind his dark gaze? Maybe this is just how Duo was at night... Dreaming with his eyes open.

Heero made a low grunt as he turned to exit, until Duo's voice spoke in a light whisper.

"Have you ever..." The silent voice drifted off, unwilling to finish his beginning.

The boy at the door turned in littel effort to look back at Duo's dark violet gaze. "Huh?"

"Have you ever had a connection to someone...?" The dark stare had not flickered in hint to what the American was thinking. "Where you saw things... they were trying to hide...?"

Mild puzzlement was concealed in crystalline blue eyes as the Japanese pilot, entered farther into the darkness of the den. "What do you mean, Duo?"

"...Can you see when someone is laughing, that there are tears inside? Have you ever seen what someone was holding in, when they were too weak to show it?" Duo's voice gained only little volume as he seemed to sink deeper into the large blanket surrounding him.

"Go to sleep, Duo." Heero's monotonious voice was low, but stern. He turned to leave once more.

"You're not as perfect as they say you are." Duo no longer bothered to keep his voice low, and when Heero glared back over his shoulder, the pilot had lifted from his comfort upon the couch, and walked briskly by him, and out into the hallway before him.

"Wha...?" The Japanese pilot couldn't restrain the look of obvious puzzlement that flashed over his features at the statement.

A wicked gleam flashed through violet eyes, as the Death Scythe pilot laughed darkly. "You're blind, Yuy..." He didn't soften his footsteps, dragging himself into the kitchen with almost a psychotic aura about him. "It's not a good trait for the 'perfect' soldier." More dark laughter followed.

Heero's eyes narrowed at the apparent insult. What was Duo talking about? Watching the braided man enter the kitchen, he stepped in, searching for some kind of hint as to what was going on. This wasn't the avergae Duo he knew. "I can see fine..." He paused, "Is something wrong Duo?"

"You would like to think so." The drawer of silverware screech open, as pale, slender, fingers pulled from it's depths, a glistening knife. "It would be logical answer to my illogical actions, eh?" He glanced back at the confusion apparent in Heero's eyes.

"There's a logical reason for everything-" Heero's voice was flat and stoney.

"Ha!" Duo's voice was cold and harsh, as he cut in. He turned from the counter, twisting the blade slowly through his fingers, his violet eyes fixed Heero in their dark gaze. "You really are blind, aren't you? Either that or you're too fucking slow!" The dull edge of the blade ran smoothly across the soft skin of Duo's wrist. He laughed, seemingly discusted with the Japanese pilot. But, for what?

"I'm not blind. There's something wrong with you, Duo, and you're taking a bit irrational-" Once again he was cut off.

"Not blind, you say?" With one fleeting moment the knife had moved to his right hand, jerking the braid out with his left, he took a clean swipe with the blade, and the braid fell to the floor like a dead snake.

Heero was speechless and couldn't control the look of horror that had clouded his pristine blue eyes. Something was seriously wrong here.

"You didn't see that coming, did you?" The Death Scythe pilot smiled, a psychotic gleam in his shining violets. "You thought I was just playing around, perhaps? Or maybe, you thought I was going to cut my wrists? Some 'perfect soldier' you are. Perhaps there is something wrong with me. Why should you care? You said yourself, I am old enough to do what I want with my life. And, I assure you, I will."

Eyes glinting wickedly, Duo crossed to the doorway, standing before the instilled Wing pilot. He leaned forward, wrapping his left arm smoothly around the back of the Japanese boy's neck and pulled himself to be face to face with his victim. No further warning was released as Duo leaned forward crushing his lips softly against those of the Japanese pilot.

The harsh kiss was over quickly, and Duo did not linger to hear Heero's thoughts, or witness his actions. He simply slid down the hallway, and into the den. Marking his absence with a rather loud slam of the door.

Heero stood alone, head spinning wildly as he grasped for a small bit of the reality that had just escaped him. His gaze settled finally on the detatched braid of Duo Maxwell, as it lay upon the floor.

To Be Continued...

Notes

None.