It seemed that every single thing in his special, unknown place was a pure photocopy of perfection. It seemed that everything good that could come out of his world of Hell would be found in this one place, and this one place alone. A grouping of stepping stones leading across his special field was the only way to get back to civilization, the stones ending directly on the brink of a gravel parking lot that nobody used but him. The trees overhead managed to spread their flowing arms across the perfect patch of sky and sun just so he wouldn't have to be uncomfortable. They loomed overhead so the sun's warm rays couldn't coast down onto his shivering skin, leaving him cold and silent against one of their trunks, the harsh bark digging deeply into his scratched back.
Stretched out in front of his curled up form was what he lived for... what he breathed for... what he felt was his own. Past his life, the cool waters of his wonderful, perfect stream accompanied nature's cries as his own personal music. Somewhere in one of his protectors, a bird screamed out to him in sorrow, shrieking until he didn't even hear that mournful song anymore. His eyes remained locked onto the flowing waters of the stream, his mind telling him to notice how he could change the perfection if he really wanted to.
And he did.
Whenever he felt the need to ruin something perfect, he came to his special place because all it was was beauty. All he really kept here was what he held close to his heart, and when he went home, he would know where that thing was no matter how much he thought other thoughts. He wouldn't have to worry about losing anything ever again because it would be kept here, in perfection... just for him, and him alone.
... help me...
Sometimes he would sit at the edge of the water just so he could twirl a twig into its shallow depths, watching the ripples break free from their confines and ruin his reflection on the surface of beauty. No matter how many times he left his tainted existence to enter into his wonderful, beautiful, glorious world of color, he knew he could never be part of it. The trees tried to protect him, but he always felt as though they were making a mistake by trying to save him. Lying in front of him was what should be protected by anything and everything that could be considered perfection in this place. He believed that everything should turn away from him and shy towards his life because, lying in front of him, was an existence so perfect, nothing could taint it anymore.
Nothing could taint him anymore.
As he shifted against the rough surface of the tree, he felt the stabbing pain rip through his body again. An ache so horrible, it could come from anything or everything all at once; ripping through his skin until he felt it settle at the back of his heart, making itself known silently. His hand fell across a pile of scattered, golden-brown leaves, some of the perfection cracking and breaking under the gentle weight of his hand. Panic flew through his eyes as the loud crunch made him instinctually slip his eyes downward to stare at the damage he managed to do in a couple of seconds.
... dead...
Off to his right, a flutter of noise drew his attention away from the leaves before his mind could focus on the dark stain spreading across the clutter. A squirrel met his questioning stare before the creature went back to join the scenery, disappearing under a grouping of tall grass no more than twenty feet away from where he sat. His music played on without noticing the distraction, though, the wind blowing some of the leaves away to try and protect his mind. They wouldn't be able to do it, however, because his eyes had already seen what his mind refused to acknowledge, and where some of the leaves lay, more of them were just a couple of feet away.
Directly in front of him, his eyes took in the sight of a slightly curled hand barely dipped into the cool water of the stream. Occasionally, something would float passed them both in the water, tapping onto the relaxed hand until the limb would move slightly with the flow of water. Two pairs of eyes looked off into the distance, far passed the small stream in front of both of them, and even further than some of the birds in the high up trees could see. They both looked to a place where only they could see, perfection momentarily set aside because everything else seemed so much more important.
... am I...
As a drop of liquid fell from somewhere onto his face, his instincts kicked in as he calmly sat there, his eyes crinkling around the corners as he shut them tight. The liquid landed passed his eyes, quite possibly touching his eyelash, but he still waited as the liquid slid down his cheek to touch the top of his frowning lips. His life ignored his slight mumble of annoyance, remaining on the ground in front of him, one hand draped into the stream as the water lightly caressed soft skin. He pressed back against the tree as one hand lifted itself to catch the fallen liquid before it could go much further.
... crying?
His eyes flickered open, his brief darkness replaced with the color of perfection once again. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, the tip of his boot lightly bumped against that of his friend's. He tapped his shoe twice against his friend's curled leg before he pulled his legs back in and curled back up himself. Bringing his trembling hand up in front of the face, he looked at the oddly colored liquid staining just the tips of two of his fingers, the
... red?
thoughts running through his head entirely too unpleasant for such a place like perfection. No need for such negativity when everything you're around can not be found with any flaws. No need for such negativity in a place with perfection, because perfection doesn't feel pain. Perfection doesn't feel pain because everything that could be done has been done for the sole purpose of making it perfect.
Making it complete.
Out of the corner of his eyes, a glint of black caught his attention for just a moment. He hesitated for just another moment in time before turning his head to stare at the black object laying in a pool of stained leaves, the golden-brown turned into a delicate red to match the surroundings of the area...
...to match me
The front of his shirt was stained the same brilliant red once before it, like the rest of the color, died down and darkened. Darkened into a deep color that didn't match the color of perfection. A color that didn't match the green of the fields... or the green of the leaves not yet dead from weather... or the clear tranquility of the water before him. A deadened color that didn't quite look right on his friend's body, the staining of the red not quite looking right wherever it could be placed in his special world.
When he really took the time to look, his friend seemed a little out of place in all the perfection. Lying on the ground in front of the stream, one hand placed into the cooling liquid, resting.
Dead?
Resting.
His friend needed to be here for him so he would always have someone he could talk to when he felt sad. He had showed his best friend the stepping stones leading to his special place, and showed him where he sat... what he did... why he did it. Watched as he friend sat down in front of the beautiful stream to dip a finger into the water to feel how cold it was. His friend wanted to be there with him to experience his perfection.
I wanted to keep him.
They spoke like they used to, laughing at everything and nothing at all because that's one of the things you can do in perfection. You'll never be alone ever again because your best friend will always be there for you when you need them the most.
I wanted to keep him... here.
The black object screamed for his attention again, his eyes flicking over to take in his friend's weapon. The black coat that he had pulled it from lay off to the side of his friend, sprawled across the ground to cover up something that he thought ruined the area of his beauty.
How can one... ruin perfection?
The coat lay sprawled across another grouping of tainted leaves, the freshly fallen beauties stained horribly with color that he knew in his mind was red. Somewhere in the depths of what he used to be before he ruined his special place, he realized that what he had become was enough to damage was could be saved.
I had to...
The way his friend had fallen wasn't what he had intended at all.
He said he had to leave... had to go...
The shower of blood that had left as he pulled the trigger wasn't what he wanted. The peace in his mind was shattered as his friend hit the ground so hard, his head slammed against something that was promptly covered up with the coat as soon as he managed to move his friend closer to the stream. He panicked when he saw what he had done, though, and let his friend drop where he had dragged him to.
... so much blood.
He left his friend lying by the stream, those midnight blue eyes open and staring off into the distance. One arm was curled under the slack body, the position looking entirely too uncomfortable for his own personal liking. He couldn't move him, though, because of what had happened when he dropped him a second time.
... said he would see me soon...
The sun beat down onto the curtain of trees, trying to break passed the barrier to dry the mud that the still young man had been accidentally dropped into. The warm rays tried to send a helping hand once again to quite possibly get him to move his friend a second time just so his perfect face wouldn't be marred with mud like it had been for hours already. The warm fingers tried to beat down on the even colder skin of the friend... tried to help just to make the place special and perfect again.
I wanted him here... with me.
He ruined perfection in a perfect place.
And no tears would come for his friend because, for reasons he would never be sure of, his perfection wanted to try and make things right again. His mind tried to show him that the green, green grass wasn't stained red with his best friend's blood. The leaves littering the ground weren't darkened because of...
... help me...
something he did with his own hands.
The music continued on...
The birds continued to sing their chorus...
The stream ghosted past the cold fingers without noticing the imperfection in the little world.
You're mine now.
Maybe this was his perfection.
... Heero... help me be perfect...