<“Trowa, d…?”>
But Duo never let it get too quiet. Duo always had something to say, always had a little piece of something to get off his chest. Trowa thought maybe Duo was afraid of silence because he played music a lot, too, all kinds. Often, he’d leave his CD player on in another room so a little drift of whatever the day’s specialty was came through in the background.
It was quiet again.
<“Trowa, do you…?”>
But Duo would never sit still long enough. He liked to be in motion, he liked to be alive. He even moved unintentionally; one of his limbs was always in motion, jittery, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. Trowa often wondered if Duo ever stopped moving when he was awake. Even when he slept, he was breathing.
It was still again.
<“…do you love…?”>
But Duo never let him get too lonely, even when it was what Trowa wanted the most. Sometimes when Trowa stared at the wall until he swore he could see beyond it, Duo would be sitting next to him, waiting for Trowa to note his presence. Duo didn’t like it when Trowa was lonely. Duo was good at mingling with people, he was good at entertaining, even if he didn’t like it all the time. He craved the contact of another human being in more than a physical way. Duo liked to exist with people.
It was lonely again.
<“Trowa, do you love me?”>
But Duo would never let him die. Duo held on to Trowa’s life as his own lifeline, as his own reason to exist. Duo had never felt he was worth anything, but Trowa was. Unfortunately, Trowa couldn’t see it, and Duo had to try to show him. Duo had to show Trowa that he was alive.
Trowa was dead inside again.