Lucifer

The phone rang … and rang … and rang.

“Heero. Why aren’t you answering any of my calls? It’s been such a long time. Can you please just answer me back just once? Heero? Are you there? You know who this is. Maybe that’s why you’re not picking up, ‘ey?” There was a light bit of laughter. “Heero, pick up the fucking phone… You haven’t talked to me in—” His voice was cut short.

The dial tone rang … and rang … and rang.

Heero Yuy slid down the white tile wall of the bathroom. Something sharp fell against the floor making a loud clanging sound. There was a quiet drone of flowing water coming from a faucet, he wasn’t sure where and didn’t care where. All he focused on now was the morbidly fascinating crimson etchings in his wrists, his arms, and his palms. But, the odd thing was, he felt as if he didn’t have to worry about it. He didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

His mission was accomplished. The war was over. He no longer had a purpose.

His cobalt blue eyes stared blankly at his injured arm—self-inflicted injured arm, that is. The cuts were deep, too deep. He knew that, and had done it on purpose. First, he would fall unconscious, and in that sleep, he would die peacefully. But there was nothing peaceful about what had done to himself earlier. There was no anger when he had cut, knifed at himself brutally—there was only pure sadness and an overwhelming feeling of inferiority and insecurity. He had hardly thought. His actions were simply self-motivated. No one brought them on—it was no one else’s fault. He figured that was just the way it had to be because he had nothing else to live for. There was no one to protect; no one to fight; no more missions to accomplish.

There was just nothing left.

His vision was finally blurring. There was no more pain to yield to. He had taken it all so easily as if he had tried to kill himself millions of times. The feeling was odd to him. It was as if everything and everyone had just disappeared. There was no running water, there were no bleeding arms, and there was no one to bother him with ignorant questions like, “Heero, where are you going? Heero, what are you doing?” from a certain braided American boy with a crooked grin that hid too much—too much that Heero did not want to find out about.

His eyes drifted, rolling back and forth. His dark chestnut hair fell over his eyes, shadowing his face. His torso was stripped of his T-shirt, and he wore jeans that were torn at the knees.

There was a knock at the door. It sounded soft, almost mute. But Heero knew that, of course, it was probably someone pounding on the door. It didn’t matter. He was far away now. He was much too far to be brought back.

“Heero—Heero, I don’t want to barge in on you like this but—” The American paused in mid-sentence, letting a grin slip passed his lips. “But this really can’t wait, man!”

Taking a deep breath, the braided boy pressed his hand against the doorknob and twisted it. There was one problem, though. It didn’t twist. Duo figured that was no problem. Reaching behind his ear, he took out a pin and kneeled on the floor, picking at the lock.

His apparel was slightly different from his usual. He wore tall, black, clunky, steel-toed and buckled boots and slightly baggy-at-the-leg cargo pants tucked into them. He wore a baggy shirt that fell quite low from his collarbone. The shirt was slightly torn at the bottom, leaving a view of his stomach, slightly. Around his neck wrapped quite a few times was a thin chain with a black cross on it. His jacket was quite old-styled. The style was used dozens of years ago—the bomber jacket. It was just a simple leather brown jacket with baggy sleeves which were rolled up to his elbows.

On his wrists were two bandages tightly wrapped. They were stained crimson. But the blood had been dried from a few days earlier.

His braid dangled slightly longer than it had when Heero last saw him. The last time he saw the Japanese boy was a month ago at one of Relena’s parties. Even then, the only ones that dared even approach the detached boy with cobalt eyes were Duo and Relena, of course. But the strange thing was … Heero had almost completely ignored Duo’s presence. His eyes were fixed on Relena and the floor. For some reason, that scene, as he stood, attempted to talk with the monotone boy, had really taken its toll on Duo. It pained him. So, he did what he had always done.

He smiled and walked away. He smiled and ran and hid. He ran from him. He hid behind his mask.

And that night, he had left the party early.

There was a soft click in the doorknob that had snapped Duo out of his reverie. He pressed his ear against the door for a moment listening to the water run in the shower. Why was Heero not answering him? “Heero—pal,” Duo meant to say loudly, but it came out as a whisper. With a faint grin, he pushed open the door and took a large step in the bathroom, letting the door swing open, hitting the wall with a loud smack.

But he saw … was what he never ever wanted to see as long as he lived. Heero lay against the wall, sliding down it slowly. The floor around him was flooded in his blood. Duo’s best friend … lay sprawled in his own crimson blood. Self-inflicted wounds knifed in his arms, wrists, and palms. Heero’s name escaped Duo’s lips as the American backed into the wall, eyes wide. A hand went to cover his mouth, another gripping the doorframe so he would not fall. Oh, Duo was used to seeing blood—death. But … death … so close, so seductive … to Heero Yuy … to the one Duo had cared so much for … The thought was overwhelming.

Below him, Duo saw a pair of bluish, saddened, Prussian eyes gaze fiercely towards him. The turn of the head was simple, but it was enough for their gazes to lock. Anger. Then the head fell slack against the slim shoulders, cobalt eyes disappearing, rolling back into Heero’s head, and then … the eyelashes fluttered shut.

Duo’s mind raced. He thought of the most reasonable solution in a split-second. The phone. The ambulance.

“Where are you taking him?!” Duo shouted to the doctors and nurses that were running the stretcher Heero was on through the glass doors that led to the emergency room.

“Mr. Maxwell,” said one of the young nurses, panting, “Just stay out in t he waiting room! We have this all taken care of!”

“I-I’m coming with him!”

The middle-aged doctor shouted something about blood donations, “make it fast!”

“Does Heero need blood?” Duo shouted, “I’ll give blood! I’ll give him all the blood he needs!”

“Nurse!” shouted the doctor, obviously losing his patience as he shoved the stretcher through the waiting room, “Give Maxwell some tests—if he has the right blood type then, yes—”

“Yes, doctor!” the nurse acknowledged as she let go of the stretcher.

Duo stared at Heero as he stopped running, his arm grabbed by the blonde nurse. There was an oxygen mask around Heero’s nose and mouth. His face was frighteningly pale, and his eyes, surprisingly, were open, which gave the scene a more surreal kind of look. But his eyes weren’t focused on anything. They were just opened, blank, as Heero lay unconscious.

“Mr. Maxwell!” the nurse had shouted, “were you listening to a word I said? We must hurry!”

Duo nodded, not paying attention. He watched as the doors that the doctors had brought Heero in shut as they went inside. And he saw nothing more.

The people sitting in the waiting room stared in silence at the sudden scene that passed them. Some gawked, some pretended they hadn’t noticed and kept to reading their magazines.

“I—okay.”

The nurse took Duo by the arm and led him somewhere, Duo didn’t know where. But the next thing he knew was he was laying in a white bed, his jacket off, and the nurse, holding a needle, rubbed his arm with alcohol.

“We have to test you first—and if you have the same blood type—”

Everything the nurse said went in one ear and out the other. Duo was in pure shock. Everything had happened so fast. How did this happen? What if—?

He felt a needle pierce his bare arm. He did not flinch.

“This will take five minutes.” The nurse left with the capsules of blood she had taken from Duo.

And Duo waited in silence. Did Heero even have five minutes? Duo felt his skin crawl. What the hell did he do wrong? How could he have missed this?

He realized the bandages on his arms were … gone. “Shit.” The nurse must have removed them.

Duo didn’t know how long he waited. But the nurse was back, holding a larger needle. “You are lucky, Mr. Maxwell. You’re clean.”

“Take as much as you need,” Duo blurted, letting his head lay back on the odd seat he was in. It was a cross between a bed and a very long chair. His right side was pressed against the wall, and his arm lay on the single armrest to his right.

He felt the woman wrap a rubber band tightly around his upper arm and she felt around for his vein. The needle pierced his skin once more. “May I ask what happened to your arm?”

Duo closed his eyes. “I work at a scrap yard. I get cut all the time.”

The nurse nodded. “It’s treated quite badly. Your right arm seems to have an infection.”

“It’s fine. Stop worrying about me. There are others that need…”

“Is he a friend of yours?” the nurse asked softly.

Duo let out a breath that he had been holding. “At a time, he was. At a time.”

“What are you doing here?”

The American boy smiled, straightening the chain around his neck. It was the chain that his black cross hung from. “Hilde knows Relena. Hilde invited me here. Plus, I haven’t seen you in a while, pal…”

Heero Yuy looked away, folding his arms in front his chest.

Duo followed the other boy’s gaze to where … Relena was dancing with a dark haired boy.

“Jealous?” Duo said before he had a time to think.

Heero’s lip curled and Duo thought he would get snapped at any moment. But Heero had said nothing and hadn’t turned his head to the longhaired boy.

“I’ll dance with you, Heero-kun,” Duo snickered.

“Shove a gun down your throat.”

Duo’s eyes flung open from his sleep to see a bright white ceiling staring down at him. That dream… Did that actually happen? Did Heero say that? No, it couldn’t have. It must have been his imagination twisting a memory into something unreal.

He stared down at himself. He still had his shirt and pants on. But his boots had been taken off and were lying beside the bed he was in. His arm was sore from where the woman had taken blood from him. He must have fallen asleep afterwards and was put in a temporary patient’s room. He looked down to his arms, moving them in slow circles. They hurt. His wrists were bandaged with professional care this time. He could feel the sting of antibiotics cleaning out the infection in his right arm.

“You’re awake,” a man said. He stood in the doorway, a clipboard and pen in hand.

“Y-yeah,” Duo said hoarsely.

“Your friend is all right. He was a close call there, though. He’s lucky to have someone that was willing to give blood so fast. We didn’t have nearly enough for that patient. Thank you for donating.”

“Yeah.” Duo rubbed his eyes and then raked a hand through his hair.

“That’s one long braid you have there.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to see your friend—um, Heero Yuy, was the name?”

Duo swung his legs over the bed and began to buckle his boots. “Yeah,” he said a little breathlessly.

“This way,” the gray-haired doctor said.

Leaving his jacket in the room, which was draped over a chair, he stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged after the doctor. He was led to a room that looked the same as the one he was in a few moments ago, except this one had IVs and such around the boy that had lay in a bed that looked for too large for his skinny body.

Duo was exhausted. Though he had only walked a few feet, it had seemed as though he had ran miles and miles. He kneeled down at the side of Heero’s bed and stared at the boy for a long time. He let his head fall to the bed, supported by his arms that were folded on it. He was so tired…

“Heero.”

The Japanese boy in the bed opened his eyes and looked directly at his side. But he had not moved a muscle, only his eyes.

Duo did not notice this, for his eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He had fallen asleep.

Letting his Prussian eyes drift to the doorway, he met the eyes of the doctor, who had taken down some notes on his clipboard. The elder doctor then approached him, smiling slightly. “How do you feel?”

Heero did not answer.

“This young man here gave you a massive amount of blood to you. You should be very thankful for that. If he had not, you would have not survived.” The doctor paused as he studied Heero’s arms, and then Duo’s. “He also had the same wounds you had on your arms. But he claims they come from his job as a scarp yard worker.”

Looking over at the braided boy that sat next to him on the floor, his head lying on his bed, Heero narrowed his eyes. He had thought Duo was the one that could run, hide, but, however, he would never tell a lie?

Heero woke up later on that day. Duo, still asleep by his side in the same position he had been earlier, had his face buried in his arms, his breathing short and gasping. It took a moment for Heero to realize that Duo was trying very hard to not sob. Heero tried to ignore it so he stared at the ceiling blankly.

Suddenly, he felt a gentle but shaky grip around his fingers.

“Baka,” Heero tried to snarl, but it came out hoarsely.

Duo jumped, startled. He let go and he put his elbows on the bed, supporting his chin as he closed his eyes. His hair shielded Heero’s view to see the facial expression on the American’s face. Maybe Duo wasn’t crying, after all.

“I think I should take care of you for a while,” Duo rasped through his unused voice. He wiped at his face that was still covered by his long, long bangs. “Doctor says you need to rest.” Duo heard Heero grunt.

“Heero?” The voice came from the doorway. Heero turned to look at the doorway, but Duo remained frozen.

Quatre and Relena approached the bedside, opposite to where Duo was.

“Relena…” Heero breathed.

“Heero. I—”

Duo listened, shutting his eyes tightly. Their voices were soft and gentle. His hands reached to cover his ears and he bit his lip. What had he got when he tried to help? He got ignored and snarled at. The snarl was somewhat comforting because at least Heero realized his presence.

Relena was sobbing now, her hand trailing down Heero’s cheek. Quatre looked as if he was on the verge of tears, also. But he was more mature and stronger now than he had been during the war.

Duo wasn’t surprised when he stood up no one had noticed. He was beginning to get used to it. Making his way out of the room, his head low, the side of his hand limply covering his eyes. He walked down the hallway, not really knowing where he was going. Maybe back to his room? He felt a hand on his shoulder and stopped walking.

“Mr. Maxwell, everything all right?” It was the voice of the same doctor that had led him to Heero.

“Yeah. I guess—what’s happened—is finally getting to me.” He took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes.

“It’s all right. There’s no need for you to hold back here. I am, after all, a doctor.”

“I guess it was just a real … shock. I mean, I’ve seen so much worse. But self-inflicted and on my … best friend? How the hell does Shinigami deal with that? I … I’m not sure.”

The doctor led him down the hallway. “How about we get something to eat, Shinigami. I was just on my way to eat, anyway.”

Duo nodded.

The cafeteria food was nothing extraordinary. Duo was just extremely hungry and tired. He ate as if it was some kind of mission. He just ate. Shoved the food in his mouth, chew, chew, chew, and swallow.

“I guess I should take care of him for a while.”

“That’d be a good idea,” the doctor said. They sat at a small table, the doctor, writing on his clipboard. “It’s my lunch break. But if he feels uncomfortable around you, I wouldn’t suggest it because, after all, he did attempt at suicide. We would not want to put any more pressure on him.”

“Y-yeah. But I just—I wanted… to help.”

“You’ve helped quite a lot.”

Duo was silent. Chew, chew, and swallow. “Why would he feel uncomfortable around me? I’m his best friend.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, it is what you think is best. How old are you and him? Nineteen? Twenty?”

“Eighteen.”

“All right. I’m leaving the decision to you.” He looked at his watch and let out a breath. “Well, Mr. Maxwell, my break’s over. You and him are free to go. He’s been here for two days. He seems fine now. Are you sure that you are all right?”

Duo nodded.

“OK. Just check out at the main desk when you decide to leave.”

Duo handed Heero his jacket, which he slipped it on a little hesitantly. He was already wearing complementary green patient slipper because he had came to the hospital without shoes. “It’s cold outside, pal. Do you care if we stay at your house or mine?”

“Hn.”

Duo had been smiling already. “That’s what I thought. Since I should stay with you for at least a week, I guess… I could stay at your house. You’d feel more comfortable there, right? All I gotta do is get some clothes and weed at my house—”

“What?”

“Uh—Clothes and a toothbrush. That’s what I said.”

“Hn.”

Duo opened the door to the room for Heero. “You first.” He smiled. Heero shoved his hands in the pockets of his knee-ripped jeans and made his way into the hallway. Duo followed by his side. He was thankful that the others had left.

Leaning against the counter of the checkout table, Duo spoke to the woman behind it. Heero stared around the waiting room watching the people behind them.

It wasn’t long until Duo managed to hitch up a taxi. While they stood out in the cold breeze, Heero could tell Duo was shivering since all he wore was a ripped up T-shirt.

Sitting in the cab, Duo was babbling on about something to the taxi driver and Heero. It seemed as if neither Heero nor the driver were listening at all. Maybe it was something about all the potholes in the street they were driving on or how much of a rip off it was to live in this town on L-1. Heero was thinking of Relena.

How had she managed to find out? He never meant for her to find out. Maybe Duo had called her. But then he realized, Duo never did like Relena much. Heero couldn’t blame him, anyway. He had hated Relena before, also. But …

“Hey, Heero,” Duo’s voice was soft this time, a faint smile on his face. “Weren’t you listening to what I said, pal?”

Heero shook his head, looking out the window.

Duo’s smile disappeared for a moment as he looked to his hands. They were … shaking. Maybe he was cold. Yes, that was it. He was cold. He looked out the window and forced a smile on again. He began humming to himself so quietly it was hardly heard over the buzzing of the car.

The car stopped at Duo’s apartment building and he opened the door, stepping out and holding it open for Heero. He stepped out of the car and stared at the building. Duo took out his wallet from his pocket and took out a ten-dollar bill.

“Fag,” the cab driver muttered—he was a skinhead.

Duo paused, his hand in mid-air as he was about to give it to the cab driver. But he smiled at the comment, closing his eyes. He urged the money towards the cab driver. He took it and drove off. Duo shook his head, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“My apartment’s up the stairs, Heero,” Duo said, still smiling slightly, as he made his way up the spiral staircase. His hand gripped the freezing railing. The sky was cloudy. It looked as if it could snow.

“Didn’t you hear what that guy called you?” Heero said sullenly.

His smile disappeared. “Yeah. I heard what the fuck he said. I’m in no mood to deal with it though, all right? Stop giving me a pissy attitude, Heero.” Duo took out the key from his pocket and opened the door.

For that brief moment, Heero knew he got a look at the real Duo Maxwell. When the door opened, Heero noticed something first. The apartment smelled like tobacco.

“I’ll just get my clothes and stuff. Sit down, I guess.”

Heero sat down, rubbing his temples with his sore arms and hands. He hurt all over. And this wasn’t making anything better.

Duo opened his closet, taking out a jacket. He gripped at the cloth for a moment, closing his eyes. He was beginning to hate this. Why did he do this? It was because Heero was his best friend. Best friend! The boy resented everything Duo had ever done for him. Duo ground his teeth together. He risked everything to go to that hospital.

Yes, he was angry but Duo had never tried to commit suicide. He just cut himself for the pain. Something he knew was real. The pain was where he could find himself again—make sure he was the real one and whatever had happened that day was not a dream.

Duo let out a deep, shaky breath. “I am fine. This isn’t about me,” he muttered to himself. “This is about Heero. He needs … to get better.”

Slipping the jacket painfully over his shoulders and over his arms, he grabbed a bag in the corner of the room and started to just pile in a week’s worth of clothes. Though he knew he would probably wear the same thing the next day anyway.

He crawled under his bed, which was a total mess of sheets and pillows, and he reached for something, biting his lips furiously. He felt around the carpet, touching something metal. It was a cross. It was as big as his hand and silver.

“What are you doing?”

Duo jumped at the voice and crawled out from under the bed, holding the huge cross in his hand.

“Just getting something. I know it sounds stupid, but if I sleep with it nearby, I don’t have such terrible—nightmares.”

Heero grunted and leaned against the doorway. “I’m fine. I don’t need you at my house.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me? You always do. It’s either that, or you ignore me.” Duo grinned.

“Stop it. Just fucking stop it,” Heero snarled.

Duo paused, his grin faltering.

“Take off that damn mask of yours. I’m sick of it.”

Duo laughed. “You see, you do need me to stay with you. You live alone?” Throwing the cross in his bag, he zipped it up and stood, straightening his black jacket. The jacket he wore seemed light as if it didn’t keep the skinny boy in it warm at all.

“Who the hell would live with me?”

Duo shrugged, shoving his way past Heero and down the hall and into the kitchen. “I don’t know,” he answered as he bent down and opened one of the drawers. “Maybe Trowa or something. You guys are friends, right?”

“I’d think you were the one that would live with someone. What about Hilde?”

“She says I annoy her,” Duo smiled, dumping some cans of soup in his bag. “I think she’s around with Noin.”

“You’re alone?”

Duo paused, his hand touching something, a plastic bag, in the back of the drawer. He swallowed hard making an audible click. “Uh-what’d you say, Heero?”

“You live alone?”

“Yep. No one’s visited me in months, either.”

Duo reached his hand back, letting go of the plastic bag. He took a deep breath and just zipped up his bag without putting anything more in it. There was a pack of cigarettes on the counter beside a lighter. Duo reached for them and put them in the pocket of his black jacket.

“We have to walk. My car’s wrecked.”

They were halfway to Heero’s house when the Japanese boy spoke up, breaking the silence between the two. “You live like trash,” was the simple comment uttered in nothing more than a mumble.

Duo snickered at that, shoving his hands in his pockets, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Yeah. I know. You’re the one that gets to live a great, fine, sophisticated kind of life, huh? You’re friends with the Queen. Hanging around scum like me would make you look bad. I’ve seen it happen. That’s why Quatre doesn’t answer my calls anymore. I trash myself. I know that. I’ve done shit you wouldn’t even think of doing. Heero, don’t think because I live the way I do that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Stop smiling,” Heero growled.

“Listen, Heero. I’m going to be here until you get your attitude back in place to, let’s say, ‘somewhat decent.’ I’m going to make sure that happens too. If it doesn’t, well, you’re never going to see the last of me. So just make this as best as it could be for the both of us, all right?” Duo ground out between his clenched teeth.

He should have seen it coming. But for some reason, he didn’t.

Heero punched Duo in the face as hard as he could, which was pretty damn hard. Duo stumbled back, almost falling to the floor. But he got a hold of his footing and stood, putting his hand on his cheek. “Just—stop. I don’t want you to hate me, Heero.” Duo began walking down the sidewalk the same way they were a few moments ago. Heero hesitated, wondering why Duo had not hit back. That was what he was looking for, anyway.

Heero opened the door and stepped inside his house. It was spotless, almost bare with furniture, and quite dark. The blinds were closed. Duo paused, letting the atmosphere soak in. The bathroom… did the paramedics clean it up? He shoved past Heero, letting his bag drop to the floor. He went down the hallway and swung open the door to the bathroom. He found it still covered in blood.

“Shit.”

Duo grabbed a towel that hung over the shower curtain and rinsed it in the sink with fresh water first. Then, he got down on his knees, kicking the door shut with his legs. It was all pooled dry in that one spot where Heero had lay. Duo wiped away as much as he could. The work hurt his arms terribly but it had to be cleaned immediately. Though, still, the white tile was stained darker there than any other place in the bathroom.

He felt his eyes water. His face flushed as he realized what he was doing. He was touching Heero. He sat back on his knees, his rear touching the floor, his booted feet beside his thighs. The tile was very, very cold and wet. Duo swallowed, trying to hold back his tears.

The door creaked open.

Duo turned his head to look over at Heero who had his head poked through the doorway. His bottom lip quivered so he bit it, turning back to the floor. He let his fingers trace the outline of the stain carefully. At that moment, he felt so young. He felt as if this whole scene was so very wrong. He was touching Heero without even asking him. Heero was stained into the bathroom tile. It felt so wrong to touch him like that.

“I’m sorry,” Duo said, hardly above a whisper.

“What?” Heero asked. There was a faint hint of confusion in his voice rather than harshness.

“I’m sorry I can’t—help you. I can’t even help myself.”

Duo brushed his hand shakily through his hair taking a deep breath. “I thought I had everything planned out. I’d just be your friend. I thought that was all you needed. But—I realized something, Heero. I’m the one that needed a friend.” He took a gulp of air and closed his eyes. Bad move. He felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes, his nails digging into his skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Duo stood, dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Covering his face, he brushed passed Heero. “I think I need to take a walk…”

The hand he was using to cover his face jerked away. Heero had grabbed Duo by the wrist. Duo stared at Heero in surprise. Wincing at the pain in his arm at Heero’s deathly grip, he turned his head. Then he felt Heero’s bandaged hand take a firm grip on his chin. Gently, very gently, Duo’s face was turned to Heero’s. Though Duo’s eyes were closed, he could feel Heero’s fingers against his cheek.

Softly, Heero’s fingers traced their way down the tracks of Duo’s tears. Then, when Heero reached the bruise he had done to Duo’s cheek, he paused.

“Why are you crying?” Heero asked, confused.

Duo smiled, leaning away from Heero’s fingers. “Because that’s what I do when I’m sad,” he growled through his clenched jaw.

“Then you must be sad a lot—because you’re smiling… and you’re sad.”

Duo opened his eyes, staring at Heero, shocked. How did the Perfect Soldier figure him out so easily? The bluish eyes in front of him gazed at him in, was it, worry? No. That expression quickly changed in a split second. Narrowing those eyes, Heero let out an airy growl without opening his mouth. His hand slipped from Duo’s arm and his cheek to clench at his sides in tight fists.

Duo stared at him for a long time, his expression slack, mouth ajar, and eyes wide, lip curled in almost disgust and confusion. “I don’t care what you do to me. You can’t break me, Heero. I won’t let you. This isn’t about me. This is about you. And you—you can’t break me,” the words were as fierce as Duo’s low voice.

“Then you’re doing absolutely nothing by staying here. You’re making matters worse, for instance.”

“You just watch, Heero. I’m staying here whether you like it or not. You’re my best friend—whether you consider me as one or not. I’m going to break you, Heero, whether you want it or not. I am going to make you better. I am going to make you realize that there is someone out there that cares enough to take a bullet for your sorry ass!”

“Who do you think you are?!” Heero growled.

Duo grinned, his features darkening. “Well-well. Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m a man of wealth… and taste. Just call me Lucifer.” His hand reached out, grabbing Heero by the chin. Letting his face get closer to the cobalt-eyed boy, so he was sure Heero could feel his breath on his skin. “’Cause I’m in need of some restraint. If ya meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, and have some taste. Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name.”

Duo pulled away roughly, drifting down the hallway, braid between his fingers.

When he turned the corner, he leaned against the wall, staring at his hands. His grin faded somewhat into an infatuated smile. “What the hell am I doing here?” Duo let his fingers trail down his cheek the same way Heero had done earlier. He felt the blood mixed with water mix with his tears.

It was a combination that he could say even Lucifer loved. Blood, water, and tears.

And he realized.

Duo was a part of Heero now. Duo had Heero’s blood inside of him.

This caused him to smile. This smile was real. This smile was not insane, this smile was not deranged or fake, this smile was authentic. This smile was all Duo’s—his and only his.

“Oh, tell me, baby, what’s my name?” he whispered, quoting the song he had used, telling Heero he was Lucifer. In a way, he was. He was Shinigami. He could be evil. He could be death. He could be Duo Maxwell. Whatever he was, he couldn’t figure out just yet.

“Just call me Lucifer, ‘cause I’m in need of some restraint!” Duo almost giggled as he walked back down the hallway, grabbing his bag that lay in the living room where he had dropped it earlier. “That’s a good one,” he snickered.

Taking out the cans of soup he had put in his backpack, he made his way to the kitchen and began making Heero’s dinner.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Duo wasn’t surprised to find Heero standing in the kitchen, staring maliciously at him. “Just makin’ your dinner, Hee-kun.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re not serious, Hee-kun,” Duo said it almost tauntingly.

“I am, Duo.”

Duo let out a bark of laughter as he filled up the pot with water in the sink. He placed it on the stove, turning it on high. He then went to the sink and began washing the blood off his hands. Oh, he wanted to keep that blood on there.

“You know, Heero, if it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.” Duo grinned, turning his head to look over at Heero, who suddenly looked resentful. “I almost passed out just makin’ the trip to your room in the hospital. At least I came to see you. What’d Relena have to say?”

“Hn.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. Anyone mention me?”

“No.”

Duo laughed. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Blind hope, I guess. Are you hungry?”

“Hn.”

“Me too.”

Duo stumbled around the kitchen, opening random drawers trying to find the can opener. He eventually found it, without Heero’s help, and dumped the soup into the pot. He leaned against the counter, closing his yes. “I’m so tired.”

Heero sat at the small table, examining his bandaged arms.

“I’m such a creep.” The words escaped Duo’s mouth without much thought. But then again, what words did escape his mouth with thought?

“I want you to leave.”

“No can do, buddy. I’m stayin’ here. Plus—why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

Heero growled, jerking up from his seat. The chair pushed back and toppled over. “You don’t now what you’re talking about. Don’t even—”

“Before you go on, what did I say wrong?”

“Don’t even go there. You don’t know what the hell happened. There’s no way I’ll ever tell you anyway. It was your phone call that pissed me off. It was your phone call that made me just want to… Your phone call was the last draw.”

Duo smiled. “I wanted to talk to you, Heero. I needed to talk to you. I live to talk to you. Is it just me that made you so angry? Is it me that made you want to commit suicide? Is it me that you just HATE so much? Well, if it is, why not fucking kill me and not yourself! Heero! I could care less about what the fuck happened to me!”

His mask was breaking, and Heero saw it.

Duo went on, “I said I’d take a bullet any day for you. And I mean it! I will take a bullet for you. Go ahead and kill me if it’ll prevent causing you any pain. All I wanted to do was talk to you after the party. Did you even notice I left early?” He paused. “Oh, God, how I want you to notice,” Duo moaned.

“I’m sick of you. I’m sick of your lies, Duo. I’m sick of you obsessing over me.”

“Obsessing over you?! Heero! I’m your friend, god damn it! Obsess? Did you ever look at Relena? Did you ever fucking look at her? She stalks you, Heero! At least I have the decency to leave you to your privacy. I left you alone for three months, hoping you’d notice! Did you even give me a mind for a split-second? ‘Oh. Duo has stopped calling me.’ I only saw you twice after the war. And one of those meetings was at Relena’s party. Heero, do you have any idea what you did to me?” His voice cracked in the last sentence.

Heero gripped at the flat surface of the table with his fingers. Then he whirled around and stormed out of the kitchen.

Duo shakily poured the cooked soup into a bowl and placed it on the table. He then went right after Heero.

He ran down the hallway and stopped when he reached Heero’s dark bedroom. There was a shuffling of papers, and then a drawer was opened. He then heard the click of the safety-lock switch on a gun.

And through the dim light he could see Heero, pointing a gun straight at the American boy who stood, silhouetted in the doorway from the light in the hallway and the darkness in the room.

“Stop it, Duo. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh, God. I’m the wrong person to be here,” Duo gasped. “I shouldn’t be here. I should have left—you—like you wanted. Re-Relena could’ve taken care of you. She never makes you feel terrible, does she? Love does that. Love is … kind.”

“Get out,” Heero snarled.

“I guess Lucifer can’t be loved—can’t…” Heero took a step forward and Duo backed into the wall. Heero took another step forward. The gun was inches away from Duo’s forehead now. “Shinigami is… trash.”

This time, when Heero had hit him in the face, Duo sunk to the ground.

“Why don’t you hit back, Duo?!” Heero snarled.

Duo cracked his jaw painfully, and looked towards the floor. “Love is kind.”

“Look at me!” Heero shouted. Duo obeyed, staring up at Heero, broken and shattered. “Shinigami cannot love. Duo CAN love. And you are Duo. Stop using those masks. Stop making names for yourself. Stop hiding behind that fucking smile! The only name you have is Duo Maxwell. I don’t know how you got that name—but Duo Maxwell is Duo Maxwell! No one else!”

Heero fired his gun, stepping over the boy below him, both his feet planted at Duo’s sides. The gun fired once, twice, three times. And all this time, Duo stared at Heero, shocked. Not even one bullet had pierced his body. Each one was fired at the wall, just above Duo’s head.

“And Heero will not love.”

Heero put out his bandaged hand. Duo, so shocked and surprised, almost falling out of his skin, raised his hand and Heero held it. He hauled Duo up to his feet. The American boy stared at Heero straight in the eye. Duo did not smile.

“But, Heero…”

“Don’t give me that shit. I know you’ve done the same thing I did. But no one was there to look after you as you sat in your bed. No one gave you their own blood. No one even bothered to call you, did they? Duo, I thought you were living differently. I didn’t know you were alone like me.”

“You’re not alone. You have Relena. You have Quatre. You have Trowa. You even have Wufei, who has probably hated me ever since he laid eyes on me. You have Zechs. You have Sally. You have Noin. You have… everyone. And, yet, you don’t want any of them except for Relena, huh? And you have me, no matter how much you’ve shoved me out of your view, shoved a gun down my throat, and ignored me—you still have me. I understand you, Heero. I understand why you wanted to commit suicide because I’ve been there, too. I’ve been there ever since you ignored me during the party. You probably didn’t even notice me.”

Heero’s face contorted into a scowl.

“No one noticed me. I guess people began to realize how much of a liar I was.”

“Stop fooling them. People don’t like to be fooled.”

“But people don’t want to see the real me. They don’t want to worry about me. They don’t want to know there’s someone as fucked up as the person they see in their nightmares. They would rather see a smile than a frown.”

“No one wants to be fooled…” Heero growled.

“What the hell do I live for, then? I live to make people happy!”

“God damn it, Duo!” Heero ground through his teeth. “You’re so damn… STUPID!” With that word, his arm swung to the side and the gun he was holding was fired—hitting the door. Duo flinched back. But then he was hit, once again, in the side of his head with a metal object… With the gun Heero was holding. His vision blurred for a moment as he hit the wall behind him. “B-Baka.”

Duo smiled. “Y-yeah. I know.” Heero hit him hard. And the next thing he knew, he was out cold.