Title: Just Another Mistake
Author: Lily
Archive: fanfiction.net under Lily1130 (no spaces), anywhere else, just ask...
Pairing: 1x2
Categories: angst, yaoi
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Notes: *italics* Heero POV
Disclaimer: I do not own the g-boys.
Feedback: Hungry Bob loves to eat up positive comments! Throw snacks at him and he throws fic ideas at me. send to: ann_marie_martino@ emerson.edu

Another Mistake

I've been watching him for over a year now, waiting for the inevitable. I knew it was only a matter of time. The boy that never *stopped* talking, even during a war, had not uttered a word in almost an entire year. I was worried, but I tried not to show it. I had told him to shut up, but I meant for that moment - not forever, and who knew? He has *never* listened to me or taken me quite that literally before. And then I realized what it was. Part of him had hidden within him, and I could no longer reach the Duo I loved so much. At dinner that night I told him I loved someone. I had asked for a roommate, a partner, and a best friend, when I asked him if he wanted to live with me. He agreed with a simple nod, and I did not know then that his voice would die inside of him, that the cheery chatter would cease. He's not Duo without his incessant babble. Sometimes he would talk, for hours, and I would get lost in the cadence of his voice, lost in the intelligent observations pouring forth. Even his braid does not delineate him as the boy I loved, so long ago it seems now. I've tried everything I could think of to bring him back from wherever he had disappeared to. It strikes me that the war had broken something inside, something that might be irreparable. We were eating dinner, and I told him I loved someone. I was going to give him the ring, and the kiss, and tell him I'd fallen for him. But he'd misunderstood, or maybe the nightmares haunting him had clouded his brain, and he leapt up from his chair and began screaming. I did the only thing I knew how to do - punched him in the mouth. His eyes widened, but they cleared of the hysteria.

It was a mistake, Duo, I never meant to hit you. I meant to kiss you that night, to grant you access to the part of my soul you can only reach with your mouth. Kisses are private things, things to be treasured and shared with only those you love deeply. I do not know how I know this, but I do. I could not kiss you, before. I could not bring myself to take from you what you did not offer. You offered your body to me, and I was so careful, I tried to make you feel pleasure, but you felt nothing in the end. There was a time, way back in the beginning, when I would speak to you, but you never replied. Sometimes you didn't even respond non-verbally. The silence soon snuck inside and blanketed our house, coloring our every action, marking every movement. I suffocated under the weight of your silence, but even during sex you never made a sound - not even a sigh. It was as though your voice box had been torn from your throat with the end of the war.

The ring sits cold in my hand, and the metal does not warm because my fingers are icy. I tried so hard, I thought that maybe the gentleness of the sex would draw you out. I know now, it was also a mistake. Just another mistake to add the the hundreds I've made with you. I should have sought professional help, especially when you started running at night. You'd disappear, and not long after the phone would ring. That first time it was your wallet, that included where you lived. After that I made you wear a chain, so they could reach me quicker. How many times did it happen? I've lost count by now, maybe as many as twenty times, or even more. The first few times they just let you go, released you into my custody. But, when no matter what I did, you continued to escape, they began demanding a bail price - the same one they set for drunks, even though you never drank.

That night I was almost glad, when you screamed. At last you'd made a sound, but then I guess I still couldn't understand it. Another mistake...

The night settled cold over my body, when I lay beside you, and fell asleep. I should not have done that. The phone rang - as if on cue -and I was up and dressing, bailing you out again with Quatre's money. When I got to the station, there you were, grinning. Your eyes were wide, bright, and your knees were crusted with blood, and grass sticking to them. Your hair was a mess and I remembered the sex, when I'd brushed it afterward, and it was neat and smooth. I tried, Duo, I honestly did. I just did not know *what* to do...

I left the station, knowing that you would follow, and when we got home I actually began to question you. I was so damn exhausted, I never slept straight through the night any more, what with you running. I locked the doors, and every time the key turned I woke. Yet still you managed to get out, although how, I could not figure out. But despite the rain of questions, a tiny smirk covered your lips and your eyes were...empty. I threw my hands in the air, frustrated, lost, angry, and stormed up the stairs. I'd barely made it into the bathroom with some ointment for your knees when the screaming began. It was an awful things to behold, and with every cry I felt my insides twist a little tighter, as if there was a snake curling around within me. I was too late...just one more mistake...

When I got to you, you were pounding yourself with your own fists, and I don't think you really knew *what* was going on anymore. You had managed to pull your hair free of it's braid, and you'd actually drawn blood with the strength of the action. Blood had trickled down your temple, and your fingers had gouged flesh from your nearly-naked body. I ran to you, and I tried to grab your fists, but I failed you...again.

I'm standing here, over you, looking down. Your beautiful, slender body is covered with welts and deep scratches, and there are bruises beginning to flower upon your head and face. You are curled up there, so small, in those plaid boxers of yours. Clutched in one unconscious fist is a red elastic. I can see the dust motes sprinkling the air, coming to rest on your body, and the ointment falls from my slack fingers, bouncing against the hardwood with a sharp crack. The first sound this house has heard in a long time. It is so loud in the aftermath of the panicked screaming. I kneel down over you, my hands brushing over your boxers, my fingers sliding over your face. I press a kiss to each of your closed eyelids. My lips flutter over your cheek, and I slowly sink to the floor. The smell of rainwater lingers in my nose, the scent of your hair...

You are so very still.

One final mistake.

Ai shiteru, Duo.