[ Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I type this from. I do, however, own the mind the thinks up these stories, the 50 cents in my pocket, a stick of gum, a pencil without an eraser, a wooden chair that wobbles when you sit in it, an albino muse named Nathaniel, and a single Cadbury Cream Egg. Not too shabby, eh?
Warnings: *lightly* implied Shounen-ai smatterings, etc.. You know the drill. Duo/Quatre.. So cute, yet so unrealistic, right? Ah, yes, but this is fanfiction, where the fluffy minds of fangirls everywhere may run amuck. Finally, this 'fic didn't start as a suicide 'fic, so I never intended on having Duo die. It just.. happened that way. Ah, and no, Quatre is not going to commit suicide.. ]
Setting: "Sequel", I suppose, to Duo's suicide note. We're assuming that Duo actually went through with it. Quatre is now writing in his diary, though the entry starts to turn into a letter to Duo....
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I'm crying, Duo.
Can't you see the tears, from where you are? This -is- what you wanted, right? This is what you hoped to achieve. You're no longer a scar, Duo.. You're not in the limelight anymore. You're not here to mar my 'perfect world', not anymore. Yes, we can all be happy now.. We can all laugh, and rejoice, and be at peace because you're gone, can't we? Shouldn't that be how it works?
Then why am I crying?
You wanted to be me, you said.. You did say that, didn't you? Not in words, of course.. But you wrote it. 'Writing is the language of the heart', I've been told. So is my heart crying, too? Was yours? This isn't even making sense.. You don't know what I'm writing, you can't see me. You're gone, you coward.. I bet you didn't expect that, eh, Duo? The God of Death can insult where he pleases, but Quatre, poor, innocent, -pure Quatre- would never do that. Why did you think that? You trapped me...
So you wanted to be the shining one, did you. You should've said so, because I wouldn't have minded.. I'm sick of it all. Do you know what it's like, being the chaste one, never to step outside the boundaries or purity and kindness? It's your fault, it's everyone's fault.. it's my fault. It's all my fault, but you don't care. You never really cared. Not even Trowa cared, and he... He was special. Is special. But he doesn't care about me, not the real me, because he doesn't even know the real me. I'm not innocent. I know it, why can't you see it? Curious, Shinigami? You said you never get curious, besides a couple exceptions.. me, and Heero. So are you curious? Because I'll tell, I'll tell it all.. I have nothing left to lose, except my soul, and I'm beginning to see how worthless it is.
I was once the noble one.. Weren't we all, way back when? I used to care only for others, I used to love the world, I used to scream for pacifism, on the inside.. But then I grew up, Duo. I grew up and saw that, in all reality, the world didn't care. The world would just keep on turning whether I fought, or died, and I couldn't prevent anything.. I could try my hardest, I could throw myself to the dogs, I could become the cushion that caught those that fell after they tried the same thing I had, but I couldn't do anything. Well, anything but smile. And laugh. And ignore my own insecurities, my own problems, my own self.. If I was going to change the world I had to support it, not push with it. If it wanted to break down the doors between peace and war, then I would follow the collective, but I would never throw myself with them. I'd be there with kind words, because I was useless, and pathetic. Weak.
So I'm innocent, am I? You seemed to think so... I'm almost sorry for letting you think that for so long. Almost. And it was 'my perfect world'.. No one sees its imperfection more than I do. This world belongs to me as much as it belonged to you, perhaps even less so. I was in the backdrops constantly, I never did anything with provocation, without thinking it through, because I was afraid. Afraid of starting something that I couldn't handle, something that would force me to lift my shield between caring and supporting, something that'd rip the fabric from the pillow of contentment and endless facades that I fall back on when need be. Do you know what it's like to have to carefully choreograph your every move? You counted on me. You all did, even Heero, the emotionless, but perfect soldier. Even he needed to know that someone was smiling as he destroyed, maimed, slaughtered.. I was that someone for him, as I was for you. I was that little bit of false hope, like a Sunday mass after a week of pain; maybe there was no God, but you didn't care when you were there, because it comforted you to think that all your toil, and all your suffering would pay off.
I hate being the golden one. Can you imagine that? All you say you ever wanted to be, and here I am, saying that I wasn't even that. I deserved every burden I ever shouldered, every death I had to stomach, ever pain I had to bite down.. Lies are things to confess and repent for, and I was living a lie, yet you never saw me once sit down and pray that my life would get better. In my mind, I was already too far gone for that. Prayer was for those who had souls worth saving. With me, all that was worth saving was the shell everyone called Quatre, the shell that smiled, the shell that comforted, and the shell that united. My soul didn't do that. It turned, it writhed, and it boiled.. I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream, I wanted to swear, I wanted to flirt, I wanted to do every single thing that everyone denied I could ever do. I wanted to show them, and I wanted to show you, too, Duo. As funny as it sounds, I wanted to be like you.
Look at you, how you were! You had friends everywhere.. Your life was rough, but so was mine. You say what I see, day by day, can't compare to what you see.. You're wrong. I've walked more than a mile in your skin, Shinigami, and I've seen death, I've seen hate, I've seen brutality and malice and loathing and disease. Do you think I'm immune? That I never cared? That I virtuously turned my soft cheek at such monstrosities because I couldn't handle it? That's partially true, I suppose.. I couldn't handle it, but I didn't avoid it. If you could do it, live with it, then I could.
When you laughed, it was pure laughter. Not like mine, that rang so falsely that it shamed choirs, a voice that chimed like a church choir to bring in the pathetic souls who dreamed of 'salvation', of an invisible savior. When you laughed, you wanted to laugh, and you didn't care about what others thought. I admired that about you, Duo, and I wish I could do that. But Quatre Winner doesn't do that, of course.. Heaven forbid he may -anger- someone! Damn, was I that misleading? I didn't want to go too far into the act.. What if I regretted it, like I do now? What if, one day, I realize that, Hell, I want to and do something that will shock the world.. I can't, you know. Not only would it cause me to lose all I worked toward, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to be like you, Duo, to just laugh because I feel like laughing, and smile when I feel like smiling. I have too many people watching my every move, watching every carefully placed action.. One 'out of character' moment, and there's something 'wrong' with me.
You grew up in a church, didn't you.. So was this how your Jesus felt? Did he ever want to just turn his back on those that followed them, to snap out at them and say, "To Hell with all of you, I'm not your God! Let me live my own life! Let me free, and never speak to me again. Don't beg me for a cure, don't ask of me comfort, don't live off my smiles, my nods, my actions.. Go to him. Stop trying to find the truth in a vessel." He didn't, did he? Nor will I. There's too much at stake, my angel of death, too much at stake.. I will gladly kill many things, but never dreams. Would you hate me if I shunned you, Duo? Would you turn your back on me from beyond your own grave, or curl up and refuse to believe? Half of me wishes that you would.. Isn't that funny? You said that, now that you're gone, people can turn to me for a laugh.. Duo, are you laughing now? Are you?
When I first met you, maybe it wasn't sparks.. My friendships never start as sparks, not anymore. I don't see it that way. I was a selfish child, and I had good reason to be; the only son amongst twenty-nine daughters is bound to be the subject of slight favoritism by his keeper. I always wanted more, more, more... And then I changed into what I am today, a pathetic, pale shadow of what I want to be. You were an escape, don't you see this? If I needed someone to support me, you were there. If I needed someone to laugh, because I couldn't bring myself to do that, for the sake of anyone, you filled in without even knowing. Always. But you didn't see what you did for anyone.. Did you know I watched you, sometimes, when you fell asleep, after you and the others took board with me and my family? I wondered how you could be so cheerful, for your dreams never were.. You tossed, turned, you murmured the strangest things, and it hurt me, because I couldn't just make it better. I couldn't quiet the mumblings of "..Solo...", or "Maxwell's little demon... Maxwell's fucking little demon.." I wanted to make you forget, so when you woke up after those nights, I'd be more than cheerful. I'd be a practical ray of sunlight, Allah forbid. God forbid. Shinigami forbid.. I don't know what to believe anymore. Is there even anything to believe in?
I bet you can't even see this.. You'll never hear the words I write spoken, nor will you read them with your own eyes. So why do I bother? Maybe it's just anger.. Hate.. Violence.. Or maybe I just feel like writing. A diary is supposed to be a window to the soul, like writing...
Look at me, Duo, I'm crying.
But where are you to make me laugh again?
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Warnings: *lightly* implied Shounen-ai smatterings, etc.. You know the drill. Duo/Quatre.. So cute, yet so unrealistic, right? Ah, yes, but this is fanfiction, where the fluffy minds of fangirls everywhere may run amuck. Finally, this 'fic didn't start as a suicide 'fic, so I never intended on having Duo die. It just.. happened that way. Ah, and no, Quatre is not going to commit suicide.. ]
Setting: "Sequel", I suppose, to Duo's suicide note. We're assuming that Duo actually went through with it. Quatre is now writing in his diary, though the entry starts to turn into a letter to Duo....
----
I'm crying, Duo.
Can't you see the tears, from where you are? This -is- what you wanted, right? This is what you hoped to achieve. You're no longer a scar, Duo.. You're not in the limelight anymore. You're not here to mar my 'perfect world', not anymore. Yes, we can all be happy now.. We can all laugh, and rejoice, and be at peace because you're gone, can't we? Shouldn't that be how it works?
Then why am I crying?
You wanted to be me, you said.. You did say that, didn't you? Not in words, of course.. But you wrote it. 'Writing is the language of the heart', I've been told. So is my heart crying, too? Was yours? This isn't even making sense.. You don't know what I'm writing, you can't see me. You're gone, you coward.. I bet you didn't expect that, eh, Duo? The God of Death can insult where he pleases, but Quatre, poor, innocent, -pure Quatre- would never do that. Why did you think that? You trapped me...
So you wanted to be the shining one, did you. You should've said so, because I wouldn't have minded.. I'm sick of it all. Do you know what it's like, being the chaste one, never to step outside the boundaries or purity and kindness? It's your fault, it's everyone's fault.. it's my fault. It's all my fault, but you don't care. You never really cared. Not even Trowa cared, and he... He was special. Is special. But he doesn't care about me, not the real me, because he doesn't even know the real me. I'm not innocent. I know it, why can't you see it? Curious, Shinigami? You said you never get curious, besides a couple exceptions.. me, and Heero. So are you curious? Because I'll tell, I'll tell it all.. I have nothing left to lose, except my soul, and I'm beginning to see how worthless it is.
I was once the noble one.. Weren't we all, way back when? I used to care only for others, I used to love the world, I used to scream for pacifism, on the inside.. But then I grew up, Duo. I grew up and saw that, in all reality, the world didn't care. The world would just keep on turning whether I fought, or died, and I couldn't prevent anything.. I could try my hardest, I could throw myself to the dogs, I could become the cushion that caught those that fell after they tried the same thing I had, but I couldn't do anything. Well, anything but smile. And laugh. And ignore my own insecurities, my own problems, my own self.. If I was going to change the world I had to support it, not push with it. If it wanted to break down the doors between peace and war, then I would follow the collective, but I would never throw myself with them. I'd be there with kind words, because I was useless, and pathetic. Weak.
So I'm innocent, am I? You seemed to think so... I'm almost sorry for letting you think that for so long. Almost. And it was 'my perfect world'.. No one sees its imperfection more than I do. This world belongs to me as much as it belonged to you, perhaps even less so. I was in the backdrops constantly, I never did anything with provocation, without thinking it through, because I was afraid. Afraid of starting something that I couldn't handle, something that would force me to lift my shield between caring and supporting, something that'd rip the fabric from the pillow of contentment and endless facades that I fall back on when need be. Do you know what it's like to have to carefully choreograph your every move? You counted on me. You all did, even Heero, the emotionless, but perfect soldier. Even he needed to know that someone was smiling as he destroyed, maimed, slaughtered.. I was that someone for him, as I was for you. I was that little bit of false hope, like a Sunday mass after a week of pain; maybe there was no God, but you didn't care when you were there, because it comforted you to think that all your toil, and all your suffering would pay off.
I hate being the golden one. Can you imagine that? All you say you ever wanted to be, and here I am, saying that I wasn't even that. I deserved every burden I ever shouldered, every death I had to stomach, ever pain I had to bite down.. Lies are things to confess and repent for, and I was living a lie, yet you never saw me once sit down and pray that my life would get better. In my mind, I was already too far gone for that. Prayer was for those who had souls worth saving. With me, all that was worth saving was the shell everyone called Quatre, the shell that smiled, the shell that comforted, and the shell that united. My soul didn't do that. It turned, it writhed, and it boiled.. I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream, I wanted to swear, I wanted to flirt, I wanted to do every single thing that everyone denied I could ever do. I wanted to show them, and I wanted to show you, too, Duo. As funny as it sounds, I wanted to be like you.
Look at you, how you were! You had friends everywhere.. Your life was rough, but so was mine. You say what I see, day by day, can't compare to what you see.. You're wrong. I've walked more than a mile in your skin, Shinigami, and I've seen death, I've seen hate, I've seen brutality and malice and loathing and disease. Do you think I'm immune? That I never cared? That I virtuously turned my soft cheek at such monstrosities because I couldn't handle it? That's partially true, I suppose.. I couldn't handle it, but I didn't avoid it. If you could do it, live with it, then I could.
When you laughed, it was pure laughter. Not like mine, that rang so falsely that it shamed choirs, a voice that chimed like a church choir to bring in the pathetic souls who dreamed of 'salvation', of an invisible savior. When you laughed, you wanted to laugh, and you didn't care about what others thought. I admired that about you, Duo, and I wish I could do that. But Quatre Winner doesn't do that, of course.. Heaven forbid he may -anger- someone! Damn, was I that misleading? I didn't want to go too far into the act.. What if I regretted it, like I do now? What if, one day, I realize that, Hell, I want to and do something that will shock the world.. I can't, you know. Not only would it cause me to lose all I worked toward, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to be like you, Duo, to just laugh because I feel like laughing, and smile when I feel like smiling. I have too many people watching my every move, watching every carefully placed action.. One 'out of character' moment, and there's something 'wrong' with me.
You grew up in a church, didn't you.. So was this how your Jesus felt? Did he ever want to just turn his back on those that followed them, to snap out at them and say, "To Hell with all of you, I'm not your God! Let me live my own life! Let me free, and never speak to me again. Don't beg me for a cure, don't ask of me comfort, don't live off my smiles, my nods, my actions.. Go to him. Stop trying to find the truth in a vessel." He didn't, did he? Nor will I. There's too much at stake, my angel of death, too much at stake.. I will gladly kill many things, but never dreams. Would you hate me if I shunned you, Duo? Would you turn your back on me from beyond your own grave, or curl up and refuse to believe? Half of me wishes that you would.. Isn't that funny? You said that, now that you're gone, people can turn to me for a laugh.. Duo, are you laughing now? Are you?
When I first met you, maybe it wasn't sparks.. My friendships never start as sparks, not anymore. I don't see it that way. I was a selfish child, and I had good reason to be; the only son amongst twenty-nine daughters is bound to be the subject of slight favoritism by his keeper. I always wanted more, more, more... And then I changed into what I am today, a pathetic, pale shadow of what I want to be. You were an escape, don't you see this? If I needed someone to support me, you were there. If I needed someone to laugh, because I couldn't bring myself to do that, for the sake of anyone, you filled in without even knowing. Always. But you didn't see what you did for anyone.. Did you know I watched you, sometimes, when you fell asleep, after you and the others took board with me and my family? I wondered how you could be so cheerful, for your dreams never were.. You tossed, turned, you murmured the strangest things, and it hurt me, because I couldn't just make it better. I couldn't quiet the mumblings of "..Solo...", or "Maxwell's little demon... Maxwell's fucking little demon.." I wanted to make you forget, so when you woke up after those nights, I'd be more than cheerful. I'd be a practical ray of sunlight, Allah forbid. God forbid. Shinigami forbid.. I don't know what to believe anymore. Is there even anything to believe in?
I bet you can't even see this.. You'll never hear the words I write spoken, nor will you read them with your own eyes. So why do I bother? Maybe it's just anger.. Hate.. Violence.. Or maybe I just feel like writing. A diary is supposed to be a window to the soul, like writing...
Look at me, Duo, I'm crying.
But where are you to make me laugh again?
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