Living the Nightmare



Heero felt the sheets rip across skin as he was jolted from peaceful slumber. For a split second he forgot where he was, a sharp cry disorienting him.

-You scream, waking from a nightmare


Trowa. He was in bed with the object of his desire for years now. That should have comforted him, let his body slump back to its relaxed state, but instead he was fumbling about, trying to clutch at the sheets. Apparently Trowa had decided to hog them all, leaving Heero subjected to the breeze from the window. Reaching out, he grabbed at the other boy's shoulder for the satin sheets. Suddenly, Trowa threw his arm out, hand blindly groping at Heero's face, landing on his cheek and shoving hard.

"Don't touch me," he said in an eerily strange voice.

"Trowa! What is wrong with you?!" Heero sputtered automatically, shocked at what had just happened. His words pierced the calm of night uneasily, harsh and all too loud. Silence ensued.

"Trowa?" Heero repeated, in a softer, more controlled manner. Why wasn't he responding?

It was then that Heero heard a noise he never wished to hear again for all eternity. Barely audible, he could only hear it after straining to see if Trowa was making any movement whatsoever.

His lover was whimpering.

A pathetic, almost gibberish-like whimper was coming from Trowa. Completely unprepared for this response, Heero was at a loss for a plan of action once in his life. He had always thought something like this would occur someday, but he could never envision it. Cautiously, he moved towards the the cowering boy, feeling the sheets lightly so as to guide him.

"Trowa? It's me Trowa. It's me, Heero. Trowa, look at me." he said, making sure to say everything slowly, for that seemed to be the best thing to do.

A shift occurred in the darkness, the satin shuffling hesitantly.

"Trowa, come to me. It's ok. I...love you. I won't let anything hurt you....It's me Trowa, it's Heero."

He felt fingertips touching his face briefly, then his thigh.

"It's ok Trowa."

The usually stoic boy crawled towards his lover, as if each inch closer pained him. Sitting upright, supported by pillows, Heero felt Trowa's tense body slide up his until the other boy's head rested on his shoulder. He threw his arms around Heero, holding tight. In turn the pilot cradled his head tenderly. Then the quiet sobs began.

- When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
hard,


Why did this have to happen.....Why.....
He had once said, "When everything goes insane, I fight only for myself." Whole-heartedly he wished to follow that motto. But he couldn't. Not with Trowa. He'd fallen in love with him, and cursed himself everyday for the blatant weakness. He thought it best to follow his emotions outwardly just once, not for honor, not for the colonies, not for anyone but himself. He felt he shared a deep bond with the boy, further than simply the quiet they shared with others. He'd tried so hard to care about Trowa like a real person would, not like a programmed machine. The majority of the time he got little in return. Stares, touching every once in a while, quiet declarations of love in a monotone voice. But he knew Trowa needed him. That's why he stayed. That's why he allowed his feelings to be seemingly toyed with, played the mind games that Trowa wanted, settled for a simple smile when he poured his heart out to his lover. Trowa couldn't help it, he knew. He knew he couldn't help it, he knew it wasn't Trowa's fault......He knew Trowa needed him. He'd stay forever, take whatever Trowa wanted him to take.

- as if clinging could save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.


Oh he'd heard what the others had to say. Heero remembered the conversations as if they had happened yesterday. When they had announced they were moving in together, there were smiles all around. People wanted to see the two dark pilots find happiness with one another, like it was some quaint fairytale. Strong and valiant Heero was sweeping an introverted and mysterious Trowa off his feet, across the threshold to a new and happy life away from war. Wufei had smiled politely and felt compelled to shake their hands. Catherine nearly wept with joy. Quatre and Duo said their congratulations at first too. Until they managed to get Heero alone. Both of them had hunted him down, made sure they got to have a "friendly" talk with him.

Quatre had invited him to tea, saying there was a flute he wanted Trowa to have for the apartment that Heero could bring back. They were sitting in one of the many lavish rooms in the Winner estate, Quatre sipping tea from an elegant teacup, holding the saucer in his other hand in the correct manner, while Heero let his tea go cold. Idle chat was made before Quatre finished his tea, took a deep breath, set his fine china down, and placed a hand on Heero's.

"Heero," he began in an unsteady manner, "I want to talk with you about Trowa. It pleases me very much that you to have decided to start a serious relationship, and I love you both as good friends. You know that, don't you?"

".......Yes."

"Well I do Heero, and that's why I want to have this talk. I am afraid that maybe you're getting into a relationship that could prove to be damaging to both of you. I'm afraid Trowa won't give you back what you put into the relationship." He paused, in a way that gave the appearance that the speech was being ripped from him physically."He's a wonderful man, don't get me wrong, but.....I know this is taking a lot of effort on your part, and I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all."

It was at that point that he had averted his eyes, and his fingers had dug into Heero's hand lightly. What had been shared between Quatre and Trowa in the past he was uncertain of, but thinking about it made him extremely uncomfortable. Politely, albeit a bit icily, he had excused himself, and stood up to leave as Quatre made sighs of frustration.

He could take care of himself and Trowa, even if Quatre hadn't been able to.

Then there was Duo. It had started innocently enough, Duo "bumping" into him while he was taking a walk, in only a manner Duo could pull off. They ended up walking together through a park, sitting on a bench, admiring nature and chatting. And then, like some carrion bird that had been circling above food and was ready to descend then feast, Duo changed the topic to Trowa.

"So Heero-kun, you've got yourself a steady guy, eh? You know, somehow I never figured you were, well I thought you were more like Wufei, ya know? Anyways, are you sure he's right for you? Two, um, negatives don't make a positive or something. Well yeah, they do now I think about it, but you can't seriously be thinking about being with Trowa, can you?"

Heero had glared back, anger beginning to flare up.

"Listen Heero, he's not right for you," Duo said in a deathly serious tone, eyes boring into his counterpart's.

"You're wasting your time. You can have any guy you want. Trowa shouldn't be it. He's.....he.....Heero the boy's dead!!! There's not anything behind those eyes, there's no feelings in his words!" He spat in an emotional outburst. "You have people who care about you a lot; I've seen the way you have to force him to take your hand when you walk together. That's not love Heero, he can't ever love you.....He..he can't love you like I do!" Tears fell from Duo's eyes as he spoke those heated words.

"Duo!! Baka! Shut up!!! You don't know what you're talking about. He loves me!"

"Fine! Fine! Go off with him dammit! I don't need you Heero! You can reject me all you want, but he'll never love you! Make your life miserable!!!" He had screamed at the other boy, then wiped his eyes hastily and walked off as fast as he could.

And of course Heero knew he was right. Duo didn't need Heero. Trowa needed Heero.

But Trowa wasn't dead. Duo was wrong. Heero told himself that repeatedly after that incident. There was something inside of his lover, there was still a flame within him. He got to witness it once every blue moon, he knew it was there. No one else saw it, none of them cared enough about Trowa to see it. Heero cared.

- I have heard you tell
the sun, don't go down, I have stood by
as you told the flower, don't grow old,
don't die.


Trowa was human, he didn't care what anybody said. Look at the way he was breaking down.
Breaking down......
Abruptly brought back to reality by that thought, Heero realized that he'd been making a shushing noise and stroking his boyfriend's hair incessantly for the past 20 min. His shoulder was wet with Trowa's tears, and although the boy had stopped crying, he was still shaking periodically.

He had feelings. Fuck Duo.

And fuck whoever did this to Trowa. He couldn't describe the hatred rising within him....

-I would blow the flame out of your silver cup,


The man he loved was in pain. The man he wanted to spend eternity and beyond with was in such indescribable pain....

-I would suck the rot from your fingernail,


What had happened to him, what had those bastards done to him....

-I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light,


Now Heero was shaking, clutching onto Trowa in a manner that smothered his beautiful green eyes.

-I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones,


Trowa was his child now, he wanted to protect him more than anything, throw himself in front of any danger, any harm, that wanted to get its hands on that pale delicate skin...

-I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body,


He wanted to find those animals, no, the inhumanely sick beings, that did this to his baby, tear into them,

-I would alchemize the ashes of your cradle back into wood,


rip into them with his bare fingers,

-I would let nothing of you go, ever,
until washerwoman
feel the clothes fall asleep in their hands,


scream at them, hack into them,

-and hens scratch their spell across hatchet blades,


watch their blood splatter across the floor, cover the sky,

-and rats walk away from the cultures of the plague,


tear out their organs, torture them,

-and iron twists weapons toward the true north,


rip out their eyes and shove them down their throats,

-and men feel as free on the earth as fleas on the bodies of men,


teach them what it's like to be in real pain, show them what their hormones did to an innocent child....

-and lovers no longer whisper to the presence beside them in the dark, O corpse-to-be...


Keep them alive and make them suffer for all their life, let them have constant nightmares, let the nightmares control their lives....

Heero's breathing was now ragged and uneven, his face hot, heart beating fast. He wanted more than anything to make them pay, even the if the privilege was granted by taking his life. His gaze went to the cause of all of this, his Trowa. His precious little clown, the scared boy he cared so much for that tended to the lions, entertained the victims of war....Trowa had feelings, Trowa needed him. He needed Heero to support him, to cater to his special needs.

Trowa was calm now, his mentality restored, body relaxed. Heero felt so close to him . They had shared such a personal moment....He let out a contented sigh, wondering if this meant that Trowa trusted him now. Things would be different, Duo and Quatre would choke on their words. Trowa needed him, and they loved one another. Gently he hugged the other pilot, full of warmth all of a sudden, vicious rage drained and leaving him tired. A feeling he hadn't experienced since the beginning of their relationship overwhelmed him - the urge to cuddle.

The perfect soldier wished to cuddle.

Heero, so lost in his own thoughts once again, didn't feel his lover begin pulling away.

"Trowa?"

"Yes?" he replied in his usual monotone, casually rolling over and away from Heero.

He had hoped.....his heart fell......but Trowa needed him.....

"Nothing.....love."

The air was thick with tension, longing, too many natural and alienating feelings pulsating, supressing them both.

".............................Go back to sleep Heero."

- And yet perhaps this is the reason you cry,
this is the nightmare you wake screaming from:
being forever
in the pre-trembling of a house that falls.




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Part Two