*
I do not know if it will stop at bone.
This knife, cuts deeper than the deepest part,
I know that it can rend the soul within my bones.
-- 'A Season of the Flesh' by Heath Rat Su
*
The first cut is always the worst.
In the brief moment of anticipation, before
the coolness of the blade actually kisses the skin and the first
line of crimson wells up to trail over a pale wrist, into the cup of
a palm. That hurt is worse in the mind than it could ever be in
reality.
The next cut loses something. Not as sharp,
nor as sweet, the fresh page of the skin has already been written on
in blurry scarlet ink and by the fourth cut it's finished, all the
tension seeping away and all that's left is to wait for the bleeding
to end before hiding the cuts away in neatly wrapped bandages, until
they heal. Until the next time.
Wrinkling his nose at the sharp scent of the
antiseptic, Duo carefully cleaned the shallow cuts he'd made, wiping
the distinct lines of red into milky pink before gently patting his
wrist dry.
Sitting in his bed, Heero was doing whatever
it was he did his laptop, but he looked up occasionally, watching
Duo's progress with a strange expression. Not quite of disgust, but
something that Duo couldn't place.
Shrugging mentally, Duo wound the long strip
of gauze around his wrist, making a tidy little white package around
his wrist. He rubbed his fingers over it lightly, testing it for any
bleed through before he was satisfied, unrolling the long sleeve of
his school uniform shirt and buttoning it over the bandage.
"Why do you do that?" Heero asked suddenly,
pausing in his typing.
Duo shrugged, hopping off his bed to dig
through the stack of papers on his desk. They had history class in a
few minutes, and even if they weren't staying at this school very
long they didn't need the extra attention that failing students were
wont to draw. Duo made a face, studying his homework. If this was
easy to him, then the superman over there was probably going out of
his mind with boredom.
Glancing back at the superman in question, Duo
realized that Heero was still staring. He shrugged again before
finally saying, "It feels good."
"How can hurting yourself possibly feel good?"
Duo snorted. "I don't mean it feels good like
that. Yeah, the cuts hurt but it makes me feel better inside. This
is something I can...control, I guess. It's mine," he paused,
searching for words to explain. He picked up the straight razor he'd
used, absently wiping it clean before tucking it into his back
pocket. "People can hurt me and things can hurt me and I can't stop
them. But I can still hurt myself too, if I want to, I guess. No one
can take that away from me."
He'd wondered about it himself, from time to
time. It wasn't that he wanted to kill himself, it was actually the
furthest thing from his mind. But there was something about it,
about pain that you could cause yourself, or stop, anytime you
wanted to. Something about the sight of your own blood, drawn by
your own hand. Duo shrugged again, more to himself than to Heero
that time.
"And what happens if someday you cut too
deep?" Heero asked, his voice still as calm and even as it ever was.
Probably trying to integrate this new knowledge on human nature into
his little mental databanks, Duo thought sourly.
"Eh, I'm not going to cut too deep," he
replied cheerfully, unrolling his sleeve again. "I've been doing
this a long time." He peeled back the bandage and showed Heero what
lay beneath it.
Silvery scars ran along his wrist, intermixed
with ones still pink and healing, like pale garlands wound around
his arm and intermixing with garish lines of rust that he had just
drawn. Heero studied them as intently as if they were hieroglyphics,
a single finger poised over them as if to touch.
"Why do you only cut your left wrist?" Heero
asked, softly "You don't trust your left hand to make cuts?"
Duo rolled his eyes. Trust Heero to
automatically assume it was about weakness. Grinning cheekily, Duo
ran his tongue lightly over his teeth before he answered. "Nah, it's
because I jerk off with my right hand."
The almost touch of Heero's finger switched so
abruptly to a sudden, painful grip that Duo didn't have time to
react, finding himself slammed into the wall on the other side of
the room, pinned by Heero's weight against his own. A sudden flash
of silver and he saw Heero had pinched the razor from his pocket,
the cool, sharp edge resting just above the cuts he'd made only
minutes before. "And what happens if I take away your control of
this? What if I cut you?"
Duo never flinched, let his wrist go lax in
Heero's grip. "Is that what you want? Go ahead. You won't be the
first person who hurt me, and you won't be the last." He laughed,
unable to help the bitter edge that crept into it. "What are you
going to teach me, Heero? That people can hurt me, no matter what I
do?" He shook his head slightly. "I've known that all along."
He waited for it, the first delicate edge of
pain as the blade pushed through the upper layer of skin, making its
way to the eager blood pulsing below. Closing his eyes, he let his
head fall back against the wall, waiting, the growing agony of
anticipation worse than any he'd ever inflicted on himself.
The sudden clatter of metal on the floor tiles
startled him, but before he could do more than blink the heat of
Heero's mouth covered his own. Hot, harsh pressure, a sharp contrast
to the softness of the tongue probing between his lips.
He felt Heero drop his wrist, Heero's hands
sliding instead to cup his face. His own hands moved to rest limply
against Heero's arms, stunned into pliancy as Heero's tongue thrust
against his own, promising things that Duo would have never guessed
that Heero even knew about.
His knees buckling, Duo slid down the wall,
one of Heero's hands pushed into his hair, gripping tightly to hold
him up, as if to prevent him from escaping. As if he could.
As if he even wanted to.
His limp grip on Heero tightened until he was
clutching the other boy against him, his own tongue flickering out
to taste the sweet, dark heat of Heero's mouth and he could smell
the cloying scent of the cheap shampoo that Heero used, taste the
dark bitterness of the black coffee Heero usually drank.
The frantic touches lightened, slowly,
imperceptibly turning to the most delicate of touches as Heero
finally pulled back but not away, instead lifting Duo's wrist again
so that he could rest his cheek against the still smooth skin below
his elbow, lips tracing a path upward to press gently against the
fresh cuts.
"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured. "I
don't want to control you."
For once in his admittedly not-that-long
lifespan, Duo found himself at a loss for words, not even
recognizing this boy as the one he'd come to this school with.
Heero lifted his head, piercing him with eyes
that were suddenly too blue to even look natural, like this was some
kind of otherworldly being who had taken over Heero Yuy for just a
time.
With the way Heero was acting, Duo could
almost believe it was true.
'Don't do it again.' The words shone in
Heero's eyes as clearly as if he'd spoken them aloud, begging,
pleading with him and Duo dimly wondered at what he'd done. A few
simple lines drawn into his skin and he'd woken a Heero that he
hadn't even known existed.
"Don't ask me to lie to you." Aloud, faintly
terrified of this Heero, but still compelled to honesty, even now.
Heero sighed heavily; his hands dropped as he
finally backed away and released the other boy. "Then don't make me
watch."
Duo nodded, slowly, and they stared at each
other, neither wanting to break eye contact.
The shrill sound of a bell and they both
jumped slightly, turning in unison towards the clock.
"Shit! We're late for class!" Duo snatched his
books off the desk, his flight out the door halted by Heero's hand
on his arm.
"Promise?" Heero asked softly, eyes still
shining with strange vulnerability.
"Yeah," Duo said, smiling a little in spite of
himself. Figuring fair was fair, he leaned forward and gave Heero a
loud, smacking kiss on the lips before pulling back again, and
grinning.
"Yeah, I promise. Now, come on, spandex boy,
we're late for class!"
He ran out the door, glancing back over his
shoulder in time to see Heero actually smile at him, before he
reached for his own books. Tearing down the empty hallway, Duo
suddenly wished he'd made Heero promise too.
'Don't hurt me,' he asked silently to the
footsteps that were coming up behind him. 'Don't control me.' He
knew all about Heero now and he knew himself, too, and he knew
without a single word that Heero could cut him deeper than any
razor.
-finis
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