Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, blah blah blah, but you already knew that.
Until My Dying Day
Warnings: Angst, Suicide
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Wufei was poised at the kitchen stove, creating a dinner delicacy. Tension concentrated itself upon his features because of Duo. His anger had subsided, but worry had trickled in to replace it. He hadn't made and appearance all afternoon, not even a sound of his music had been heard.
"It is none of my concern," Wufei pleaded with himself, "As long as he is out of my way, why should I care what he does with his time?"
Why, really, should he care? Why was he feeling these inexplainable emotions towards the boy? His thoughts wouldn't pause to linger elsewhere. Worry streamed through his mind like a slight, silver, spring soaking all of his thoughts with Duo. The boy was perfect, why did he hate himself so much? What was he trying to prove?
"I wish I could contain my anger for him, yet I should not feel so strongly about him..."
Duo's face flashed into his active mind, pushing a trace of a smile onto his lips. He sighed amidst his confusion, tired of searching for unexposed answers. He suddenly jumped, realizing his hand and come to rest on the overheated stove.
"Shit!" Duo sat up quickly, regaining consciousness, and his head came in hard contact with the bed corner, hard enough to nearly make him black out again. When he had lost consciousness in the first place, he had dragged the crisp, white, fresh-smelling sheets down with him, and now the sheets were bloodstained where his pale fist was clenched. Slowly, he opened his hand and gazed upon his palm.
"An insignificant amount of damage" he told himself, though he had sliced his flesh deeper then he had meant to. His hand, covered in dry blood, hurt like hell, but not as bad as most of the other cuttings he had done.
"Good. Enough to keep me in agony. I deserve to suffer."
He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, staring into his own cold eyes, as cold as death. The pierced him, though they belonged to him the entire time. His eyes held firm on the penetrating mirrored eyes, the eyes that seemed to mock him, those eyes wanted to send him to Hell, here and now. Those eyes saw what Wufei saw; his carelessness, his uselessness. Duo couldn't bear to see those eyes staring at him another moment. Bringing his fist forward with a sound like a whip, he slammed his hand into his reflected face, and a crack split to the base and part of the mirror shattered. Now the mirror reflected what he was on the inside; broken.
A quiet knock on the door. Wufei. He was the only other one in the house. Hurriedly, Duo tried to cover up his bloody palm, ignoring the sheets and the shards of the broken mirror, he opened the door. Wufei's perceptive eyes absorbed a lot from the scene before him. Blood staining the sheets and the mirror shattered, he looked down at Duo's now covered hands, then to his face, pretending to not see the mess before him.
"I've cooked dinner, would you like to eat with me?"
"Sure," Duo voiced with a false energy. His mask was secured to its rightful place. He toppled out of the room with a light bounce under his feet, ignoring the fact that he knew Wufei had seen. He knew that the boy had a quick mind, but he wasn't going to shine a light through the darkness, just to help Wufei into his pile of personal problems. Wufei lingered in Duo's doorway, minutes after the other had plodded down the steps, surveying the madness, trying to piece it all together, which was about as easy as piecing together the broken mirror.