Smells Like Teen Spirit
By Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 21
Moon, Turn the Tides...
gently, gently away

(x) X (x)

“Move already!” Duo moaned, twisting the tail of his braid impatiently around his fingers as he stared down at the chess board sitting on top of Nataku’s surfboard countertop. The little, carved black and white pieces were just beyond opening moves, when the game would start to get good. Meilan had been running the shop the night before when Heero had suddenly turned up at the door with a broken Duo slung over his back, asking if he could leave the longhaired boy there to spend the night. Meilan was more than happy the help out two friends in need, and was actually glad that she had Duo for conversation the next morning, as she was ready to slaughter herself out of boredom during those slow, early afternoon hours. Somehow, their talking had gotten around to games, and after finding themselves evenly matched at just about every card game known to mankind, Meilan had dug up an old chess set in the basement and brought it up to settle the score once and for all. Though the game had just started, Duo was getting the feeling like it would be a long, drawn-out one, one that would take them a few days to complete...

“Hold on, hold on,” Meilan waved Duo’s complaint off with one hand, the other one fingering the castle-topped crown of one of her rooks, contemplating whether or not she wanted to move it. “I’ve gotta focus in here.” She picked up the rook like she meant to castle her king, and then had second thoughts, returning it to its original square at the end of the board. “Don’t rush me!”

...Especially if she kept up this pace.... Duo groaned audibly and cupped a cheek in one hand as he rearranged himself on the stool he’d pulled up to the customer side of the counter, playing with one of the captured white pawns he’d taken from Meilan already. “Come on,” he begged her. “Before I die, please!”

“Just because you make your moves in less than a minute doesn’t mean that I have to,” Meilan answered glibly, still focused intently on the board as she picked up her same rook again. “If you don’t want to think about your moves, that’s fine, but if I do, then let me!”

“Not if it takes this long!” Duo whined, now trying to balance the piece on his nose as Meilan contemplated her rook. “And I do so think about my moves,” he added, feeling as if he needed to defend himself. “I just think about them faster than you do... and while I’m waiting for you to move! Move, for cripes’ sake!”

“In time, in time!” Meilan snorted. “Rome wasn’t built in a day!”

Duo rolled his eyes and cupped his cheek in his hand, toying with the pawn, making it dance it across his fingers. He started singing softly under his breath to pass the time, humming the beat and melody of the song between the phrases of lyrics. “I want you. I want you so ba~ad. I want yo~ou. I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad, it’s driving me ma~ad...”

Meilan paused for a minute to look up and smile at Duo. He could be a pain in the ass and quite thick at times, but he was still quite a lovable dork, and Meilan was glad that he was her friend.

“He’s so he~eavy!” Duo sang, tossing the piece up nonchalantly, snatching back in his hand on its downward fall as he belted out the low chorus.

“It’s ‘She’s so heavy’,” Meilan commented idly, not even looking up from the board this time as she drew the shapes of possible moves in the air above the ornate tops of the little chess pieces.

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I said,” Duo answered, looking at her queerly. He sang the bar again: “She’s so he~eavy!”

“That’s not what you sang before,” Meilan said, lifting up one of her bishops, contemplating the move.

“Yeah it is!” Duo insisted, furrowing his brows. “Go and make your move,” he said, snapping his fingers at the board.

“No,” Meilan returned, setting her bishop back down in its original square, deciding against the move, her fingers returning to her uncastled rook again. “You definitely said ‘He’s so heavy.’”

“Well so what if I did!?” Duo retorted, gripping his pawn tightly as he glared across the counter at Meilan, who was still paying more attention to the board than him. “It’s was a mistake, a miss-sing, if you will.”

“Yeah right,” Meilan chuckled quietly to herself, tapping the hat of that same bishop again. “Who’re you thinking of there, Duo, eh? Got a little crush on someone?” She flicked her black-eyed gaze up at him, her dark eyes glittering with some strange, sadistic light. She smirked at him and then returned to the chess game, much to Duo’s agitation.

“No! I don’t have crushes! You’re making a mountain out of a molehill!” Duo dropped the piece he had been playing with and threw his hands up in the air. As he bent down to pick up the felled pawn, he heard Meilan finally move something across the board. He replaced the pawn beside the board, noticing that even after all that indecisiveness, Meilan had ended up castling that rook anyway, much to his annoyance. He shrugged, slid his king’s bishop down a couple of squares to kidnap one of Meilan’s knights and set himself up for another long wait.

“Hmm,” Meilan stared down at the board again, unsure of what she should do. “What do I do now!?” She eyed her just-kidnapped knight forlornly as she reached over to pick up a glass of water that she had been idly sipping off-and-on throughout their game.

“Who would I possibly have a crush on!?” Duo pressed loudly, his sudden outburst surprising Meilan and making her jump.

She calmed herself with a few short breathing exercises and looked back down at the board, saying in a lazy drawl, “Oh I don’t know. Is that something you really need to ask?”

“Yes!!!” Duo exclaimed, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why don’t you just sit there and think about it while I make my move,” Meilan answered calmly. She was trying hard to keep her face indifferent, the same way Wufei would if he were playing such a game, though she found that a smirk still managed to toy with her lips.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiled at him briefly.

After about a minute or two of absolute, dead silence, Duo threw his arms up in defeat, leaping off his stool. “Criminy! This is painful!” he said, unable to keep all that pent-up energy contained much longer. “You’d be horrible at clock chess, you know that?”

“Well what do you suggest I do about it, Bobby FIscher?” Meilan snapped snidely, jerking the hand with the glass in Duo’s direction, the water flying out of the cup and completely drenching the front of Duo’s thin, white, button-up shirt. “Well you deserve it for trying to rush me,” she announced, setting the now-empty glass back down and returning her eyes to the chessboard, annoyed that she had been drawn out of her thought. “You’re the one who said we should play something other than cards! If you don’t like the way I play....”

“Look, dude,” Duo said, trying hard to level out his voice as he wiped his shirt, as if dusting at it would get rid of the water soaking his chest, “I’m gonna go downstairs and check out all the new jobs you got for me. Give me a shout when it’s finally my turn again.” He took a few steps away from the counter, before quickly shuffling back over. He glared down long and hard at the setup and then hurried over towards the stairs again. Just as he was about to go down them, he turned and said, “Hey, and no funny stuff, sister! I know exactly where all the pieces are!”

“Yeah,” she called back, distracted by the situation at hand. “You do that, Duo. Just know that all your talk isn’t going to save you from losing.”

“Says you!” Duo retorted, confident in his chess-playing abilities. “Let’s not forget who’s got most of their pieces taken, Melly-babe!” he said with a laugh as he started down the stairs, taking pride in the nickname he’d come up with for her. He liked assigning annoying, little epithets to his friends; it was just another one of his weird ways of showing that he cared, in a strange, roundabout sort of way.

“I thought I told you not to call me by that name, Maxwell!” Meilan’s voice echoed after him. “It’s Nataku! Got it? Na-ta-ku!”

She stopped shouting after him as soon as he had gotten downstairs. He figured that there would be some other task that would suddenly pop out at Meilan, distracting her from making her move and delaying his return; it had already happened a couple of times near the start of their game, and even a bit while they had been playing cards. Duo chuckled at that, remembering how amusing it had been to watch Meilan try and hide her hand while stuffing a wad of neatly folded tee-shirts that had fallen off their shelf back in place.

Letting out a wet shiver in the somewhat chilly basement, Duo clapped his hands over his arms, trying to warm himself as he paced in circles, his eyes shifting from his workbench to the many other distractions that lived down there. The weighty collection of ropy, metal-studded necklaces wound around his neck jangled with his every movement. He eventually heaved his pent-up energy aside and sat down on the stool beside his workbench and to stare blankly at the tools and parts littering it, interrupted once in a while by a random shiver. Duo’s eyes focused and blurred off-and-on at the mess of screwdrivers, wrenches, skate wheels and cranks, dotted here and there by some old bits of string, wire and other miscellaneous items. “Whoa, can’t focus,” Duo said to himself, standing up again and returning to his jittery pacing. “Good thing I’m putting that chess game on hold; I swear I’d do something dumb at the rate I’m going here....”

He wandered past the shelves nearby, pulling out a sample of everything stocked there, so he could see what it was better. But when he had cycled through all the inventory twice, he was still totally dazed. He found himself weaving through the familiar maze of surfboards, soon enough, stopping to examine each one. He had never learned to surf, though it was most certainly on his list of things to do before he died, right up there with hang-gliding, spelunking and deep-sea scuba-diving. “I don’t think Meilan would have time to teach me. She has so much else in her life that she needs to worry about; things that are far more important than the bum mechanic who just needs a new hobby,” he said quietly to himself, stroking a dark, crimson long board near the end of one aisle, the Hawaiian Island Creations girl and logo emblazoned on the shiny surface with bold, white lines.

“Not that it’s really in season or anything, but still, I want to learn.... Who else do I know that surfs?” he wondered aloud, noticing that he could just see that artist’s corner around the other side of the red board. Remembering how Wufei had jumped out and spazzed on him the last time he had been rooting around there automatically made Duo think of him. “Wufei? Hm, I dunno,” he pondered, a hand on each hip as he casually sauntered over into the mysterious protege’s nook, plopping down on the swivel chair that sat before the drafting table. “Naw, somehow I don’t think that it’s really his scene,” Duo decided, turning towards the table to leaf through some of the work there. There was a certain sense of organization and routine to the cluttered mess that covered the white tabletop, like whoever worked there had done so in the same way for quite some time.

“Besides,” Duo added to his previous musing about Wufei, “I somehow doubt that he’d even be able to surf at all if that ankle injury of his made him unable to play lacrosse.” Duo leaned a cheek in one palm, sighing, “Aw damn.... I really don’t wanna bother Meilan about something so... so....”

“...Trite?” a familiar, deep voice offered from behind.

Duo leapt in his seat and spun around, his eyes wide with terror, like he was staring at some grossly mutated monster from a horror film. “You!” he hissed at Heero as said blue-eyed teen leaned against the nearby surfboard rack, amused, right next to that red long board Duo had been admiring. The longhaired boy needed to work all his conscience to dispel the images conjured up from a certain dream that featured Heero with a surfboard and a wet suit. “What are you doing here?” he asked in an accusing tone, like he suspected Heero of murdering someone and stashing the bodies back there, last night’s happenings already edited and ready for a Maxwell retelling.

“I think that is a question I should be asking you,” Heero answered casually, his voice matching that amused glimmer that burned faintly in the dark recesses of his midnight blue eyes.

“Come on, even you know that Meilan hired me to do work for her,” Duo said, trying hard to be tough and callous as he spun back around in the swivel chair to face the desk, returning to his previous exploration of the artwork and materials littered across it. He sifted through some of the paintings, moving a watercolour of an old pocket watch and a half finished India-ink sketch aside, talking harshly to Heero all the while, the sound of his own voice somehow soothing. Awkward silences killed him, especially ones shared with the brooding, silently imposing Heero Yuy.

But then the shifting of one loose sketch halted all of Duo’s mindless chatter. His eyes wide and frozen with a strange icy sheen, he unearthed a loosely-fleshed out pencil sketch that looked like it had been drawn in haste to capture the moment, and then worked on further to develop the details from memory.

Details of me.... Duo’s mind whispered silently as he lifted the thick paper to closer examine the sketch more closely. He was dimly aware of Heero behind him, smirking at his back at something he found secretly entertaining. But that was only for a moment; he was far too distracted by the drawing. Me that one time I’d been trying to work on the Cooper, but got caught up in fantasizing about the blue-eyed bastard before he.... Duo’s mental voice trailed off, realizing that the only way for anyone to have known about that particular moment would have been if the artist had been standing there, watching the entire time. He let the picture flutter to the floor as his eyes wandered to one of the other pieces of artwork, a haunted look creeping into his expression as he focused on the signature: that ‘W’ with the line over it. Shit....

“What’s wrong, Maxwell?” Heero asked, his voice softer than usual, but still a bit rough around the edges. “Cat got your tongue?”

Duo said nothing at first, taking his time to slowly turn around again, staring at Heero with that same frightened expression before he finally managed to whisper: “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“It’s me? It’s me what?” Heero drawled lazily, acting like he had no idea what Duo was talking about, though it was pretty obvious he was just yanking his chain.

Duo got up and slowly started walking towards Heero, halting about halfway on his journey towards the brown-haired Japanese boy. “You’re the artist that Treize goes on and on about; the one who stashes paintings in his office,” Duo said, his voice still strained and hushed. “The whole time, it was you....”

Heero’s face remained blank, save for a slight quirk of one eyebrow and the slightly tweaked corner of his mouth. “Yes, Treize does seem to think I’m good at art,” he said simply, his voice flat and monotone, betraying nothing as he started into his nook and brushed past Duo. He stood by the drafting table, picking up the dropped paintings and replacing them in their proper spots, shuffling the various things on the tabletop around until they were placed back in their usual places. “It’s nice that he thinks so,” Heero sighed, more to himself. “He keeps me at it, and I’m glad he’s pushed my talents as far as he has. I like to draw.”

Duo, by this point, had turned around to face Heero’s back while he rearranged his work space, his mouth agape and his brows drawn together in a crease over his nose. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry, or happy, or annoyed or what. Here were two entities, an immensely talented artist and a jock from the ninth circle of hell, each from different sides of the tracks, turning out to be just one person instead! It was terribly confusing to Duo, and it was making his mind spin. He grabbed his still-sopping white shirt in his anxiety and fiddled with its little, clear, plastic buttons, his other hand toying with the many jangling necklaces clasped around his neck and dangling over his chest. He glanced up, his face hardening as his gaze fell upon Heero again; “What’re you staring at?”

“You,” Heero whispered, even quieter than before. For a second, it almost seemed like he had transformed into another person, which only confused Duo more. Heero took a few large, quick strides towards Duo, snatching up his hands and holding them still. “Your hands are... beautiful,” he said, taking on that gruff edge that Duo was more used to, which comforted the braided boy for some sick, deranged reason. When Heero was his usual, flat self, it made it easier for Duo to dislike him, which secured the way he’d always gone about life, something he was terrified of changing. “Don’t move,” he commanded gently (the tone was infuriating to Duo), guiding Duo to sit on another stool that sat in the corner.

Duo couldn’t help but squirm on the stool as he watched Heero walk over to a tall bookshelf hiding in the shadows that he hadn’t noticed before. Heero pulled a large sheet of paper off the top of a stack on the second shelf with a flutter. He plucked a tortillion, an HB and a 5B pencil and one of those moldable, squishy erasers from a clutter of empty coffee tins on the next level up. Grabbing a large drawing board that was stowed in the darkness next to the bookshelf, he then returned to his drawing table, settling on the swivel chair with the drawing board on his lap. He was silent and brooding as he positioned the paper on the board and reached for a large roll of masking tape that sat on the table. This silence was just how Duo was used to Heero being, but for some reason, it bothered him, and he wished Heero would say something. Anything!

Duo soon got his wish. Heero’s voice soon broke the empty quiet; “What do you think of me, really?”

Duo’s head snapped in Heero’s direction. The Japanese boy wasn’t even looking at him, and was rather more interested in taping his paper in place on the board. Duo was silent for a moment, watching as Heero bit the end of the tape and yanked the roll away from him, yanking a length of tape off of it with a sticky screech. Then, tape still dangling between his teeth, he would rip the piece off and press it onto the board, securing a side of the paper down. Duo watched him do this twice before he actually got the nerve to say anything. “Well,” he began, fidgeting with his buttons again, “I would have to say I rather dislike you.”

Heero stopped in the middle of ripping his last piece of tape, looking up at Duo with eyes that almost seemed to quiver with hurt. “Sou da,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question; he phrased it as just a statement, a simple fact of life.

Even though Duo had no idea in hell what it meant, the way Heero’s voice seemed to droop spoke to him more than the actual words did. For the first time, he felt bad about the way he’d been treating Heero for the past month.

“Doshite?” Heero muttered to himself. “Ore wa--”

“Heero, whoa,” Duo interrupted, holding up a hand. “English, please. We live in America, so speak American.”

“Aa, suima--” he caught himself and amended. “Sorry.” His eyes focused on Duo’s raised hand and he said in that gruff voice of his, the change coming out of seemingly nowhere. “And keep your hand on your shirt! No moving!”

“You sound like Wufei,” Duo grumbled, replacing his hands where they had been before, delicately poised as if they were in the process of unbuttoning his damp, white shirt. He paused for a moment, thinking about this sudden change of events, and then voiced a thought that suddenly popped into his mind: ”Why are you asking me these things?”

“I don’t know,” Heero answered, his voice quiet again, now that he had started to draw. His eyes kept flicking from Duo to the drawing board, where his hand and the HB pencil were skittering across the paper, roughing out a loose preliminary sketch. Duo felt fidgety again when he noticed that Heero’s eyes were more often on him than the paper.

“You’re making me feel awkward,” Duo said. “Can’t you put some music on or something?” he pleaded, his eyes flicking over towards the stereo system sitting by the hammock.

Heero laid down his pencil and blinked, dispelling the glazed expression his eyes had held while he’d been drawing. “Okay,” he said. “If that would make you sit still.” He set the drawing board down by the stool as he got up and went over to the stereo, kneeling beside it as he rifled through his stacks of CDs.

The drawing was facing Duo enough so the longhaired boy could see the picture from where he was sitting. Bastard, Duo thought, figuring that Heero had done that on purpose, just so he wouldn’t be tempted to get up and look himself. From what Heero had laid out on the page so far, it seemed like it was going to be yet another beautiful drawing. Goddammit, does he have to be perfect in everything he fucking does? Duo wondered, a little jealous.

[You can laugh; you can feel fine.
You can dance with a little twist.
Tell your pretty, red-haired babe
To forget that I exist.]

Heero stood up, casting Duo a look that clearly asked: “Are you happy now?” Then he sat down on his stool again, hefting the drawing board by the cut-out handle on one side and laying it across his lap again. Scooping up his drawing utensils, he returned to his work, his eyes glazing over like they had been before. Duo couldn’t help but add onto his previous thought: Does his face have to be so fucking perfect too?! Going back to actually think about what he’d said gave him shivers that ran up and down his spine, though whether they were because of fear or lust, for lack of a better word, he wasn’t quite sure. He decided to just ignore it and listen to the song Heero had put on instead, but even that didn’t offer him the usual asylum as the lyrics just brought Duo right back to square one.

[Can you see me in your bed at night?
Would you leave me on the side of the road?
Would you walk right up to me?
Would you talk to me?]

“Were you the one who asked Treize about me?” Duo asked suddenly, talking in order to distract himself from listening to the words of the song. “To model, that is,” he clarified when he didn’t get an immediate response.

“Hai,” Heero answered, not even looking up from his work when he answered this time. The one-word answer was good enough for Heero, it seemed, which meant it would have to be good enough for Duo too.

“Why?” Duo demanded, obviously not settling for any ambiguities.

“Why do you think?” Heero said, his eyes boring holes right through Duo’s soul, even though he only stopped to glance at him for barely a second. “Really, Duo, are you that stupid?” He paused, smiling secretly to himself as he added, his voice even softer than it had been before, “Or are you just fighting that hard?”

[I’m already asking,
Down on my knees.
I’m already begging,
Beggin’ you please....]

“Fighting what!?” Duo clamoured back loudly. He went on in a righteous, accusing tone, “Why do you always answer my questions with another question!? That’s so annoying!”

“Oh, and you’re not,” Heero deadpanned, focused intently on his drawing again.

“That’s right; I’m not!” Duo snapped back moodily, somehow managing to remain in the position Heero wanted, even as he yelled at him.

Heero just outright started laughing at him for his answer.

[Can you teach me how to fly?
Can you see I’m scared to die?
We’ve only just begun to crawl.
Can you teach me how to fight?
Will you keep me up all night?
Will you be there on the ground if I should fall...
...Fall for you....]

“What’s funny!?” Duo demanded of the still-chuckling Heero. He puffed his chest out a little and fingered his jewelry again; Heero said nothing about the movement and kept drawing, still not answering Duo’s question. “What do you think of me, Mr. Yuy?” he spat almost vehemently. “Why are you laughing?”

“You’re just... amusing,” Heero said evasively, still smiling a little. “I like watching you. It’s like you’re acting out your own life.”

“Oh, and that means what?” Duo drawled sarcastically. “I’m not acting out jack shit. If you knew me at all, you’d know that I’m not an actor!”

“Shows how well you know yourself then,” Heero muttered to himself, though it seemed to Duo’s ears that Heero had purposely said it loud enough for him to hear. He cleared his throat, like he was going to keep talking, his lips even parted around his first word, but then he thought better of it and said nothing, returning to his drawing in his comfortable silence.

“Stop acting like you know so damn much!” Duo ordered, shifting his weight on the stool. His hands were still fiddling incessantly with his buttons and necklaces, the only sign that underneath all his sharp complaints, he was really quite nervous, especially with this sudden turn of events.

“Same to you,” Heero said blandly.

[I could feel you like the spider’s sting,
Like a memory in my mouth.
I feel like the morning fell,
Like the bottom’s falling out. ]

Duo glared hard at Heero, watching him with a mixture of anger and confusion as he drew. Heero held the board up with his right hand, his left arm shifting and bending as his hand scurried across the paper, whittling out the final details of the drawing with his soft pencil. Even Duo had to admit that the short time it had taken Heero to do the drawing was impressive, and from what Duo had seen earlier, the picture was still quite good. He wondered what something Heero took his time on would look like and then quickly shook his head free of the thought, angry with himself that he had dared to think that Heero would be capable to doing something beautiful that Duo might have actually admired.

Heero turned around and laid his pencil on the table behind him. Standing up, he simply leaned the drawing board against one of the table’s front legs and wordlessly went about putting his supplies back on the bookshelf in the corner. Duo found himself staring shamelessly at the amazing vignette Heero had done. The drawing brought the most attention to Duo’s face and his hands as they toyed with his necklaces and shirt, the skill with which the lines were put upon the paper making the shirt seem just as wet as Duo’s actually was. The expression Heero had captured was one that somehow illustrated the many conflicting emotions whirling around inside Duo’s head, though how Heero had managed to do so was a mystery. Light, airy pencil lines and memories of the preliminary sketch flew underneath the dark, bold details done with the 5B pencil. Faint pencil strokes could barely be seen underneath the smudged shadows, gently smeared with fingers and the squishy eraser to make the drawing almost leap off of the paper.

[I could see what’s up there, above it all,
And you’re down in the valley below.
I could walk right up to you.
I could talk to you.]

[I’m already asking,
Down on my knees.
I’m already begging,
Beggin’ you please.]

“If you like it so much, Duo,” Heero said, masked half in the shadows of the corner as he turned away from the bookcase, “you can keep the drawing.”

Duo snapped out of his trance and returned his focus to Heero, his brows knitting together with annoyance again. The flare that rose up inside Duo seemed to almost spark out of habit instead of true anger towards the other boy, though it was true that Duo still felt bitterness towards him for his callous attitude. “I don’t want it!” Duo snapped before he could stop himself, sounding very much like a bratty child, punishing himself in an attempt to strike out at others.

Even Duo could make out the hurt expression that flickered across Heero’s face as he stepped out of the shadows and walked back to his swivel chair, looking sadly down at the picture as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with it. He quickly covered it up, fixing his usual scowl on his face as he looked back at Duo; “It’s okay,” he said. “I should have expected you wouldn’t want it, unappreciative as you are.”

“Bastard!” Duo shouted, leaping off the stool, fists balled up at his sides. He hated being told that he was ignorant, especially when it came to things like art. “I just don’t want it, okay? You don’t have to take everything so damn personally! Everyone already knows you’re so damn perfect, so you don’t have to go running around trying to prove it to everybody, ‘cause we all already know!”

“You don’t have to shout, Maxwell!” Heero snarled viciously. “We all know you’re here! No need to announce your presence everywhere you go!” He took a few steps towards Duo, but stumbled a bit on his way over; he caught himself from falling over by grabbing the back of the swivel chair.

“W-what are you on now?” Duo stammered, a little frightened by this sudden display of clumsiness from Heero. Heero’s not allowed to stumble! his mind screamed at him, sounding alarms left and right. Now that Duo looked closer at Heero, he did look a rather unnatural shade, a little too much on the ashen white side to be safe, Duo thought. “Are you sick?”

“Just... a little tired,” Heero managed, forcing a small smile that was painful even to look at. He gripped the chair tighter and forced himself to stand up straight, leaning heavily on it. “Yesterday was rough.” He barely said the words when his hand slipped off the back of the chair and he passed out.

“Shit!” Duo panicked, falling to his knees by Heero’s crumpled form on the ground. He tried slapping Heero awake, but that did nothing to bring Heero around. It was about then that Duo really started to get worried. “Meilan!” he called out, though his voice was far too strangled for it to be heard much farther than the basement. He tried again, screaming her name at the top of his lungs: “MEILA-A-A-AN!!!”

[Can you teach me how to fly?
Can you see I’m scared to die?
We’ve only just begun to learn to crawl.
Can you teach me how to fight?
Will you keep me up all night?
Will you be there on the ground if I should fall...
...Fall for you....
...Fall for you....]

(x) X (x)

a/n: Heh, there it is: the chappy you all have been waiting for! I’m am so... so ridiculously sorry for the delay! But you see, my computer is in the shop for the week (dunno how I’m functioning). Thankfully, I backed up the story, so everything’s okay. Today was just the first time I had access to another Mac.

Ah, something very important I should mention is that this week is the 10th year anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death. I had wanted to post yesterday, on the day he died, but I never got a chance to. The 8th is the day they found his body. (On another note, yesterday is also the two year anniversary of the death of Alice in Chains Laine Staley, another good band. He died of a heart-attack.)

Song credits go to Black Lab for insert song and the chappy title is a Hendrix song.

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