Late Night Musings
Oct. 26th, 2001 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windandwaterSo... Trowa just slapped me with a songfic bunny. Trowa... if you're listening... just because Duo and Heero aren't here doesn't mean you can atack me with Unauthorized Bunnies! This is annoying! But, of course, the bunny is so damn angsty and slightly dark and really really YUMMY. Damn Trowa! I just had to write what I was seeing (like an outline, since this is more like a vidfic than a songfic).
Artist: System Of A Down
Song: Chop Suey!
Pairing: 3x4
Aoi-chan... is this enough bleeding angst for you?
------------------------------
Wake up (wake up)
[Trowa wakes up in his bed alone]
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
[He stumbles out of bed and through the trailer he lives in with the Circus]
Hide the scars to fade away the shake up
(Hide the scars to fade away the shake)
[Trowa looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, water dripping off his freshly washed face. In his reflecion, he notices a pale band of skin on one of his fingers. He brings his hands away from his face and glares at the tan line. He washes his hands again, as if he can scrub his skin to an even color]
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Trowa walks by the small front table in his "living room." A letter sits propped up against a small vase. The envelope is made of expensive material. Trowa looks at it for a long time, sipping his coffee]
Here you go create another fable
[Trowa reads the letter. His eyes widen as he reads it and his face tightens in a semi-frown.]
(You wanted to)
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
[Trowa is applying his clown makeup]
(You wanted to)
Hide the scars to fade away the shake up
[Trowa pulls on his clown costume, clearly avoiding the full length mirror in front of him]
(You wanted to)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
(You wanted to)
[Trowa glances at a small side table where there is a framed picture of himself and Quatre. His fingers skim across the glass and, after some hesitation, he lays the frame facedown on the table]
I don't think you trust... in... my...
[Trowa does a swan dive off the trapeze. His eyes are closed and there is a smile across his lips]
Self-righteous suicide
[Catherine screams]
I... cry... when angels deserve to... DIE
[Trowa opens his eyes and grabs onto the swinging bar, easily avoiding his brush with death]
Wake up (wake up)
[Trowa wakes up in his bed]
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
[He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, etc]
Hide the scars to fade away the shake
[Trowa walks past the side table with the picture frame still flat against the surface]
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Trowa walks past the coffee table with the opened letter crumpled into a ball on it]
Here you come... need another fable
[Trowa opens the door to his trailer, the sunlight streams in. Quatre is standing just outside, smiling. Trowa stops abruptly, staring]
(You wanted to)
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
[Clothes are hitting the floor left and right. Quatre and Trowa are all over each other and it is dark. From the appearance of the room, it is obvious they are in one of Quatre's estates]
(You wanted to)
Hide the scars to fade away the shake
[Quatre's hands dig into Trowa's shoulders as the other man pounds into him. Trowa's back is littered with similar scars from Quatre's passion]
(You wanted to)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Quatre is asleep, snuggled against Trowa's chest. Trowa blinks in the dim light and turns his head to the side. He notices that on the nightstand is a familiar framed picture of the two of them. Trowa stares at it for a long time]
(You wanted to)
[Morning. Trowa and Quatre are both awake and sharing a shower. On the nightstand, the framed picture is laying facedown]
I don't think you trust... in... my...
[Trowa is in the bathroom. It is another day. He looks past the bathroom door. Quatre is struggling into his suit]
Self-righteous suicide
[Trowa looks down at his hands. The pale band of skin is still apparent on his finger and he clenches his fist]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa's head snaps up from his study of his hands. He looks past the bathroom door again. Quatre says something and then rushes off before Trowa can acknowledge him]
In my self-righteous suicide
[Trowa winces and reaches to his shoulder. His fingers come back lightly stained with blood. He twists around so he can look at the scars across his back]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa wanders out of the bathroom in a daze. He collapses on the bed and pulls the picture into his hands and stares at it for a long time]
In my self-righteous suicide
[The picture frame is face up this time. Next to it is a throwing knife. It is obviously sharp and the blade shines in the light. Trowa is staring at both of the items, emerald eyes darting back and forth between the two]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa's head snaps up. He hurriedly hides the knife, slams the picture frame facedown and stands up. Quatre comes into the room, immediately capturing Trowa in a passionate kiss. Trowa's free hands fumbles and he lifts the picture frame face up]
Father (mother)
[Trowa smiles at Catherine's image on the vidscreen. He says something reassuring and she nods]
Father (brother)
[Trowa and Quatre walk together through a park. The chat together lightly and smile often]
Father (fucker)
[Trowa and Quatre are tangled together in the bed, sheets and blankets have been tossed every whichway in their hurry]
Father (aaahh)
[Trowa throws his head back and screams Quatre's name. As he collapses to the bed, he looks at the picture frame, which is still standing face up. Quatre snuggles against him and Trowa embraces him, closing his eyes]
Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit
[Trowa is staring at the picture frame and the knife again. Quatre comes home. The knife is hidden and the frame stays up]
Father, into your hands, why have you forsaken me?
[Quatre places a VERY chaste kiss against Trowa's lips and rushes off to work. Trowa throws a glance at the drawer where the knife is hidden]
In your eyes, forsaken me
[Trowa looks into Quatre's marine eyes and frowns. Quatre is busy reading some papers and doesn't notice Trowa's unrest. Trowa reaches across the bed and puts the picture facedown]
In your thoughts, forsaken me
[Trowa watches as Quatre talks with some businesspeople, easily laughing and flirting with some socialites]
In your heart, forsaken... me
[Trowa lays in the bed -- alone -- Quatre has not come home from his meetings yet]
Oh... trust in my... self-righteous suicide
[Quatre comes home, looking for Trowa, who hasn't answered his call. He enters the bedrrom and freezes. Trowa stares at him, frozen. Quatre's eyes widen. He sees the knife in Trowa's hands and automatically assumes the worst. Trowa is going to commit suicide]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa closes his eyes as Quatre wraps his arms around his chest. Quatre is sobbing and promising ANYTHING to keep Trowa from killing himself. Trowa's grip on the knife tightens]
In... my... self-righteous suicide
[Trowa shoves Quatre away from him. The knife flashes up. Marine eyes widen in horror. The knife flashes down. Blood splatters everywhere]
Why cry when angels deserve to die
[Trowa stands, blood dripping from his face in a grisly parody of his clown makeup. He looks down at the knife in his hands, blood slipping from the blade. Because of the blood, Trowa can no longer see the pale band of skin across his finger. His emerald eyes are filled with a sort of unholy glee as he looks past the blade to the figure of Quatre's body lying in a pool of blood. Reaching over, Trowa lifts the picture frame face up, his fingers leaving a smear of blood across the picture.]
Artist: System Of A Down
Song: Chop Suey!
Pairing: 3x4
Aoi-chan... is this enough bleeding angst for you?
------------------------------
Wake up (wake up)
[Trowa wakes up in his bed alone]
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
[He stumbles out of bed and through the trailer he lives in with the Circus]
Hide the scars to fade away the shake up
(Hide the scars to fade away the shake)
[Trowa looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, water dripping off his freshly washed face. In his reflecion, he notices a pale band of skin on one of his fingers. He brings his hands away from his face and glares at the tan line. He washes his hands again, as if he can scrub his skin to an even color]
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Trowa walks by the small front table in his "living room." A letter sits propped up against a small vase. The envelope is made of expensive material. Trowa looks at it for a long time, sipping his coffee]
Here you go create another fable
[Trowa reads the letter. His eyes widen as he reads it and his face tightens in a semi-frown.]
(You wanted to)
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
[Trowa is applying his clown makeup]
(You wanted to)
Hide the scars to fade away the shake up
[Trowa pulls on his clown costume, clearly avoiding the full length mirror in front of him]
(You wanted to)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
(You wanted to)
[Trowa glances at a small side table where there is a framed picture of himself and Quatre. His fingers skim across the glass and, after some hesitation, he lays the frame facedown on the table]
I don't think you trust... in... my...
[Trowa does a swan dive off the trapeze. His eyes are closed and there is a smile across his lips]
Self-righteous suicide
[Catherine screams]
I... cry... when angels deserve to... DIE
[Trowa opens his eyes and grabs onto the swinging bar, easily avoiding his brush with death]
Wake up (wake up)
[Trowa wakes up in his bed]
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
[He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, etc]
Hide the scars to fade away the shake
[Trowa walks past the side table with the picture frame still flat against the surface]
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Trowa walks past the coffee table with the opened letter crumpled into a ball on it]
Here you come... need another fable
[Trowa opens the door to his trailer, the sunlight streams in. Quatre is standing just outside, smiling. Trowa stops abruptly, staring]
(You wanted to)
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
[Clothes are hitting the floor left and right. Quatre and Trowa are all over each other and it is dark. From the appearance of the room, it is obvious they are in one of Quatre's estates]
(You wanted to)
Hide the scars to fade away the shake
[Quatre's hands dig into Trowa's shoulders as the other man pounds into him. Trowa's back is littered with similar scars from Quatre's passion]
(You wanted to)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table?
[Quatre is asleep, snuggled against Trowa's chest. Trowa blinks in the dim light and turns his head to the side. He notices that on the nightstand is a familiar framed picture of the two of them. Trowa stares at it for a long time]
(You wanted to)
[Morning. Trowa and Quatre are both awake and sharing a shower. On the nightstand, the framed picture is laying facedown]
I don't think you trust... in... my...
[Trowa is in the bathroom. It is another day. He looks past the bathroom door. Quatre is struggling into his suit]
Self-righteous suicide
[Trowa looks down at his hands. The pale band of skin is still apparent on his finger and he clenches his fist]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa's head snaps up from his study of his hands. He looks past the bathroom door again. Quatre says something and then rushes off before Trowa can acknowledge him]
In my self-righteous suicide
[Trowa winces and reaches to his shoulder. His fingers come back lightly stained with blood. He twists around so he can look at the scars across his back]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa wanders out of the bathroom in a daze. He collapses on the bed and pulls the picture into his hands and stares at it for a long time]
In my self-righteous suicide
[The picture frame is face up this time. Next to it is a throwing knife. It is obviously sharp and the blade shines in the light. Trowa is staring at both of the items, emerald eyes darting back and forth between the two]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa's head snaps up. He hurriedly hides the knife, slams the picture frame facedown and stands up. Quatre comes into the room, immediately capturing Trowa in a passionate kiss. Trowa's free hands fumbles and he lifts the picture frame face up]
Father (mother)
[Trowa smiles at Catherine's image on the vidscreen. He says something reassuring and she nods]
Father (brother)
[Trowa and Quatre walk together through a park. The chat together lightly and smile often]
Father (fucker)
[Trowa and Quatre are tangled together in the bed, sheets and blankets have been tossed every whichway in their hurry]
Father (aaahh)
[Trowa throws his head back and screams Quatre's name. As he collapses to the bed, he looks at the picture frame, which is still standing face up. Quatre snuggles against him and Trowa embraces him, closing his eyes]
Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit
[Trowa is staring at the picture frame and the knife again. Quatre comes home. The knife is hidden and the frame stays up]
Father, into your hands, why have you forsaken me?
[Quatre places a VERY chaste kiss against Trowa's lips and rushes off to work. Trowa throws a glance at the drawer where the knife is hidden]
In your eyes, forsaken me
[Trowa looks into Quatre's marine eyes and frowns. Quatre is busy reading some papers and doesn't notice Trowa's unrest. Trowa reaches across the bed and puts the picture facedown]
In your thoughts, forsaken me
[Trowa watches as Quatre talks with some businesspeople, easily laughing and flirting with some socialites]
In your heart, forsaken... me
[Trowa lays in the bed -- alone -- Quatre has not come home from his meetings yet]
Oh... trust in my... self-righteous suicide
[Quatre comes home, looking for Trowa, who hasn't answered his call. He enters the bedrrom and freezes. Trowa stares at him, frozen. Quatre's eyes widen. He sees the knife in Trowa's hands and automatically assumes the worst. Trowa is going to commit suicide]
I... cry... when angels deserve to die
[Trowa closes his eyes as Quatre wraps his arms around his chest. Quatre is sobbing and promising ANYTHING to keep Trowa from killing himself. Trowa's grip on the knife tightens]
In... my... self-righteous suicide
[Trowa shoves Quatre away from him. The knife flashes up. Marine eyes widen in horror. The knife flashes down. Blood splatters everywhere]
Why cry when angels deserve to die
[Trowa stands, blood dripping from his face in a grisly parody of his clown makeup. He looks down at the knife in his hands, blood slipping from the blade. Because of the blood, Trowa can no longer see the pale band of skin across his finger. His emerald eyes are filled with a sort of unholy glee as he looks past the blade to the figure of Quatre's body lying in a pool of blood. Reaching over, Trowa lifts the picture frame face up, his fingers leaving a smear of blood across the picture.]