That thought calmed him, suddenly, eerily, stilled his uncontrolled struggling and steadied the air in his lungs. *I'm gonna die.* He knew it. It was too strange, too bizarre, and the first thing that came to his mind was to laugh. He didn't dare laugh, though; he didn't dare move. But the God of Death was dying, how was that not funny? *I guess it's payment time for all the lives I've taken... but who would've thought it would be a machine to kill me?*
Kill him --
He was going to die.
The coldness resolved, separated into two parts. One was an arms length away of broken Gundam; space burned with a coldness that would blister snow. The other was much, much more real, because it was inside him. So, too, was the darkness that was so much more than a lack of light. He let his eyes slip closed, his head fell back against the chair as his breathing calmed; the darkness around the edge of his vision was too much to bear. *Father. Sister. I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Solo. Ne, it's not so bad, this dying... I'll get to see so many people again. Funny, that, how everyone I loved is dead now...*
Heero.
His eyes slit open, and his hands cracked off the controls, fumbling around on the consoles. Heero was still there, still alive. And all the "somedays," all the "laters," all the time he thought he might have had narrowed down to the next few beatings of his heart. And if nothing else, he would not die with that weight of forever on his soul; he would not die before telling Heero how he felt.* What's the worst he can do to me, anyway? Kill me?
Kill me.*
He was going to...
His hands shook, as the fingers played over the control panel. A sudden aching terror gripped him, that the communications would be broken, and he would die unconfessed. Relief flowed through him, cool and sweet, as the video screen hissed and then flared briefly to life, showing the face that he adored. Heero. I'm coming.
The white-clad warrior rose above the battlefield, and he did not look down again.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)Kill him.
He was going to die.
That thought calmed him, suddenly, eerily, stilled his uncontrolled struggling and steadied the air in his lungs. *I'm gonna die.* He knew it. It was too strange, too bizarre, and the first thing that came to his mind was to laugh. He didn't dare laugh, though; he didn't dare move. But the God of Death was dying, how was that not funny? *I guess it's payment time for all the lives I've taken... but who would've thought it would be a machine to kill me?*
Kill him --
He was going to die.
The coldness resolved, separated into two parts. One was an arms length away of broken Gundam; space burned with a coldness that would blister snow. The other was much, much more real, because it was inside him. So, too, was the darkness that was so much more than a lack of light. He let his eyes slip closed, his head fell back against the chair as his breathing calmed; the darkness around the edge of his vision was too much to bear. *Father. Sister. I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Solo. Ne, it's not so bad, this dying... I'll get to see so many people again. Funny, that, how everyone I loved is dead now...*
Heero.
His eyes slit open, and his hands cracked off the controls, fumbling around on the consoles. Heero was still there, still alive. And all the "somedays," all the "laters," all the time he thought he might have had narrowed down to the next few beatings of his heart. And if nothing else, he would not die with that weight of forever on his soul; he would not die before telling Heero how he felt.* What's the worst he can do to me, anyway? Kill me?
Kill me.*
He was going to...
His hands shook, as the fingers played over the control panel. A sudden aching terror gripped him, that the communications would be broken, and he would die unconfessed. Relief flowed through him, cool and sweet, as the video screen hissed and then flared briefly to life, showing the face that he adored. Heero. I'm coming.
The white-clad warrior rose above the battlefield, and he did not look down again.