Darkness Enveloping | By : OrangeJuice Category: Gundam Wing/AC > General Views: 934 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Darkness Enveloping
I do not own Gundam Wing.
Warning: Incoherent m/m rape fic that follows Wufei’s
thought processes.
Wufei’s POV
====>>>><<<<====
Absently twisting my finger around in the slick black
strands of my loose hair, I stare into the blackness. How long have I been in here? A month…maybe two… No, if that’s the case, I’ve probably only been here for a week
at the most. Time to yourself does
that. Anyway, I’ve had enough spare
time to completely reflect upon my inner self twice fold with time to
spare. Not only that, but I’ve thought
of just about anything I’ve ever imagined or had the potential to imagine. I’ve thought so much, there’s nothing to
think about anymore. Or, at least
that’s what it seems like. My head is
so empty it seems as though I should be falling asleep, but I can’t.
The darkness is consuming, overwhelming. It robs you of your sight and swamps you
with noise. At times I swear I can hear
someone breathing next to me, but when I reach out, no one’s there. The darkness is coldness, thrusting its
claws inside of you and freezing your soul.
It tears at your mind until there’s nothing left but darkness
itself. Darkness is destruction and
death. I haven’t seen the light in so
long. If I were to go outside now, I
would be blinded and shrouded in darkness forever.
Perhaps it’s just because I cannot escape in the black haze
that I hate it so much. I’ve tried
before. I suppose it’s just a weakness
of mine; I’ve relied on my sight for far too long. When I was little, my master used to train me with a
blindfold. I mastered that art, but it
seems as though I’ve forgotten that already.
Perhaps I haven’t surpassed my master after all. But then, who ever does really surpass
anyone else? Maybe each generation
becomes weaker and weaker, because the student can never surpass the master,
leading the human race into a cold, eternally dark weakness. How can we know if that’s the case? How can we compare ourselves with our
betters, if we’re not good enough to know that they are our betters?
I am certainly not the strongest. If I were, I would not be here, mourning about my capture. My fate would not be in the hands of my
worst enemy. I would not be biting my
lip in anxiousness, curling my greasy hair around my finger in boredom, or
brooding over my lost cause. I know who
are my betters. My master was better
than me. He entrusted me with his
mission before destroying that colony.
That was his only weakness; he had too much faith in me. Already I have let him down. I know I have, and yet I cannot do
anything. I’m just too weak to try
anymore.
And what of Heero?
He is the most skilled warrior, silent and watchful. He is better than me as well. No, not just him. All of the other pilots, perhaps with the exception of the American. Trowa, with his deceptive silence and unique
style. Quatre, with his inhuman
kindness and intelligence. They are all
better than me. For me, I can fight
with a sword and a Gundam, and that is the extent of my ability.
I had not realized that before, and that is why I am here
now, in this suffocating darkness. I
was too arrogant, too weak, and that was why I opted to challenge one much
stronger than myself. It is no other’s
fault that I am here than my own. I do
not deny that. Because he
was always better than me in all of my specialties, he has shown me how foolish
and unskilled I really am. He has the
right to lock me up in here; he has the right to decide my fate. If I were strong enough to escape, he would
have no right; but I am not, and therefore he retains his hold.
The darkness has
dulled my senses. Things do not
register as quickly in my mind as they used to. I know this because there is a faint clicking noise before the
door to my dark cell is opened, and yet when I hear this noise, I do not move
or wonder what it is until the door swings open and a piercing light pours into
my eyes, burning them within. For the
first time in awhile, I move quickly, tossing over and burying my head into my
arms. I can still see the pulsing red
of the light behind my eyelids, but curiously I squint obscurely towards the
source of my pain, noting the blurred silhouettes of two people there, though
even the edges of their figures fade into the light so discretely that they’re
indiscernible. My long eyelashes aren’t
helping with the matter either, crushed together so that they create gray dots
and lines in my vision. It seems like
they’ve grown longer since I’ve been here.
The glare fades a
bit, though even only a little, I can make out the glint of the light
reflecting off the shorter person’s hair in such away that I can tell he’s
blond. Has to spanspan
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I’ve never seen light do that to a person
with dark hair. The breathing is heavy,
as always, though this one seems more like out of fear than anything else. Not like the last one they sent down
here. He had been breathing heavily
because he was trying to keep as much breath as he could. I’m not sure if the commanders here just
didn’t notice he had been punctured through the lungs, or if they just didn’t
care to provide the expense of healing an enemy. Anyway, my fellow cellmate had died within the first two hours,
and they didn’t remove his body until the next day.
At least my new
cellmate doesn’t seem to be gasping in pain.
There is a quick movement
that in the light only looks like lorllorless blur, and the blonde comes
hurtling forward. Like always, he
manages to trip over something; whether his feet are chained together is beyond
me, though they probably aren’t.
Perhaps he just can’t balance with his hands cuffed together. No matter, he falls in place beside where I
lay motionless and remains there, breathing.
The cell door closes, and with it escapes the last streaks of light,
until a darkness even deeper than the one before is the only thing that
remains.
A darkness that
robs you of your sight and swamps you with noise. It’s like all the other times; I can hear him breathing beside
me. I can hear it clearly, just as
before. It’s so similar, I’m opted to
believe that he’s really not there at all.
Tell me, cellmate,
will you die soon? Or is it me who is
dying? Am I losing my mind? Am I the one going insane from the darkness,
so much so that I can hear things that are not there? Am I suffocating in the darkness? So much of my strength has left, I’m surprised there’s still any
left. How can anything so weak still
survive? My body should have quit
trying a long time ago.
“It’s Hell in
here,” I whisper, not trusting my throat to support a full voice. Gently, with shaking fingers, I reach out
and touch the soft hair of the one next to me.
I can hear the breathing falter as I do so, but I do not relent. Everything around here is so hard, I’m not
about to quit. I had even reverted to
stroking my own greasy, disgusting hair for a chance to experience some
comfort. This hair is clean and
smooth. It won’t stay that way for
long, so I won’t let him stop me.
The metal around
his wrists clinks slightly as he turns.
I can hear him shuffling. I can
hear him breathing still. But I cannot
see him at all. What color is this hair
I’m stroking? Is it really blond, or
was I hallucinating? Maybe I wasn’t
hallucinating at all. Maybe light
really does do that to people with black hair.
I can’t remember anymore.
“Wufei… I can’t believe you’re still alive,” a voice
whispers back, soft and melodic, a sharp contrast to the sounds of the cell
around that I had grown accustomed to.
The tone in his whisper is familiar, the accent that remains unique to him. I know I’ve heard it before. Without a voice, though, I cannot tell. Instead I continue to run my fingers through
his strands. The texture of his hair…he
must be blond. Black hair doesn’t feel
like this.
I close my eyes,
savoring the texture, letting the silk glide beneath my fingers. When was the last time something alive came
thr her here, besides the insects, that allowed me to touch them? Something that could respond, that could
talk, that could continue to live without death creeping inside like a plague?
“I never imagined…”
And who are
you? Why have you been locked away with
someone as lost as me? Will you lose
your strength just as I did? Don’t
worry about me, whoever you are. Try to
get out, now, while you still can.
There’s not much time left.
“But where…” says
the voice as the body it belongs to shifts into a sitting position, depriving
me of the wonderful texture. “Duo and
Heero and Trowa… Weren’t they here
too?”
Duo and Heero and
Trowa? They were here, weren’t
they? Were they? Duo and Heero and…Trowa. So then, the one who sits beside me would
have to be the only one remaining. The
hair I had been touching is blond.
“The darkneinsiinside here is trapped. It cannot
hunt. It is trying to eat us. You should get out of here,” I whisper,
wondering when this happened. As a
child I had never been afraid of anything, much less the dark. I wonder, would I have been afraid if I knew
then what I know now? Would I have been
afraid if I had known that the darkness is alive?
“Wufei?” he asks,
his voice high and full of worry, as always.
How did he get to be so kind?
I’ve always wondered that. “Is
there something wrong?”
I am much too weak
to answer him. The darkness is slowly
destroying me, and I cannot fight back.
A darkness so powerful that even the light becomes its ally.It had not robbed me of my sight after all,
though I wish it had. If it had, I
would not know that they are here, that they are all here, watching with
widened eyes and yet unable, or unwilling, to help. And for that I am both angry and thankful; if they were to come
to my rescue, I would be faced with a shame beyond all shames, even worse than
the shame that is hovering over my body, casting a dark shadow in which springs
to life a whole new encompassing evil.y:
yes"> So why? Why is this happening
to me?
I look into the
face of the enemy, barely noting the victorious smirk across his lips before my
vision blurs from tears. I’m too tired
the even shiver; instead, I merely relax against him, his movements rhythmically
thrusting my body limply across the ground.
There’s no point in fighting back; I’d never win. I have to deal with this, even though this
is worth than death. Because they’re
all watching me, he’s watching me with his wide blue eyes sparkling with tears
of pity.
What could be worse
than this? I would rather die than let
this continue any further. I’d rather
die in shame and be cursed forever than to live on any longer. I hate this, I hate it so much that I can
taste blood, see blood, but my body is too weak to do anything about it. His eyes are blood red, glowing in the dim
light like a demon from Hell, cursing me and shaming me.
It is forever
before he stops, but not by his own choice.
An explosion, I think. There is
a loud noise and the entire structure trembles from shock. His face contorts into a grotesque mask, and
he pulls out and immediately sets off, leaving me helpless on the floor,
waiting for something to happen. I turn
my head to look at the four watching me, but now, I notice, there is only one,
the one with the glistening blond hair staring at me, his eyes alive with
concern. I catch his eyes for the
briefest of moments and stare at him pleadingly, begging for his help.
I can barely watch
as he blinks back a few tears and turns after his comrades to their escape.
I’m left alone,
naked and shamed, able to do nothing but listen to the echoing vibrations of a
ship in battle, as I wait.
I wait for him to
return, but secretly I wish to be left here to starve to death. Surely that would be the kindest fate I have
left.
====>>>><<<<====
I am clean again,
rested and well fed, warm under the blankets of the well-furnished bed. My strength has returned, all of it, and yet
I find myself weaker than before, not unable, but rather unwilling to fight back. I’ve seen it happen to others before. Master called it a ‘broken spirit.’ It happens when one resigns himself to his
fate, and gives up completely. I have
done this myself, I realize this, and yet I do not try to change it. I can never recover from this. I won’t allow myself to.
I think they’re all
dead. I don’t know this for sure, but I
get the feeling that they are. All of
them, even the one with the blue eyes and silky yellow hair, with a voice as
sweet as honey and a concern that surpasses all others. He must be dead, or he would have come back
for me.
Surely he would
have.
The darkness is consuming, overwhelming. It robs you of your sight and swamps you
with noise. I can hear him breathing
beside me. I can feel his arms
unconsciously wrap around me. Even in
his sleep, he is sure to assert his power over me, even though I show little
resistance. I am his now; that is the
fate I have accepted. I do not wish to
fight back; I’m too weak to.
I’m beginning to love the darkness. The darkness hides the evil from sight, it
hides me from sight so that I can have a few hours to pity myself. When the lights are on, I can see him, and
he can see me, and I belong to him. It
is times like this, in the darkness, that I can feel him and hear him, but I
cannot see him, that I love.
The darkness is my cover.
The darkness is my freedom. What
had previously robbed me of my strength and left me helpless has now become my
ally, aiding me in my overwhelming fate.
I have become one with the darkness; it consumes me and envelopes me in
its chilly fingers, and I do not resist.
Because when the darkness is gone, I will be his once more.
((((<o.o>))))
For Spiwolf7.
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