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Drug Trip	By : Zethsaire Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Heero/Duo Views: 790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters. I don't make money off this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's notes: Currently the couples in this fic are ...none. You'll just have to read it to see what happens! But I can guarantee that if you don't like 1x2, this fic ain't for you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I don't plan on making money of this fic in any way. It is for pure enjoyment and writing practice only!

Chapter One

Monday, March 17th, AC 204

Heero came awake slowly, his body reminding him that it had been in one stiff position for too long. He blinked, looking blearily at his surroundings. He stretched, popping bones back into place and stretching sore muscles. As he looked around the tiny loft apartment, he realized that it wasn't one he recognized. Usually the places he frequented were either a bit more shady and rundown, or on special occasions, much fancier and larger than this.

As usual, he had no memory of the night before, or how he'd managed to get here, but that wasn't really a surprise. What did shock him was the absence of a body next to him, or in the bed he could see through the bedroom's open door. No matter what he'd been up to the night before, there should have been another person involved. Had to have been, since the last thing he could piece together in the sieve of his memory, he'd been sleeping beside a dumpster in a back alley downtown.

The place was empty. No sounds of a shower running, or anyone walking about. He could see most of the place from where he still lay on the couch, so it wasn't as if there was some place for anyone to hide. He frowned. The lack of a john meant he'd have to wait to get into anything in his supply. Assuming, after last night, he had any left. Taking into consideration how awful he felt, he wasn't entirely sure there would be. When had he refilled his stash last?

After a few moments failing to remember, he gave it up. If something didn't come to him after a few minutes, it probably wasn't going to. He vaguely remembered a time that he had an impeccable memory and would have been horrified by the state his mind was in now. His current brain didn't really give a shit.

Heero forced himself to sit up, his joints creaking in protest. His head hurt, and his skin itched, especially on the inside of his arms, but he felt relatively lucid. Which probably meant he was still high, but as long as he felt all right, he wasn't going to question it. He just had to find something to do until the apartment's owner came home.

His tired eyes focused on a note laying on the side table next to the couch. It was held down by two granola bars, and written in a neat script. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but there were so many holes in his memory he immediately dismissed it.

Heero,

Here's some breakfast. There's more in the cupboard, but I wasn't sure what you wanted to eat. Please take a shower and wash your clothes and bedding before I get home. There are spare clothes in the bathroom. Feel free to use anything in the house. I'll be home around 6.

It wasn't signed. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, still confused. Apparently he had told this person his real name, which bothered him, because he preferred to keep names out of it, or use his street name if he had to. He should have at least gotten a name in return. He grimaced at the instructions to bathe; not because he didn't want to, but because he was embarrassed to realize just how badly he needed one. He had gone to a homeless shelter a while back and gotten new clothes, a haircut and a shower. Judging by how much his hair had grown, that had been quite some time ago.

Suddenly disgusted with himself, he got up and headed into the bathroom. It was ridiculously tiny; he had to step into the shower to close the door. There were clothes and a towel folded neatly on top of the toilet. Heero was amazed. What had he done to make the john want to take care of him like this? He shuddered. What had he promised him?

Ruthlessly he pushed that thought down. Whatever happened, he'd have clean hair and clothes to face it in. He stripped, throwing his filthy clothes under the sink. He was very careful not to look at himself as he turned on the water.

A shock of cold spray caught him in the face, and he spluttered, stepping back from it and shivering. He huddled against the wall until the water began to warm, then stepped back out into the spray. For a minute he just stood there, letting the water steam down his body. It felt good to actually be able to get clean. On the outside, anyways. He'd never be clean again.

"Shut up!" He slammed his fist against the side of the stall. Change that status update to not okay. Not at all. He wanted a hit, right now.

A bottle of shampoo smacked him in the head, falling from the shelf above him. Heero cursed, then bent down and picked it up. It was a bottle of Fekkai Shea Butter Moisturizing Shampoo. Hideously expensive stuff, Heero couldn't see anyone owning an apartment like this justifying spending that much on shampoo.

Duo used to use this kind of shampoo...Heero sighed. He wasn't going to escape the fragments of memory this morning.

Whoever this john was, he'd said that Heero could use anything. And if he was going to keep thinking about the past, he might as well continue the masochism. He held the bottle for a moment, just looking at it and letting his mind flow as it would.

He thought about Duo as he opened the shampoo and spread a generous amount on his hands, and lathered the shampoo into his hair. It came down to his shoulders now, a big tangled mess of brown hair. He scrubbed hard, getting rid of dirt and sweat, and who knew what else. He had to rinse it and scrub again before the water ran clear, and there were still some patches of hair he'd have to cut out.

There was body wash there too, in sandalwood and lavender. He'd always made fun of Duo for smelling like flowers, and had often argued in favor of sandalwood, which had been his favorite at the time. He used lavender.

Almost an hour later, he came out of the shower scrubbed clean, and smelling like Duo. It made his heart ache, but he didn't care. Somehow, he'd ended up in the house of someone who had the same tastes of Duo, and he was too tired to try to fool his deluded mind into thinking that he didn't miss his friend. It was far, far too late to ever go back to that life, but he was determined to hold on to what memories he had left to him.

The clothes were too big on him, but he had expected that. He rolled up the legs on the jeans, and tried not to think about how the black t-shirt with the metal band logo on it hung almost to his knees. A tall guy then. He must have really been gunning for punishment last night. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror as he used a pair of scissors to cut out the knots in his hair. A cheap black comb lay on the sink, and he ran it ruthlessly through his hair.

Of course, he couldn't help but notice his reflection. He looked like shit. His eyes were sunken in, and all his facial bones stuck out horrifically. Instead of making him look healthier, his tangled, bushy hair only emphasized the narrowness of his face. The clothes made him look like a child, hanging off his skeletal frame like rags on a scarecrow. Hardly an image to impress. How had he ever managed to be picked up last night?

Heero scowled at himself in the mirror before turning away, not wanting to look at himself any longer. There were several hair ties discarded on the sink as well, and he took one, binding his hair up at the nape of his neck. Strands of it escaped, falling in front of his face as if to mock him.

Growling in frustration, he picked up his dirty towel and dirtier clothes, and carried them out to the washing machine, which was mounted in the wall directly across from the bathroom. He added all his blankets from the couch, and the assortment of rags that passed for extra changes of clothing from his bag. Frowning at the smell, he dumped the bag upside down, emptying the contents and threw the bag in the wash as well.

He used extra soap. Resigned that there was not much more he could do to ensure his client's satisfaction, he threw himself back onto the couch again. He glanced at the note again, refusing to compare that neat handwriting to Duo's flowing script. Of course it wouldn't be him. He swore he'd never go back, once he'd hit bottom. He wouldn't drag his friend down into the hell of his life. The only thing that mattered now was pleasing this mystery man so he could leave, and get as high as possible. After a few hits, he wouldn't even remember this.

The granola bars looked unappetizing, but he felt that way about almost anything that was considered food. Still, he'd been instructed to eat, so he took them both. He unwrapped one and began to chew it slowly. It tasted like dirt. He swallowed mechanically, not even caring about the taste. It was food, and it would keep him going until he ate again.

It was only four thirty according to the clock on the wall. An hour an a half with nothing to pass the time, and no drugs to tide him over, to make him forget. Only a heavy heart and a sharp ache in his chest every time he took a breath and smelled Duo. Heero pulled a pillow to his chest, and curled up in a fetal position on the futon. It wouldn't hurt to show a little weakness; there wasn't anyone to see. He felt tears in his eyes and blinked them away furiously.

He couldn't really remember why he'd walked out that night, so long ago. Hell, he wasn't even sure how long it had been since he'd left. At first he'd tried to keep an eye on his friends, all the while thwarting Duo's attempts to find him. After a while, as he got deeper into his various addictions, he'd given up. It was hard to watch over your friends when you were living in a back alley, so strung out you didn't even know what day it was, or when your last meal had been. He hadn't stopped caring; on the rare occasions he would remember who he'd been before, and what he'd done, it would tear him in two. Until he couldn't stand the pain any longer, and he spiraled down into a long dark fall into harder and harder drugs. Anything to take away the pain.

But now there was nothing to make that ache go away. Nothing to make him forget, to keep the memories away. Maybe tonight, after, he'd be so scrambled he wouldn't remember any more. But he remembered now, and it hurt. He curled up tighter, sinking into a pit of his own misery, each breath bringing fresh tears.

Duo - Monday, March 17th, AC 204, 7 pm

Duo wasn't sure what he was expecting to walk in on when he got home. He didn't know if Heero would be lucid, or in a raging fit, or so tripped out he wouldn't even recognize him. For all he knew, the man wouldn't even be there any more. He hadn't exactly tried hard to keep him in. The last thing he wanted was for Heero to think he was locked in. Heero had always reacted calmly to imprisonment during the war, at least as long as anyone was looking. Duo was probably the only one on the face of the planet that knew that his best friend was terrified of being locked up.

He pulled into his apartment complex with a rolling gut. It wasn't that he was nervous per say, just that he didn't know how he should react. Should he act like nothing had happened? Or should he be condescending of Heero's choices? Maybe he should let himself feel everything he'd been putting off since his best friend left. That option was dismissed easily; Heero didn't need to hear six year of his baggage, regardless of whether he deserved it or not.

Instead of sitting in the truck and figuring out a plan, Duo hopped out of the driver's seat as soon as the vehicle was in park. He wasn't much into planning anything out ahead of time. If something was bothering him, better to get it out into the open and over with then sit and brood about it. Especially if it concerned Heero.

Sighing to himself, he pulled out his keys to open the door. Remembering he had left it unlocked, he put them back into his pocket, muttering about getting old. He opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle Heero, if he was still there. He snuck inside, deliberately being a quiet as possible.

The apartment was quiet, with a low rumble of the dryer in the background. So Heero had decided to wash his clothes at least. If he hadn't left without them; he'd never been one for emphasizing on personal possessions.

It didn't take long to find him; though Duo was surprised to see him curled up on the futon, gripping the sheets like they were his only salvation. He was turned away, but Duo could see he was wearing the clothes he'd left for him. They were too big for him, but he didn't have anything smaller. For some reason, seeing Heero in his apartment, on his futon, wearing his clothes, gave him a little twinge in his stomach, that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He frowned; now was not the time to start getting personal feelings mixed up in all this. Especially ones that were supposed to be six years buried.

He shuffled his feet on the welcome mat, and closed the door loud enough for Heero to hear, but the boy didn't stir. Nervously, he took off his jacket and set his keys on the kitchen counter, not attempting to be quiet any longer. He didn't want to have to try to shake Heero awake. The last time he'd tried to do that, he'd ended up with a broken arm. Sure, that had been years ago, but if Heero had been living on the streets his reactions had probably grown even more violent then before.

When he coughed, rather loudly, Heero jumped. Duo felt a little guilty, even more so when that gaunt face turned to look at him. He thought he'd been prepared for anything, that he could handle it. He'd put Heero to bed last night, and even managed to get a few hours of sleep after all. But nothing could have prepared him for the look of absolute horror that fell over Heero's wasted form as he saw who had come through the door.

"Heero-" He began, and let out a rather girlish shriek when he had to dodge a knife that Heero pulled out from somewhere and threw at his head. What the hell was he thinking?

He didn't have time to process this unexpected turn of events, or even pull out his own knife before Heero was shoving him to the floor. Bony and small as he was, Duo was shocked when Heero easily straddled him and held his arms with one hand, his other arm shooting out and clamping around Duo's throat like a vice. So much for Heero not being as strong as he once was. Duo thought Heero was going to crush his windpipe.

"Who are you," Heero snarled, "What are you trying to pull? Is this some kind of sick joke someone set you up to, trying to look like him? Smell like him, look like him, except you're too tall, and you don't move right. Duo would never let me take him down this easily. You sick fuck, do you get off on torturing people like this?"

His voice was thick with rage and pain, and he stared down at Duo with hate. Apparently he couldn't accept that he was actually back here, with Duo. Someone had to be out to get him, to hurt him in some way. And he meant it too; Duo had to struggle for breath.

"Heero," he whispered, "I'm not trying to trick you. You showed up last night, tripping out of your mind. You thought...," He looked at Heero's expression warily before continuing, "You thought it was the night you'd walked out, or maybe the night after. You said that you were sorry, and then you passed out. I wasn't going to leave you outside in the rain."

For a moment Heero's hand tightened further, and Duo made a strangled noise as all his air was cut off. "How do I know you're not lying?" He said hoarsely. "How can I tell you're actually...that this isn't..."

The pressure let up on his throat, and Duo coughed, gasping for breath. He struggled to be able to speak again, and finally managed a hoarse wheeze.

"I know I look different. I grew almost a foot after you left. As for how you can know it's me...well, I know that twice during the war we went and got smashed at a club, and one of those times it was your idea. We found out that Wufei smoked opium, and he made us swear not to tell anyone. Trowa named one of his lions after you, and you were pissed for three weeks." He grinned at the memory. When Heero didn't move, his grin faded a little, and he continued.

"At the New Year's party just before you left, we all got completely wasted. Trowa proposed to Quatre, and then had to take it back the next day before Quat's family found out about it. Every year Wufei still visits Treize's grave, and he has a shrine in his house to honor his dead wife. I still fast once a year, on the anniversary of...the church fire. And you used to burn incense every year in memory of -"

"Enough." Heero cut him off. "I understand." He let go of Duo, standing up and retrieving his knife from where it stood buried half to the hilt in the wall. Duo's hands went to his throat reflexively, coughing and gagging from his near strangulation. He'd seriously thought Heero was going to kill him.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah – yeah. I'll be okay. Just...forgot how strong you were."

"I didn't think it was you." Heero said, looking away. "I couldn't believe that it was you. That after all this time I was somehow back here again. And..."

He turned back around quickly, his face a mask of panic. "How did I get here anyway? I didn't...you didn't...pick me up, did you?"

"No, I didn't pick you up." Duo said quietly. He had known, abstractly, that Heero must have been doing something to get drugs. He had just refused to think about how he might be making money. It was painfully clear now. "Like I said, you must have had a bad trip last night. You were convinced it was the day you left, and you apologized. Scared the shit outta me." He tried to smile.

"Ah." He sounded relieved. This was so awkward. "So..." He seemed at a loss for words. Heero looked around, not really meeting Duo's eyes, and scratched absently at his track marks.

"You can stay, if you want." Duo said bluntly.

Heero looked at him like he was crazy. "W-what? That's..well, you probably don't want to have anything to do with me. I mean...what I do. I mean..."

Duo looked at him blandly. "I really don't care about that Heero."

Heero looked at him; really looked at him. His eyes had always been blank – guarded; a defense he never let down. Now – they were pools of emotion, full of so much hurt and pain, it made everything Duo had been through since he'd left seem...meaningless.

"I don't even remember how long I've been gone." He said hopelessly.

Duo hesitated, then said, as gently as he could, "Six years."

Heero crumpled, putting a hand over his eyes, and slid down the wall. "Oh god." His voice wavered.

"It's March 17th, AC 204. You're twenty four now." He tried to be gentle, really, he did, but bitterness crept into his voice. He hadn't had a great time either.

"Oh god." Heero moaned. "I thought maybe it had been a year, or two, but not...oh god!" Tears welled up in Heero's eyes. He scrubbed them away determinedly, then leaned back against the wall and pulled his legs up to his chest, as if he could physically hold himself together. He looked so small and fragile and alien, so unlike the Heero that Duo had thought he'd known.

Heero pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his back pocket. His hands shook as he lit it, but no more tears appeared in his eyes. He took a deep drag before putting his head back against the wall again.

"I never meant to come back." He confessed.

"I thought you were dead." Duo told him. "I looked and looked. I knew I wouldn't actually find you if you didn't want me to, but I thought there would be signs. Something to show you were still around."

Heero grunted and took another drag off his cigarette. "I didn't want you to find me, because I didn't want you to see what I'd become. I didn't want to drag you guys down; any of you. Everyone was coping so well, but I just couldn't take it."

Focusing on the cigarette had given him an outlet for his frustration. His eyes were still watery and he hadn't completely stopped shaking, but he seemed a little more in control.

"I thought you told me those were bad for me." Duo pointed at the cigarette.

"That never stopped you." Heero bit back. Then he blinked, and said, "Unless you've quit."

"Nah, but I usually smoke outside. You used to bitch so much about smoke clinging to everything, I just got in the habit of not smoking in the house."

Heero looked guilty. "I promise, I'll leave as soon as my clothes dry. You'll never know I was here." He stood up and stuffed the cigarettes back into his pocket.

Duo couldn't believe it. Just like that, he was going to walk out again. And for what? Last time they'd had an argument, at least a pretense of a reason to leave. This time, he was leaving to save Duo face. To not ruin his life. Didn't he get it at all? His life had ended the night Heero had walked out that door.

"Heero." His throat was thick with emotion. He couldn't cry. Heero had lost six years of his life and had hardly shed a tear, so the least he could do was be man enough to do the same. "Heero, don't leave me again. Please."

Heero looked completely baffled. His face was a stone mask again, but his eyes bled. "Why? I shouldn't stay Duo. I can't quit."

Duo tried to argue; Heero had the strongest willpower of anyone he'd ever met. If anyone could break the drug habit, it would be him. But Heero cut him off before he'd even opened his mouth.

"I can't."

"I don't care Heero." Couldn't he see what this was really about? The drugs didn't matter, they were just an excuse to leave him. For the person he card about to walk out on him, to be worse then dead. Someone he cared about, out of his life. Again. "I just found you again. It's been six years, Heero. Whatever I was mad about, and whatever problems you have now, I don't care. You're my best friend!"

"I'm not that person any more Duo. I'm just a whore." He put his hand on the door, ready to leave right then and never come back.

"Dammit Heero!" He wanted to punch the guy, he really did. "It's not like I haven't been friends with whores before. You know what my life was like before. I don't care what you've done or had to do to survive. You're one of the only people on this planet who understands what I've gone through. Maybe the only one who really understands what it's like to live out there on the street. I'm not going to abandon you just because you have some bad habits."

Slowly, Heero released his hold on the doorknob. Turning to face Duo, he said, "You really mean that, don't you."

Duo nodded.

"There's a lot of things I never understood, before. Things I don't understand now either. Why would you want me? No one has ever wanted me, unless they could get something from me. Dr. J, the Preventers, my dealers, the johns; they haven't cared about me, just what I can do. What's in it for you? If you want to sleep with me you don't have to keep me here you-"

"You are such a freaking idiot Heero!" Duo snapped. "I don't want you to stay because I want to fuck you. I want what we had, before. I want to have someone to cook for, to nag me when I watch too much tv, and someone to pulverize me in Tekken. I just miss...what we had. What's wrong with that?"

They stood there, staring at each other. Duo wasn't sure whether they were about to come to blows, or if Heero was going to collapse in his arms. Even before, they'd fought a lot. It had mostly been good natured fighting and bickering, but he and Heero thought so differently, they'd often had conflicting opinions. He wanted Heero to stay, he really did. But the man didn't have to be such an ass about it.

The dryer beeped, the sound echoing loudly in the apartment. Heero broke the staring match first, muttering something about getting back into his own clothes. Duo stared after him, then turned towards the kitchen. It was late, and he was hungry.

"You want something to eat Heero? It's just leftovers, but I'm starving." He opened the fridge and peered inside. He'd made Spanish rice yesterday, and he still had some tortillas left from quesadillas the week before.

"No." Heero sounded as morose as ever. For a moment Duo could imagine that nothing had ever changed.

Duo smirked as he spooned rice out of the plastic dish and onto two tortillas. Heero had always complained about his cooking, even though he wasn't that proficient at it himself. He never professed to be hungry, preferring to eat only when necessary, and never for pleasure. Well, Duo wasn't going to let him get away with it anymore. The guy was a stick. He really needed to get some calories in him.

He put the two wraps in the microwave and turned back towards the room. Heero was methodically pulling clothes out of the dryer, folding his clothes and placing them on the back of the couch. He was still wearing Duo's clothes, which were enormous on him. In those clothes, he looked so much younger then he was.

"I made you a wrap. Want to watch something while we eat?"

Heero looked at him blandly. "I said I wasn't hungry."

"C'mon Heero, you've practically wasted away to nothing. Let a guy feed his starving friend, alright?"

The other man gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine."

Duo grinned. The microwave beeped, and he took out the steaming wraps, and added a stripe of ranch dressing before wrapping them up. He poured a glass of juice for Heero, and grabbed himself a soda. He settled down to watch television, setting the channel to a good mystery show he'd been watching recently. For the moment, the crisis had been avoided. At this moment, he could pretend nothing had changed. He could be happy.

End Chapter One

Author's notes: Alright, Chapter One is done! Again, mostly just minor grammar and consistency corrections. I may have to put this chapter up and take it down a few times to find something to use to break up POV. For some reason doesn't recognize the squiggles I usually use. I did manage to fix it with some bolded words to separate it. It's...not as subtle as I would like, but at least it's less confusing. As always, comments and suggestions are always welcome.

Also, since was being dumb and wouldn't let me log in on Monday, you guys get 2 chapters! Yay!

Zethsaire, out!
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Drug Trip