Seraphim

Title: Seraphim

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: 2+1, 3+4

Warnings: Language, Duo POV, OOC, mentions of
physical and verbal abuse, contemplations of suicide, dark, angst, 1^st
story of Ficlet Arc.

I sit here on the floor of my room, staring
at the bottle of painkillers on the desk, wondering how many it would take to
drown the pain in my heart. Idly wondering if it will stop beating before the
pain even subsides. It took four of the blasted things just to ease my
migraine. I sit, stare, and wonder. I could very easily swallow the whole
bottle if that’s what it would take. But, I know I won’t. I’m a fucking
optimist. I tell myself, ‘ things will get better, I
cannot be the baka forever. This war will one day
cease and people will see the real me.’ But this is a lie. The war will never
end. I will always be the idiot in the eyes of my fellow pilots. class=SpellE>Heero will always hit me. Trowa
will always ignore me. Quatre will always look at me
with pity. Wufei will always mock me. Nothing ever
changes. And yet, I am a coward. I desperately look for changes that will never
occur. My heart shrieks in agony as Trowa holds class=SpellE>Quatre in his arms. My blood pours from invisible wounds
deep inside me as Heero guards Relena
close to him. His fists sting, but it is his words that puncture. It seems as
if the harder I try, the more I am ridiculed. I no longer have the strength to
hide behind masks. Heero yells at me to shut up. I am
quiet. Wufei screams that I should be more serious of
a pilot. I am permanently sober. Trowa says I eat too
much. I have ceased in consummation. Quatre says I
sleep too much. I have resorted to insomnia. I have battled my flaws, hoping
for recognition. They yell at me still, saying that I am not acting class=GramE>‘ right’. It seems nothing pleases them. I have lost the
ability to cry. I am a soldier, thus, I do not weep. Though this hole inside me
grows, I keep on fighting. Though I wish, more than anything, to feel class=SpellE>Heero’s arms around me, I allow his strikes because I know
no other way.

‘ Atstyle='font-size:16.0pt'> least he is not ignoring me.’

My heart supplies.style='font-size:16.0pt'> I am not the idiot they claim. I know that this
cannot last. The war and their treatment may go on, but I cannot. Yet, I still
cannot find it in me to end my life. I know that I cannot stop the war, but I
can keep Heero from being killed. This is enough to
satisfy me, my keeping them safe. My heart is torn in two, for a need to stop
this pain that will inevitably kill me and protecting the only people I love.
As I sit there, I wonder, when I die, will there be anyone who will mourn for
me? Will anyone even care? Or will they slowly forget about me? I suppose it
does not matter. Regardless, I carry out my duties as a Seraphim (1), my
clothes tattered, my wings shredded. I will continue to fight until they are
reduced to bloody stumps. I am a coward because of my need for love. I crave
it, hoping day after day that someone will quench my thirst for affection. But
within each day, this hope diminishes just as my body is dying. And soon, the
hope will be gone, I will no longer plague my class=SpellE>comrads. Until then, I will continue to be their guardian
with only my useless hopes keeping air in my lungs.

Owaristyle='font-size:16.0pt'>

thorperin@pmc.edu