DISCLAIMER: Bandai and Sunrise own all. I?m just borrowing the boys and their world. The story, however, is mine.

PAIRING: 2x1, 2x2, implied 3x4
CATEGORY: yaoi, angst, kink [rough sex], lemon, drama
WARNING: ANGST, dark subject matter [cutting], references to OC NCS (not GW boys). This is NOT your typical 2x1.

NOTES: Part of this fic takes place during the series, but I'm not perfectly true to the timeline. My attempt is to be somewhat vague so as not to annoy my own canon sensibilities. That said, I will note that the fansub script I have implies that the school we actually *see* Heero and Duo at together is not the only one they attended together - actually more like one after a string of them. I thought I'd run with that ^_^

AUTHOR NOTES: I broke my own rule about during-series fics - most specifically, lemons in during-series fics. But, at the same time, for me, I feel like I explained it [read: justified it] well enough and... oh, hell, just ignore me and go read the fic.

SUMMARY: Heero's unique up-bringing and training has instilled in him a special need, with Duo's help he tries to manage it.

When It Hurts
Part One: Prelude
by Dev-Aki Basaa

He wanted pain. He needed it. The agony that came with training instilled in him a need for the sensation - that eye-opening, body-jarring feeling of sharp, stinging pain. He was always looking for new sources, new ways to break through his growing tolerance level. New ways to assure himself he really was alive. Because that was the root of it - pain made him feel alive and if he didn't feel alive, if he didn't see the blood leak from his skin, then he found himself wondering if he was merely a pre-programmed machine, unable to be more than a fleshy robot doing someone else's bidding. So pain became reassurance. He reacted to pain in an unplanned, non-programmed way. The unpredictability excited him. The sensation relaxed him.

As long as he breached his tolerance level. That part was the trick.

So, he was always looking for new sources of pain.

He remembered, from the latter days of traveling with Odin Lowe, of turning down an alleyway, walking aimless, killing time while Odin killed. He'd seen a young man, small of stature and build, shoved, face first, up against the filthy brick wall, his legs flailing, knocking over trash bins and struggling in vain as the grip of a large, burly man tightened around his neck. The large man held him in place against the wall with just one large paw of a hand. The other hand he busied with pushing down his captive's trousers and then his own.

Heero saw the large man's penis stiff and upright, as he'd once or twice seen Odin's, first thing in the morning. He'd thought at first that the large man meant to pee, but after some fumbling at where their bodies made contact, the hip and groin area, the large man began rutting against the smaller one. His grunts and groans had made Heero's stomach turn, but it was the smaller man's pain that had kept him riveted in his spot, watching it all take place. Not his emotional pain - that flowed off him in horrible, desolate waves that were so strong Heero could sense them as if they were corporeal, physical currents flooding past him. He did his best to ignore those. But, it was the blood staining the pale flesh of the man's inner thighs that told him there was physical pain. That existed as well and it was that which intrigued him.

It wasn't until years later that he understood the incident for what it really was, but the memory never left him. The memory of that man's pain.

A new source of pain.

on to part two

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