de·men·tia n. Deterioration of intellectual faculties, such as
memory, concentration, and judgment, resulting from an organic
disease or a disorder of the brain. It is sometimes accompanied by
emotional disturbance and personality changes.
I flinch at the sound of your voice, a shiver rolling up my spine.
My fingers still, my eyes come up. Close, open, stare straight
ahead. Your face stares back, blue eyes wide, surprised. My hands
twitch. That had been a hard shade to mix. Blue, indigo...
violet? No words to describe it. My finger falls, smearing the
blue down your cheek like a stream of tears. I shudder, a dull ache
shooting through me.
'No, love, don't.'
A whisper, your whisper, your distinctive husky drawl. I don't
move, don't look for you. In the very corner of my vision I see
you, your shadow. A dark smudge against the wall. My head turns.
Your shadow-braid swings as you move, disappearing, running from my
chasing gaze. I turn back to your face, defeated. Grinning lips,
Droning voices behind me. I ignore them, my finger dipping into the
"Duo," I answer, closing my eyes. A door opens behind me, silence
falls, a hovering presence enters.
"Heero did you say something?" Honey-sweet voice, coddling tone.
Like a mother to her cherished baby. Not your loving voice.
"No," I reply curtly, my eyes never leaving yours. I willed the
door to close again.
"That's a... lovely painting, Heero."
Painting? I look at you quizzically. Had I been painting? I tilt
my head, but you don't answer. You grin. You want her gone, too, I
can see it in your eyes. I smile back at you.
A sigh, then that cloying voice that leaves a bitter taste in the
back of my throat. "I think it's bedtime, Heero. Aren't you
tired?" She moves closer into the room and I look at you sadly. I
stand and turn, letting her lead me out of the room.
'Sleep well, my love.'
"Good night, Duo," I whisper in turn and she flinches beside me.
"Heero..." She sighs. So sad, so... She wishes she weren't here,
I know she does. I wish she would leave. I wish... "He's dead,
Heero." Not sweet anymore, insistent, worried. She's unhappy
here. She stops, halfway across the house to my room. She turns me
toward her. Blue eyes, light, not dark like yours. "Dead, Heero.
"No," I say simply. She doesn't understand. No one does.
Blue eyes, not yours, close, lips purse. A slight nod, I turn away,
waiting for her to take me to my room. Her fingers glance over my
arm and fall. She walks, I follow. The door closes behind me and
clicks, locked, but I don't notice. I move to the window. It
rained today. Soft brown earth is moist, sparkling beneath the
I turn, the room is bright with a silver glow. The moonlight avoids
the bed. I back away from the window and lie down on the shadowy
mattress. The wall stares blankly at me.
I smile, feeling your arms wrapping around me from behind. Your
fingers stroke through my hair. Longer than before, thick and
course. Your hair is long. Like silk against my skin. My fingers
twitch, yearning to feel it. I don't move. Your lips caress my
neck. A chill runs through me. I shiver, smiling.
"I love you," I whisper. You nod, humming in the back of your
throat. A lullaby. My eyes drift closed because you want me to
sleep. Breathy, my voice almost gone I ask a question that burns
with urgency. "Will I see you tomorrow?" No answer, the same
silence every night.
I slip into darkness, content for now. I dream of your husky
drawl. You whisper.
'Yes, my love. Yes...'