(no subject)
There were things to consider, Moist thought, contemplating the bottom of his glass. The mended drum was descending gently to the belligerence of late evening with a few knife throwing competitions. Moist had, with a grin and a sportsmanly wink denied entrance as a target or competitor. Let them love you, buy you pints, but if you were a real person to anyone...then the trouble started.
"Another," he murmured, because a tan, bleached brunette Duo lived beside him, lying about scars and flirting as if it was just another symptom of breathing.
There were options, he reminded himself as his glass was refilled. He should help Duo get to his war, his space colony, get back to Heero - who would never love him, never appreciate him, who would lead him happily down a suicide mission with no apologies. It was what Duo knew, despite the gaps in his memory that his scars hinted at; Moist loved him so Moist should do what was best for him.
So Moist wanted to pin him to the narrow bed and taste the sweat in his clavicles, because that was better for Duo than a renegade war.
He sighed. Duo and Ponder, talking about dimensions. Once upon a time, it had happened, right before him on a Sunday dinner, just another afternoon. Now it was -- Reality. Duo could leave.
And Moist should help him. If he loved him. Which he did, which he had.
"Another," he murmured, because a tan, bleached brunette Duo lived beside him, lying about scars and flirting as if it was just another symptom of breathing.
There were options, he reminded himself as his glass was refilled. He should help Duo get to his war, his space colony, get back to Heero - who would never love him, never appreciate him, who would lead him happily down a suicide mission with no apologies. It was what Duo knew, despite the gaps in his memory that his scars hinted at; Moist loved him so Moist should do what was best for him.
So Moist wanted to pin him to the narrow bed and taste the sweat in his clavicles, because that was better for Duo than a renegade war.
He sighed. Duo and Ponder, talking about dimensions. Once upon a time, it had happened, right before him on a Sunday dinner, just another afternoon. Now it was -- Reality. Duo could leave.
And Moist should help him. If he loved him. Which he did, which he had.