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© the G boys are copyright to their respective owners. Fusei and Alex are the property of the author and a dear friend. The plot of this was mostly originally contrived with the help of a really spiffy old movie called ‘The Changeling’ * This movie is a must see! *
This story has nothing to do with mechs or fighting, or even the story dynamic of Gundam Wing, it has to do with GHOSTS >: 0 ^~^ Therefore, you might bail now if that kind of thing doesn’t float your boat. I just needed a break from ‘He Doth Descended…’ from pre-destination and a bunch of heavy things, to more death, destruction and depression!
Warning: Extremely graphic violence, rape, blood, ghosts, scary shit and eventually some shonen ai. Dare you venture?
THIS STORY IS RATED- R! *for really odd*
Part One-
I’m standing on the edge of time
Playing out a reckless pantomime
And every day’s another wrong to rectify
I dream about a strangers’ touch
And voices in my head I cannot hush
And every night’s a hunger I cannot satisfy
It’s the secret that I keep
It’s the ache that makes me weep
And I know I’m in too deep
I’m going to drown
- excerpt from‘Out of Bounds’, Amanda Marshal CD-Tuesday’s Child
-FRIDAY-
Hiiro sighed as he laid back in his cramped Tokyo apartment. It was just beginning to be August, and had there been leafs around to fall, he was sure that they wouldn’t because the seasons on the Eastern side of the world were very different than those on the West side of the world. He had become very used to living in America. It seemed to be taking a long time to get re-aquatinted with his homeland. Yet there again, Japan technically was not his homeland, but rather the place where his ethnicity stemmed from. He’d like to get out of cramped Tokyo and to somewhere completely different. He’d like to get out of the city completely. He’d always been absolutely enchanted with places that were around dense groves of trees; he was in absolute heaven when he was in the very middle of a forest. There was a property sale coming up soon. He was planning to put most of his savings into getting a place as far out in the country as he could get.
Quatre would be coming over later that evening to pick him up for dinner. His little Arab friend had offered to take him to have sushi and talk about his plans for moving. Quatre, being the sweetheart that he was, had offered to help pay for some decent real estate for Hiiro, provided he liked the area. Hiiro was notorious for expecting too much out of anything that he got into. In the background the phone rang, Hiiro looked at the phone annoyed, half wondering whether or not he should let the answering machine pick it up.
Quatre picked up his phone and cradled it against his shoulder as he glided through the house, straightening here, rearranging there, ever on the lookout for something that he could do to make his modest, but well furnished house look any better than it already did. After hearing the phone ring four times he was about to hang up when Hiiro picked up, his slightly nasal voice sounding very scratchy over the phone.
“Moshi moshi?”
“Hey Hiiro.”
“Quatre. What do you want?”
“Nothing in particular. I just thought that I’d call and see if we were still on for sushi this evening.”
“Yeah.”
“Great, I’ll be there around eight!!”
As Quatre disconnected, Hiiro reiterated an old thought that it was entirely possible his Arabian friend was on opium or something or a similar substance. He couldn’t figure out how Quatre managed to be so cheerful. On a personal level he was rather sure that if he were to smile every time he saw Quatre that his jaw muscles would seize up and he would have to go to a masseuse to get his jaw unlocked. He shook his head, he really wasn’t being fair to the boy, there was more there than would at first be apparent directly under the surface.
-FRIDAY EVENING-
Quatre sipped at the slim glass that contained his Chardonnay and looked at Hiiro, who seemed to be somewhere else entirely. He smiled slowly to himself. After picking Hiiro up he had managed to talk the Japanese boy out of sushi and now they were sitting in his favorite restaurant.
“Hiiro-kun?”
“Hm?”
“Where are you?”
“What?”
“I asked, where are you, you seem like you’re someplace else entirely. I didn’t know that I was quite that boring.”
Hiiro sighed as he saw the carefully masked hurt on Quatre’s face. He put on one of his rare smiles and went to comfort his friend.
“It’s not that you’re boring Quatre, actually, it’s the opposite, with all of the weird shit that happens when I’m around you.”
Quatre broke in indignantly before Hiiro could complete his sentence. “Look, just because furniture happens to levitate when I get angry does not qualify in my book as ‘weird shit’. You want to know what ‘weird shit is’”
Hiiro got the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t have broached the subject. Yet he was in too deep now, it was the wonderful scenario of say yes and find out something you probably didn’t want to know in the first place or say no and get into trouble with your friend. No win scenario.
“So what in –your- mind qualifies as ‘weird shit’?”
Quatre sighed and let his small fingers slip around his teacup as he brought it gracefully up to his lips.
“Well, when the dead whisper in your ears twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, that’s a little bit odd. And if you start seeing the afore mentioned people sitting around, or walking around, in very odd places I might add; one starts to get a tad disconcerted. That’s the tip of the iceberg, but you’ve got me annoyed now and I can’t think properly.”
Hiiro raised his eyebrows, but inwardly he smiled. He’d won over the slightly eccentric little blonde. That always made him feel a surge of triumph because usually, the boy had an uncanny sense of what he was thinking. He picked at his salad and sipped the drink that he had been brought, incidentally iced tea. Quatre was slightly miffed, but not angry. He simply smiled and looked at Hiiro.
“So what exactly is it that you’re looking for in this house Hiiro?”
Hiiro looked thoughtful for a moment and then came back to reality. “Well, I’d like a fairly large place, preferably in a wooded area and away from other people.”
Quatre grinned and then spoke. “Jesus Hiiro it sounds like you’re wanting to get axe murdered.”
The Japanese boy across from him snorted. “Nothing of the sort. I have no intention of letting anyone get that close to me.”
Quatre sighed and sipped at his beverage. “So, when is the estate sale?”
“It’s on Sunday. I’ve got ten-thousand dollars to buy something with. That’s what it comes down to.”
Quatre smiled and nodded. “I hope that you get something that’s worthwhile.”
Hiiro’s answer was lost amidst the sounds of the chatting crowds of people in the small but elegant restaurant. Heero caught a trace of foreboding in Quatre’s baby blue eyes but paid it no mind. His friend had a lot of secrets and hunches, and if he felt the need then he would share them with him. If he chose not to, then most likely it wasn’t in his best interests to know.
-SUNDAY EVENING-
With unblinking eyes Hiiro stared at the neatly printed receipt that claimed in a cheerful font, that he was the proud new owner of a mansion out in the heartland of America. It was a great, vast Victorian place. The price for the place had been insanely low. Most of the show had been on fairly small property. When he saw the prices that the other properties were going for his hope had started to wane. Then his place had come up to the block. In that moment he threw all of his money into the place. He knew that he had to have the place. It was at least four stories and the acres around the house had been something with three digits in the number. The house in question was actually slightly foreboding, with it’s great and dark windows staring out at him like a predator at it’s prey. Yet he wanted the place. He wanted the place with all of his heart. And surprisingly, he had gotten it. His bid had met no contest.
After that amazing and unprecedented triumph, the whole evening had seemed to blur together. Even now he seemed to be caught in the warm grip of euphoric stupor. The receipt in his hand was held in an iron grip, and heaven help the poor soul that tried to take the piece of paper away from him. At his hip he felt something. In the space of several silent seconds he realized that his cell phone was ringing.
With a casual hand he reached back and pulled the small device out of his pocket. In an offhanded gesture he turned it on and spoke.
“Moshi moshi?”
“How did the estate sale go?”
“Great.”
“Didn’t need to borrow any money?”
“Used all of mine.”
“Nice place?”
“Gorgeous.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll probably be at your apartment before you are. I’ll use my key.”
“Hn.”
