The characters Heero and Duo belong to the creators of Mobile Suit Gundam Wing and I'm just borrowing them. I own nothing but the ideas expressed in this piece of fan-fiction.

Duo was on the couch, having a staring contest with a tall bottle of alcohol on the table in front of him. A half-drunk, broken image of himself was staring back from the bottle. Duo always tried to beat that image, but it never wavered and it never blinked. It just looked back with the same sad eyes, disfigured by the bottle, reminding him of the monster he really was and the scars that riddled his insides.

“I wonder if you see me as ugly as I see you,” the boy asked the mirror Duo before choking the bottle's neck and lifting it towards his lips, “You win again.”

An old avatar of war appeared from the bedroom as Duo swigged the bottle, attempting to suck the life from the ugly reflection that always haunted him. No matter how many bottles he downed though, he never once made it go away.

“You're drinking again,” Heero stated, as if it was a frequent occurrence. And it was. Duo just sucked on the poison harder, and almost choked as Heero pressed himself into the couch beside him. The bottle resumed its place on the table, the liquids inside sloshing about as it recovered from Duo's deadly kiss.

“Yeah, I'm drinking again, it makes me feel better,” Duo replied through his hand as he wiped his lips, attempting to justify it even though he knew it was pointless. He had purposefully looked away to avoid Heero's gaze; the man had eyes like daggers that went right to Duo's heart. He couldn't lie to Heero anymore then he could lie to himself...but he sure as hell tried.

“Duo...,” Heero began, but Duo didn't want to hear him. Duo didn't want him to be right like he always was.

“I'll drink if I want to, Heero,” Duo cut in angrily, punching the table hard enough to nearly tip the bottle of booze over, “You have it easy anyways damn it!” Heero just looked at him. Even though he would never show it openly, Duo could feel the sting of his own words.

“You know what I mean Heero,” Duo continued, falling against the back of the couch and letting the air out of his warm lungs, “I can't just stuff it away like you can. I can't just forget everything in my past.”

Silence crept into the apartment as both tired and war torn boys, now becoming maladjusted adults, felt the sting of their past, the weight of their crimes, and those committed against them. The bottle lifted from the table like a quiet ghost, and Heero took a long drink.

“Heero...” Duo pushed up, startled as he watched the poison slide down Heero's throat, “what are you doing...you don't drink.”

The bottle fell from his lips, and his eyes met those of his ugly reflection. They stared back at him, cold and unmoving. Duo was afraid, for a moment, that he had pushed him too far with his words.

“Duo...,” Heero started, his eyes battling with those of his reflection, “This isn't strong enough to wash us clean.”

“You bastard...,” was the only thing Duo could mutter. Heero was always right. That poison would never make him forget all the horrible things in their past. They just had to grin and bear it, and just maybe they'd be able to make it together. Just maybe.