Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Meant To Be ❯ Chapter 1
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: BejiitasLover 
Ever wonder what could drive Quatre mad? Aside from watching his family be killed that is?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.04.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 588 | Status: Completed
Ever wonder what could drive Quatre mad? Aside from watching his family be killed that is?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.04.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 588 | Status: Completed
Meant to Be
Quatre sat at the desk, leaned back in the chair and sipping a cup of coffee while he stared out of the window. He had been there for a couple hours, not moving an inch aside from raising the cup to his lips. The expression on his face hadn't even changed. It was the same look he'd had when his father and sister died just before he'd lost his sanity. He merely waited for the cause of his sorrow to walk through the door.
(What did I do to deserve such treatment? Was it something I said? Something I didn't? Something I did? Or something overlooked? Did I not give him enough? Did I smother him?) He frowned a little more at his thoughts repeated the same questions over and over. (Who is she? Is she beautiful? Do I know her? Does she make him happy? Is it because she's a woman and I a man? Was he pretending all along? Did he just get bored? Or is she truly better than I'll ever be?)
His torturous thoughts had been going over every question possible to ask. So many memories had tumbled through his head. As the minutes crawled slowly on, his heart cracked and crumbled off in tiny pieces. His soul darkened more and more with every bitter thought of how he could dare betray his love like this.
He heard a distinct rattling behind him. The key was stuck again. Finally the door opened and Trowa walked in like he wasn't late and nothing was wrong. He was even whistling a tune. Quatre didn't move or make a sound. He waited for Trowa to walking the the living room and turn on the lights. It wasn't until five minutes later that he finally did so, giving a surprised sound when he saw Quatre in the desk chair with his back to him.
"Quatre? Why are you sitting here in the dark?" Quatre didn't answer. He was beginning to tremble with anger. "Are you okay? You haven't been here all day have you?"
"No, not all day. Just a few hours," he said darkly.
Trowa seemed to hear the emotions in his voice. He came over and touched Quatre's shoulder lightly. Quatre tore away from him, whirling around and hurling the coffee cup at him. He ducked and it hit the wall behind him. It shattered, splattering cold coffee everywhere.
"What the hell was that for?"
All of the questions that had raised in his mind all day seemed to become a big jumble of words. Nothing he had thought made sense now. He only snarled, his fists clenched tight and his nails digging into his own palms.
"Why?" he nearly hissed.
"What? Why what?"
"Tell me why you did it!" he yelled.
For a moment Trowa said nothing. He then looked away from him with a mix of anger and shame. He sighed and then turned his eyes back, now emotionless as Heero Yuy's. Quatre surpressed a shiver from the icy stare.
"Because I love her."
He heard a short gasp of pain as he drew back. Then he realized it had come from his own lips. He shuddered violently, wrapping his arms around himself like he had the time he'd been stabbed in the stomach. His eyes fell closed and he grit his teeth. It was exactly like the pain of his stabbing, but much more than just physical. Now all of his other questions came flooding back to him. He intended to get the answers one by one no matter how it hurt.
"What did I do to make you stop loving me?"
"Nothing. It was nothing that you did or didn't do. It just happened."
"So who is she?"
"No one you know. Her name is Melissa."
He grinned sadistically, "I suppose she must be gorgeous. She must be smart, kind, and wonderfully not shy like me." Trowa didn't say anything to that. "She must be a pretty good fuck, too."
"Quatre!" he snapped.
"I can smell her perfume from here! Don't try to hide it from me!" Trowa fell silent once again, staring at him with no readable expression. "God... Trowa, did you ever love me? Or were you just waiting for the perfect girl to come into your life?" He snarled with a sudden thought. "Were you closing your eyes every night and pretending I wasn't a guy!"
"Yes, no, and no. It has nothing to do with gender. I loved you for a long time, Quatre."
He shuddered again, now giving a small sob as he slumped down to his knees. He felt so humiliated. He should've known from the start that it wouldn't last. How could any relationship with a man like Trowa work. Trowa was so strong and independent. He didn't need a little boy hanging around under foot, someone he had to protect and worry about all the time.
He sat there in the floor and cried for a long time, Trowa watching silently and making no effort to comfort him. Finally, the bout of sorrow faded and his anger returned as he thought of the solution he'd come to earlier.
"It's such a shame," he said softly. "You were always such a wonderful person."
"Quatre, please, stop this. It would be easier on us both to just move on."
Quatre looked up at him as he got to his feet, an expression of pure hatred written all over his face. Trowa blinked and took a step back, thinking he'd have something thrown at him again. He had never seen Quatre like this. It frightened him.
"I'll move on without a problem, but you are not going to get off without penalty." He reached inside his vest slowly and pulled out his gun, pointing straight at Trowa's head. He watched Trowa's eyes go round with shock and terror. "I'm sorry."
The shot rang through the silence like an explosion. It echoed long after the muffled thump of Trowa's knees hitting the floor. Quatre briefly wondered if he could still see him standing there, the gun now at his side. Then the body pitched forward to the floor, blood puddling underneath and spreading quickly across the hardwood floor. Quatre watched it with amazement, backing away from it as if it would claim him as well with its touch. He fell back into the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and uttering a loud fearful whimper. He sat there, rocking back and forth and chewing lightly on the side of hand. He had planned it all out perfectly, but he hadn't anticipated his misery after the deed was done. Without a sound aside from his whimpering, he slowly raised the gun again, this time putting it to his own temple.
"Oh God..." he whispered and cocked the gun back. He pressed the cold metal tighter against his skin and let out a loud sob. "Somebody stop me!" But his finger slowly tightened on the trigger, his whimpered sobs becoming a single cry, "Trowa!"
Another loud bang filled the room, echoing away. Then there was silence. Not a sound or movement came from the apartment. Death echoed through its halls and rooms. The blood on the floor now met with blood dripping off the arm of the couch. It mixed in a deeper red, looking richer and more alive, as if it had belonged like that all along.
Quatre sat at the desk, leaned back in the chair and sipping a cup of coffee while he stared out of the window. He had been there for a couple hours, not moving an inch aside from raising the cup to his lips. The expression on his face hadn't even changed. It was the same look he'd had when his father and sister died just before he'd lost his sanity. He merely waited for the cause of his sorrow to walk through the door.
(What did I do to deserve such treatment? Was it something I said? Something I didn't? Something I did? Or something overlooked? Did I not give him enough? Did I smother him?) He frowned a little more at his thoughts repeated the same questions over and over. (Who is she? Is she beautiful? Do I know her? Does she make him happy? Is it because she's a woman and I a man? Was he pretending all along? Did he just get bored? Or is she truly better than I'll ever be?)
His torturous thoughts had been going over every question possible to ask. So many memories had tumbled through his head. As the minutes crawled slowly on, his heart cracked and crumbled off in tiny pieces. His soul darkened more and more with every bitter thought of how he could dare betray his love like this.
He heard a distinct rattling behind him. The key was stuck again. Finally the door opened and Trowa walked in like he wasn't late and nothing was wrong. He was even whistling a tune. Quatre didn't move or make a sound. He waited for Trowa to walking the the living room and turn on the lights. It wasn't until five minutes later that he finally did so, giving a surprised sound when he saw Quatre in the desk chair with his back to him.
"Quatre? Why are you sitting here in the dark?" Quatre didn't answer. He was beginning to tremble with anger. "Are you okay? You haven't been here all day have you?"
"No, not all day. Just a few hours," he said darkly.
Trowa seemed to hear the emotions in his voice. He came over and touched Quatre's shoulder lightly. Quatre tore away from him, whirling around and hurling the coffee cup at him. He ducked and it hit the wall behind him. It shattered, splattering cold coffee everywhere.
"What the hell was that for?"
All of the questions that had raised in his mind all day seemed to become a big jumble of words. Nothing he had thought made sense now. He only snarled, his fists clenched tight and his nails digging into his own palms.
"Why?" he nearly hissed.
"What? Why what?"
"Tell me why you did it!" he yelled.
For a moment Trowa said nothing. He then looked away from him with a mix of anger and shame. He sighed and then turned his eyes back, now emotionless as Heero Yuy's. Quatre surpressed a shiver from the icy stare.
"Because I love her."
He heard a short gasp of pain as he drew back. Then he realized it had come from his own lips. He shuddered violently, wrapping his arms around himself like he had the time he'd been stabbed in the stomach. His eyes fell closed and he grit his teeth. It was exactly like the pain of his stabbing, but much more than just physical. Now all of his other questions came flooding back to him. He intended to get the answers one by one no matter how it hurt.
"What did I do to make you stop loving me?"
"Nothing. It was nothing that you did or didn't do. It just happened."
"So who is she?"
"No one you know. Her name is Melissa."
He grinned sadistically, "I suppose she must be gorgeous. She must be smart, kind, and wonderfully not shy like me." Trowa didn't say anything to that. "She must be a pretty good fuck, too."
"Quatre!" he snapped.
"I can smell her perfume from here! Don't try to hide it from me!" Trowa fell silent once again, staring at him with no readable expression. "God... Trowa, did you ever love me? Or were you just waiting for the perfect girl to come into your life?" He snarled with a sudden thought. "Were you closing your eyes every night and pretending I wasn't a guy!"
"Yes, no, and no. It has nothing to do with gender. I loved you for a long time, Quatre."
He shuddered again, now giving a small sob as he slumped down to his knees. He felt so humiliated. He should've known from the start that it wouldn't last. How could any relationship with a man like Trowa work. Trowa was so strong and independent. He didn't need a little boy hanging around under foot, someone he had to protect and worry about all the time.
He sat there in the floor and cried for a long time, Trowa watching silently and making no effort to comfort him. Finally, the bout of sorrow faded and his anger returned as he thought of the solution he'd come to earlier.
"It's such a shame," he said softly. "You were always such a wonderful person."
"Quatre, please, stop this. It would be easier on us both to just move on."
Quatre looked up at him as he got to his feet, an expression of pure hatred written all over his face. Trowa blinked and took a step back, thinking he'd have something thrown at him again. He had never seen Quatre like this. It frightened him.
"I'll move on without a problem, but you are not going to get off without penalty." He reached inside his vest slowly and pulled out his gun, pointing straight at Trowa's head. He watched Trowa's eyes go round with shock and terror. "I'm sorry."
The shot rang through the silence like an explosion. It echoed long after the muffled thump of Trowa's knees hitting the floor. Quatre briefly wondered if he could still see him standing there, the gun now at his side. Then the body pitched forward to the floor, blood puddling underneath and spreading quickly across the hardwood floor. Quatre watched it with amazement, backing away from it as if it would claim him as well with its touch. He fell back into the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and uttering a loud fearful whimper. He sat there, rocking back and forth and chewing lightly on the side of hand. He had planned it all out perfectly, but he hadn't anticipated his misery after the deed was done. Without a sound aside from his whimpering, he slowly raised the gun again, this time putting it to his own temple.
"Oh God..." he whispered and cocked the gun back. He pressed the cold metal tighter against his skin and let out a loud sob. "Somebody stop me!" But his finger slowly tightened on the trigger, his whimpered sobs becoming a single cry, "Trowa!"
Another loud bang filled the room, echoing away. Then there was silence. Not a sound or movement came from the apartment. Death echoed through its halls and rooms. The blood on the floor now met with blood dripping off the arm of the couch. It mixed in a deeper red, looking richer and more alive, as if it had belonged like that all along.