Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Obligations ❯ Chapter 1
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: deathangel125 
Trowa POV about the life he has, and the one he wants. yaoi
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.21.2012 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.7K | Visits: 738 | Status: Completed
Trowa POV about the life he has, and the one he wants. yaoi
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.21.2012 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.7K | Visits: 738 | Status: Completed
Disclaimers: Not mine. I wish they were, but sadly, they belong to someone else with a lot more money than I have.
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 2+3, 1x4 (they’re busy in here, okay?)
Warnings: There be men in them there hills, doing things they shouldn’t be. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Yaoi, with a dash of lime.
AN: I needed a break from another story that is much more confusing and convoluted, so several small, short stories were a good way to give my brain that much needed rest. This is one of those stories. It’s sweet, sappy, and predictable, but it’s Trowa and Duo, so who cares, right? Enjoy! Feedback always appreciated.
OBLIGATIONS
He’s here. I can’t see him in the room, crowded with people, but I can feel him as if he was standing next to me, touching me lightly as I know he would. I can’t see him, but I know he’s watching me, waiting for some signal from me – waiting to see if he would be denied.
I don’t think I can deny him, even if it would better for both of us.
Giving a nod so small most wouldn’t notice, I wonder what has happened. He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something wrong, not on a night like this, when everyone from the elite classes are gathered in the ballroom. I wait thirty minutes before I leave, chatting with people I don’t really care for, and rubbing elbows with people whose names I can’t recall, not even after years of being forced to these gatherings.
My exit goes unnoticed, I’m sure. No one here pays much attention to me, and right now I’m thankful for that. I don’t go to my bedroom, knowing he won’t be there. We both agreed long ago it was too dangerous to meet in such an obvious place. The anticipation I feel shames me but I stopped trying to fight it long ago.
Entering one of the unused guest rooms, I soundlessly close the door behind me, not bothering with a light. He can see in the dark better than I, so I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. It only takes seconds for me to see the furniture, covered with sheets and resembling ghosts lurking in the dark. Movement catches my eye and I step forward. “What’s wrong?”
There is a soft laugh in the dark and he comes closer, his scent drifting to me. I draw it in even as I pull him unresisting into my arms. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed to see you. I forgot about this thing tonight, or I wouldn’t have come. When I got here and realized, I couldn’t leave.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” It’s only been days since I last saw him, but it feels like months. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“It’s been a rough few days, but other than that, everything’s okay, I guess.” His laugh is strained, a sound that goes straight to my heart. “Why do you put up with me?”
I don’t bother to answer. He knows why I come every time he bids me, just as I know why I call so I can hear the sound of his voice. It doesn’t matter that in every other way we belong to others, in this one way we belong to only each other. “I can’t stay.”
“I know. I just…needed to see you for a minute. Everything will be fine now.”
I can’t stay, but I spare another five minutes as I hold him, wishing there was a way to be together, but we both have obligations. We’ve both made promises and we can’t make ourselves break them. When he leaves, it is through the window. He won’t be seen by anyone, even if he passes right by them. I wait until he’s out of sight before returning to the ballroom, and my obligations.
It’s only been two weeks since I saw him at the ball, but each day seems to get longer, more unbearable. I spoke to him a few days ago, and the soft sound of his voice over the phone made me want to cry. I could hear the sadness that continually eats away at us both, but am helpless to alter our situation.
Sitting in the large dining room, I eat my dinner alone, barely giving any thought to the empty chair across from me that is vacant more often than it is occupied lately. My mind is consumed with thoughts of what could be rather than what is.
Hearing the front door, I wait; this is the first place he’ll look for me. In minutes, I’m given an apologetic smile as he walks into the room. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat.”
I start to say that I didn’t when I realize my plate is still full, though the food has long grown cold. He leans down to kiss me, another man’s scent on his skin. “I wasn’t really hungry,” I tell him, this man I have found myself trapped with.
His pale face flushes with concern that is genuine. “You haven’t been eating lately, Trowa. Is something wrong? Are you sick?”
I am sick. Sick of this farce we’ve found ourselves living in. This isn’t what I say, of course. “I’ve just been too busy lately, I guess. How was your day?”
“Fine. There was a lot of business I had to attend to and had to work late. I ate earlier.”
Lying in bed I let myself imagine what life could be if I was able to throw off the burdens and commitments I saddled myself with. There are plenty of places I could go, places where I could build a new life, but a life alone isn’t what I want. I could have a full life with a new job, a new home, but it would be empty and pointless without him.
“Can you get away?” It’s been a month and I’m starting to feel like an addict that’s gone too long without a fix. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, and my work is suffering.
“Meet me in our usual place in an hour,” he says in a rush, his voice barely a whisper, and I have no doubt he’s not alone. How he will explain leaving I don’t know, and I don’t care. I have to see him and he sounds like he needs to see me just as badly.
An hour later I’m in the center of the botanical gardens, worried only about how long he will get to stay. I don’t even give Quatre a second thought – he won’t be home for hours, too busy with his own affairs to be concerned about me.
I don’t even realize how anxious I am until his arms come around me from behind and every muscle in my body loosens. His hold on me isn’t tight so I turn, bringing him close and burying my face in his hair. “I missed you.”
“How much longer can we keep doing this? How much longer can we keep sneaking around like this before it destroys us?”
I’ve asked myself the same things a dozen times, and I don’t have an answer. I only know one thing for certain. “I have to see you. I have to.”
“I know. I can’t live without you.”
His voice is sad, but I’m afraid to ask why. I have no idea when I started to depend on seeing him, but I need him as much as I need air to breath. Afraid to ask when he needs to leave, I take the short time we have together as a gift, surprised when he takes my hand and begins to walk through the gardens, leading me into the aviary, his favorite place.
“Don’t you need to get back?”
The smile he gives me is one I treasure. I’ve never seen him smile at anyone else that way, with his eyes peaceful. He’s always said I give him a peace no one else can, yet at the same time I know it bothers him that things are this way. He’s as conflicted as I am, but I can’t let him go. “I have some time.”
Releasing my hand, he stands in the center of the room, surrounded with trees and flowers, birds flying above his head. To me, this room is the embodiment of everything he is, alive and rushing on the surface; however, if you manage to get past the surface you can find the little things inside him, such as the unending patience and loyalty.
There are times when I look at him and it hurts to grasp how beautiful he is, a beauty both inside and out. He’s looking up, watching a bird as it flits from one area to another when I go to him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him as close as physically possible. “What are we going to do?”
“The best we can,” is his reply, muffled slightly by the way he has his head in my chest. He lifts his head and stares into my eyes, “Trowa…”
The words are on his tongue – I see them in his eyes. As much as I’d like to hear him finally say what I can see, I shake my head, “Don’t. Please don’t.” I suppose it’s stupid, but if I hear him say that, those words I crave to hear, I’ll forget everything else and make him the main focus of my life.
His fingers reach up to lightly touch my lips. “I understand. You know, though, don’t you?”
“I know.” His mouth is so close, it would only take a small movement to have my lips on his, but I won’t make that move, and he knows it. Strange as it sounds, we’ve never touched each other in an intimate way. I have to hold him close this way, but neither of us will take that next step. It makes no sense, but I comprehend it doesn’t matter. “Just like you know.”
He nods, lowering his head to rest against my chest, sighing as he listens to my heartbeat. There is something else wrong with him – I can feel it in my soul. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing, same bullshit.”
The words are cryptic, but I know what he speaks of. “Is he still…?”
“You know he is, Trowa.” I get a rueful look, and a crooked half smile as he speaks of his own lover, who has been having an affair for over a year – with my lover. The situation is as screwed up and confusing as any on a daytime soap opera. “I just wish I could be more upset about it,” he tells me as he pulls away, leading me to one of the most private areas of the garden. “The whole thing is so fucked up. I can’t seem to figure out what I’m still doing there.”
It’s the same problem I have. I spend my days with someone when here is where I want to be, beside him. “How did we end up like this?”
“We made promises before we realized what we were promising.”
There is no way to argue with that, and we let it go for now, happier when we choose to ignore the obvious problems with our separate lives, and enjoy the time we have together, aware it is short-lived and it may be a while before we can see each other again. Anyone that sees us would assume we are simply good friends. While we may touch, it’s rarely in a way that would be considered inappropriate unless we know we are alone. A caress of a hand, a brush of his fingers on my arm as he shows me something I didn’t see before, a touch on the back of his neck as I turn his head to see something he didn’t notice.
He’s gone in an hour and I’m left alone to return to the house I have lived in for almost a full ten years. The servants are there almost as soon as I walk in the door, asking if there is anything they can do for me. I send them all away, telling them I ate while I was out, a lie I have started to tell often. The idea of eating alone is almost unbearable for me now.
Entering the bedroom I have shared with Quatre for over nine years, I am stunned to find him there, sitting on the bed. It’s easy to see he’s been home for some time, having already changed from the suit he wears to work into the slacks and button down shirt he considers casual wear.
I suppose my surprise if obvious because he smiles at me. “Why so shocked, Trowa? I live here, too.”
“I didn’t expect you home so early,” I reply as I sit in a chair to take off my shoes and socks. “You’ve been working late more often.”
“And where were you this evening?”
That he asks is curious to me. It’s the first time he’s bothered to do so in more than two years, since I began leaving the house and staying gone for hours at a time. “The botanical gardens.”
“You seem to visit there a lot, Trowa.”
Taking off my shirt, I shrug, “They’re beautiful at different times of the year. They always change and there’s always something new to see.”
“I guess you’re right. One day maybe we can go together,” he suggests, and I hesitate for a few seconds before shrugging again. He has seen the pause, though, and brings it up. “You don’t like that idea, do you?”
He’s right; I don’t like the idea at all. The gardens are where I first realized how I felt about him, and where he touched me the first time with more than friendship in his eyes. It’s a place I connect with him, and taking Quatre there would feel…wrong. “We can go if you like. It’s just a place.” The lie sticks in my throat, for it is far more to me than just a place.
Quatre falls silent as I go to the bathroom and take a shower, not following me as he once used to. Those days are long gone for us, the days when we would share a shower or bath on the spur of the moment. When I come out of the bathroom, he is still sitting in the same place, obviously waiting for me to come out.
“When are we going to stop pretending?”
His abrupt question has me frowning, wondering what has brought this on. “Pretending?”
“You know I haven’t been working late all the time, don’t you?”
To hear him ask if I know of his affair surprises me. I had believed he was unaware of my knowledge – he was always discreet. I could lie and say I wasn’t aware, but the notion is distasteful. “I know you haven’t been working late.”
“I thought I was being careful. What gave it away?”
“You smell like someone else when you come home, but not all the time. It’s how I know when you were working and when you…weren’t.”
“How long have you known, Trowa?” his voice is soft, but there is no shame or guilt in it, merely curiosity. That more than anything says how pathetic our lives have become.
“Almost two years.” At first I had been stunned to discover he was having an affair, but even more stunned to find I didn’t really care. I had already realized my heart wasn’t in our relationship, though I had believed it to be before that fateful day at the gardens.
Standing, he moves to the large window overlooking the back of his property. I can’t think of this house or its land as mine, or ours. It’s always been his. “You never said anything, not once. Didn’t it bother you at all to know I was with someone else?”
“Not as much as it should have,” I admit as I sit on the bed, watching him to see what he’ll do next. A large part of me hopes he’ll announce we are finished as a small part of me hopes he doesn’t. Even if we aren’t together, my life is empty if I’m alone.
“Why are you still here?” Quatre demands suddenly, turning to face me, arms crossed over his stomach. “You know I’ve had an affair - that I’ve slept with someone else, so why do you stay? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I made you a promise.”
“You made a promise to stay with me no matter what? I don’t recall that promise, Trowa. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone.”
“I promised I wouldn’t ever leave you,” the answer to my torment is that simple, a vow made in foolish youth that I can’t let go, not even at the cost of my own happiness. If he was free, would I break that vow? In a breath. But he’s not, so there’s no point of debating the issue.
“Trowa, you made that promise when we were fifteen. I might have expected you to keep it once, but we’re different now.” His eyes narrowed in consideration. “Or did you stay because you felt guilty because you were also having an affair?”
“I’ve never had an affair.” It didn’t matter that in my heart I had felt like I was cheating, I have never physically touched another intimately, though I had wanted to, more than once.
“Don’t treat me like a fool, Trowa. You’re going to see someone, aren’t you? I doubt you go to admire the gardens alone.”
“I made a promise, Quatre, and I didn’t break it. I’ve never even kissed someone else while I’ve been with you.” I may have thought of it, a thousand times – I may have dreamed of it just as many – but I remained faithful. “I go to the gardens to admire the beauty.” The beauty has more to do with my company while I’m there, but I do go to admire the beauty.
“You’ve never had an affair.”
“No. I never have, Quatre. You can believe me or not, but it’s the truth.”
It’s a surprise to see him sit down quickly, face in his hands. “I thought you were having an affair, but I couldn’t figure out who with. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I was so jealous, not because you were with someone else, but because you were suddenly happier, more calm and peaceful. I guess I wanted to feel that way, too.”
“You had an affair because of me?”
“At first that was the reason I used. It changed, became more as time went on and you seemed not to notice. Part of it was the thrill of doing something forbidden, sneaking around. It was exciting, you know?”
It was strange, because Quatre had been enjoying the prospect of sneaking around while the same thing had been making me sick to my stomach. And what I had been doing wasn’t nearly as bad as the activities he had been involved in. “I don’t know. The thought of doing something like that would have eaten me alive with guilt.” This I knew for a fact.
“I know it should have, but it didn’t. I wish you had been having an affair, Trowa. It would make it better for me.”
This had me staring in disbelief. “Better for you? You’ve been having an affair and you feel bad I can’t make it easier for you?”
“It’s not like that. All this time I thought you were, so it made it easier for me to…do what I really wanted. I stopped thinking of it as wrong a long time ago, probably because it’s what I needed to believe.” Looking up at me, I could see there is a sadness in his eyes that mirrors the feelings in my own heart, and knew what he was going to say before he ever said it. “Trowa, I don’t want you to stay anymore unless it’s what you want. That promise never should have been made in the first place, and I can’t hold you to it. Not anymore, not like this.”
When I continue staring at him, Quatre frowns at me. “Don’t you see? You can leave if you want to. I want you to be happy, and you aren’t happy here. Isn’t there somewhere you want to go, someone you want to see?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s impossible.” I am now free from the obligations that have trapped me, but I don’t feel better. What I want can never be, not without him. “I’ll start moving my things out tomorrow.”
Coming to sit beside me, Quatre touches my arm hesitantly. The touch makes me think of him, and the time we were able to spend in the gardens. It pains me to know I’ve been released from my vow, and I still can’t be with him. “I thought this would make you happy.”
“Things aren’t that simple.”
“There is someone, isn’t there? Someone you want to go to, the person that makes you so happy.”
Amazingly, he doesn’t realize who it is I want. “There is someone,” I confirm softly.
“Then go call him, tell him you want to be with him. Isn’t that what you need?”
“He has…obligations of his own, Quatre. A promise he made he needs to keep.”
“Is it as stupid as the promise you made to me?”
The blunt question was enough to have me chuckling. “You could say that. It was made a long time ago, but he still holds himself to it.”
“Talk to him, then. Make him see a promise made for the wrong reasons is worse than breaking a promise. If he isn’t happy, then he should get away from whatever it is holding him from you.” He watches me for another moment, shaking his head when I say nothing. “It’s getting late.”
“Under the circumstances, I’ll go sleep in a different room. I need to get used to sleeping alone.”
“You can stay here as long as you like, but I agree it’s best for you to take a different room.”
Before long, I find myself in the vacant guest room I met him in, hoping to find some sort of remnant of his presence. Making up the bed, I catch the faint whiff of his scent lingering in the air and breathe it in, aching for the one thing I want most. Lying down to sleep, I wonder if I’ll have to wait forever to be truly happy.
For two weeks I stay with Quatre, sleeping in the guest room. I’m looking for an apartment, but everything livable is too much for the simple tastes I have managed to retain in ten years of living in opulence. It might be the reason I want something small instead of the large apartments that are available.
Something is happening with him that I’m not hearing of, and I can’t speak to him. Every time I’ve tried to call his phone goes to voice mail, and this worries me. Has he decided after all this time he can’t do this anymore? Not being able to hear his voice is causing me to act foolish, my mind constantly wandering. I’ve taken a leave of absence from work to look for a new place to live and to try and get my mind back to where it belongs.
At the beginning of the third week, I’m very concerned. He has never avoided my calls, and has always made an effort to call me back as soon as possible. Knowing no one is allowed to use his phone, I continue to call, hoping he’ll speak to me and let me know what’s going on. Have I finally become freed just to lose him completely?
In sleep I’m tortured by thoughts of him, his scent surrounding me. His hands are on me in a way they’ve never been before, in a way I’ve wanted him to touch me for so long. I’m pulled out of slumber when I realize his touch is too real to be a dream, staring up at him in amazement as he sits on the side of the bed.
Slowly I reach out to touch his face, needing to make sure he’s real and not conjured up from my desperate need for him. Under my hand his skin is smooth and warm, convincing me he is actually there. I want to pull him to me so badly, but after three weeks of hearing nothing, I’m no longer sure he wants me. “Is everything okay?” I ask, for once not knowing how to handle him.
Moving his hand to hold mine on his cheek, his eyes shine in the dark. “That depends. There’s potential for everything to be great.”
“Depends on what?” My thumb moves across his lips, hand spreading to encompass as much of his skin as possible, the ends of my fingers digging into his hair.
“It depends on how you feel about me.”
I’m scared to answer, afraid of what it might mean that he asks. “You know. You’ve always known.”
“I need you to tell me. I need to hear it.”
The words get stuck in my throat, not from fear now, but hope. If he wants the words spoke, when we’ve taken so much care not to say them before, it means something important has happened, and my life is about to change. “Are you sure about this? You know what this will mean.” It will mean my emotions are out in the open, and they will never be taken back. He will be acknowledging how deeply I feel, and by hearing it will be accepting all that entails.
“I know what this will mean. Please, Trowa.” His hand is tense on mine, making me grasp he’s as nervous as I am.
For two years I have waited for this moment. The pain and torture of being separated from him are suddenly inconsequential, erased by the way he looks at me. My other hand comes up, framing his face and leaning forward, my eyes on his as I speak in a whisper, not daring to say these words any louder for fear of breaking the spell he has woven between us. “I love you.”
My mouth is almost on his when I hear what he says and my hopes are crushed into dust. “I’m leaving.”
“What?” I can’t believe it. After all this time, all this waiting, he’s leaving. “I can’t…I don’t think I can live without you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m leaving, Trowa. Tonight. I want you to come with me.”
My emotions are up and down so much I’m starting to doubt what I hear. “Say that again.”
“I want you to come with me. I want to leave, tonight. I want to leave with you.” His arms are around me suddenly, holding on like he’s afraid I’ll say no. “I don’t want to live without you anymore. I want to go somewhere and start over, you and me.”
“Why?”
He understands what I’m asking, as he always does. I’m not asking him why he wants to leave, or why he wants me to go with him. I’m asking for the assurance he’s yet to give. His smile is beautiful, peaceful, “I love you. God, I love you so much.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Smoothing the hair away from his face, I press our lips together lightly, wanting more but knowing we have all the time in the world once we’re gone from this place that has held me captive for too long. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you get some stuff packed. My truck’s out back.”
Since I’ve been preparing to move out of the large house, most of my things are in storage. It takes me less than ten minutes to be dressed and toss the rest of my clothes into a bag, then we sneak down the halls of the building I had called home for ten years. As he said, his truck waits for us outside, a bag in the back I assume are his own clothes, and I toss mine beside it before climbing in the cab beside him.
Starting the truck, he looks at me with a grin full of excitement. “You have any preference about where we go?”
“I think I’d like to go somewhere near the water for now.” It’s easy to see the idea pleases him. He’s always loved the water, and the heat, so I think we’ll end up at a beach somewhere, and that’s fine with me.
“Sounds great.”
As he pulls away from the house I look back, narrowing my eyes when I see two figures standing on one of the upper balconies. It takes me a minute to recognize it is Quatre and Heero, watching us as we leave. When the smaller of the two lifts his hand in farewell, I smile, understanding my former lover knew more than I gave him credit for.
“Trowa?”
Turning back, I smile at my companion, my love, my future lover. “You were right. Everything has the potential to be great.” When he stops at the end of the driveway, I tangle my fingers in his braid and pull him to me. “Finally, we’re free.”
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 2+3, 1x4 (they’re busy in here, okay?)
Warnings: There be men in them there hills, doing things they shouldn’t be. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Yaoi, with a dash of lime.
AN: I needed a break from another story that is much more confusing and convoluted, so several small, short stories were a good way to give my brain that much needed rest. This is one of those stories. It’s sweet, sappy, and predictable, but it’s Trowa and Duo, so who cares, right? Enjoy! Feedback always appreciated.
OBLIGATIONS
He’s here. I can’t see him in the room, crowded with people, but I can feel him as if he was standing next to me, touching me lightly as I know he would. I can’t see him, but I know he’s watching me, waiting for some signal from me – waiting to see if he would be denied.
I don’t think I can deny him, even if it would better for both of us.
Giving a nod so small most wouldn’t notice, I wonder what has happened. He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something wrong, not on a night like this, when everyone from the elite classes are gathered in the ballroom. I wait thirty minutes before I leave, chatting with people I don’t really care for, and rubbing elbows with people whose names I can’t recall, not even after years of being forced to these gatherings.
My exit goes unnoticed, I’m sure. No one here pays much attention to me, and right now I’m thankful for that. I don’t go to my bedroom, knowing he won’t be there. We both agreed long ago it was too dangerous to meet in such an obvious place. The anticipation I feel shames me but I stopped trying to fight it long ago.
Entering one of the unused guest rooms, I soundlessly close the door behind me, not bothering with a light. He can see in the dark better than I, so I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. It only takes seconds for me to see the furniture, covered with sheets and resembling ghosts lurking in the dark. Movement catches my eye and I step forward. “What’s wrong?”
There is a soft laugh in the dark and he comes closer, his scent drifting to me. I draw it in even as I pull him unresisting into my arms. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed to see you. I forgot about this thing tonight, or I wouldn’t have come. When I got here and realized, I couldn’t leave.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” It’s only been days since I last saw him, but it feels like months. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“It’s been a rough few days, but other than that, everything’s okay, I guess.” His laugh is strained, a sound that goes straight to my heart. “Why do you put up with me?”
I don’t bother to answer. He knows why I come every time he bids me, just as I know why I call so I can hear the sound of his voice. It doesn’t matter that in every other way we belong to others, in this one way we belong to only each other. “I can’t stay.”
“I know. I just…needed to see you for a minute. Everything will be fine now.”
I can’t stay, but I spare another five minutes as I hold him, wishing there was a way to be together, but we both have obligations. We’ve both made promises and we can’t make ourselves break them. When he leaves, it is through the window. He won’t be seen by anyone, even if he passes right by them. I wait until he’s out of sight before returning to the ballroom, and my obligations.
It’s only been two weeks since I saw him at the ball, but each day seems to get longer, more unbearable. I spoke to him a few days ago, and the soft sound of his voice over the phone made me want to cry. I could hear the sadness that continually eats away at us both, but am helpless to alter our situation.
Sitting in the large dining room, I eat my dinner alone, barely giving any thought to the empty chair across from me that is vacant more often than it is occupied lately. My mind is consumed with thoughts of what could be rather than what is.
Hearing the front door, I wait; this is the first place he’ll look for me. In minutes, I’m given an apologetic smile as he walks into the room. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat.”
I start to say that I didn’t when I realize my plate is still full, though the food has long grown cold. He leans down to kiss me, another man’s scent on his skin. “I wasn’t really hungry,” I tell him, this man I have found myself trapped with.
His pale face flushes with concern that is genuine. “You haven’t been eating lately, Trowa. Is something wrong? Are you sick?”
I am sick. Sick of this farce we’ve found ourselves living in. This isn’t what I say, of course. “I’ve just been too busy lately, I guess. How was your day?”
“Fine. There was a lot of business I had to attend to and had to work late. I ate earlier.”
Lying in bed I let myself imagine what life could be if I was able to throw off the burdens and commitments I saddled myself with. There are plenty of places I could go, places where I could build a new life, but a life alone isn’t what I want. I could have a full life with a new job, a new home, but it would be empty and pointless without him.
“Can you get away?” It’s been a month and I’m starting to feel like an addict that’s gone too long without a fix. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, and my work is suffering.
“Meet me in our usual place in an hour,” he says in a rush, his voice barely a whisper, and I have no doubt he’s not alone. How he will explain leaving I don’t know, and I don’t care. I have to see him and he sounds like he needs to see me just as badly.
An hour later I’m in the center of the botanical gardens, worried only about how long he will get to stay. I don’t even give Quatre a second thought – he won’t be home for hours, too busy with his own affairs to be concerned about me.
I don’t even realize how anxious I am until his arms come around me from behind and every muscle in my body loosens. His hold on me isn’t tight so I turn, bringing him close and burying my face in his hair. “I missed you.”
“How much longer can we keep doing this? How much longer can we keep sneaking around like this before it destroys us?”
I’ve asked myself the same things a dozen times, and I don’t have an answer. I only know one thing for certain. “I have to see you. I have to.”
“I know. I can’t live without you.”
His voice is sad, but I’m afraid to ask why. I have no idea when I started to depend on seeing him, but I need him as much as I need air to breath. Afraid to ask when he needs to leave, I take the short time we have together as a gift, surprised when he takes my hand and begins to walk through the gardens, leading me into the aviary, his favorite place.
“Don’t you need to get back?”
The smile he gives me is one I treasure. I’ve never seen him smile at anyone else that way, with his eyes peaceful. He’s always said I give him a peace no one else can, yet at the same time I know it bothers him that things are this way. He’s as conflicted as I am, but I can’t let him go. “I have some time.”
Releasing my hand, he stands in the center of the room, surrounded with trees and flowers, birds flying above his head. To me, this room is the embodiment of everything he is, alive and rushing on the surface; however, if you manage to get past the surface you can find the little things inside him, such as the unending patience and loyalty.
There are times when I look at him and it hurts to grasp how beautiful he is, a beauty both inside and out. He’s looking up, watching a bird as it flits from one area to another when I go to him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him as close as physically possible. “What are we going to do?”
“The best we can,” is his reply, muffled slightly by the way he has his head in my chest. He lifts his head and stares into my eyes, “Trowa…”
The words are on his tongue – I see them in his eyes. As much as I’d like to hear him finally say what I can see, I shake my head, “Don’t. Please don’t.” I suppose it’s stupid, but if I hear him say that, those words I crave to hear, I’ll forget everything else and make him the main focus of my life.
His fingers reach up to lightly touch my lips. “I understand. You know, though, don’t you?”
“I know.” His mouth is so close, it would only take a small movement to have my lips on his, but I won’t make that move, and he knows it. Strange as it sounds, we’ve never touched each other in an intimate way. I have to hold him close this way, but neither of us will take that next step. It makes no sense, but I comprehend it doesn’t matter. “Just like you know.”
He nods, lowering his head to rest against my chest, sighing as he listens to my heartbeat. There is something else wrong with him – I can feel it in my soul. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing, same bullshit.”
The words are cryptic, but I know what he speaks of. “Is he still…?”
“You know he is, Trowa.” I get a rueful look, and a crooked half smile as he speaks of his own lover, who has been having an affair for over a year – with my lover. The situation is as screwed up and confusing as any on a daytime soap opera. “I just wish I could be more upset about it,” he tells me as he pulls away, leading me to one of the most private areas of the garden. “The whole thing is so fucked up. I can’t seem to figure out what I’m still doing there.”
It’s the same problem I have. I spend my days with someone when here is where I want to be, beside him. “How did we end up like this?”
“We made promises before we realized what we were promising.”
There is no way to argue with that, and we let it go for now, happier when we choose to ignore the obvious problems with our separate lives, and enjoy the time we have together, aware it is short-lived and it may be a while before we can see each other again. Anyone that sees us would assume we are simply good friends. While we may touch, it’s rarely in a way that would be considered inappropriate unless we know we are alone. A caress of a hand, a brush of his fingers on my arm as he shows me something I didn’t see before, a touch on the back of his neck as I turn his head to see something he didn’t notice.
He’s gone in an hour and I’m left alone to return to the house I have lived in for almost a full ten years. The servants are there almost as soon as I walk in the door, asking if there is anything they can do for me. I send them all away, telling them I ate while I was out, a lie I have started to tell often. The idea of eating alone is almost unbearable for me now.
Entering the bedroom I have shared with Quatre for over nine years, I am stunned to find him there, sitting on the bed. It’s easy to see he’s been home for some time, having already changed from the suit he wears to work into the slacks and button down shirt he considers casual wear.
I suppose my surprise if obvious because he smiles at me. “Why so shocked, Trowa? I live here, too.”
“I didn’t expect you home so early,” I reply as I sit in a chair to take off my shoes and socks. “You’ve been working late more often.”
“And where were you this evening?”
That he asks is curious to me. It’s the first time he’s bothered to do so in more than two years, since I began leaving the house and staying gone for hours at a time. “The botanical gardens.”
“You seem to visit there a lot, Trowa.”
Taking off my shirt, I shrug, “They’re beautiful at different times of the year. They always change and there’s always something new to see.”
“I guess you’re right. One day maybe we can go together,” he suggests, and I hesitate for a few seconds before shrugging again. He has seen the pause, though, and brings it up. “You don’t like that idea, do you?”
He’s right; I don’t like the idea at all. The gardens are where I first realized how I felt about him, and where he touched me the first time with more than friendship in his eyes. It’s a place I connect with him, and taking Quatre there would feel…wrong. “We can go if you like. It’s just a place.” The lie sticks in my throat, for it is far more to me than just a place.
Quatre falls silent as I go to the bathroom and take a shower, not following me as he once used to. Those days are long gone for us, the days when we would share a shower or bath on the spur of the moment. When I come out of the bathroom, he is still sitting in the same place, obviously waiting for me to come out.
“When are we going to stop pretending?”
His abrupt question has me frowning, wondering what has brought this on. “Pretending?”
“You know I haven’t been working late all the time, don’t you?”
To hear him ask if I know of his affair surprises me. I had believed he was unaware of my knowledge – he was always discreet. I could lie and say I wasn’t aware, but the notion is distasteful. “I know you haven’t been working late.”
“I thought I was being careful. What gave it away?”
“You smell like someone else when you come home, but not all the time. It’s how I know when you were working and when you…weren’t.”
“How long have you known, Trowa?” his voice is soft, but there is no shame or guilt in it, merely curiosity. That more than anything says how pathetic our lives have become.
“Almost two years.” At first I had been stunned to discover he was having an affair, but even more stunned to find I didn’t really care. I had already realized my heart wasn’t in our relationship, though I had believed it to be before that fateful day at the gardens.
Standing, he moves to the large window overlooking the back of his property. I can’t think of this house or its land as mine, or ours. It’s always been his. “You never said anything, not once. Didn’t it bother you at all to know I was with someone else?”
“Not as much as it should have,” I admit as I sit on the bed, watching him to see what he’ll do next. A large part of me hopes he’ll announce we are finished as a small part of me hopes he doesn’t. Even if we aren’t together, my life is empty if I’m alone.
“Why are you still here?” Quatre demands suddenly, turning to face me, arms crossed over his stomach. “You know I’ve had an affair - that I’ve slept with someone else, so why do you stay? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I made you a promise.”
“You made a promise to stay with me no matter what? I don’t recall that promise, Trowa. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone.”
“I promised I wouldn’t ever leave you,” the answer to my torment is that simple, a vow made in foolish youth that I can’t let go, not even at the cost of my own happiness. If he was free, would I break that vow? In a breath. But he’s not, so there’s no point of debating the issue.
“Trowa, you made that promise when we were fifteen. I might have expected you to keep it once, but we’re different now.” His eyes narrowed in consideration. “Or did you stay because you felt guilty because you were also having an affair?”
“I’ve never had an affair.” It didn’t matter that in my heart I had felt like I was cheating, I have never physically touched another intimately, though I had wanted to, more than once.
“Don’t treat me like a fool, Trowa. You’re going to see someone, aren’t you? I doubt you go to admire the gardens alone.”
“I made a promise, Quatre, and I didn’t break it. I’ve never even kissed someone else while I’ve been with you.” I may have thought of it, a thousand times – I may have dreamed of it just as many – but I remained faithful. “I go to the gardens to admire the beauty.” The beauty has more to do with my company while I’m there, but I do go to admire the beauty.
“You’ve never had an affair.”
“No. I never have, Quatre. You can believe me or not, but it’s the truth.”
It’s a surprise to see him sit down quickly, face in his hands. “I thought you were having an affair, but I couldn’t figure out who with. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I was so jealous, not because you were with someone else, but because you were suddenly happier, more calm and peaceful. I guess I wanted to feel that way, too.”
“You had an affair because of me?”
“At first that was the reason I used. It changed, became more as time went on and you seemed not to notice. Part of it was the thrill of doing something forbidden, sneaking around. It was exciting, you know?”
It was strange, because Quatre had been enjoying the prospect of sneaking around while the same thing had been making me sick to my stomach. And what I had been doing wasn’t nearly as bad as the activities he had been involved in. “I don’t know. The thought of doing something like that would have eaten me alive with guilt.” This I knew for a fact.
“I know it should have, but it didn’t. I wish you had been having an affair, Trowa. It would make it better for me.”
This had me staring in disbelief. “Better for you? You’ve been having an affair and you feel bad I can’t make it easier for you?”
“It’s not like that. All this time I thought you were, so it made it easier for me to…do what I really wanted. I stopped thinking of it as wrong a long time ago, probably because it’s what I needed to believe.” Looking up at me, I could see there is a sadness in his eyes that mirrors the feelings in my own heart, and knew what he was going to say before he ever said it. “Trowa, I don’t want you to stay anymore unless it’s what you want. That promise never should have been made in the first place, and I can’t hold you to it. Not anymore, not like this.”
When I continue staring at him, Quatre frowns at me. “Don’t you see? You can leave if you want to. I want you to be happy, and you aren’t happy here. Isn’t there somewhere you want to go, someone you want to see?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s impossible.” I am now free from the obligations that have trapped me, but I don’t feel better. What I want can never be, not without him. “I’ll start moving my things out tomorrow.”
Coming to sit beside me, Quatre touches my arm hesitantly. The touch makes me think of him, and the time we were able to spend in the gardens. It pains me to know I’ve been released from my vow, and I still can’t be with him. “I thought this would make you happy.”
“Things aren’t that simple.”
“There is someone, isn’t there? Someone you want to go to, the person that makes you so happy.”
Amazingly, he doesn’t realize who it is I want. “There is someone,” I confirm softly.
“Then go call him, tell him you want to be with him. Isn’t that what you need?”
“He has…obligations of his own, Quatre. A promise he made he needs to keep.”
“Is it as stupid as the promise you made to me?”
The blunt question was enough to have me chuckling. “You could say that. It was made a long time ago, but he still holds himself to it.”
“Talk to him, then. Make him see a promise made for the wrong reasons is worse than breaking a promise. If he isn’t happy, then he should get away from whatever it is holding him from you.” He watches me for another moment, shaking his head when I say nothing. “It’s getting late.”
“Under the circumstances, I’ll go sleep in a different room. I need to get used to sleeping alone.”
“You can stay here as long as you like, but I agree it’s best for you to take a different room.”
Before long, I find myself in the vacant guest room I met him in, hoping to find some sort of remnant of his presence. Making up the bed, I catch the faint whiff of his scent lingering in the air and breathe it in, aching for the one thing I want most. Lying down to sleep, I wonder if I’ll have to wait forever to be truly happy.
For two weeks I stay with Quatre, sleeping in the guest room. I’m looking for an apartment, but everything livable is too much for the simple tastes I have managed to retain in ten years of living in opulence. It might be the reason I want something small instead of the large apartments that are available.
Something is happening with him that I’m not hearing of, and I can’t speak to him. Every time I’ve tried to call his phone goes to voice mail, and this worries me. Has he decided after all this time he can’t do this anymore? Not being able to hear his voice is causing me to act foolish, my mind constantly wandering. I’ve taken a leave of absence from work to look for a new place to live and to try and get my mind back to where it belongs.
At the beginning of the third week, I’m very concerned. He has never avoided my calls, and has always made an effort to call me back as soon as possible. Knowing no one is allowed to use his phone, I continue to call, hoping he’ll speak to me and let me know what’s going on. Have I finally become freed just to lose him completely?
In sleep I’m tortured by thoughts of him, his scent surrounding me. His hands are on me in a way they’ve never been before, in a way I’ve wanted him to touch me for so long. I’m pulled out of slumber when I realize his touch is too real to be a dream, staring up at him in amazement as he sits on the side of the bed.
Slowly I reach out to touch his face, needing to make sure he’s real and not conjured up from my desperate need for him. Under my hand his skin is smooth and warm, convincing me he is actually there. I want to pull him to me so badly, but after three weeks of hearing nothing, I’m no longer sure he wants me. “Is everything okay?” I ask, for once not knowing how to handle him.
Moving his hand to hold mine on his cheek, his eyes shine in the dark. “That depends. There’s potential for everything to be great.”
“Depends on what?” My thumb moves across his lips, hand spreading to encompass as much of his skin as possible, the ends of my fingers digging into his hair.
“It depends on how you feel about me.”
I’m scared to answer, afraid of what it might mean that he asks. “You know. You’ve always known.”
“I need you to tell me. I need to hear it.”
The words get stuck in my throat, not from fear now, but hope. If he wants the words spoke, when we’ve taken so much care not to say them before, it means something important has happened, and my life is about to change. “Are you sure about this? You know what this will mean.” It will mean my emotions are out in the open, and they will never be taken back. He will be acknowledging how deeply I feel, and by hearing it will be accepting all that entails.
“I know what this will mean. Please, Trowa.” His hand is tense on mine, making me grasp he’s as nervous as I am.
For two years I have waited for this moment. The pain and torture of being separated from him are suddenly inconsequential, erased by the way he looks at me. My other hand comes up, framing his face and leaning forward, my eyes on his as I speak in a whisper, not daring to say these words any louder for fear of breaking the spell he has woven between us. “I love you.”
My mouth is almost on his when I hear what he says and my hopes are crushed into dust. “I’m leaving.”
“What?” I can’t believe it. After all this time, all this waiting, he’s leaving. “I can’t…I don’t think I can live without you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m leaving, Trowa. Tonight. I want you to come with me.”
My emotions are up and down so much I’m starting to doubt what I hear. “Say that again.”
“I want you to come with me. I want to leave, tonight. I want to leave with you.” His arms are around me suddenly, holding on like he’s afraid I’ll say no. “I don’t want to live without you anymore. I want to go somewhere and start over, you and me.”
“Why?”
He understands what I’m asking, as he always does. I’m not asking him why he wants to leave, or why he wants me to go with him. I’m asking for the assurance he’s yet to give. His smile is beautiful, peaceful, “I love you. God, I love you so much.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Smoothing the hair away from his face, I press our lips together lightly, wanting more but knowing we have all the time in the world once we’re gone from this place that has held me captive for too long. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you get some stuff packed. My truck’s out back.”
Since I’ve been preparing to move out of the large house, most of my things are in storage. It takes me less than ten minutes to be dressed and toss the rest of my clothes into a bag, then we sneak down the halls of the building I had called home for ten years. As he said, his truck waits for us outside, a bag in the back I assume are his own clothes, and I toss mine beside it before climbing in the cab beside him.
Starting the truck, he looks at me with a grin full of excitement. “You have any preference about where we go?”
“I think I’d like to go somewhere near the water for now.” It’s easy to see the idea pleases him. He’s always loved the water, and the heat, so I think we’ll end up at a beach somewhere, and that’s fine with me.
“Sounds great.”
As he pulls away from the house I look back, narrowing my eyes when I see two figures standing on one of the upper balconies. It takes me a minute to recognize it is Quatre and Heero, watching us as we leave. When the smaller of the two lifts his hand in farewell, I smile, understanding my former lover knew more than I gave him credit for.
“Trowa?”
Turning back, I smile at my companion, my love, my future lover. “You were right. Everything has the potential to be great.” When he stops at the end of the driveway, I tangle my fingers in his braid and pull him to me. “Finally, we’re free.”