Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Burning Bright ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Quatre meets up with an old friend... and what's this? Sylvia? With insecurities? NEVER!
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.3K | Visits: 317 | Status: Completed
Quatre meets up with an old friend... and what's this? Sylvia? With insecurities? NEVER!
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.3K | Visits: 317 | Status: Completed
Chapter Three:
“Burning Bright” Shinedown
The three bedroom brownstone was silent when Sylvia walked in that day, her keys jingling loudly as she pulled them from the lock. She hesitated on moving on, listening to the silence of the place she lived with Trowa, her confused thoughts running through her mind. She had thought Trowa had gotten off early today, and had planned on taking a taxi back here. She looked at the slim wristwatch she had on her left wrist, and noted the time. He was supposed to be here before her, and apparently...he wasn’t. A sort of cold fear gripped her, then, something that was both numbing and agonizingly piercing.
She walked into the house and shut the door behind her, making sure to pull the deadbolt as a precaution. The brownstone smelled of lavender and mint, and she could smell traces of Trowa’s cologne. Why wasn’t he here? He should be here...
She refused to panic, though, swallowing hard as she dropped her purse next to the hall closet and walking quietly into the living room. She considered calling him on his cell, but then again–she didn’t want to come off as desperate and terribly needy, and drive Trowa off with these needs. But Sylvia was truly panicked, in the way that one felt when they were threatened by an outside threat.
She was scared of what Quatre could do to her and Trowa’s relationship. Not that he would come right into the house, demand Trowa back with his usual temper tantrum and tactic...but with only the needy fact that he was lonely, and Trowa would want to comfort him. She had a feeling that Quatre wouldn’t take Trowa away by force, but by evoking Trowa’s need to feel as if he had to somehow take care of him... the way he did in high school. Sylvia took a deep breath, clutching the wooden doorframe that lead into the kitchen.
She would not panic...Trowa was just...somewhere else. He wasn’t with him. And even if he were with Quatre, they weren’t...they weren’t going to jump back together just like that. No, because–Sylvia hoped with all her being–Quatre had his eyes set on another, and not on Trowa. He’ll still remember how Trowa had treated him, how Trowa’s infidelity was caught forever on a best-selling porn tape, and he wouldn’t want the young man based on those two reasons.
Of course, Sylvia had given thought to what she’d do if Trowa had done these things to her, and she fully identified with Quatre. First off, Trowa cheated on Quatre with a woman that delved in porn, and had it all taped. At this, Sylvia was sure she’d lose her own sexual confidence and trust when she thought about what had transpired between him and that woman. She would think about how she wasn’t good enough to qualify in relation with that woman with Trowa, and she would forever wonder if she’d ever be good enough ever again for him. If she made the appropriate sounds, movements; if she had the correct smells, feels, and confidence as Amelie Une had. So, THAT she could identify with Quatre with...that would ruin anyone.
Second off, Quatre had gained weight (making her wince at this thought), and Trowa had wanted none of it; due to his own shameful knowledge of what he’d done in Spain, and mainly because he’d been turned off by the extra weight on Quatre’s frame. This was an iffy one, due to Sylvia’s own weight gain, but it was only because of her birth control, and this was a maddeningly common occurrence. She could diet and power walk all she wanted, but the fact remained–one gained weight on birth control. And it was different–in her opinion. Females were encouraged to have weight on their feminine frames. It was the ‘in’ thing these days. But how did this make her different from Quatre? She gained weight–he’d gained weight. What kept Trowa around for this? By Trowa’s lack of interest because of it, she felt that Quatre had felt down and discouraged, that he would never be good enough for Trowa (again, with the porn tape). If Trowa was turned off by his weight gain, what else would he be turned off by? It was truly a difficult decision, and she understood why Quatre broke up with Trowa.
And third, the drugs...the drugs had made Trowa different. The insecurity the goth had felt over himself from the situation with Quatre and Une, and the maddening effects of the drugs he’d taken that caused him to think irrationally and uncharacteristically...Quatre had felt scared and threatened by this new Trowa, and terribly insecure. Sylvia understood that part. There had been days when Trowa had taken out the very same moods on her, and she’d weathered through them with the hope that he felt bad about it anyway, afterward. So she understood, fully, why Quatre broke up with Trowa and kept himself from coming back. All these things were enough to keep anyone away. It was understandable. Sylvia understood.
But now...now that everyone was different, that everyone was trying their damndest to show their worth in the world outside of high school...what was going to happen? Trowa had established himself as a trustworthy artist and gallery worker, and was already set, in his own way, in the real world. He was financially secure, was mature enough to understand the demands of the real world, and was quite...eager to start a brand-new life outside of high school. He may not say things much, but Sylvia understood from her silent observations, that he was quite happy where he was.
Which satisfied her own insecurities, of course...
But with Quatre being back in the picture...
She was frightened of what would happen next.
She was set to start making dinner when she heard the front door open and close, the telltale sounds of Trowa coming in making her close her eyes and breathe a quiet sigh of relief. He was back...he wasn’t going to leave her...she had nothing to worry about...
Trowa was still dressed in his work clothes, still wearing his glasses. Sylvia glanced at him curiously as she began chopping up some onions for the meat frying in the pan nearby.
“Where were you?”
“Carl’s. He came back last night. I thought we were having pork chops?” he then asked, flicking his eyes toward the meat sitting on the counter nearby.
Sylvia flushed. So enwrapped in her thoughts, she hadn’t even remembered that. She shrugged. “Well, I thought tacos would do better. Would you like some Spanish rice with it?”
“Eh...did you just get home?” she heard his voice fade as he left the kitchen, heading upstairs. She thought of their messy bed, their clothes strewn around the floor...and winced. She wished she were a better ‘housewife’.
“Yeah!” she called as she finished chopping onions. She’d left her wet towel on the bathroom floor...and she had forgotten her makeup bag that she’d dropped and left on the floor...her eye pencils, lipsticks, and blush were probably laying on the carpet in a colored mess. She hoped he didn’t step on them. “What did he have to say?”
She waited for him to change out of his work clothes and come back downstairs. He hated shouting, and the neighbors could hear them. He was always self-conscious about that sort of thing, which was more than ironic, considering his porn tape...
“Nothing,” Trowa answered when he finally came down, dressed in a pair of black jeans that were ripped at the knees, and a plain black tee. He leaned onto the smooth surface of the kitchen island top, propping his chin upon his palm. “I need a cigarette...is there a pack anywhere?”
“You said you were quitting...”
“I need one. Now.”
“Fine...in the right hand drawer in the bathroom. I think there’s one more in there.” Sylvia flicked a glance at him from over her shoulder, and noted the drawn frown, the drumming of fingers on the kitchen island top. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing. I don’t think I’m hungry...I think I’m going to go out, tonight.”
With an irritated expression, Sylvia turned away from the food she was making. “What? Why? Where are you going?”
Trowa drummed his fingertips once more on top of the counter top. She swore she thought she saw his jaw clench briefly before he answered, “I thought I’d go see...Quatre before he starts school on Monday...”
A flare of indignation swept through Sylvia’s insides, and she placed the blame on the hormones that occurred whenever one placed themselves on birth control. The damned and blessed things always had a way of messing with a female’s emotions, making them think irrationally and taking things entirely out of context. She spilled rice into boiling water with enough force to send flicks of water everywhere.
“Oh...? You want me to save you a plate?” she asked through clenched teeth.
The drumming stopped, and she felt his eyes on the back of her neck.
“What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have one,” she ground out, stirring the white grains. “I’m just...irritated. You know? I mean, I’m making dinner here, and...I don’t know. I guess I really shouldn’t have one...he’s your friend and all, I’m just...”
“You’ve had an attitude since you heard he was coming back here,” Trowa pointed out, watching her stiff frame as she continued to keep her back to him.
“Nothing’s going to happen! Shit, it was high school. We’re not in high school anymore...”
“I KNOW, it’s just...as soon as he comes back here, you just run right out to go and see him, and it’s just like...”
“It’s been a year since I last saw him, Sylvia,” Trowa snapped, frowning as he pushed away from the island. He opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottled Budweiser, and walked out from the kitchen. “It doesn’t mean anything! It’s not like we’re going to go and fuck behind your fucking back, or anything.”
Sylvia threw down her knife and spoon, and stomped after him.
“What the hell do you mean by that shit?” she cried. “Are you trying to start a fight? Are you planning on creating a big ole scene so you can go back to him, crying and complaining that I’m not good enough for you?”
“What the hell’s your problem?” Trowa asked, pausing in opening the bottle of beer, giving her a disgusted expression. When he got the top off, he flicked that aside, the metal bouncing on the side table next to the couch. “I’m not trying to start anything, and you’re all up on my back about something that’s not even there.”
“I can’t help but feel insecure with all the bullshit you’ve pulled,” Sylvia growled, clenching her fists. “With him, and with me. I can’t help but feel that you’re looking for a way out of our relationship, and looking for one with him! I’m not perfect, I know–but it seems to me that–”
“Oh GOD, Syl! Jesus Christ...where do you come up with this bullshit? When did you start thinking this shit?”
“I can’t help it!” she cried. “You had a big thing with him! A big thing! And I understand that it meant a lot to the both of you, and I feel as if I’ll never have what you had...”
“It was fucking HIGH SCHOOL!”
“I don’t care!”
Trowa snorted, shaking his head in disgust. He set the bottle down, and slumped down onto one of their couches they’d found in the upperclass regions, searching for furniture that the richies were throwing out. Still in good condition, the couches were comfortable, suede, and perfect for slouching and comfortable snoozing. He flicked on the holoset and ignored her as he began flicking through the channels, looking for something to watch.
In frustration, Sylvia stared at him, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She waited for him to say something, but when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to, that he was done with the subject, she slumped her shoulders. She carefully lowered herself to her knees, and rested her hands on his, staring up at his frowning face with a pleading one of her own.
“I’m just scared, Trowa,” she confessed over a CSI program. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you. I don’t want to. We’ve got nearly two years under our belt, and...I don’t want to lose any of it. I really don’t. I feel threatened and scared. That once he comes back, you’ll find that you’ll want him more than you’ll want me. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Just...I’m sorry if I yelled at you, and I came off as bitchy...I just want you to understand that this is how I feel.”
“...Your hamburger’s burning...”
Sylvia frowned in irritation. Whenever she felt she was confessing her soul, Trowa always came up with something off-hand and unrelated to the current subject at hand. Changing the subject. Why did guys always do that?
She studied his face, at the matured angles and straights, at the way shadows flicked across the planes of his skin. She reached up to flick his hair from his eyes, and sighed in annoyance when he jerked his head from her touch. She straightened from the floor, and kissed his cheek, ignoring the way he jerked out of that as well.
She walked into the kitchen, and attended to her hamburger, which wasn’t burning at all. She frowned at the browning meat, wondering if what she was doing was right. She wanted Trowa to have his freedom, to feel as if he weren’t on a leash. He wasn’t–she let him do many a great deal of things. He wanted to go to New York with Carl on a work related trip, she let him. He wanted to go to a strip bar with some buddies, she gave him singles and hoped that he didn’t find any guy or girl interesting enough to go home with. He wanted to go somewhere without her, she usually just kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good night.
She knew that guys needed their freedom to do things, and she granted them all to him. Sure, she had her differences and her insecurities, but those were expected.
But things were different, now. Quatre was back in town, and she was definitely threatened by him. She lowered her head, sighing lowly to herself. She really didn’t want to think this way, but how could she not?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
It was nearly twelve-thirty when Quatre loosened his tie, and stumbled into a taxi that he managed to hail from the corner of South Eighty-Eighth and Bronston. Dost had let him go for the day (night?), and he’d just completed a maddening day. He wanted nothing more than to hit his apartment, hit his bed, and snooze away until eleven tomorrow. Then he remembered–it was Friday!
He laughed in relief, the driver glancing at him curiously in his rearview mirror. Quatre looked at his watch, wondering if he should grab a late dinner when he heard his phone ring. He jumped, wincing, hoping that it wasn’t Dost calling him for something ridiculous. But when he saw the familiar name and number, he grinned.
“What’s up, bitch?”
“Winner, you call me that again, and I’ll show you who’s the ‘bitch’,” Jake snapped in irritation.
“Don’t losers go to sleep around eight?”
“Har, har. I hear you work late...where are you?”
“Still on the South Side. Why? Looking for late night nookie? I think I can get it up for you...”
“...GOD.”
“Turns you on, huh?”
“Forget I asked.”
Quatre laughed, shifting the phone to hold between his shoulder and ear. He undid the buttons of his sleeves and rolled them up on his elbows. “What’s up, anyway? It’s really late. Where’s your demon spawn?”
“With his grandparents. I just got off work. Wanna eat someplace?”
“Yeah, sure. Where?”
“There’s a mom and pop shop on Fifty-Seventh, East. 2353. And I heard you’re rich, so you’re paying.”
Quatre grinned, remembering his check. He patted his wallet, and gave the directions to the driver. “Okay, I’ll support you for this one night.”
After he hung up, Quatre checked his phone messages. There were a couple from Lana and Rashid, so he checked those. They were only checking up on him, and were delivering messages from the couple of friends he’d made during his return to Laramie. But he didn’t want to go there, so he saved the messages, and flicked through the options of his phone. When he came to Trowa’s name, he hesitated. He hadn’t had a chance to see the guy, since his work hours were crazy, and...he really wanted to see how he was doing. He figured he shouldn’t call him at this hour, knowing that Trowa was asleep, and that Sylvia...well...
Quatre frowned as he thought of the blond haired girl, and lowered his phone.
He shouldn’t call him, anyway. Sylvia probably thought that he was trying to get back with his ex...and he didn’t want to make her upset. It wasn’t any of his business, but...he sighed, and turned off his phone. If he were going to see Trowa, it had to be on his terms–not Quatre’s. When an ex had a steady, things had to be treaded carefully upon. And he didn’t want to mess things up for anybody.
When he arrived at the deli shop, he paid the driver, and walked in through the glass sliding door. The shop was open twenty-four hours, and was a half grocery store, half restaurant. The smells that hit him were of freshly baked bread and savory stews that made his mouth water. He spotted the older male sitting at one of the stools at the counter, dressed in casual clothing that looked worn and faded. Quatre grinned, and brought his elbow down on the guy’s back in companionable greeting.
Jake sputtered and cursed, retaliating with a sharp punch into his kidney. He turned in his seat, glaring down at the blond as Quatre slumped onto the floor with a pained howl.
“When are you ever going to grow up, Winner?” he asked, nudging the blond with the toe of his work boot. “Are you always going to be childish?”
Quatre straightened from the floor, and climbed onto the stool, rubbing his lower back. He grinned at Jake as an older woman approached him with a cheery smile.
“You’re just jealous that I can be the child you never were.”
Jake snorted, and shook his head as the woman handed Quatre a menu, and asked what he’d like to drink. Quatre gave her his request, and looked through the menu. Finding something appealing, he gave that order as well, and turned to face the other male.
Like the others he’d reunited with since his return to New Park, Jake had gone through some changes as well. He was still taller than Quatre, but had filled out completely in the shoulders and chest area, giving him a more defined structure than what he had in high school. His arms were thick with hardened muscle, but there was an overall thickness of weight that suggested lack of physical activity. It gave him a more firmer appearance, and basically screamed male. His dark blond hair was cut a little shorter, in a casual fringe that fluttered over his forehead and tapered over his temples. His sideburns were a little longer, and he had stubble that shadowed his jaw and upper lip. There were the same shadows around his weary eyes. He still had that cocky curl to his lips, something that made Quatre’s lower gut curl with something unwelcome. Overall, his matured features were enough to have Quatre suddenly grinning in appreciation.
He felt a little uncomfortable that he felt attracted to his friend, but he blamed it on his unruly hormones and tried not to pay too much attention to his friend’s physical features. And for the fact that he smelled rather... male. In a truly appreciating way. A way that suggested hard work and exhausted gratification. Things that should not mix when he realized what he was thinking about his friend.
To escape his thoughts, he asked, “So...you still work at that one place?”
“Yeah.”
Even his voice was deeper. It made Quatre shift uncomfortably on his stool.
“Are you going to take classes this year?”
Jake shrugged, picking at his sandwich. “I tried that. But it wasn’t working out, remember?”
Quatre nodded, remembering that Jake had gotten a scholarship to NPU. But due to some trouble he’d had with Michael’s grandparents, he’d been forced to drop out, losing his scholarship and any other chance he had to go to college that year. The older male focused on working instead, and Quatre knew that Jake was feeling down about losing the scholarship, and his chance at going back to school. He wanted a better life to give to his son, but he was unable to.
“
You can take part time classes.”
“That’d take forever. I’m just going to wait until Mike’s old enough to do his own thing before going back. It’s no problem. So, what’s your job like?” Jake asked him, flicking lettuce in Quatre’s direction.
“It’s fucking dumb. But it pays practically millions! So...I’m not going to complain too much,” Quatre said, reaching back for his wallet. He examined his check hidden inside, grinning at the obscene number of zeros.
“And it’s cool...he’s going to work with me on my class schedule, and there’s really nothing for me to complain about. So...basically, I just do what the guy tells me to. Get him food, get his clothes...whatever.”
“He’s that freaky guy that runs the South Side, isn’t it? Dost?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Passage know you’re working for him?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t. She’ll be pissed that you’re working for her uncle’s competition,” Jake snorted, pushing an olive around his sandwich.
“Like she can do anything about it. Hey...does...does Max hit on you?” Quatre then asked curiously, thinking of that incident at Pizza Plus. He also thought of that night at Denny’s, where Max began hitting on Jake with a scary amount of determination that had Felicia laughing. Jake had been clueless, of course, but Quatre had been shocked. He remembered thinking, Why him?
Jake sputtered. “That...girly lookin’ guy? Passage’s boytoy?”
“Yeah.”
“NO. Why?”
“He was hitting on me the other night...”
“Did you knock him out?”
“NO!”
“Dude, that’s not cool. People shouldn’t be doin’ that sort of bullshit. Did Passage get mad?”
“She was looking for a video camera...”
Jake sighed, shaking his head. “I should have known...don’t encourage that sort of thing, asshole. It isn’t right. I’m going to laugh at her when her man does walk out on her for some guy.”
“I think she’d like that,” Quatre snorted. He picked at his straw. “So...why are you up so late? You guys don’t stay open this late, do you?”
“New hours for the summer. And it isn’t as if I have to run home to Mike, so...it’s cool. Extra money.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
“Fix cars. Perform maintenance. Oil changes, shit like that. You know. Manly stuff. Stuff you’ll never be able to do.”
“...I can do manly stuff...”
“I thought you had a ride.”
“I don’t have a license...”
“Winner! Fuck. Why the hell not?”
“I JUST DON’T! Why is it, when I’m with you, I feel like, fucking...eight years old?”
“Cuz. You’re just a kid.”
The woman came back with Quatre’s order, and cheerily greeted another set of customers. Staring down at the French Dip sandwich and accompanying steak-style fries, he hungrily began digging in. Amid a mouthful of roast beef and bread, he asked, “Why’s Mike with his grandparents? I thought you got him on Fridays?”
“Did you hear a fucking word I said over the beginning of the year?” Jake asked in exasperation, giving him an irritated look. “His grandparents went to court against me. Celia lost her custody, but her parents took over her days, and some of mine. I only get him on Sundays and Mondays, now.”
“Oh,” Quatre breathed through his mouthful of food, feeling bad for having brought it up. He lowered his sandwich to the plate, and glanced over at the other. The other was looking sullen as he picked at his sandwich. “So...what happens? I mean...you’re just going to leave it at that?”
“No. The next hearing is in September. I’m going to keep fighting it. There’ll be a different judge this time, and won’t be someone that runs in the same fuckin’ circle as them. So I might have a better chance.”
“This why you’re messing around so late?”
“Nothing else to do.”
“Don’t you have friends?”
Jake gave him an exasperated look. “My ‘friends’ are more involved in partying and snagging at whatever college they’re at. They’re not interested in hanging out with someone who doesn’t want to drink or drug. And I can’t relate to them, anyway. I feel too old for people my age.”
“You’re not that old.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think so.”
Jake looked over at him, then smiled, shaking his head. He elbowed Quatre as the blond was trying to get a drink from his soda. “You’re a retard, Winner. I don’t know why I put up with you...”
“Because we all know you want my ass, Trip. You’ve wanted it since high school...” After he picked himself up from the floor, after being bodily removed from his stool, Quatre laughed. “Hit a little too close to home?”
“Will you stop with that homo bullshit? Jesus Christ..”
“So...I was wondering...what’s the West Side of town look like? I mean, I’ve been there once or twice, but...”
“What’s on the West Side?”
“...Trowa...I haven’t seen him, yet.”
Jake raised his eyebrows, looking at Quatre pointedly. Then he shrugged, constructing a fort with his lettuce and tomatoes. “Whatever, you sadist.”
“C’mon...yeah, he’s my ex and all, but...shit. I still would like to talk to him. But then, it’s like Sylvia’s there, and she might be all...I don’t know, threatened. I don’t want to mess things up with them.”
“Are you tryin’ to get back with him?”
“No...I just want to see him.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want to see him?”
“Because...well, we still talk! It’s not like we’re not going to talk. Shit. Stop making it into a big deal.”
“I’m not. I’m just asking. If that girl already feels threatened, then she’s gotta reason to, right? I swear, the pair of you fuckers are the biggest girls I know,” Jake said in disgust, leaning on the counter with one elbow, chin in palm. There was a single vein that roped up from the thick wad of muscle of his forearm, trailing up to his wrist. It was mesmerizing, and Quatre focused in on that. His fingers were itching to reach over and see if that vein felt hard or soft...
“Wah wah wah over the stupidest shit. Grow up. Move on. Find someone else.”
“I can’t!” Quatre whined, picking at his sandwich, his face flushed with the thoughts he had previous. “I met a guy in Laramie, but he was like, ten years older and...I don’t know. I kept comparing him to Trowa. I didn’t want to, but it was like...Trowa’s my first big relationship, you know?”
“I swear to God, Winner...you’re like one of those sluts from that show, Sex and...something. The City. Sex and The City. You discuss shit to death. Guys don’t talk like that.”
“...Fuck you, dick.”
“Shove off, asshole.”
“You know,” Quatre began, licking the sauce from his finger. “How would you know how those women act?”
“Celia made me watch it.”
“‘Celia made me watch it’,” Quatre mimicked, trying to mimic Jake’s disgusted tone. “Whatever. You know you were there, watching and waiting.”
“Shut up.”
“Fuck that. Anyway...fine. Guy talk? You want guy talk? All right. I can’t find the right piece of ass. All right? And all the dick I had sucked. All the fags that I’ve had since Trowa were either entirely faggy or really fuckin’ cocky, and none of them satisfied me. All two of them.”
Jake dropped his head into his arms, and groaned as Quatre gave an annoyed expression at the older male.
“Nothin’ compares to what I had before! All my stupid one-night stands don’t amount to shit...I had two guys since Trowa, and those two times sucked dick!”
“...Stop...”
“When am I ever going to find the right man?” Quatre cried in exasperation. “I’m a good person! I fuckin’ brush my teeth every morning and every night! I wipe my ass! I tie my own fucking shoes! I have my own fucking place, my own car–! I have a good job! I GO TO SCHOOL! WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?”
“You’re gay!” someone shouted from the grocery section of the store.
“Besides that,” Quatre sighed in frustration, kicking Jake’s stool when the older male hadn’t come up for air. “I just want to know what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“Why the fuck are you so concerned about getting a fucking man in the fucking first place?” Jake growled each word, peeking at him from under his arm. “You’re a GUY! You don’t need anybody!”
“Says you...I just wanna get or have a good lay! Anyway, I’ll bet you haven’t had a woman since Celia,” Quatre said on a disgusted noise, tossing the remains of his sandwich onto the plate. “Am I right? Huh? Am I right?”
“...I’ve been fuckin’ busy.”
“HAH!”
“Shut the fuck up, Winner,” Jake said, finally lifting his head.
“Not even one night stands?”
“I HAVE STANDARDS, TOO. And it’s different when one has a kid! I can’t exactly leave him to find pussy!”
“Why not? I’ll baby sit him one night,” Quatre offered, then winced. “Did I really say that?”
“You’ll baby-sit Michael? Ha..Ha ha...” Jake suddenly started laughing, finding the idea truly outrageous. Quatre scowled as the older male continued to laugh, completely diminishing his confidence in the area. “You? Baby-sit? HAH! I might as well as dump him off at a fuckin’ elementary school! That’s how much care he’s gonna get! Good one, Winner...good one.”
“Fucker.”
Jake laughed again, and slapped his back. “You’re always good for a laugh, man. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Quatre pushed aside his plate, and gestured at the half-eaten sandwich on Jake’s plate. The older male shoved it at him, and Quatre picked that up to finish off as well.
“You’re still ballin’?” Jake asked, signaling for a refill on his drink.
“Yeah...there’s a gym nearby that I want to join, but I haven’t had a freakin’ chance to do anything since I started work. My hours are crazy. I have tons of overtime.”
“Shit...How much do you lift?”
“I stopped at 190 for presses.”
“Wimp.”
“No, seriously! It took me forever to get there!”
“You’re such a fuckin’ wimp.”
“How much can you do? Huh?”
“270.”
Quatre scowled, and Jake showed off the muscle he had, grinning cheesily.
“His brother’s just as tight,” he said, showing off his other arm muscle. “You can touch it for a dollar.”
“Fag.”
Jake laughed as he lowered his arm. “Don’t be j, Winner. Maybe one day, when you’re all growed up and have a chance at manliness, I’ll learn ya.”
“Fag.”
“Are you finished? I have to go.”
“Why?”
“Dude, I work over six days a week. I have to be in by eight this morning.”
“Take a day off.”
“...Why would I do that?”
“Because...I need to get my driver’s license.”
“And I care...why? GROW UP.”
“But...c’mon! I NEED you! You’re older and far more superior to me than I can ever be...”
“Damn straight...”
“And I need you to hold my hand! Plus...I need a ride.”
“I’m not carting you around, asshole!”
“I’ll give you gas money! I’ll pay for lunch! Besides, I know some chicks. I’ll set you up with them.”
“Winner...don’t give me that fuckin’ bullshit...all the chicks I know what to kill you. And from what I’ve seen of your fuckin’ boys, I doubt your taste in girls will even be---”
“How about that Smith character? Leash’s friend?”
Quatre stared in bewildered expression as Jake laughed once again, this one on the verge of hysterics. After the older male picked himself up from the floor, wiping his eyes, he managed to eke out, “I doubt lesbians have any interest in males, fag. How’d you meet that ho?”
“She’s...lez?”
“There& #8217;s no doubt. At least bi. And there’s no way I’m hooking up with that freak. No thanks. I’ll take a half day, all right? It’s less crowded at the DMV in the late afternoon.”
“You’ll do it?”
“For shits and giggles...and for that gas money. Throw in food, and I’ll pick you up around three.”
“All right! You’re awesome! You’re the big bro I never had!”
“Thank god,” Jake muttered, shaking his head as he handed Quatre a few bucks, then left the shop.
Quatre grinned happily, and turned back to finish off his sandwich. It was really good. He would have to remember this place the next time he was hungry.
“Burning Bright” Shinedown
The three bedroom brownstone was silent when Sylvia walked in that day, her keys jingling loudly as she pulled them from the lock. She hesitated on moving on, listening to the silence of the place she lived with Trowa, her confused thoughts running through her mind. She had thought Trowa had gotten off early today, and had planned on taking a taxi back here. She looked at the slim wristwatch she had on her left wrist, and noted the time. He was supposed to be here before her, and apparently...he wasn’t. A sort of cold fear gripped her, then, something that was both numbing and agonizingly piercing.
She walked into the house and shut the door behind her, making sure to pull the deadbolt as a precaution. The brownstone smelled of lavender and mint, and she could smell traces of Trowa’s cologne. Why wasn’t he here? He should be here...
She refused to panic, though, swallowing hard as she dropped her purse next to the hall closet and walking quietly into the living room. She considered calling him on his cell, but then again–she didn’t want to come off as desperate and terribly needy, and drive Trowa off with these needs. But Sylvia was truly panicked, in the way that one felt when they were threatened by an outside threat.
She was scared of what Quatre could do to her and Trowa’s relationship. Not that he would come right into the house, demand Trowa back with his usual temper tantrum and tactic...but with only the needy fact that he was lonely, and Trowa would want to comfort him. She had a feeling that Quatre wouldn’t take Trowa away by force, but by evoking Trowa’s need to feel as if he had to somehow take care of him... the way he did in high school. Sylvia took a deep breath, clutching the wooden doorframe that lead into the kitchen.
She would not panic...Trowa was just...somewhere else. He wasn’t with him. And even if he were with Quatre, they weren’t...they weren’t going to jump back together just like that. No, because–Sylvia hoped with all her being–Quatre had his eyes set on another, and not on Trowa. He’ll still remember how Trowa had treated him, how Trowa’s infidelity was caught forever on a best-selling porn tape, and he wouldn’t want the young man based on those two reasons.
Of course, Sylvia had given thought to what she’d do if Trowa had done these things to her, and she fully identified with Quatre. First off, Trowa cheated on Quatre with a woman that delved in porn, and had it all taped. At this, Sylvia was sure she’d lose her own sexual confidence and trust when she thought about what had transpired between him and that woman. She would think about how she wasn’t good enough to qualify in relation with that woman with Trowa, and she would forever wonder if she’d ever be good enough ever again for him. If she made the appropriate sounds, movements; if she had the correct smells, feels, and confidence as Amelie Une had. So, THAT she could identify with Quatre with...that would ruin anyone.
Second off, Quatre had gained weight (making her wince at this thought), and Trowa had wanted none of it; due to his own shameful knowledge of what he’d done in Spain, and mainly because he’d been turned off by the extra weight on Quatre’s frame. This was an iffy one, due to Sylvia’s own weight gain, but it was only because of her birth control, and this was a maddeningly common occurrence. She could diet and power walk all she wanted, but the fact remained–one gained weight on birth control. And it was different–in her opinion. Females were encouraged to have weight on their feminine frames. It was the ‘in’ thing these days. But how did this make her different from Quatre? She gained weight–he’d gained weight. What kept Trowa around for this? By Trowa’s lack of interest because of it, she felt that Quatre had felt down and discouraged, that he would never be good enough for Trowa (again, with the porn tape). If Trowa was turned off by his weight gain, what else would he be turned off by? It was truly a difficult decision, and she understood why Quatre broke up with Trowa.
And third, the drugs...the drugs had made Trowa different. The insecurity the goth had felt over himself from the situation with Quatre and Une, and the maddening effects of the drugs he’d taken that caused him to think irrationally and uncharacteristically...Quatre had felt scared and threatened by this new Trowa, and terribly insecure. Sylvia understood that part. There had been days when Trowa had taken out the very same moods on her, and she’d weathered through them with the hope that he felt bad about it anyway, afterward. So she understood, fully, why Quatre broke up with Trowa and kept himself from coming back. All these things were enough to keep anyone away. It was understandable. Sylvia understood.
But now...now that everyone was different, that everyone was trying their damndest to show their worth in the world outside of high school...what was going to happen? Trowa had established himself as a trustworthy artist and gallery worker, and was already set, in his own way, in the real world. He was financially secure, was mature enough to understand the demands of the real world, and was quite...eager to start a brand-new life outside of high school. He may not say things much, but Sylvia understood from her silent observations, that he was quite happy where he was.
Which satisfied her own insecurities, of course...
But with Quatre being back in the picture...
She was frightened of what would happen next.
She was set to start making dinner when she heard the front door open and close, the telltale sounds of Trowa coming in making her close her eyes and breathe a quiet sigh of relief. He was back...he wasn’t going to leave her...she had nothing to worry about...
Trowa was still dressed in his work clothes, still wearing his glasses. Sylvia glanced at him curiously as she began chopping up some onions for the meat frying in the pan nearby.
“Where were you?”
“Carl’s. He came back last night. I thought we were having pork chops?” he then asked, flicking his eyes toward the meat sitting on the counter nearby.
Sylvia flushed. So enwrapped in her thoughts, she hadn’t even remembered that. She shrugged. “Well, I thought tacos would do better. Would you like some Spanish rice with it?”
“Eh...did you just get home?” she heard his voice fade as he left the kitchen, heading upstairs. She thought of their messy bed, their clothes strewn around the floor...and winced. She wished she were a better ‘housewife’.
“Yeah!” she called as she finished chopping onions. She’d left her wet towel on the bathroom floor...and she had forgotten her makeup bag that she’d dropped and left on the floor...her eye pencils, lipsticks, and blush were probably laying on the carpet in a colored mess. She hoped he didn’t step on them. “What did he have to say?”
She waited for him to change out of his work clothes and come back downstairs. He hated shouting, and the neighbors could hear them. He was always self-conscious about that sort of thing, which was more than ironic, considering his porn tape...
“Nothing,” Trowa answered when he finally came down, dressed in a pair of black jeans that were ripped at the knees, and a plain black tee. He leaned onto the smooth surface of the kitchen island top, propping his chin upon his palm. “I need a cigarette...is there a pack anywhere?”
“You said you were quitting...”
“I need one. Now.”
“Fine...in the right hand drawer in the bathroom. I think there’s one more in there.” Sylvia flicked a glance at him from over her shoulder, and noted the drawn frown, the drumming of fingers on the kitchen island top. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing. I don’t think I’m hungry...I think I’m going to go out, tonight.”
With an irritated expression, Sylvia turned away from the food she was making. “What? Why? Where are you going?”
Trowa drummed his fingertips once more on top of the counter top. She swore she thought she saw his jaw clench briefly before he answered, “I thought I’d go see...Quatre before he starts school on Monday...”
A flare of indignation swept through Sylvia’s insides, and she placed the blame on the hormones that occurred whenever one placed themselves on birth control. The damned and blessed things always had a way of messing with a female’s emotions, making them think irrationally and taking things entirely out of context. She spilled rice into boiling water with enough force to send flicks of water everywhere.
“Oh...? You want me to save you a plate?” she asked through clenched teeth.
The drumming stopped, and she felt his eyes on the back of her neck.
“What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have one,” she ground out, stirring the white grains. “I’m just...irritated. You know? I mean, I’m making dinner here, and...I don’t know. I guess I really shouldn’t have one...he’s your friend and all, I’m just...”
“You’ve had an attitude since you heard he was coming back here,” Trowa pointed out, watching her stiff frame as she continued to keep her back to him.
“Nothing’s going to happen! Shit, it was high school. We’re not in high school anymore...”
“I KNOW, it’s just...as soon as he comes back here, you just run right out to go and see him, and it’s just like...”
“It’s been a year since I last saw him, Sylvia,” Trowa snapped, frowning as he pushed away from the island. He opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottled Budweiser, and walked out from the kitchen. “It doesn’t mean anything! It’s not like we’re going to go and fuck behind your fucking back, or anything.”
Sylvia threw down her knife and spoon, and stomped after him.
“What the hell do you mean by that shit?” she cried. “Are you trying to start a fight? Are you planning on creating a big ole scene so you can go back to him, crying and complaining that I’m not good enough for you?”
“What the hell’s your problem?” Trowa asked, pausing in opening the bottle of beer, giving her a disgusted expression. When he got the top off, he flicked that aside, the metal bouncing on the side table next to the couch. “I’m not trying to start anything, and you’re all up on my back about something that’s not even there.”
“I can’t help but feel insecure with all the bullshit you’ve pulled,” Sylvia growled, clenching her fists. “With him, and with me. I can’t help but feel that you’re looking for a way out of our relationship, and looking for one with him! I’m not perfect, I know–but it seems to me that–”
“Oh GOD, Syl! Jesus Christ...where do you come up with this bullshit? When did you start thinking this shit?”
“I can’t help it!” she cried. “You had a big thing with him! A big thing! And I understand that it meant a lot to the both of you, and I feel as if I’ll never have what you had...”
“It was fucking HIGH SCHOOL!”
“I don’t care!”
Trowa snorted, shaking his head in disgust. He set the bottle down, and slumped down onto one of their couches they’d found in the upperclass regions, searching for furniture that the richies were throwing out. Still in good condition, the couches were comfortable, suede, and perfect for slouching and comfortable snoozing. He flicked on the holoset and ignored her as he began flicking through the channels, looking for something to watch.
In frustration, Sylvia stared at him, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She waited for him to say something, but when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to, that he was done with the subject, she slumped her shoulders. She carefully lowered herself to her knees, and rested her hands on his, staring up at his frowning face with a pleading one of her own.
“I’m just scared, Trowa,” she confessed over a CSI program. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you. I don’t want to. We’ve got nearly two years under our belt, and...I don’t want to lose any of it. I really don’t. I feel threatened and scared. That once he comes back, you’ll find that you’ll want him more than you’ll want me. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Just...I’m sorry if I yelled at you, and I came off as bitchy...I just want you to understand that this is how I feel.”
“...Your hamburger’s burning...”
Sylvia frowned in irritation. Whenever she felt she was confessing her soul, Trowa always came up with something off-hand and unrelated to the current subject at hand. Changing the subject. Why did guys always do that?
She studied his face, at the matured angles and straights, at the way shadows flicked across the planes of his skin. She reached up to flick his hair from his eyes, and sighed in annoyance when he jerked his head from her touch. She straightened from the floor, and kissed his cheek, ignoring the way he jerked out of that as well.
She walked into the kitchen, and attended to her hamburger, which wasn’t burning at all. She frowned at the browning meat, wondering if what she was doing was right. She wanted Trowa to have his freedom, to feel as if he weren’t on a leash. He wasn’t–she let him do many a great deal of things. He wanted to go to New York with Carl on a work related trip, she let him. He wanted to go to a strip bar with some buddies, she gave him singles and hoped that he didn’t find any guy or girl interesting enough to go home with. He wanted to go somewhere without her, she usually just kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good night.
She knew that guys needed their freedom to do things, and she granted them all to him. Sure, she had her differences and her insecurities, but those were expected.
But things were different, now. Quatre was back in town, and she was definitely threatened by him. She lowered her head, sighing lowly to herself. She really didn’t want to think this way, but how could she not?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
It was nearly twelve-thirty when Quatre loosened his tie, and stumbled into a taxi that he managed to hail from the corner of South Eighty-Eighth and Bronston. Dost had let him go for the day (night?), and he’d just completed a maddening day. He wanted nothing more than to hit his apartment, hit his bed, and snooze away until eleven tomorrow. Then he remembered–it was Friday!
He laughed in relief, the driver glancing at him curiously in his rearview mirror. Quatre looked at his watch, wondering if he should grab a late dinner when he heard his phone ring. He jumped, wincing, hoping that it wasn’t Dost calling him for something ridiculous. But when he saw the familiar name and number, he grinned.
“What’s up, bitch?”
“Winner, you call me that again, and I’ll show you who’s the ‘bitch’,” Jake snapped in irritation.
“Don’t losers go to sleep around eight?”
“Har, har. I hear you work late...where are you?”
“Still on the South Side. Why? Looking for late night nookie? I think I can get it up for you...”
“...GOD.”
“Turns you on, huh?”
“Forget I asked.”
Quatre laughed, shifting the phone to hold between his shoulder and ear. He undid the buttons of his sleeves and rolled them up on his elbows. “What’s up, anyway? It’s really late. Where’s your demon spawn?”
“With his grandparents. I just got off work. Wanna eat someplace?”
“Yeah, sure. Where?”
“There’s a mom and pop shop on Fifty-Seventh, East. 2353. And I heard you’re rich, so you’re paying.”
Quatre grinned, remembering his check. He patted his wallet, and gave the directions to the driver. “Okay, I’ll support you for this one night.”
After he hung up, Quatre checked his phone messages. There were a couple from Lana and Rashid, so he checked those. They were only checking up on him, and were delivering messages from the couple of friends he’d made during his return to Laramie. But he didn’t want to go there, so he saved the messages, and flicked through the options of his phone. When he came to Trowa’s name, he hesitated. He hadn’t had a chance to see the guy, since his work hours were crazy, and...he really wanted to see how he was doing. He figured he shouldn’t call him at this hour, knowing that Trowa was asleep, and that Sylvia...well...
Quatre frowned as he thought of the blond haired girl, and lowered his phone.
He shouldn’t call him, anyway. Sylvia probably thought that he was trying to get back with his ex...and he didn’t want to make her upset. It wasn’t any of his business, but...he sighed, and turned off his phone. If he were going to see Trowa, it had to be on his terms–not Quatre’s. When an ex had a steady, things had to be treaded carefully upon. And he didn’t want to mess things up for anybody.
When he arrived at the deli shop, he paid the driver, and walked in through the glass sliding door. The shop was open twenty-four hours, and was a half grocery store, half restaurant. The smells that hit him were of freshly baked bread and savory stews that made his mouth water. He spotted the older male sitting at one of the stools at the counter, dressed in casual clothing that looked worn and faded. Quatre grinned, and brought his elbow down on the guy’s back in companionable greeting.
Jake sputtered and cursed, retaliating with a sharp punch into his kidney. He turned in his seat, glaring down at the blond as Quatre slumped onto the floor with a pained howl.
“When are you ever going to grow up, Winner?” he asked, nudging the blond with the toe of his work boot. “Are you always going to be childish?”
Quatre straightened from the floor, and climbed onto the stool, rubbing his lower back. He grinned at Jake as an older woman approached him with a cheery smile.
“You’re just jealous that I can be the child you never were.”
Jake snorted, and shook his head as the woman handed Quatre a menu, and asked what he’d like to drink. Quatre gave her his request, and looked through the menu. Finding something appealing, he gave that order as well, and turned to face the other male.
Like the others he’d reunited with since his return to New Park, Jake had gone through some changes as well. He was still taller than Quatre, but had filled out completely in the shoulders and chest area, giving him a more defined structure than what he had in high school. His arms were thick with hardened muscle, but there was an overall thickness of weight that suggested lack of physical activity. It gave him a more firmer appearance, and basically screamed male. His dark blond hair was cut a little shorter, in a casual fringe that fluttered over his forehead and tapered over his temples. His sideburns were a little longer, and he had stubble that shadowed his jaw and upper lip. There were the same shadows around his weary eyes. He still had that cocky curl to his lips, something that made Quatre’s lower gut curl with something unwelcome. Overall, his matured features were enough to have Quatre suddenly grinning in appreciation.
He felt a little uncomfortable that he felt attracted to his friend, but he blamed it on his unruly hormones and tried not to pay too much attention to his friend’s physical features. And for the fact that he smelled rather... male. In a truly appreciating way. A way that suggested hard work and exhausted gratification. Things that should not mix when he realized what he was thinking about his friend.
To escape his thoughts, he asked, “So...you still work at that one place?”
“Yeah.”
Even his voice was deeper. It made Quatre shift uncomfortably on his stool.
“Are you going to take classes this year?”
Jake shrugged, picking at his sandwich. “I tried that. But it wasn’t working out, remember?”
Quatre nodded, remembering that Jake had gotten a scholarship to NPU. But due to some trouble he’d had with Michael’s grandparents, he’d been forced to drop out, losing his scholarship and any other chance he had to go to college that year. The older male focused on working instead, and Quatre knew that Jake was feeling down about losing the scholarship, and his chance at going back to school. He wanted a better life to give to his son, but he was unable to.
“
You can take part time classes.”
“That’d take forever. I’m just going to wait until Mike’s old enough to do his own thing before going back. It’s no problem. So, what’s your job like?” Jake asked him, flicking lettuce in Quatre’s direction.
“It’s fucking dumb. But it pays practically millions! So...I’m not going to complain too much,” Quatre said, reaching back for his wallet. He examined his check hidden inside, grinning at the obscene number of zeros.
“And it’s cool...he’s going to work with me on my class schedule, and there’s really nothing for me to complain about. So...basically, I just do what the guy tells me to. Get him food, get his clothes...whatever.”
“He’s that freaky guy that runs the South Side, isn’t it? Dost?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Passage know you’re working for him?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t. She’ll be pissed that you’re working for her uncle’s competition,” Jake snorted, pushing an olive around his sandwich.
“Like she can do anything about it. Hey...does...does Max hit on you?” Quatre then asked curiously, thinking of that incident at Pizza Plus. He also thought of that night at Denny’s, where Max began hitting on Jake with a scary amount of determination that had Felicia laughing. Jake had been clueless, of course, but Quatre had been shocked. He remembered thinking, Why him?
Jake sputtered. “That...girly lookin’ guy? Passage’s boytoy?”
“Yeah.”
“NO. Why?”
“He was hitting on me the other night...”
“Did you knock him out?”
“NO!”
“Dude, that’s not cool. People shouldn’t be doin’ that sort of bullshit. Did Passage get mad?”
“She was looking for a video camera...”
Jake sighed, shaking his head. “I should have known...don’t encourage that sort of thing, asshole. It isn’t right. I’m going to laugh at her when her man does walk out on her for some guy.”
“I think she’d like that,” Quatre snorted. He picked at his straw. “So...why are you up so late? You guys don’t stay open this late, do you?”
“New hours for the summer. And it isn’t as if I have to run home to Mike, so...it’s cool. Extra money.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
“Fix cars. Perform maintenance. Oil changes, shit like that. You know. Manly stuff. Stuff you’ll never be able to do.”
“...I can do manly stuff...”
“I thought you had a ride.”
“I don’t have a license...”
“Winner! Fuck. Why the hell not?”
“I JUST DON’T! Why is it, when I’m with you, I feel like, fucking...eight years old?”
“Cuz. You’re just a kid.”
The woman came back with Quatre’s order, and cheerily greeted another set of customers. Staring down at the French Dip sandwich and accompanying steak-style fries, he hungrily began digging in. Amid a mouthful of roast beef and bread, he asked, “Why’s Mike with his grandparents? I thought you got him on Fridays?”
“Did you hear a fucking word I said over the beginning of the year?” Jake asked in exasperation, giving him an irritated look. “His grandparents went to court against me. Celia lost her custody, but her parents took over her days, and some of mine. I only get him on Sundays and Mondays, now.”
“Oh,” Quatre breathed through his mouthful of food, feeling bad for having brought it up. He lowered his sandwich to the plate, and glanced over at the other. The other was looking sullen as he picked at his sandwich. “So...what happens? I mean...you’re just going to leave it at that?”
“No. The next hearing is in September. I’m going to keep fighting it. There’ll be a different judge this time, and won’t be someone that runs in the same fuckin’ circle as them. So I might have a better chance.”
“This why you’re messing around so late?”
“Nothing else to do.”
“Don’t you have friends?”
Jake gave him an exasperated look. “My ‘friends’ are more involved in partying and snagging at whatever college they’re at. They’re not interested in hanging out with someone who doesn’t want to drink or drug. And I can’t relate to them, anyway. I feel too old for people my age.”
“You’re not that old.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think so.”
Jake looked over at him, then smiled, shaking his head. He elbowed Quatre as the blond was trying to get a drink from his soda. “You’re a retard, Winner. I don’t know why I put up with you...”
“Because we all know you want my ass, Trip. You’ve wanted it since high school...” After he picked himself up from the floor, after being bodily removed from his stool, Quatre laughed. “Hit a little too close to home?”
“Will you stop with that homo bullshit? Jesus Christ..”
“So...I was wondering...what’s the West Side of town look like? I mean, I’ve been there once or twice, but...”
“What’s on the West Side?”
“...Trowa...I haven’t seen him, yet.”
Jake raised his eyebrows, looking at Quatre pointedly. Then he shrugged, constructing a fort with his lettuce and tomatoes. “Whatever, you sadist.”
“C’mon...yeah, he’s my ex and all, but...shit. I still would like to talk to him. But then, it’s like Sylvia’s there, and she might be all...I don’t know, threatened. I don’t want to mess things up with them.”
“Are you tryin’ to get back with him?”
“No...I just want to see him.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want to see him?”
“Because...well, we still talk! It’s not like we’re not going to talk. Shit. Stop making it into a big deal.”
“I’m not. I’m just asking. If that girl already feels threatened, then she’s gotta reason to, right? I swear, the pair of you fuckers are the biggest girls I know,” Jake said in disgust, leaning on the counter with one elbow, chin in palm. There was a single vein that roped up from the thick wad of muscle of his forearm, trailing up to his wrist. It was mesmerizing, and Quatre focused in on that. His fingers were itching to reach over and see if that vein felt hard or soft...
“Wah wah wah over the stupidest shit. Grow up. Move on. Find someone else.”
“I can’t!” Quatre whined, picking at his sandwich, his face flushed with the thoughts he had previous. “I met a guy in Laramie, but he was like, ten years older and...I don’t know. I kept comparing him to Trowa. I didn’t want to, but it was like...Trowa’s my first big relationship, you know?”
“I swear to God, Winner...you’re like one of those sluts from that show, Sex and...something. The City. Sex and The City. You discuss shit to death. Guys don’t talk like that.”
“...Fuck you, dick.”
“Shove off, asshole.”
“You know,” Quatre began, licking the sauce from his finger. “How would you know how those women act?”
“Celia made me watch it.”
“‘Celia made me watch it’,” Quatre mimicked, trying to mimic Jake’s disgusted tone. “Whatever. You know you were there, watching and waiting.”
“Shut up.”
“Fuck that. Anyway...fine. Guy talk? You want guy talk? All right. I can’t find the right piece of ass. All right? And all the dick I had sucked. All the fags that I’ve had since Trowa were either entirely faggy or really fuckin’ cocky, and none of them satisfied me. All two of them.”
Jake dropped his head into his arms, and groaned as Quatre gave an annoyed expression at the older male.
“Nothin’ compares to what I had before! All my stupid one-night stands don’t amount to shit...I had two guys since Trowa, and those two times sucked dick!”
“...Stop...”
“When am I ever going to find the right man?” Quatre cried in exasperation. “I’m a good person! I fuckin’ brush my teeth every morning and every night! I wipe my ass! I tie my own fucking shoes! I have my own fucking place, my own car–! I have a good job! I GO TO SCHOOL! WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?”
“You’re gay!” someone shouted from the grocery section of the store.
“Besides that,” Quatre sighed in frustration, kicking Jake’s stool when the older male hadn’t come up for air. “I just want to know what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“Why the fuck are you so concerned about getting a fucking man in the fucking first place?” Jake growled each word, peeking at him from under his arm. “You’re a GUY! You don’t need anybody!”
“Says you...I just wanna get or have a good lay! Anyway, I’ll bet you haven’t had a woman since Celia,” Quatre said on a disgusted noise, tossing the remains of his sandwich onto the plate. “Am I right? Huh? Am I right?”
“...I’ve been fuckin’ busy.”
“HAH!”
“Shut the fuck up, Winner,” Jake said, finally lifting his head.
“Not even one night stands?”
“I HAVE STANDARDS, TOO. And it’s different when one has a kid! I can’t exactly leave him to find pussy!”
“Why not? I’ll baby sit him one night,” Quatre offered, then winced. “Did I really say that?”
“You’ll baby-sit Michael? Ha..Ha ha...” Jake suddenly started laughing, finding the idea truly outrageous. Quatre scowled as the older male continued to laugh, completely diminishing his confidence in the area. “You? Baby-sit? HAH! I might as well as dump him off at a fuckin’ elementary school! That’s how much care he’s gonna get! Good one, Winner...good one.”
“Fucker.”
Jake laughed again, and slapped his back. “You’re always good for a laugh, man. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Quatre pushed aside his plate, and gestured at the half-eaten sandwich on Jake’s plate. The older male shoved it at him, and Quatre picked that up to finish off as well.
“You’re still ballin’?” Jake asked, signaling for a refill on his drink.
“Yeah...there’s a gym nearby that I want to join, but I haven’t had a freakin’ chance to do anything since I started work. My hours are crazy. I have tons of overtime.”
“Shit...How much do you lift?”
“I stopped at 190 for presses.”
“Wimp.”
“No, seriously! It took me forever to get there!”
“You’re such a fuckin’ wimp.”
“How much can you do? Huh?”
“270.”
Quatre scowled, and Jake showed off the muscle he had, grinning cheesily.
“His brother’s just as tight,” he said, showing off his other arm muscle. “You can touch it for a dollar.”
“Fag.”
Jake laughed as he lowered his arm. “Don’t be j, Winner. Maybe one day, when you’re all growed up and have a chance at manliness, I’ll learn ya.”
“Fag.”
“Are you finished? I have to go.”
“Why?”
“Dude, I work over six days a week. I have to be in by eight this morning.”
“Take a day off.”
“...Why would I do that?”
“Because...I need to get my driver’s license.”
“And I care...why? GROW UP.”
“But...c’mon! I NEED you! You’re older and far more superior to me than I can ever be...”
“Damn straight...”
“And I need you to hold my hand! Plus...I need a ride.”
“I’m not carting you around, asshole!”
“I’ll give you gas money! I’ll pay for lunch! Besides, I know some chicks. I’ll set you up with them.”
“Winner...don’t give me that fuckin’ bullshit...all the chicks I know what to kill you. And from what I’ve seen of your fuckin’ boys, I doubt your taste in girls will even be---”
“How about that Smith character? Leash’s friend?”
Quatre stared in bewildered expression as Jake laughed once again, this one on the verge of hysterics. After the older male picked himself up from the floor, wiping his eyes, he managed to eke out, “I doubt lesbians have any interest in males, fag. How’d you meet that ho?”
“She’s...lez?”
“There& #8217;s no doubt. At least bi. And there’s no way I’m hooking up with that freak. No thanks. I’ll take a half day, all right? It’s less crowded at the DMV in the late afternoon.”
“You’ll do it?”
“For shits and giggles...and for that gas money. Throw in food, and I’ll pick you up around three.”
“All right! You’re awesome! You’re the big bro I never had!”
“Thank god,” Jake muttered, shaking his head as he handed Quatre a few bucks, then left the shop.
Quatre grinned happily, and turned back to finish off his sandwich. It was really good. He would have to remember this place the next time he was hungry.