Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Gifts and Curses ( Chapter 8 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Regrets...losses...cigarettes...
And that's all in the first paragraph! JK
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.10.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 7.3K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Regrets...losses...cigarettes...
And that's all in the first paragraph! JK
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.10.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 7.3K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Chapter Eight:
“Gifts and Curses” Yellowcard
The smells of brunch wafted up to where Trowa was sitting, hiding away in the bathroom. He was feeling more than a little down about things, staring in silence at the bubbles that surrounded him. Sylvia’s lavender bubble bath had worked wonders before, when he was feeling troubled and needed to relax. But it wasn’t working right now.
Since that Thursday night began a torrid of things that involved a lot of sex and confusion over various things. He wasn’t truly delving into the whys and the why nots, but on the second guessing and the misery inducing thoughts that rocked everything that had been so set and firm before. While he knew that he was retracing his steps into venturing outside his comfortable relationship, with an ex that had experienced this same mishap, he had no will or reason to stop. Sex with Quatre was filled with the sort of passion that he missed since their days together, when all that mattered was fulfilling bodily hunger. Since that Thursday night, he come back since then, feeling utterly rotten about messing with Quatre’s feelings, but feeling too stubborn to stop. The blond hadn’t denied him, either, except for last night, when he didn’t come back from wherever he was.
Which had Trowa wondering if he’d overstepped his boundary with ex-sex. On one far hand, he thought Quatre was handling the concept okay–after all, the blond didn’t refuse him, and kept admitting him in. Sure, he left messages on his phone, but his reaction when Trowa showed up anyway was the complete opposite.
Trowa felt positively rotten, almost in the same quandary as he had when he’d cheated on Quatre with Amelie Une that one summer. While he felt bad for Sylvia, he admitted that what he’d done was over and done with, and it was best to follow with the phrase, “silence is best”. Whenever Sylvia asked him where he was and why he was gone, he’d merely reply that he’d been hanging out with Carl. A quick, informative conversation with his boss had produced needed results. The convo had been as follows:
“Hey...I’m shagging this guy. Sylvia don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me this shit. I ain’t sayin’ shit if she asks me. I don’t want to be involved. I don’t know nothin’.”
“Cool.”
So, he was covered when and IF Sylvia decided to follow through with checking up on his actions. He knew she would, in that sneaky way she had, but he was confident that Carl would cover for him. It was a rule for guys–no one wanted to suffer the wrath of a vengeful female, so one guy would cover for another.
But the thing was...while he felt good in obvious ways in reconnecting with his ex, his conscience was messing with him. ‘Sex was sex was sex was sex’...most of the time. And it was damned good sex with his ex. Only...he couldn’t take the fact that Quatre was feeling very guilty about it all. And it was damned ironic in a way, as well. Cheating with his ex when this was the same ex he’d cheated on. In a way, though, both of them were stupid.
But...sex was sex was sex was sex.
If it was given freely, of course one would take part in it...
Even if they were the ones groping at it.
Trowa tilted his head back against the tiled wall, exhaling heavily. He had to admit that he was at fault– he initiated things, knowing full well that Quatre wasn’t going to reject him, preying on his libido like a villainous predator, and got them to where they were now. He couldn’t believe he was going about this situation like a conniving criminal, and had to chuckle lowly to himself. He remembered once vowing to himself that he’d do all in his power to keep Quatre from getting with anyone else...it had been so outrageous at the time, and he’d thought himself deranged.
It couldn’t be that that kept him going to Quatre...he knew he wanted a piece of ass, and he got it. It was good, and there wasn’t any complaints from either of them. He knew Quatre fully enjoyed what they did– he had the scratch marks to prove it. But he also knew Quatre felt guilty about the entire thing, which was why he’d tried calling Trowa, leaving messages that Trowa listened with a half a mind to.
He knew what Quatre wanted, but his body said otherwise. And why deny it?
He sighed in frustration, slowly bumping the back of his head against the tiled wall. He could brand himself as the most evil of criminals, now. Manipulating, conniving, certainly deranged–and it was all for the best sex he’d ever had. He knew of others that would do the same thing, and had at one time or another. It was the rule of the jungle.
While he really didn’t want to venture on were the things that mattered afterward. After they cleaned up, Trowa returned to Sylvia, and Quatre slept by himself. It was an awkward moment then, and he knew it troubled the blond. And it troubled Trowa, but not in the same manner.
Things were definitely different in this situation, and he felt rotten about it, but that was how it went. Over a year apart, both of them changing and maturing into different ways away from each other gave them different ideals and thoughts. Trowa knew it was wrong–but it felt good. Quatre knew it was wrong–but he didn’t actively push him away.
In a way, it was entirely cold of him to feel and be this way...and thinking about things in this bathtub gave him a headache. He rinsed off with the shower, removing the plug from the drain. Perhaps something would jolt him out of this mentality...
Meanwhile, Sylvia was busy making brunch, humming along with the radio. She wanted to invite some of her friends over, but she knew Trowa would be annoyed visiting with the girls, so she thought of inviting some mutual friends they knew together. She heard Trowa running the shower upstairs, and frowned in that general direction. Come to think of it, the man had been very quiet lately...spending a lot of late hours with his retarded boss, drinking beers and doing whatever it was they do was a mystery to her. She wasn’t going to complain, though, knowing that it was the wrong thing to do. It would just drive Trowa away from her. She definitely didn’t want that.
She finished rolling the breakfast burritos, and set on making some bacon. Moving away from the stove, she searched for her phone, then remembered that she had left it charging in their room upstairs. Not wanting to make that long trip, she searched out his phone, finding it near the couch in the living room. She used it to call a couple of their mutual friends over, and when she hung up after the last call, she stared at the blank screen saver. She licked her lips nervously, then glanced up at the ceiling, hearing that Trowa was still in the bathroom. She opened the menu options, and scrolled through Received calls and Out calls...she noted that Carl’s was predominant, as well as calls to Drake Bellows and a guy named Trevor, and she was about to exit when she noticed another name, her entire frame freezing: Quatre R. Winner.
She swallowed hard, and like a demon possessed, began scrolling the info on when he’d called and how often. It turned out that Trowa had saved messages from him, and with a dizzying sense of unease, she found those messages, and accessed them.
One was from a week or so ago, a nervously left message that told her that he had not yet met Trowa since his arrival, and wanted to talk. Another was very recent– just last Friday, in fact. This one told her that he didn’t like what happened Thursday (THURSDAY? WHAT HAPPENED?), and that he was going to pull in some overtime at work, so he wouldn’t be home that night. The next one was Saturday afternoon, and it was just as bad:
“Um...I don’t...I don’t like this. I don’t...want to do this. Don’t come back. All right? I can’t do this. I don’t want to. Bye.”
She listened to that message, filled with incredible dread and freezing disbelief. It could mean so many things! So MANY! But...but what? Why would Trowa save these messages? Why would Quatre call him and say such things...? WHAT HAPPENED?
She heard the bathroom door creak upstairs, and she snapped out of her daze, rapidly exiting the information she found. She set the phone back where she found it, and forced her voice to be cheery as as she called, “Mary and Terry are coming over to eat with us! I used your phone, okay?”
She knew he wouldn’t reply, because he hated shouting in the house, so she made her way into the kitchen on shaky legs, her mind racing with her thoughts. Her hands numbly carried out the tasks of burning the bacon and fixing other things, her breath heavy in her throat. She really didn’t want to think the worst, but really...how could she not?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Max was furious when Jake arrived at their apartment. Immediately seeing the infuriated scowl on the pretty boy’s face made him raise an eyebrow in question, but all Max said in explanation as he marched out of the apartment was, “GOOD! Maybe you can talk some sense into her!”
The door slammed hard behind him, and Jake gave a low whistle at the obvious trouble in this place. Tucking his sunglasses away, he ventured into the apartment, looking for the culprit of the guy’s problem. He heard irritated mumbling from the hall bathroom, and ventured in that direction. He knocked on the door, hearing things being clinked around inside.
“What’d you do?” he asked in a tired drawl, leaning against the doorframe.
The door jerked open, and Yoshida stared at him with a glazed expression, obviously stoned beyond comprehension. She waved him in, where Felicia was sitting at the edge of the tub, muttering under her breath at his appearance.
Jake took in the tattered, bloodied shirt that lay in ruins on the bathroom floor, the whiskey that sat on the sink, and the needle and thread that sat, unprepared, on the toilet. On the counter was a mixture of dressings and bandages that were ready for use. There was a lighter nearby, giving indication that it was going to be used for some sterilization. He gave a grim frown, then looked at Felicia, who was angrily pulling her long hair into a ponytail. It was obvious what was going on here, and he looked at Yoshida, who was looking more than lost as she shrugged.
He then sighed, indicating that he’d take over. The redhead staggered out from the bathroom, croaking that she was going to have a cigarette on the balcony, and keep an eye out for Max. Already accustomed to these such scenes, Jake washed his hands in the sink and glanced over at the girl that was shirtless, displaying two obvious holes in her upper right shoulder. The blood had been cleaned away, most of it caught on the shirt that he stepped on. He kicked that aside, and hated that some kids grew up much faster than their peers.
“You need to quit your fuckin’ job,” he snapped at her, picking up the whiskey bottle and examining the alcohol percentage. “You’ve been in this business for far too fuckin’ long. Next time, that next shot’s gonna catch your stupid head!”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Felicia snapped back at him, the muscles in her back spasming. She was sitting in a pair of baggy jeans, the waistband of her Calvin Klines poking out. From the color of her usually tanned skin, it was obvious that unwelcome blood loss was affecting her. He wondered how long she had been running around with those slugs this time. “I’ve been doin’ this for years. What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?”
“Came to see what was wrong. Word was, you an’ your boy was havin’ troubles,” Jake answered, eyeing the needle and thread.
Carefully, he threaded the needle, and picked up the whiskey bottle. He was very familiar with this–had been ever since Hautta James and Felicia Passage entered his life as a pair of raging supers that were bent on killing each other. He’d patched both of them up in various instances, and had long grown accustomed to sewing human skin together, and forcing bones together again. It was an odd story, but something he wasn’t surprised by anymore.
“Whatever. He’s all up on my ass about some dumb shit,” Felicia muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jake eyed the two plugs in her upper right shoulder, and set the needle down, looking for some tweezers. He found them in a small drawer under the sink, and drizzled whiskey over them. Then, as an added precaution, used the lighter nearby to burn the metal briefly. Setting the lighter aside, he walked over, and carefully eased the two spent slugs from human muscle and skin, not at all missing the flinch and the instant shudder of pain. He tossed the slugs aside, into the sink, and sighed as he performed the same sterilizing tactics with the needle.
“I’m gettin’ fuckin’ tired of his bullshit. Whinin’ an’ cryin’ around ‘bout me not bein’ there, me not bein’ nice to his fuckin’ retarded parents,” she was muttering, her fingers digging into her skin as he drizzled whiskey over the wounds, wincing at the pain that she must be feeling from the action. The wounds sterilized, he went to work sewing up what he could. “Sometimes, I wish I could just come on out an’ out an’ tell him I work the streets for fuckin’ Merrick. But then he’d get all uppity on my ass, an’ break it to the fuckin’ press.”
“Still henching?”
“Yeah. Dick work. Takin’ out the fuckin’ trash.”
“...How long have you been up?”
“Since fuckin’ Thursday night. Been usin’ ‘Shida’s stash to keep me awake. I just wanna lie down an’ fuckin’ relax, then he gets all over me, claimin’ that I’m seein’ someone else. Shit. Like I wanna do that shit all over again...fuck that ho. I hate him.”
Jake snorted, shaking his head as he then reached for the gauze and tape, and gently applied the dressing to her wounds. Her city-accented words were thick with drugs, exhaustion and pain. She almost didn’t make any sense, and every third word was a curse. But he was used to such things.
After that was finished, he turned his back to her, and spoke to the closed door. “You’re coming down from a high, you just got shot up–I’m sure once you relax, you’ll realize you don’t hate him at all.”
“I do. Fuckin’ pansy ass dick. The only reason why I keep him around is cuz he amuses me.”
“Don’t be that way. Think straight.”
“Fuckin’ dick. Fuck him. Fuck all of them! I’m pissed...pissed off. Henchin’ ain’t what it used to be, Goddamn it.” Felicia huffed angrily, and straightened from the tub, glaring at the porcelain.
Her hands were shaking from the downer, and her mind was feeling more than fuzzy from the aftereffects of the drug she’d taken to stay awake those four days. She plucked a clean towel (dark) from the nearby rack, and wrapped it around herself. She looked back at her friend and frowned at him. “What are you doin’ here, anyway?”
He shrugged, reaching out to trace the wood with one finger. “Got a late night visitor last night...said he was tryin’ to avoid someone. Kinda me wonder what the hell was up...?”
“Oh? Who? Hautta?”
“No. Your boy.”
“Max?”
“NO! Winner.”
Felicia blinked, then jolted, as if shot. She flinched with pain, and choked out, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. Just said he was tryin’ to avoid someone.”
“Someone fuckin’ around with him? I’m still fuckin’ packin’! And high as hell! I’ll go out there and fuck up whoever it is that’s fuckin’ with him, even if that means–!”
“NO, no, no!” Jake exclaimed, glancing back at her, taking in the maniacal frenzy she was working herself into. “You ain’t thinkin’ clearly, kid. Get that girl out of here, relax, and I’ll find out what’s up. I just thought you knew what was goin’ on with him, that’s all. You know I can’t talk to people like that.”
“You prolly got him all guilt-trippin’,” she muttered with an exasperated expression. “You ain’t never met such a fuckin’ guilt-trip in your fuckin’ life. Go on an’ on ‘bout what a loser he is, gets that expression that makes ya all thinkin’ you kicked a fuckin’ puppy, then...ARGH! I need to know what his problem is! Where’s my phone?”
“You aren’t going anywhere with that shit on your back, girl. What happened, anyway?”
“Aw...some guys got lucky. The bitch and I were ambushed. A lot of Merrick’s guys got wasted last night. Dost got us good. It sucks bein’ a hench,” she then muttered. “I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough to take on the real jobs...”
Jake stared at her silently, and shook his head. “You ain’t gonna come back home one of these nights, girl.”
Felicia shrugged. “Whatever. Henches come an’ go...fuckin’ don’t matter. Ain’t like people will miss me. Just another fuckin’ minority caught up in the evil Overlord’s horde of henchmen...getting sluggish. I need Jimboy’s...”
“Go sleep. Your man went to work.”
“Shit...just gonna come back an’ start his bullshit all over again. I feel like fuckin’ shootin’ him just to make him shut up. That’s why ho-bag was in here, keepin’ the door shut.”
Jake felt an involuntary shudder run through him at the cold words. In the state she was in, she probably would have followed through with her threat. And with her connections, no one would ever suspect it had been her. Such was life in New Park City. “Go shack out at your uncle’s...”
“Can’t. He’s under investigation again. Both him an’ Dost. Shit made the papers this mornin’...” Felicia shrugged again, reaching up to touch the bandages on her shoulders. She winced, and then hit the sink with her fist. “I’ll go look for him, then.”
“I’ll do it. Stay here. Just...does your boy know what the fuck’s up?”
“Nah. I hide things pretty good from that one.”
“...He gonna leave you.”
Felicia shrugged again. “Prolly be good for him. Don’t care...”
Jake stared at her in silence, noting the weariness on her face. When he’d met Felicia and Hautta, they had been a pair of fourteen year olds, working for opposite ends. He’d known that the alien was a mercenary working from out of space, and Felicia worked for her uncle. Had been since she was very young. It wasn’t his problem to deal with, but he was curious as to how she managed to keep from Max the fact that she earned her money killing Dost’s ‘henches’ as a hench herself. Of course, ‘hench’ meaning one of the mindless workers that worked for a corrupted and spoiled baddie that society looked down at.
On that line, he had to wonder if Quatre even knew what he was doing as he worked for Dost himself.
On THAT line...
He looked back at Felicia, who was frowning at her feet, mangled from hours of extensive training in various arts to perform her best on the streets. Dodging bullets and fighting people that wanted to kill her in order to get to her uncle was something she’d faced since she was thirteen...frequent trips away from school to accompany her uncle during ‘business trips’ off planet and around the world had messed with her grades in school. She had to rely on hacking into the school system just to pass. He just wondered how much longer it was going to take when some South Side hench managed to get lucky...
Feeling uncomfortable with the edge of his thoughts, he reached out and patted her arm. “I’ll go find him. Just relax. An’ get that lesbian ho out of here. I don’t like that bitch. She’s a bad influence on you.”
“Whatever. She’s a cool chick. I get along with her because she knows what I’m talkin’ about. Plus, I’ve never met a person before that thinks like me. It’s kinda cool. Anyway, thanks for the patch job. Find that blond lovely of mine and report back to me on his condition. And let me know the name of the guy or guys that’s harassing him...”
Jake rolled his eyes, and opened the door, leaving the bathroom.
“YOU BETTER CUDDLE HIM, TOO, DAMN IT! THAT BOY NEEDS A LOT OF LOVE!” she shouted after him.
He winced, and shook his head, leaving the apartment.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre was curled up in his bed, hiding under the blankets. He kept thinking about what had transpired between himself and Trowa, and was feeling miserably wretched about it all. He had ignored the ringing of his cell, and refused to answer the door when someone came knocking earlier. He was just so...tired. He hated what he had done, but he couldn’t really take it back, either. He had told himself earlier that he wouldn’t have mind if Trowa asked him for sex, but now that the actual process had gone through...?
Well, he felt like a big rat. He really shouldn’t, he kept telling himself, but it was just so out of context for him. Just remembering what sex had been like between them...having such sucky times with other people... he had to admit he wasn’t thinking rationally. Even as he told himself he wasn’t going to do it again, there he was the next night, being taken in that same phenomenal manner he remembered from high school...
He winced and buried his head underneath his pillow. He heard the knocking at his door, but didn’t want to get up to answer it. It was probably Trowa...stalking him...oozing around outside his apartment like some savanna-born predator...waiting to pounce...
The knocking stopped, and he hoped that Trowa went away. He felt cowardly at that moment...he didn’t know how to fix what he felt he had started. If only he reacted to Trowa’s seduction with his fists and fury rather than acquiescement...if only he hadn’t given in!
The knocking began again, followed by annoyed thumps. Was Trowa that persistent? Should he climb out his bedroom window and scamper away to hide?
He then heard his name called, and stiffened in reaction. That wasn’t...Trowa...he threw aside his blankets and ran out of his room, tripping over one of the dining room chairs, over one of his shoes that lay in the kitchen, over the single step, and slammed into the door before opening it to admit Jake in.
Jake walked in, and immediately tripped over Quatre’s books on the floor. Quatre winced, glancing around at the mess that had accumulated since he’d last come here. Straightening himself, Jake frowned at the blond as he removed his sunglasses, peering at him suspiciously.
“I’m on a mission!” he declared with an annoyed frown. Quatre closed the door, and locked it, looking at him with a questioning expression. “Passage wanted me to come over here, and find out what the hell’s up with you. She’s indisposed, so...’fess up. I don’t have all day.”
Quatre frowned, drooping his shoulders. “It’s nothing, really. Just...I made the wrong decision, and I’m regretting it. It isn’t anything...that extraordinary.”
“Don’t make me resort to what she does to get shit out of you,” Jake said in disgust, stepping over some clothing that looked suspiciously...not Quatre’s. “You got someone here?”
“No...”
“Then, whose are those?”
“Uh...um...uh...mine. I...wear them...on my days off,” Quatre stuttered, wincing at the gothic tee and socks that were lying near the chair.
Jake nudged them with his shoe, murmuring to himself, “Clothes that don’t belong to him. Right. And?”
“Uh...did she...did she really send you?”
“Yeah. I’ve got until six, Winner, so speed it up.”
Quatre rubbed at his wrists, frowning in his direction as Jake waited impatiently, frowning back at him. He really didn’t want to talk about it to the other male–it was very embarrassing. He felt that Jake would judge him, after all the things he said about people who cheat. He didn’t want that sort of outlook on him from Jake. He wanted...he wanted...well, he wanted Jake’s approval and understanding. Not disgust and exasperation. He wanted a great deal of things from the other male, but it didn’t seem very likely that things would happen in that aspect.
So, with a low sigh of anxiety, he said, “I’m hiding from my ex. That’s all.”
“The...the drag queen? Tr...Tra...God, what’s his name....?”
“Trowa.”
“Yeah!” Jake gave him a disgusted expression. “What the hell for? You can take him.”
“I...no, it’s not that. It’s...it’s just that...well...he...I...and...he...and I...well...”
“Has anyone ever told you you sound like a damn broken record?”
“Uh...yeah. Thousands of times.”
“Well...spit it out.”
“Um...I-I...and he...came over, and...I...and he...”
Jake sighed, and stared at him with a pointed expression until Quatre sucked up a deep breath and said in a rush, “IsleptwithTrowaandfeelreallybadaboutit!”
Jake wasn’t sure if he heard right, but it sounded as if Quatre had said something along the lines of... slept with Trowa...which was..something entirely out of his league. He wouldn’t understand. But...he understood cheating.
He crossed his arms and gave a scoffing expression, his voice tinged with exasperation. “So, you’re telling me, you slept with your ex?”
Quatre nodded in a small way, picking nervously at his fingers. He stared at Jake with a waiting expression, sure he’d hear the riot act about cheating. He knew the male was so against it, knowing that Celia had a hand in that aspect. He didn’t want Jake to look at him differently...especially when he felt that Jake’s opinion mattered. If he couldn’t have the male in the terms that he wanted, he really did want the older male’s respect and understanding...which was kind of a hard thing to accomplish. The guy was simply ages above him, more mature in aspects Quatre hadn’t yet touched. He wanted the guy’s opinion on things, but when they turned out to be something he didn’t like...well, it affected him.
He especially didn’t want to appear weak with him...he wanted to be equal to him. If Jake Trip knew what Quatre’s feelings were toward him, he would most likely run in the other direction. Quatre knew he had slipped a couple of times, flirting directly at him, but...he was TRYING to be careful. He just...sometimes forgot that he was dealing with a straight male.
“And...?”
Quatre was puzzled by the tone. What did he mean by ‘and’? He slept with his ex...who had a girlfriend...who had done the same thing to him when they were together...why did Jake have to use such a casual tone about it?
“I...I...it’s wrong,” he insisted, giving Jake a disbelieving look. Didn’t he understand the true severity of the situation? “I shouldn’t have done it...”
“So...you’re feeling bad for what you’ve done...knowing full well what it meant?” Jake asked, giving him a sour expression as he tried very hard to understand what was being said. Apparently, Quatre was feeling guilty about the whole thing. Which was, he had to admit, surprising. It sort of made him look at the blond differently, wondering if he read him wrong.
“Well...yeah...I mean, you know...You know our history...I practically told you every sordid detail.”
“Yeah...unfortunately, I do. But you have to STOP acting like a GIRL!” Jake exclaimed, punctuating his words with a hand in his palm. “MAN UP! Fucking, if you wanted ass, you got ass! What the hell are you freakin’ out about?”
“I...well...! I don’t know! You make it sound so...blah!”
“Cuz it IS! So what? Get over it! Don’t make it into such a big deal! Unless...you’ve got feelings for him,” Jake said, looking at him closely. “Is that it? You wanna get back with someone that fucked you over for ass? Well, shit. What the hell are you doing here?”
“No–! It’s not like that...exactly. I don’t have feelings for him. Just...he...well, I was feeling...”
“SO YOU GOT LUCKY!” Jake roared, unable to believe the crap that was coming from the blond’s mouth. He couldn’t believe Quatre was making such a big deal out of it. Wasn’t this the same guy that was whining around about the lack of sex that one week? But then again, he was kind of glad that Quatre felt that way. He should feel that way...after all that he’d gone through with Trowa...and making this mistake when he knew the consequence? Jake couldn’t believe he knew someone so dense...
“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ DUMB to get with someone that shit all over you a few times over, but what the fuck? Stop crying over it!”
“You’re not taking me SERIOUSLY!” Quatre shouted at him.
“I AM HEARING WHAT I’M HEARING! And what I’m HEARING, is fuckin’ GIRL CRAP! PASSAGE doesn’t whine about things the way that you do! You’re unbelievable!”
“He has a girlfriend!”
“SO? What she don’t know won’t hurt her!”
“But that’s the thing of the thing! She–!”
“Winner, you keep this bullshit up, and I’m going to slug you. Just take it...like a man...and get over it. Don’t say nothin’ to her...like a girl would...and just...do what you do.”
“You know, you and Trowa would get along just FUCKIN’ fancy because you BOTH FUCKING think ALIKE!” Quatre shouted at him, growing incredulous that such a thing was taken lightly. He thought Jake would understand!
“DON’T YOU COMPARE ME TO THAT FAG!” Jake shouted back, growing red at the implication. “I am in no WAY like him!”
“You both think alike! Thinkin’, that it’s all good and okay to cheat on your partner, and give it no second thought!” Quatre shouted back, balling his fists. “What about your partner! How would you feel if you were cheated upon?”
“I know what it’s like to be cheated upon,” Jake snarled. “I had that bitch do all sorts of shit to me, and I wasn’t going to take that sort of shit, so I retaliated. Sometimes, it just don’t matter. Hurt them first before they hurt you. And this is fuckin’ bullshit!”
“Yeah, it may BE, but it’s important to me! I don’t like it!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR NERVE!” Jake suddenly roared, out shouting him. Quatre winced. It was louder than he could ever be. “You went and did the same shit to your ho when he was away! You TOLD me you fooled around with some other guy! That pulls you to his level! How dare you try to make yourself into some sort of saint by conveniently forgetting THAT!”
Quatre reddened, remembering Justin. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Er...well...see...”
“Quit makin’ your fuckin’ excuses. Fuck. Man UP. All right? Stop cryin’ around about it, and stack it up as a good...whatever...and do what you do. Man. I never had this much trouble dealing with girls,” Jake muttered, walking over to the door.
Quatre stepped aside, a little embarrassed by what had transpired. Jake paused at the door, and took a deep breath. With a sort of timid air, Quatre looked back at him, feeling utterly low at the moment.
Maybe he was taking things out of context...taking them in a more different manner than what they were. Who knows?
Jake looked back at him, then shifted his eyes about. When they finally landed back on him again, he said gruffly, “Are you still hiding out?”
“Um...yeah...I mean...I don’t want to see him. I know I’ll just make another stupid decision,” Quatre said quietly, shrugging.
“Well...do you want to go out? I...Mike wanted to see you. And...I don’t know. You could spend the night again. If...this bothers you. You don’t have to, I’m just offering, but–”
“Let me get my stuff!” Quatre said quickly, racing off.
Jake frowned, then looked anxiously around him. Really, as he drummed his fingers on the door knob, wondering if he should take back the offer, he didn’t know why the situation bothered him a lot. Maybe his ‘mother hen’ attitude was kicking in, and causing him to think differently. Because he was thinking, that if he saw this Trowa-guy again, he’d have to say a few things. The guy was bad company to Quatre, who always seemed to make the wrong decision when it came to him. He really wanted the blond to do good, but it seemed that every time things were going good for him, this guy showed up to bring him back down.
Maybe he should have another talk with the guy...straighten some things out.
But then he realized he was probably taking it a little too far. All in all, he was starting to sound like some overprotective sibling, or something...
He shook his head and sighed, kicking aside some books that were blocking the door. Really...the blond needed a maid.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia heard the door open and shut quietly later that night. Glancing over at the clock, she saw that it was nearly twelve. Max usually came home around seven, but he was pissed at her from this morning, and had stayed out later than usual. She didn’t care. If he was happier that way, then that was that.
She hadn’t been able to sleep, yet, and had busied herself with various other things during the day. Jake had called her hours earlier, saying that Quatre was staying at his apartment, due to some trouble with a classmate. She had no idea what the older boy was talking about, frantically trying to think of anything Quatre had mentioned about troubles with classmates. But, she figured her favorite blond was in good hands, and ceased worrying about him. After all, if he were with Jake...well...so many possibilities! She didn’t want to disturb anything that could be happening, and left it at that. As long as she knew he was okay, she was okay.
Right now, she had her own problems to deal with, and he was coming her way, toward the bedroom. She had Yoshida remove the bandaging Jake had done (he had so much potential in being a doctor, or something of the sort), and replace it with a simple, flat patch that prevented the stitches from being pulled. It wasn’t her first time getting hurt in the field–and it wasn’t about to be the last. But Max was NOT going to find out about it.
She had left the lights off, musing her thoughts quietly in the darkness, and she heard him do his usual thing. Brush his teeth, use the bathroom, yadda, yadda, yadda. She listened to him undress and open another window, the sounds of the city wafting in. She felt the bed move and shift under his weight, and felt a little disappointed when he didn’t do his usual nightly cuddling with her. He must still be angry that she’d stayed out all night. Which was fine. That was fair.
She’d calmed down considerably, and was thinking that she would have really regretted ‘offing’ him if she’d been given the chance. He was a really good influence on her...she couldn’t have come this far without him. She clutched her pillow tightly, and listened to him sigh uneasily, his feet brushing against hers as he shifted. She noticed that the gap between them was rather large.
She could smell cigarette smoke, cologne, and various others scents from him, and figured that he was at a club or something. She wondered who he went with...she knew that he was chummy with the other deejays at the radio station, and sometimes went out with them while she was away for ‘work’. She had met them, and had immediately disliked one of the female managers, Gina. Only because she nearly looked like Perfect Cindy, the one who had stolen Hautta from her. But she didn’t want to waste her time moping around, wondering if Max was going to cheat on her.
But...all in all...it was depressing to think that they could break up. She knew the possibility was high. After all, his parents had a lot to do with driving a wedge between them, and she really hated Janice. She really hated the way the woman influenced her son. That night with the misunderstanding with Quatre, she had told Max, in sordid detail, of what she found. No matter that it had been innocent, but Max seemed a little quiet after that.
She had an idea that he was jealous of Quatre taking over his time with her...it was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind. It was ridiculous, totally. As if Quatre would ever return her manic affections...for God’s sake, he was gay. But...she had to appreciate Max’s jealousy. It meant that he still cared for her. Despite it all, he still cared for her. In a way, it made her feel guilty. And she couldn’t handle guilt very well.
She shifted on her section of the bed, then decided she couldn’t lay there anymore. She rose from the mattress and walked out of the room, walking through the darkness toward the living room. She didn’t want to lay next to someone that wasn’t feeling very highly of her right then. She had enough of that on the streets. Flipping on the holoset, she flicked through various channels until she found interesting re-runs of ‘Queer as Folk’. Watching that for awhile, she wondered if she should stay with him.
New Park City’s nightlife was alive, and she found her attention diverted from the holographic figures to the city outside her windows. She took in the nightly air traffic, the various lights of various buildings...she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else other than here.
She swallowed hard and glanced back at the bedroom. The urge to leave was suddenly overwhelming... she rose from the couch, looking down at her night wear. A pair of terry shorts and an undershirt. Good enough. She found a pair of sandals in the hall closet, grabbed her keys, and walked out. Really, she didn’t know where she was going, but she definitely didn’t want to stay there.
What was it about summer weather that made people so desperate to leave, or make decisions they weren’t even sure of?
“Gifts and Curses” Yellowcard
The smells of brunch wafted up to where Trowa was sitting, hiding away in the bathroom. He was feeling more than a little down about things, staring in silence at the bubbles that surrounded him. Sylvia’s lavender bubble bath had worked wonders before, when he was feeling troubled and needed to relax. But it wasn’t working right now.
Since that Thursday night began a torrid of things that involved a lot of sex and confusion over various things. He wasn’t truly delving into the whys and the why nots, but on the second guessing and the misery inducing thoughts that rocked everything that had been so set and firm before. While he knew that he was retracing his steps into venturing outside his comfortable relationship, with an ex that had experienced this same mishap, he had no will or reason to stop. Sex with Quatre was filled with the sort of passion that he missed since their days together, when all that mattered was fulfilling bodily hunger. Since that Thursday night, he come back since then, feeling utterly rotten about messing with Quatre’s feelings, but feeling too stubborn to stop. The blond hadn’t denied him, either, except for last night, when he didn’t come back from wherever he was.
Which had Trowa wondering if he’d overstepped his boundary with ex-sex. On one far hand, he thought Quatre was handling the concept okay–after all, the blond didn’t refuse him, and kept admitting him in. Sure, he left messages on his phone, but his reaction when Trowa showed up anyway was the complete opposite.
Trowa felt positively rotten, almost in the same quandary as he had when he’d cheated on Quatre with Amelie Une that one summer. While he felt bad for Sylvia, he admitted that what he’d done was over and done with, and it was best to follow with the phrase, “silence is best”. Whenever Sylvia asked him where he was and why he was gone, he’d merely reply that he’d been hanging out with Carl. A quick, informative conversation with his boss had produced needed results. The convo had been as follows:
“Hey...I’m shagging this guy. Sylvia don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me this shit. I ain’t sayin’ shit if she asks me. I don’t want to be involved. I don’t know nothin’.”
“Cool.”
So, he was covered when and IF Sylvia decided to follow through with checking up on his actions. He knew she would, in that sneaky way she had, but he was confident that Carl would cover for him. It was a rule for guys–no one wanted to suffer the wrath of a vengeful female, so one guy would cover for another.
But the thing was...while he felt good in obvious ways in reconnecting with his ex, his conscience was messing with him. ‘Sex was sex was sex was sex’...most of the time. And it was damned good sex with his ex. Only...he couldn’t take the fact that Quatre was feeling very guilty about it all. And it was damned ironic in a way, as well. Cheating with his ex when this was the same ex he’d cheated on. In a way, though, both of them were stupid.
But...sex was sex was sex was sex.
If it was given freely, of course one would take part in it...
Even if they were the ones groping at it.
Trowa tilted his head back against the tiled wall, exhaling heavily. He had to admit that he was at fault– he initiated things, knowing full well that Quatre wasn’t going to reject him, preying on his libido like a villainous predator, and got them to where they were now. He couldn’t believe he was going about this situation like a conniving criminal, and had to chuckle lowly to himself. He remembered once vowing to himself that he’d do all in his power to keep Quatre from getting with anyone else...it had been so outrageous at the time, and he’d thought himself deranged.
It couldn’t be that that kept him going to Quatre...he knew he wanted a piece of ass, and he got it. It was good, and there wasn’t any complaints from either of them. He knew Quatre fully enjoyed what they did– he had the scratch marks to prove it. But he also knew Quatre felt guilty about the entire thing, which was why he’d tried calling Trowa, leaving messages that Trowa listened with a half a mind to.
He knew what Quatre wanted, but his body said otherwise. And why deny it?
He sighed in frustration, slowly bumping the back of his head against the tiled wall. He could brand himself as the most evil of criminals, now. Manipulating, conniving, certainly deranged–and it was all for the best sex he’d ever had. He knew of others that would do the same thing, and had at one time or another. It was the rule of the jungle.
While he really didn’t want to venture on were the things that mattered afterward. After they cleaned up, Trowa returned to Sylvia, and Quatre slept by himself. It was an awkward moment then, and he knew it troubled the blond. And it troubled Trowa, but not in the same manner.
Things were definitely different in this situation, and he felt rotten about it, but that was how it went. Over a year apart, both of them changing and maturing into different ways away from each other gave them different ideals and thoughts. Trowa knew it was wrong–but it felt good. Quatre knew it was wrong–but he didn’t actively push him away.
In a way, it was entirely cold of him to feel and be this way...and thinking about things in this bathtub gave him a headache. He rinsed off with the shower, removing the plug from the drain. Perhaps something would jolt him out of this mentality...
Meanwhile, Sylvia was busy making brunch, humming along with the radio. She wanted to invite some of her friends over, but she knew Trowa would be annoyed visiting with the girls, so she thought of inviting some mutual friends they knew together. She heard Trowa running the shower upstairs, and frowned in that general direction. Come to think of it, the man had been very quiet lately...spending a lot of late hours with his retarded boss, drinking beers and doing whatever it was they do was a mystery to her. She wasn’t going to complain, though, knowing that it was the wrong thing to do. It would just drive Trowa away from her. She definitely didn’t want that.
She finished rolling the breakfast burritos, and set on making some bacon. Moving away from the stove, she searched for her phone, then remembered that she had left it charging in their room upstairs. Not wanting to make that long trip, she searched out his phone, finding it near the couch in the living room. She used it to call a couple of their mutual friends over, and when she hung up after the last call, she stared at the blank screen saver. She licked her lips nervously, then glanced up at the ceiling, hearing that Trowa was still in the bathroom. She opened the menu options, and scrolled through Received calls and Out calls...she noted that Carl’s was predominant, as well as calls to Drake Bellows and a guy named Trevor, and she was about to exit when she noticed another name, her entire frame freezing: Quatre R. Winner.
She swallowed hard, and like a demon possessed, began scrolling the info on when he’d called and how often. It turned out that Trowa had saved messages from him, and with a dizzying sense of unease, she found those messages, and accessed them.
One was from a week or so ago, a nervously left message that told her that he had not yet met Trowa since his arrival, and wanted to talk. Another was very recent– just last Friday, in fact. This one told her that he didn’t like what happened Thursday (THURSDAY? WHAT HAPPENED?), and that he was going to pull in some overtime at work, so he wouldn’t be home that night. The next one was Saturday afternoon, and it was just as bad:
“Um...I don’t...I don’t like this. I don’t...want to do this. Don’t come back. All right? I can’t do this. I don’t want to. Bye.”
She listened to that message, filled with incredible dread and freezing disbelief. It could mean so many things! So MANY! But...but what? Why would Trowa save these messages? Why would Quatre call him and say such things...? WHAT HAPPENED?
She heard the bathroom door creak upstairs, and she snapped out of her daze, rapidly exiting the information she found. She set the phone back where she found it, and forced her voice to be cheery as as she called, “Mary and Terry are coming over to eat with us! I used your phone, okay?”
She knew he wouldn’t reply, because he hated shouting in the house, so she made her way into the kitchen on shaky legs, her mind racing with her thoughts. Her hands numbly carried out the tasks of burning the bacon and fixing other things, her breath heavy in her throat. She really didn’t want to think the worst, but really...how could she not?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Max was furious when Jake arrived at their apartment. Immediately seeing the infuriated scowl on the pretty boy’s face made him raise an eyebrow in question, but all Max said in explanation as he marched out of the apartment was, “GOOD! Maybe you can talk some sense into her!”
The door slammed hard behind him, and Jake gave a low whistle at the obvious trouble in this place. Tucking his sunglasses away, he ventured into the apartment, looking for the culprit of the guy’s problem. He heard irritated mumbling from the hall bathroom, and ventured in that direction. He knocked on the door, hearing things being clinked around inside.
“What’d you do?” he asked in a tired drawl, leaning against the doorframe.
The door jerked open, and Yoshida stared at him with a glazed expression, obviously stoned beyond comprehension. She waved him in, where Felicia was sitting at the edge of the tub, muttering under her breath at his appearance.
Jake took in the tattered, bloodied shirt that lay in ruins on the bathroom floor, the whiskey that sat on the sink, and the needle and thread that sat, unprepared, on the toilet. On the counter was a mixture of dressings and bandages that were ready for use. There was a lighter nearby, giving indication that it was going to be used for some sterilization. He gave a grim frown, then looked at Felicia, who was angrily pulling her long hair into a ponytail. It was obvious what was going on here, and he looked at Yoshida, who was looking more than lost as she shrugged.
He then sighed, indicating that he’d take over. The redhead staggered out from the bathroom, croaking that she was going to have a cigarette on the balcony, and keep an eye out for Max. Already accustomed to these such scenes, Jake washed his hands in the sink and glanced over at the girl that was shirtless, displaying two obvious holes in her upper right shoulder. The blood had been cleaned away, most of it caught on the shirt that he stepped on. He kicked that aside, and hated that some kids grew up much faster than their peers.
“You need to quit your fuckin’ job,” he snapped at her, picking up the whiskey bottle and examining the alcohol percentage. “You’ve been in this business for far too fuckin’ long. Next time, that next shot’s gonna catch your stupid head!”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Felicia snapped back at him, the muscles in her back spasming. She was sitting in a pair of baggy jeans, the waistband of her Calvin Klines poking out. From the color of her usually tanned skin, it was obvious that unwelcome blood loss was affecting her. He wondered how long she had been running around with those slugs this time. “I’ve been doin’ this for years. What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?”
“Came to see what was wrong. Word was, you an’ your boy was havin’ troubles,” Jake answered, eyeing the needle and thread.
Carefully, he threaded the needle, and picked up the whiskey bottle. He was very familiar with this–had been ever since Hautta James and Felicia Passage entered his life as a pair of raging supers that were bent on killing each other. He’d patched both of them up in various instances, and had long grown accustomed to sewing human skin together, and forcing bones together again. It was an odd story, but something he wasn’t surprised by anymore.
“Whatever. He’s all up on my ass about some dumb shit,” Felicia muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jake eyed the two plugs in her upper right shoulder, and set the needle down, looking for some tweezers. He found them in a small drawer under the sink, and drizzled whiskey over them. Then, as an added precaution, used the lighter nearby to burn the metal briefly. Setting the lighter aside, he walked over, and carefully eased the two spent slugs from human muscle and skin, not at all missing the flinch and the instant shudder of pain. He tossed the slugs aside, into the sink, and sighed as he performed the same sterilizing tactics with the needle.
“I’m gettin’ fuckin’ tired of his bullshit. Whinin’ an’ cryin’ around ‘bout me not bein’ there, me not bein’ nice to his fuckin’ retarded parents,” she was muttering, her fingers digging into her skin as he drizzled whiskey over the wounds, wincing at the pain that she must be feeling from the action. The wounds sterilized, he went to work sewing up what he could. “Sometimes, I wish I could just come on out an’ out an’ tell him I work the streets for fuckin’ Merrick. But then he’d get all uppity on my ass, an’ break it to the fuckin’ press.”
“Still henching?”
“Yeah. Dick work. Takin’ out the fuckin’ trash.”
“...How long have you been up?”
“Since fuckin’ Thursday night. Been usin’ ‘Shida’s stash to keep me awake. I just wanna lie down an’ fuckin’ relax, then he gets all over me, claimin’ that I’m seein’ someone else. Shit. Like I wanna do that shit all over again...fuck that ho. I hate him.”
Jake snorted, shaking his head as he then reached for the gauze and tape, and gently applied the dressing to her wounds. Her city-accented words were thick with drugs, exhaustion and pain. She almost didn’t make any sense, and every third word was a curse. But he was used to such things.
After that was finished, he turned his back to her, and spoke to the closed door. “You’re coming down from a high, you just got shot up–I’m sure once you relax, you’ll realize you don’t hate him at all.”
“I do. Fuckin’ pansy ass dick. The only reason why I keep him around is cuz he amuses me.”
“Don’t be that way. Think straight.”
“Fuckin’ dick. Fuck him. Fuck all of them! I’m pissed...pissed off. Henchin’ ain’t what it used to be, Goddamn it.” Felicia huffed angrily, and straightened from the tub, glaring at the porcelain.
Her hands were shaking from the downer, and her mind was feeling more than fuzzy from the aftereffects of the drug she’d taken to stay awake those four days. She plucked a clean towel (dark) from the nearby rack, and wrapped it around herself. She looked back at her friend and frowned at him. “What are you doin’ here, anyway?”
He shrugged, reaching out to trace the wood with one finger. “Got a late night visitor last night...said he was tryin’ to avoid someone. Kinda me wonder what the hell was up...?”
“Oh? Who? Hautta?”
“No. Your boy.”
“Max?”
“NO! Winner.”
Felicia blinked, then jolted, as if shot. She flinched with pain, and choked out, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. Just said he was tryin’ to avoid someone.”
“Someone fuckin’ around with him? I’m still fuckin’ packin’! And high as hell! I’ll go out there and fuck up whoever it is that’s fuckin’ with him, even if that means–!”
“NO, no, no!” Jake exclaimed, glancing back at her, taking in the maniacal frenzy she was working herself into. “You ain’t thinkin’ clearly, kid. Get that girl out of here, relax, and I’ll find out what’s up. I just thought you knew what was goin’ on with him, that’s all. You know I can’t talk to people like that.”
“You prolly got him all guilt-trippin’,” she muttered with an exasperated expression. “You ain’t never met such a fuckin’ guilt-trip in your fuckin’ life. Go on an’ on ‘bout what a loser he is, gets that expression that makes ya all thinkin’ you kicked a fuckin’ puppy, then...ARGH! I need to know what his problem is! Where’s my phone?”
“You aren’t going anywhere with that shit on your back, girl. What happened, anyway?”
“Aw...some guys got lucky. The bitch and I were ambushed. A lot of Merrick’s guys got wasted last night. Dost got us good. It sucks bein’ a hench,” she then muttered. “I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough to take on the real jobs...”
Jake stared at her silently, and shook his head. “You ain’t gonna come back home one of these nights, girl.”
Felicia shrugged. “Whatever. Henches come an’ go...fuckin’ don’t matter. Ain’t like people will miss me. Just another fuckin’ minority caught up in the evil Overlord’s horde of henchmen...getting sluggish. I need Jimboy’s...”
“Go sleep. Your man went to work.”
“Shit...just gonna come back an’ start his bullshit all over again. I feel like fuckin’ shootin’ him just to make him shut up. That’s why ho-bag was in here, keepin’ the door shut.”
Jake felt an involuntary shudder run through him at the cold words. In the state she was in, she probably would have followed through with her threat. And with her connections, no one would ever suspect it had been her. Such was life in New Park City. “Go shack out at your uncle’s...”
“Can’t. He’s under investigation again. Both him an’ Dost. Shit made the papers this mornin’...” Felicia shrugged again, reaching up to touch the bandages on her shoulders. She winced, and then hit the sink with her fist. “I’ll go look for him, then.”
“I’ll do it. Stay here. Just...does your boy know what the fuck’s up?”
“Nah. I hide things pretty good from that one.”
“...He gonna leave you.”
Felicia shrugged again. “Prolly be good for him. Don’t care...”
Jake stared at her in silence, noting the weariness on her face. When he’d met Felicia and Hautta, they had been a pair of fourteen year olds, working for opposite ends. He’d known that the alien was a mercenary working from out of space, and Felicia worked for her uncle. Had been since she was very young. It wasn’t his problem to deal with, but he was curious as to how she managed to keep from Max the fact that she earned her money killing Dost’s ‘henches’ as a hench herself. Of course, ‘hench’ meaning one of the mindless workers that worked for a corrupted and spoiled baddie that society looked down at.
On that line, he had to wonder if Quatre even knew what he was doing as he worked for Dost himself.
On THAT line...
He looked back at Felicia, who was frowning at her feet, mangled from hours of extensive training in various arts to perform her best on the streets. Dodging bullets and fighting people that wanted to kill her in order to get to her uncle was something she’d faced since she was thirteen...frequent trips away from school to accompany her uncle during ‘business trips’ off planet and around the world had messed with her grades in school. She had to rely on hacking into the school system just to pass. He just wondered how much longer it was going to take when some South Side hench managed to get lucky...
Feeling uncomfortable with the edge of his thoughts, he reached out and patted her arm. “I’ll go find him. Just relax. An’ get that lesbian ho out of here. I don’t like that bitch. She’s a bad influence on you.”
“Whatever. She’s a cool chick. I get along with her because she knows what I’m talkin’ about. Plus, I’ve never met a person before that thinks like me. It’s kinda cool. Anyway, thanks for the patch job. Find that blond lovely of mine and report back to me on his condition. And let me know the name of the guy or guys that’s harassing him...”
Jake rolled his eyes, and opened the door, leaving the bathroom.
“YOU BETTER CUDDLE HIM, TOO, DAMN IT! THAT BOY NEEDS A LOT OF LOVE!” she shouted after him.
He winced, and shook his head, leaving the apartment.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre was curled up in his bed, hiding under the blankets. He kept thinking about what had transpired between himself and Trowa, and was feeling miserably wretched about it all. He had ignored the ringing of his cell, and refused to answer the door when someone came knocking earlier. He was just so...tired. He hated what he had done, but he couldn’t really take it back, either. He had told himself earlier that he wouldn’t have mind if Trowa asked him for sex, but now that the actual process had gone through...?
Well, he felt like a big rat. He really shouldn’t, he kept telling himself, but it was just so out of context for him. Just remembering what sex had been like between them...having such sucky times with other people... he had to admit he wasn’t thinking rationally. Even as he told himself he wasn’t going to do it again, there he was the next night, being taken in that same phenomenal manner he remembered from high school...
He winced and buried his head underneath his pillow. He heard the knocking at his door, but didn’t want to get up to answer it. It was probably Trowa...stalking him...oozing around outside his apartment like some savanna-born predator...waiting to pounce...
The knocking stopped, and he hoped that Trowa went away. He felt cowardly at that moment...he didn’t know how to fix what he felt he had started. If only he reacted to Trowa’s seduction with his fists and fury rather than acquiescement...if only he hadn’t given in!
The knocking began again, followed by annoyed thumps. Was Trowa that persistent? Should he climb out his bedroom window and scamper away to hide?
He then heard his name called, and stiffened in reaction. That wasn’t...Trowa...he threw aside his blankets and ran out of his room, tripping over one of the dining room chairs, over one of his shoes that lay in the kitchen, over the single step, and slammed into the door before opening it to admit Jake in.
Jake walked in, and immediately tripped over Quatre’s books on the floor. Quatre winced, glancing around at the mess that had accumulated since he’d last come here. Straightening himself, Jake frowned at the blond as he removed his sunglasses, peering at him suspiciously.
“I’m on a mission!” he declared with an annoyed frown. Quatre closed the door, and locked it, looking at him with a questioning expression. “Passage wanted me to come over here, and find out what the hell’s up with you. She’s indisposed, so...’fess up. I don’t have all day.”
Quatre frowned, drooping his shoulders. “It’s nothing, really. Just...I made the wrong decision, and I’m regretting it. It isn’t anything...that extraordinary.”
“Don’t make me resort to what she does to get shit out of you,” Jake said in disgust, stepping over some clothing that looked suspiciously...not Quatre’s. “You got someone here?”
“No...”
“Then, whose are those?”
“Uh...um...uh...mine. I...wear them...on my days off,” Quatre stuttered, wincing at the gothic tee and socks that were lying near the chair.
Jake nudged them with his shoe, murmuring to himself, “Clothes that don’t belong to him. Right. And?”
“Uh...did she...did she really send you?”
“Yeah. I’ve got until six, Winner, so speed it up.”
Quatre rubbed at his wrists, frowning in his direction as Jake waited impatiently, frowning back at him. He really didn’t want to talk about it to the other male–it was very embarrassing. He felt that Jake would judge him, after all the things he said about people who cheat. He didn’t want that sort of outlook on him from Jake. He wanted...he wanted...well, he wanted Jake’s approval and understanding. Not disgust and exasperation. He wanted a great deal of things from the other male, but it didn’t seem very likely that things would happen in that aspect.
So, with a low sigh of anxiety, he said, “I’m hiding from my ex. That’s all.”
“The...the drag queen? Tr...Tra...God, what’s his name....?”
“Trowa.”
“Yeah!” Jake gave him a disgusted expression. “What the hell for? You can take him.”
“I...no, it’s not that. It’s...it’s just that...well...he...I...and...he...and I...well...”
“Has anyone ever told you you sound like a damn broken record?”
“Uh...yeah. Thousands of times.”
“Well...spit it out.”
“Um...I-I...and he...came over, and...I...and he...”
Jake sighed, and stared at him with a pointed expression until Quatre sucked up a deep breath and said in a rush, “IsleptwithTrowaandfeelreallybadaboutit!”
Jake wasn’t sure if he heard right, but it sounded as if Quatre had said something along the lines of... slept with Trowa...which was..something entirely out of his league. He wouldn’t understand. But...he understood cheating.
He crossed his arms and gave a scoffing expression, his voice tinged with exasperation. “So, you’re telling me, you slept with your ex?”
Quatre nodded in a small way, picking nervously at his fingers. He stared at Jake with a waiting expression, sure he’d hear the riot act about cheating. He knew the male was so against it, knowing that Celia had a hand in that aspect. He didn’t want Jake to look at him differently...especially when he felt that Jake’s opinion mattered. If he couldn’t have the male in the terms that he wanted, he really did want the older male’s respect and understanding...which was kind of a hard thing to accomplish. The guy was simply ages above him, more mature in aspects Quatre hadn’t yet touched. He wanted the guy’s opinion on things, but when they turned out to be something he didn’t like...well, it affected him.
He especially didn’t want to appear weak with him...he wanted to be equal to him. If Jake Trip knew what Quatre’s feelings were toward him, he would most likely run in the other direction. Quatre knew he had slipped a couple of times, flirting directly at him, but...he was TRYING to be careful. He just...sometimes forgot that he was dealing with a straight male.
“And...?”
Quatre was puzzled by the tone. What did he mean by ‘and’? He slept with his ex...who had a girlfriend...who had done the same thing to him when they were together...why did Jake have to use such a casual tone about it?
“I...I...it’s wrong,” he insisted, giving Jake a disbelieving look. Didn’t he understand the true severity of the situation? “I shouldn’t have done it...”
“So...you’re feeling bad for what you’ve done...knowing full well what it meant?” Jake asked, giving him a sour expression as he tried very hard to understand what was being said. Apparently, Quatre was feeling guilty about the whole thing. Which was, he had to admit, surprising. It sort of made him look at the blond differently, wondering if he read him wrong.
“Well...yeah...I mean, you know...You know our history...I practically told you every sordid detail.”
“Yeah...unfortunately, I do. But you have to STOP acting like a GIRL!” Jake exclaimed, punctuating his words with a hand in his palm. “MAN UP! Fucking, if you wanted ass, you got ass! What the hell are you freakin’ out about?”
“I...well...! I don’t know! You make it sound so...blah!”
“Cuz it IS! So what? Get over it! Don’t make it into such a big deal! Unless...you’ve got feelings for him,” Jake said, looking at him closely. “Is that it? You wanna get back with someone that fucked you over for ass? Well, shit. What the hell are you doing here?”
“No–! It’s not like that...exactly. I don’t have feelings for him. Just...he...well, I was feeling...”
“SO YOU GOT LUCKY!” Jake roared, unable to believe the crap that was coming from the blond’s mouth. He couldn’t believe Quatre was making such a big deal out of it. Wasn’t this the same guy that was whining around about the lack of sex that one week? But then again, he was kind of glad that Quatre felt that way. He should feel that way...after all that he’d gone through with Trowa...and making this mistake when he knew the consequence? Jake couldn’t believe he knew someone so dense...
“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ DUMB to get with someone that shit all over you a few times over, but what the fuck? Stop crying over it!”
“You’re not taking me SERIOUSLY!” Quatre shouted at him.
“I AM HEARING WHAT I’M HEARING! And what I’m HEARING, is fuckin’ GIRL CRAP! PASSAGE doesn’t whine about things the way that you do! You’re unbelievable!”
“He has a girlfriend!”
“SO? What she don’t know won’t hurt her!”
“But that’s the thing of the thing! She–!”
“Winner, you keep this bullshit up, and I’m going to slug you. Just take it...like a man...and get over it. Don’t say nothin’ to her...like a girl would...and just...do what you do.”
“You know, you and Trowa would get along just FUCKIN’ fancy because you BOTH FUCKING think ALIKE!” Quatre shouted at him, growing incredulous that such a thing was taken lightly. He thought Jake would understand!
“DON’T YOU COMPARE ME TO THAT FAG!” Jake shouted back, growing red at the implication. “I am in no WAY like him!”
“You both think alike! Thinkin’, that it’s all good and okay to cheat on your partner, and give it no second thought!” Quatre shouted back, balling his fists. “What about your partner! How would you feel if you were cheated upon?”
“I know what it’s like to be cheated upon,” Jake snarled. “I had that bitch do all sorts of shit to me, and I wasn’t going to take that sort of shit, so I retaliated. Sometimes, it just don’t matter. Hurt them first before they hurt you. And this is fuckin’ bullshit!”
“Yeah, it may BE, but it’s important to me! I don’t like it!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR NERVE!” Jake suddenly roared, out shouting him. Quatre winced. It was louder than he could ever be. “You went and did the same shit to your ho when he was away! You TOLD me you fooled around with some other guy! That pulls you to his level! How dare you try to make yourself into some sort of saint by conveniently forgetting THAT!”
Quatre reddened, remembering Justin. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Er...well...see...”
“Quit makin’ your fuckin’ excuses. Fuck. Man UP. All right? Stop cryin’ around about it, and stack it up as a good...whatever...and do what you do. Man. I never had this much trouble dealing with girls,” Jake muttered, walking over to the door.
Quatre stepped aside, a little embarrassed by what had transpired. Jake paused at the door, and took a deep breath. With a sort of timid air, Quatre looked back at him, feeling utterly low at the moment.
Maybe he was taking things out of context...taking them in a more different manner than what they were. Who knows?
Jake looked back at him, then shifted his eyes about. When they finally landed back on him again, he said gruffly, “Are you still hiding out?”
“Um...yeah...I mean...I don’t want to see him. I know I’ll just make another stupid decision,” Quatre said quietly, shrugging.
“Well...do you want to go out? I...Mike wanted to see you. And...I don’t know. You could spend the night again. If...this bothers you. You don’t have to, I’m just offering, but–”
“Let me get my stuff!” Quatre said quickly, racing off.
Jake frowned, then looked anxiously around him. Really, as he drummed his fingers on the door knob, wondering if he should take back the offer, he didn’t know why the situation bothered him a lot. Maybe his ‘mother hen’ attitude was kicking in, and causing him to think differently. Because he was thinking, that if he saw this Trowa-guy again, he’d have to say a few things. The guy was bad company to Quatre, who always seemed to make the wrong decision when it came to him. He really wanted the blond to do good, but it seemed that every time things were going good for him, this guy showed up to bring him back down.
Maybe he should have another talk with the guy...straighten some things out.
But then he realized he was probably taking it a little too far. All in all, he was starting to sound like some overprotective sibling, or something...
He shook his head and sighed, kicking aside some books that were blocking the door. Really...the blond needed a maid.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia heard the door open and shut quietly later that night. Glancing over at the clock, she saw that it was nearly twelve. Max usually came home around seven, but he was pissed at her from this morning, and had stayed out later than usual. She didn’t care. If he was happier that way, then that was that.
She hadn’t been able to sleep, yet, and had busied herself with various other things during the day. Jake had called her hours earlier, saying that Quatre was staying at his apartment, due to some trouble with a classmate. She had no idea what the older boy was talking about, frantically trying to think of anything Quatre had mentioned about troubles with classmates. But, she figured her favorite blond was in good hands, and ceased worrying about him. After all, if he were with Jake...well...so many possibilities! She didn’t want to disturb anything that could be happening, and left it at that. As long as she knew he was okay, she was okay.
Right now, she had her own problems to deal with, and he was coming her way, toward the bedroom. She had Yoshida remove the bandaging Jake had done (he had so much potential in being a doctor, or something of the sort), and replace it with a simple, flat patch that prevented the stitches from being pulled. It wasn’t her first time getting hurt in the field–and it wasn’t about to be the last. But Max was NOT going to find out about it.
She had left the lights off, musing her thoughts quietly in the darkness, and she heard him do his usual thing. Brush his teeth, use the bathroom, yadda, yadda, yadda. She listened to him undress and open another window, the sounds of the city wafting in. She felt the bed move and shift under his weight, and felt a little disappointed when he didn’t do his usual nightly cuddling with her. He must still be angry that she’d stayed out all night. Which was fine. That was fair.
She’d calmed down considerably, and was thinking that she would have really regretted ‘offing’ him if she’d been given the chance. He was a really good influence on her...she couldn’t have come this far without him. She clutched her pillow tightly, and listened to him sigh uneasily, his feet brushing against hers as he shifted. She noticed that the gap between them was rather large.
She could smell cigarette smoke, cologne, and various others scents from him, and figured that he was at a club or something. She wondered who he went with...she knew that he was chummy with the other deejays at the radio station, and sometimes went out with them while she was away for ‘work’. She had met them, and had immediately disliked one of the female managers, Gina. Only because she nearly looked like Perfect Cindy, the one who had stolen Hautta from her. But she didn’t want to waste her time moping around, wondering if Max was going to cheat on her.
But...all in all...it was depressing to think that they could break up. She knew the possibility was high. After all, his parents had a lot to do with driving a wedge between them, and she really hated Janice. She really hated the way the woman influenced her son. That night with the misunderstanding with Quatre, she had told Max, in sordid detail, of what she found. No matter that it had been innocent, but Max seemed a little quiet after that.
She had an idea that he was jealous of Quatre taking over his time with her...it was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind. It was ridiculous, totally. As if Quatre would ever return her manic affections...for God’s sake, he was gay. But...she had to appreciate Max’s jealousy. It meant that he still cared for her. Despite it all, he still cared for her. In a way, it made her feel guilty. And she couldn’t handle guilt very well.
She shifted on her section of the bed, then decided she couldn’t lay there anymore. She rose from the mattress and walked out of the room, walking through the darkness toward the living room. She didn’t want to lay next to someone that wasn’t feeling very highly of her right then. She had enough of that on the streets. Flipping on the holoset, she flicked through various channels until she found interesting re-runs of ‘Queer as Folk’. Watching that for awhile, she wondered if she should stay with him.
New Park City’s nightlife was alive, and she found her attention diverted from the holographic figures to the city outside her windows. She took in the nightly air traffic, the various lights of various buildings...she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else other than here.
She swallowed hard and glanced back at the bedroom. The urge to leave was suddenly overwhelming... she rose from the couch, looking down at her night wear. A pair of terry shorts and an undershirt. Good enough. She found a pair of sandals in the hall closet, grabbed her keys, and walked out. Really, she didn’t know where she was going, but she definitely didn’t want to stay there.
What was it about summer weather that made people so desperate to leave, or make decisions they weren’t even sure of?