Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Always ( Chapter 14 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Felicia plays with fire; Quatre dances with that Riverdance guy. And Trowa has an intimate conversation with Miho.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.11.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 179 | Status: Completed
Felicia plays with fire; Quatre dances with that Riverdance guy. And Trowa has an intimate conversation with Miho.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.11.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 179 | Status: Completed
A/N: Rereading this, I find it funny that I wrote Go like this, compared to the adult in my other two original fics. I dunno, it's like seeing your parents when they were young. O.o Y'know? Heh. I mean, yeah, I made him into an adult and Jason DeGarmo (the trainer) has more than just a flash of an appearance, but...still, this chapter still ended up giving me tingles. Heh. I'm retarded.
Chapter Fourteen:
“Always” Blink 182
When Sylvia came home from her trip to Reno, she took several steps into the living room, dropping her hold on her suitcase and travel bags. When she set her keys and phone down, glancing around the area, something made her pause. Something...wasn’t right. Something...was missing.
Looking around the living room, the answer was obvious.
“Oh, Trowa,” she whispered, fury alighting her features. “You fucking bastard...you fucking BASTARD!”
Trowa had left her.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“So...basically...I just haveta...shit. This is the FUCKING FUTURE!” Felicia then howled, hurling the small box away from her. “Why the fuck are they sellin’ this shit in the fuckin’ grocery store and namin’ it fuckin’ GOD OF ALL THINGS INVOLVING KIDS?”
“You’re the bitch getting yourself pregnant,” Yoshida roared from behind the door. Both girls had holed themselves up in Felicia’s apartment, where, on a whim, she had decided to take a pregnancy test. Max was away at school. “Just pee on the fucking thing and get it over with! Your man’s going to be home in, like, fourteen hours!”
“Oh, sheesh, I’d better fuckin’ RUSH this motherfucker!” Felicia muttered, picking up the box. She read the directions on the box, and shook her head. “Christ...I can’t believe I’m doing this bullshit...”
“HURRY UP! If you are, I need to register for Babies R Us and see if I can apply for layaway!”
“Broke-ass bitch! Get a job!”
“I have a job!”
“If I AM, I want all the expensive things you can fuckin’ buy!!” Felicia roared, tearing the box open. Her hand was shaking as she withdrew one of the packages, eyeing it undecidedly.
The instructions were easy enough–open plastic wrap, maneuver into awkward position over the toilet, and stick the thing in the direct path of her pee. She shuddered as she wondered where the plastic gloves were for this instance, and frowned into the open box. It came with two tests–despite promising 99.9 percent accuracy in detecting the telltale hormone–and she eyed them both with a grimace.
“Okay...hm...just...crouch over here..oh, God, I’d better not be...shit. OKAY! I’m PEEING!”
“Like I wanna hear about it,” Yoshida grumbled, leaning against the bathroom door. In her hazy vision, she glared around the neatness of the quiet apartment, drumming her fingertips against the door. She then shifted from foot to foot, looking at her Rolex. Since it was quite cold for this September morning, she was wearing a pair of ripped jeans, thongs, a t-shirt, and her hair was pulled into a low ponytail to allow for a beanie to cover her head. Felicia, upon seeing her, had commented that she looked like a raggedy lollipop–mainly because her head was so large for her stick-like body.
Yoshida had no idea of what to think if her co-worker/friend was pregnant–it would certainly draw a lot of press coverage, that was for sure. And she knew Max would be honor-bound to try and marry her–she had to snicker at the thought of Felicia wearing a white gown and carrying flowers, walking down an aisle in church. She would be cursing all the way, Max beaming like a love-sick dog, and the priest held in place by Felicia’s ‘cousins’, both of them armed to the teeth, with the rest of Merrick’s men holding the church hostage until then. The idea was truly fascinating. Great Lifetime material.
“HEY! The fuck–? What does PINK mean?”
“I don’t know! Read the fucking box!”
Yoshida frowned as she listened to Felicia grumble to herself, and finally curse loudly.
“IT FUCKING LIES! THE FUCKING PEE STICK LIES!” she heard the girl scream maniacally.
“So? Are you? Or aren’t you?”
Felicia opened the door suddenly, and Yoshida lost her balance, falling backward with a wild swing of her arms.
“It’s undetermined,” Felicia answered, glaring at the stick. “I don’t want to go to some fuckin’ doctor. Then they’ll go directly to the fuckin’ press.”
“Use the other test.”
“I can’t pee anymore!”
“Well, drink something! Quick!”
“I can’t just drink something and pee later! I mean, right now! Plus, we gotta go. Help me bury the evidence...”
“I ain’t touchin’ the stick.”
“I’ll go do something with it. Can you please hide the other stick in a place Max can’t find it? I know he snoops through my things...cuz I do with him...cuz he ALWAYS has the best bi-porn...”
“So, you’re really lezzie...”
“NO! I’m NOT! I’m just saying...shit. We need to go. We’re going to be late for that one appointment.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Gerard...you have to at least let me kick him in the nuts, once. You make it look so fun...”
“What can I say? I’m the best, kick-ass hench in the fuckin’ world, man. Respect!”
“Yeah...a hench with a bun in the oven...”
“IT’S UNCONFIRMED!”
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Trowa glanced at his watch, and wondered if Sylvia had figured it out, yet. He’d left money for their rent, nearly two month’s worth, and no explanation. He knew his ass was going to be kicked if she ever managed to catch up with him. He sighed heavily, lowering his head as he relaxed in his chair. He had chosen to go this route, mainly because he didn’t know how to end his relationship with her any other way. The way he figured it, Sylvia would just guilt him into staying with her...and he knew he had done wrong by her with Quatre, and figured that leaving her would somehow fix things.
And it wasn’t only that...but the ‘love’ that he had for her wasn’t the same as it was before. Thinking about it during her absence made him see a lot of things he hadn’t before...he started to realize that Sylvia had ‘trapped’ him into this relationship by doing what she had in high school...
Maybe they hadn’t been her intentions–to ‘trap’ him...but that’s the way it turned out. It was somewhat crazy and more than fucked up the more he thought about it. The only reason why he stayed with her was because of her loyalty. Because he felt he ‘had’ to. What about his other feelings? Had he truly loved her at all? Sure, there were days when he would look at her and feel content, but when Quatre came back into the picture...all the things he felt ‘content’ with felt forced and dragging.
And he felt he couldn’t talk to her face to face about these things, sure that she’d take it another way, and he’d find himself guilt-tripped right back where he started.
So, he cut ties and ran while she was out of town.
Not very manly, but, hey–there were people that did much worse to their other halves...at least, this is how he justified his disappearing act.
He sighed once more in the last ten minutes and wondered where and what in the hell he was going to do now...he’d given Carl his resignation, and Carl had sympathized with his situation, giving him a good luck pep talk (“Hope you find a less psychotic wench, man. Props to you for growing balls...”), and promising to continue showcasing his work. He had promises in other galleries throughout New Park, but the thing was, where was he going to stay while he waited?
And for this very same situation, he’d called his friend, looking for a bail out of a situation gone bad.
“Nah, man, it’s cool!” Drake Bellows had said, looking stoned out of his mind. “You can shack up with me til ya gots your own place. I just need a hundred for rent, ya know?”
And so, he was staying with Drake, knowing that Sylvia had no idea where Mr. Bellows lived and breathed. Drake, once he’d left high school, had found himself working two movie theaters and a window washing job that paid mad bucks and a new aversion to heights. But he had enough money to make himself comfortable in a five bedroom house he shared with other druggies, and more than enough to keep his mood light with some uppers and downers.
Trowa really didn’t mind Drake–it was just that his own addictions bit at him whenever he tried hard to quit. It had been months since he’d touched a blunt or snorted some rock, and he felt pretty confident in that he could trust himself around them while they did their business. But...there were limits...and he knew he had to find another place, and quick.
Today, he was camping out on the overly comfortable chair that was set in front of a holographic set, and he was thinking about Sylvia while some guy named Miho killed his brain cells with sniffing turpentine. Trowa’s turpentine. The goth hadn’t yet noticed that it was his paint thinner the Japanese was using, but the smell was interrupting his thoughts.
He even changed his cell number so Sylvia couldn’t reach him...on that note, he had to laugh out loud.
He was a man on the run.
What a comedic situation it truly was. He couldn’t think of any other male that was doing the very same thing he was doing.
He wiped his nose and leaned his head back against the seat. So...Sylvia was now out of the picture. Counting that she does not find him, what was he going to do, now? He was on the job prowl, and certainly for a new place to live...but what to do with the rest of his free time?
And what about Quatre?
He had to think about the last one. What about Quatre? While he hated that he had made the guy mad by fighting with Jake Trip, Trowa had to admit to himself that he still felt for the guy. That just thinking of him made him yearning and lonely. But he was so positive that Quatre did not want him back. Proof of this being in that he hadn’t called and cursed him out, yet.
Trowa had hoped for Quatre to at least leave him a ranting and raving message about what had transpired... but there was no luck in that. He wondered what the blond was doing...
Tilting his head up toward the ceiling, he drew his cellphone out of his pocket, and sped-dialed Quatre’s number. When he encountered the answering service, he hung up and winced.
Was he demented to feel this way? He’d always been obsessed with him...had stalked him since he’d arrived at Sophia Darken–cutely confused about his sexuality and maddingly sexy with his rants. And Trowa could still feel shivers up and down his spine whenever he thought of the blond. He was sure he wasn’t the only person to ever feel this way about a person. To know that he breathed, lived, walked, ate and chewed on one person that caught their fancy.
He knew at least three girls that had stalked their prey from high school to marriage. This couldn’t be THAT hard.
He sped-dialed Catherine, but received only her answering service. Hanging up after leaving a belch as a message, he stared at the ceiling.
Moments later, his phone rang, and he checked the number before making a move to answer.
“Yeah?”
“Dude...check it out,” Drake said with one of his crazy spurts of laughter. “Your chick? Just put out an APB on your head. My girl just got the news, man. She crazy!”
Trowa thought of Samantha Neilson, one of Darken’s popular girls. For some odd reason, she hooked up with Drake, and the pair had been together for over a year. It was obvious Drake was whipped, and that Samantha used him for his access to cocaine.
“She doesn’t know where I am, right?”
“Nah, man, Sam don’t even know. I’m just lettin’ ya’ll know, y’know? Man, you’re stupid, Barton. Hiding from a chick. Where’s fuckin’ Winner? Thought you were all loved up on him?”
“He’s a little busy,” Trowa replied. “I don’t want to bother him.”
“Fuck that bullshit, man. Shack up with some other chick. You don’t need no fuckin’ guy...stay straight.”
“I don’t know, Drake. Females are kinda iffy with me, now.”
“Only cuz you make them out that way! Hey, I ain’t gonna be home, tonight. Make sure that fuckin’ Jap don’t get into my room! I know it was him gettin’ into my fuckin’ cigs last night!”
“Yeah, sure.”
After Drake hung up, Trowa reached out with one Converse-clad foot and kicked Miho’s shoulder. “Drake knows you were in his room, last night.”
“Fuck that prairie nigger,” Miho groaned. “He don’t know nothin’.”
Trowa shrugged and shifted low in his chair. Well... if Samantha knew that Sylvia was pissed...she would probably find out where Trowa was hiding... Drake had loose lips. Sighing as he rose from his chair, he figured he’d get a move on before Sylvia Noventa managed to track him down here. Thing was, he didn’t know where else to go.
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Quatre was nearly vibrating with joy and delight as he settled into a seat in his second morning class of the day. Even though many hours had passed since he’d left Jake’s, he was still experiencing the after dregs of their confessions and the kiss. Or...ahem...kisses. He felt his face flush with pleasant warmth, reaching up to touch the left side of his neck, where he’d discovered a tiny sliver of color. It made his stomach curl with warmth knowing that it had been left there by the one he felt strongly attracted to. Just thinking of how he earned that hickie made his mind conjure up yummy images and remembrances of what had transpired on that couch. It also made him wonder fuzzily about their future. That was the best thing of all to think about–the future. What did it hold for him and Jake?
He knew he wanted to get closer to the older male, and not only physically–but in a closer sense of attachment as well. He wanted Jake’s attention on him. He wanted the male to focus in on him. He wanted–things that he wanted from Trowa, and from the others he’d fooled around with in the past, things that they had not given him.
Sighing, he slumped in his chair, shaking his head. Jake was very supportive of him–even if he tossed in teasing barbs and mockeries, it was obvious that the guy looked out for him in ways that Quatre felt he needed.
He hadn’t had that sort of attention from Trowa–who was more likely to think of himself rather than for Quatre and of Quatre. Practically since Jake had gotten to know him, he’d pushed Quatre to do his best. And that sort of support was absolutely wonderful to have. Drumming his fingers along his jawline, he busied himself thinking pleasantly of how it felt to have Jake’s lips on him, what better good they could do elsewhere.
That evening, at work, Felicia called him.
“Hey, man! What the hell you doin’ Saturday?” she practically yelled from the other end.
Quatre immediately thought of Jake, but figured the guy was going to put in some overtime at work. He was busy folding Dost’s underwear into tight squares and fitting them into individual sandwich bags. Trek was nearby, trying on a pair of shirts while Dost moaned about his blisters from a pair of new shoes. The alien was heading out on a cross country trip, and Quatre was doing the packing.
“I dunno. Depends. Why?”
“Let’s all go out, Saturday...there’s a really cool tournament in town, and I wanna catch it. Max is going with me...Yoshida ain’t. Don’t worry about that bitch.”
“Hey!” he heard said subject complain in the background.
“What kinda tournament?” he asked curiously, packing away the last sandwich bag into a medium sized brown bag. Glancing back at his boss, he was amused to find the guy flipping through a Seventeen and asking Trek if he preferred a landing strip or an ‘Adolf’.
“A fighting tournament! You know, the kind that kicks major ass! Bare fists, sweaty male bodies...muscles...”
“I’m there.”
Felicia laughed, and Quatre chimed in a moment later. “All you guys are horndog freaks, man. Anyway, meet us at the convention center down on Eighty-Fourth. Use Valet...and when the guy takes your keys, say, ‘Ain’t it hot?’, and you’ll be given the best service...”
“Your uncle owns that place, huh?”
“Damn skippy, man. OH! And make sure you dress hot, too! No nerdy shtick! You don’t know who you be meetin’ that night!”
“I have somebody, believe it or not.”
“SHUT UP, Quat! You don’t have squat unless I say you do!” Felicia then laughed maniacally. “PEACE!”
After she hung up, Quatre chuckled to himself. Ah, well. It was something to pass the time, he supposed.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The parking garage was nearly full, and there were many people, especially reporters, milling around the convention center. Quatre was in awe of it all as he handed his keys to the valet, feeling rather embarrassed as he uttered the magic words. The valet grinned at him and nodded in confirmation, taking his car to a very close parking spot nearby. Quatre adjusted his bangs so that they weren’t completely in his eyes, and tentatively made his way toward the convention center.
He had taken his time to dress right, tonight, and that meant wearing a silk tee tucked into a pair of slacks hung low on his hips. He had on leather Luggs and wore his best cologne, taking his time to make sure that he looked dressed up, yet casual. While he was certain he had a future with Jake in the picture, one just never knew what or whom they were going to run into on a hot Saturday night.
He really had no idea what he was walking into, and Felicia had said they’d meet him at the front entrance. The sidewalk was crowded with people wanting to get in, all of them held back by several bouncers and security personnel. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go, but he heard his name shouted by someone near the front entrance doors.
It was Felicia, and she raced down the stairs to launch herself at him. Amid camera flashes from paparazzi that gathered around to catch sight of famous faces, Quatre tugged himself away from her.
“Yay! You came!” she said with glee, pulling away from him. As he pulled away, Max was hurrying after her, looking frazzled at the attention from the outside. “And you’re not dressed retarded!”
“You actually look feminine for once,” he told her, taking in the corset-style top with fluttery skirt material. She was also a few inches higher with strappy shoes that looked barely enough to floss one’s teeth. “What’s the occasion?”
“You look great, Quatre,” Max said happily, nodding. He took off a neckstrap that had a bright yellow pass clinging to it, and laid it around Quatre’s head. The beautiful boy was dressed in a light, open collar shirt in a muted gray color and baggy black jeans. It offset his coloring in an eye catching way. The diamonds in his ears winked with his movements, and his hair was styled to hang around his eyes in a boyish manner. Quatre was caught staring at him as he numbly took the pass from him.
“Let’s go in! I have backstage passes for the hot hunks of manliness, and I want you to meet your future husband within...” Felicia said, adjusting one of her shoulder straps and missing the look from her friend to her boyfriend.
“They have really good looking guys in there, Quatre,” Max hissed conspiratorially as he kept pace besides the blond, even as Felicia was yanking Quatre up the stairs toward the entrance. “I’m sure you can find somebody in there.”
“I HAVE SOMEONE!” he growled angrily.
“Nonsense. Not until I say so...” Felicia grinned at him, then marched him into a long corridor that was littered with security personnel.
With a few flashes of their backstage passes, and a quick weapons check, she continued to drag him down the corridor and into a large ball room area. This area was set up with various screens similar to cubicles, with many people milling about. Trainers, fighters, reporters and people like them that were just interested in the background goings-on during the tournament.
They took a few dizzying turns until they came to a cubicle that was littered with security personnel, and banners that belonged to the fighter and the home he represented. Both Max and Quatre were looking around curiously as Felicia showed the head of security her backstage pass and ID, the two boys being roughly shoved aside.
“Hey! The hell–?” Quatre grumbled as two burly security guards held them aside, Felicia walking into the cubicle with a joyous shout.
“What’s going on?” Max asked curiously as the two guards began frisking them for any weapons or questionable material on their persons. Amid all the groping and rough handling, he was able to see his girlfriend laughing about something to someone out of their sight.
Then, the fighter rose with a cheery smile, and shocked both Max and Quatre with his appearance.
“Hi, guys!” GoDarun said cheerily, looking not like the ‘simple’, blue-haired student that they knew in high school.
For one thing, the six foot nine alien was completely packed with muscle–he still had the slender build, but his long arms and legs were compactly fitted with brawn, everything flexing and bunching with his movements. From his head down to his hips, he was completely bare. His shorts were made from a filmy material that flitted around his thighs, and clung to his trim frame, giving all that looked what surprises he had hidden underneath his clothes.
Max and Quatre’s eyes widened in disbelief as he walked over to them, reaching out to shake their hands companionably. Quatre hadn’t seen the alien in what felt like ages, so as he looked up at Go’s cheery face, he felt as if he were seeing him for the first time all over again. Go had very short, neon blue hair that was cropped evenly and just above his slender neck, but had platinum colored bangs that hung over his wide, light blue eyes. He still had the face of an innocent, his childish lips curved with a smile and his nose pertly cute, but there was an underlying maturity in his features that made one think he was ‘legal’.
It also helped that the visible muscle confirmed this. Looking down at his chiseled abs and pecs that looked as if they were made out of steel caused him to go rigid. All through high school, Go had worn long sleeved, collared shirts and pants, no matter the weather. And if he chose to wear shorts, they were the kind that hung over his calves, and he had to wonder how in the hell Go was able to hide all this muscle. It was a complete shocker to see that instead of a soft, slender body, Go possessed something that looked as if it were created strictly for a musclemag.
He looked over at Max, who looked just as surprised as he looked over at him.
“Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone that I look like this,” Go said, interpreting their stunned expressions with an embarrassed laugh. His voice was still soft and sweet, and his laughter was something that caressed the boys’ tummies. “But I’ve been kickboxing since I was like five years old. I entered the fighting tournaments when I was ten, and turned pro at twelve. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think anyone would believe. And, so that people wouldn’t be scared of me.”
“No fucking way,” Quatre breathed, staring at the alien once more.
“He’s also a prince,” Felicia added, grinning at them. She wrapped her arms as close to Go’s waist as she could, having to stand on her tiptoes to do so. “He couldn’t tell anyone about it. Security restrictions an’ all. What number are ya?”
“Oh. Um, I’m the thirteenth boy in my family...and the only single born to my parents,” Go said sheepishly, a flush creeping onto his features. “All my brothers and sisters are sets.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Max asked incredulously.
“28.”
“Ha!” Quatre shouted. “I have 29 sisters!”
Go just laughed, his green-haired trainer coming over and picking up one of his hands. As he began taping Go’s knuckles and fingers, the alien continued talking. “It’s really nice seeing you two, again. I didn’t expect to see anybody I recognized here.”
“We didn’t know what we were coming into,” Max confessed, looking at Felicia. “She dragged us out here.”
“We have third row seats, man,” Felicia said, slapping one of Go’s arms. “When do you go out?”
“At nine.”
“That’s in twenty. Welp! See you out there! Win this match, okay?”
“I haven’t lost yet,” Go replied proudly, looking down at her and ruffling her hair. “You look great, Felicia. Very gorgeous.”
“Thanks, man.”
As the three waved goodbye to the gentle giant, Felicia giggled. “Hey, you guys wanna know a fun fact about that guy?”
“What?” Max added, a trace of irritation in his tone.
“Well, you remember how he was back in high school, right? All...prudish and shy of everything that had tits. Well, his race is kinda...funny...”
“This is going to make me look at him differently, isn’t it?” Max asked her suspiciously, reaching over to slide his hand into one of Quatre’s backpockets. The blond jumped in surprise as he looked at the other guy, who grinned wolfishly at him.
“Yup! See, his alien race is funny this way...a guy can’t have contact with a female in a sexual manner until they’re ‘approved’. They have to stay virgins for as long as possible. These people are so fuckin’ horny, man! That’s why he’s got all those fuckin’ sibs! They had to sterilize his mom cuz they don’t believe in birth control, and his planet’s so overcrowded. Which is why he’s on Earth. Anyway, once they have sexual contact with a female, that’s all they can think about. They’re so promiscuous that they attach themselves to anyone that has interest in them. Girls can’t resist it! So, anyway, the other thing is...they can’t get a girl pregnant.”
“Like...they’re sterile, or something?” Quatre asked, removing Max’s hand from his pocket and giving him a look. They were making their way into the main hall again, and this time, they began climbing a set of stairs.
“Yeah. Basically. The only way they can get gals preggers is if they, the guy, has sexual contact with a man,” Felicia ended with a whoop of laughter. “Go can fuck all sorts of bitches and never get a single one pregnant, but if he has a man climb on top of him, the next gal he gets he can get pregnant.”
Both boys blinked and looked at each other in confusion and shock as she cackled again.
“Go lost his virginity just out of high school, and knocked boots with everyone I could fuckin’ think of!” she said, slapping her thigh. “Even ‘Shida got his dick! Ain’t that gross?”
“Did you two...?” Max asked her suspiciously, reaching over to hug her from behind.
“NO! Shit, what do you take me for? I know the guy! That’d be like, me havin’ sex with Quat!” she said, clearly insulted. “That’s gross.”
“So...let me get this straight,” Quatre said, rubbing his chin as they made their way into another long corridor, the sounds of the arena catching his ear. “He can’t get a girl pregnant unless he’s mounted by a guy...and the next girl he has unprotected sex with he gets pregnant?”
“Yup. Ain’t that weird?”
Quatre had to laugh.
“And Go’s so straight, man. The mere thought of a guy eyeing him like that makes him very iffy...and he has a very MEAN roundhouse. That’s why there was so many guards around him...if someone was intent on terrorizing his royal highness, they’d go and try to rape him. The royal family has guarded seed, man. He can only mate with specified males to continue the bloodline,” Felicia continued, snickering as they made their way through an open doorway, heading out onto a crowded stairway. “That’s why ya’ll were man-handled...to keep males from...uh...mounting him in a terrorist attack. HA! HA! But he’s still the sweetest guy...”
“I’ll bet,” Max muttered, holding her hand and linking his arm through Quatre’s to make sure they didn’t get separated as they made their way down to the third row outside the fighting ring. Quatre was staring wide-eyed at a pair of males that were boxing the shit out of each other within the roped in area. The ring was basically a raised cement rectangle that was the size of an Olympic-swimming pool, and the fighters were kept within by a pair of ropes and poles.
The arena was crowded, and Quatre felt deafened by the noise. He avoided a man that was passed out within the pathway, and someone’s popcorn as it was thrown in frustration.
They made their way to a trio of seats, and sat down.
“BEER!” Felicia crowed, waving to a man that was selling nearby. As he came over, maneuvering within shouting spectators and dodging flying objects, she paid for three and passed them out to the boys. “This is AWESOME!”
Quatre shook his head, giving Max an exasperated expression as the boy returned it. “Are you sure you’re with a girl?”
“I’m positive. Been there, done that,” Max said with a firm nod of his head.
“Just to be sure...”
“Hey, what you two talkin’ about?”
“The weather...”
Felicia gave them a skeptical look, but was distracted by one fighter being knocked clear out of the ring and into the front row. Cheering and whooping it up, she forgot about her boytoys and turned to holler with the crowd.
“So, who is it you’re seeing?” Max asked Quatre, sipping at his beer.
“Well...Jake Trip.”
“Get out!” Max cried, shoving him in surprise. Quatre sputtered his beer and almost dropped his cup. “He’s gay?”
“I...I guess. He...told me he had feelings for me!”
“NO WAY! I totally don’t believe you! That’s fucked up, Quatre!” Max cried. “He’s hot! I like him!”
“He’s all mine, man. Well, I think. We’ll see how things go,” Quatre said, grinning as he finished off his beer.
“I can’t believe he’d like you,” Max sighed, pouting as he flicked his hair from his face. “And here, you two get along like nothing, and he doesn’t seem the type to hit on guys...he seems like the type to beat on them.”
“Well, yeah, but...we mesh well. Although, I don’t know if he’d fully commit to the idea, you know? Man, this is cheap stuff...hey! More beer!”
“Don’t you have school, tomorrow? And work?”
“I can call into work,” Quatre said, paying for another beer. “This is actually pretty fun.”
Max shrugged and finished off his own beer and getting another. “Well, that’s cool, I guess...say. Where’d Felicia go?”
“Probably bullied some helpless girl into a closet with her.”
Max laughed and shook his head. “Whatever, Quatre. Oh! Look! Go’s up!”
Quatre finished off his recent beer, hating the watered down version, but shrugging with the effects. He was looking to have fun, tonight, and if watered down beer was his only vice, then so be it...
They cheered and shouted in awe and glee as Go kicked his opponent’s ass through two straight rounds. Felicia never returned from where she disappeared to, so the boys entertained themselves as they watched Go throw quick punches and even quicker kicks that looked impossible for his long, lean form. His opponent never had a chance–by the time Go won the second round, the large black man was bleeding from a cut over his left eyebrow and was throwing hits at invisible people around him.
By the time his female friend returned from wherever she’d disappeared, Quatre was suffering a buzz from the cheap beer and openly flirting with Max as they watched the next match.
“You guys ready to call it a night?” she asked them curiously, noting their collection of empty beer cups.
“NO! Let’s go somewhere else!” Quatre said happily, aware that he was swaying slightly.
“To BuBinga!” Max cried happily, missing his cup completely when he tried drinking from it.
Felicia laughed at both of them. “Are you sure? You guys look fuckin’ buzzed, man...”
“YES! Let’s go somewhere else!”
“BuBinga!!”
Felicia rolled her eyes and nodded, leading the way out of there. The guys she was hanging with were cruising their way to drunkenness, and hell if she could stop them. She figured she’d get good pics later on.
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Jake sighed as he glared at his cellphone, wondering why Quatre wasn’t answering. The last he heard, the blond was going to be out and about with Felicia and Max, but had said he’d have his cell on him. Having gotten home around twelve, Jake was feeling a little lonely for company, and had contemplated having Quatre come over to...er...shoot the shit. Or...something.
But in the last hour and a half, the boy hadn’t answered his phone. Jake was starting to wonder if he were even in the area when he rose from his couch, sighing as he kicked off his work boots. He hoped that wherever Quatre was, the boy was staying out of trouble.
And away from Trowa.
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Sylvia drummed her fingers along the couch, glaring at the tv set. She was alone on a Saturday, and more than pissed at Trowa’s disappearance. She had cried her eyes out in the past three days, but the hurt and the frustration had finally dwindled down to rage and anger. She wanted to see Trowa, and tear that bang right out of his head. She wanted to use one of his grommet belts to choke the life out of him. She wanted to tear all his money earning canvases to bits...
But, of course, she could not because SHE DID NOT KNOW WHERE HE WAS.
Which was even more frustrating, because she would feel better if she did. She would know where to go when she went to murder him for doing this to her.
She eyed her cellphone with a blaze in her dark blue eyes, and picked at her nose stud. While she accepted that Trowa was being entirely foolish and more than immature with his disappearing act, she hadn’t accepted the fact that they hadn’t had ‘closure’.
She was sure she didn’t want him back–but she needed closure! She needed to look him into his gorgeous face, spit at him, and declare him a loser; or huff that she didn’t want him in the first place, and that she was glad he was gone.
Either way...she just wished she could see him again.
This was ridiculous! She hated that she didn’t have closure.
She wanted to wring his neck. Kick his ass. Tear his face to shreds.
Oh, yes. Anger was a much better sister to pity.
Chapter Fourteen:
“Always” Blink 182
When Sylvia came home from her trip to Reno, she took several steps into the living room, dropping her hold on her suitcase and travel bags. When she set her keys and phone down, glancing around the area, something made her pause. Something...wasn’t right. Something...was missing.
Looking around the living room, the answer was obvious.
“Oh, Trowa,” she whispered, fury alighting her features. “You fucking bastard...you fucking BASTARD!”
Trowa had left her.
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“So...basically...I just haveta...shit. This is the FUCKING FUTURE!” Felicia then howled, hurling the small box away from her. “Why the fuck are they sellin’ this shit in the fuckin’ grocery store and namin’ it fuckin’ GOD OF ALL THINGS INVOLVING KIDS?”
“You’re the bitch getting yourself pregnant,” Yoshida roared from behind the door. Both girls had holed themselves up in Felicia’s apartment, where, on a whim, she had decided to take a pregnancy test. Max was away at school. “Just pee on the fucking thing and get it over with! Your man’s going to be home in, like, fourteen hours!”
“Oh, sheesh, I’d better fuckin’ RUSH this motherfucker!” Felicia muttered, picking up the box. She read the directions on the box, and shook her head. “Christ...I can’t believe I’m doing this bullshit...”
“HURRY UP! If you are, I need to register for Babies R Us and see if I can apply for layaway!”
“Broke-ass bitch! Get a job!”
“I have a job!”
“If I AM, I want all the expensive things you can fuckin’ buy!!” Felicia roared, tearing the box open. Her hand was shaking as she withdrew one of the packages, eyeing it undecidedly.
The instructions were easy enough–open plastic wrap, maneuver into awkward position over the toilet, and stick the thing in the direct path of her pee. She shuddered as she wondered where the plastic gloves were for this instance, and frowned into the open box. It came with two tests–despite promising 99.9 percent accuracy in detecting the telltale hormone–and she eyed them both with a grimace.
“Okay...hm...just...crouch over here..oh, God, I’d better not be...shit. OKAY! I’m PEEING!”
“Like I wanna hear about it,” Yoshida grumbled, leaning against the bathroom door. In her hazy vision, she glared around the neatness of the quiet apartment, drumming her fingertips against the door. She then shifted from foot to foot, looking at her Rolex. Since it was quite cold for this September morning, she was wearing a pair of ripped jeans, thongs, a t-shirt, and her hair was pulled into a low ponytail to allow for a beanie to cover her head. Felicia, upon seeing her, had commented that she looked like a raggedy lollipop–mainly because her head was so large for her stick-like body.
Yoshida had no idea of what to think if her co-worker/friend was pregnant–it would certainly draw a lot of press coverage, that was for sure. And she knew Max would be honor-bound to try and marry her–she had to snicker at the thought of Felicia wearing a white gown and carrying flowers, walking down an aisle in church. She would be cursing all the way, Max beaming like a love-sick dog, and the priest held in place by Felicia’s ‘cousins’, both of them armed to the teeth, with the rest of Merrick’s men holding the church hostage until then. The idea was truly fascinating. Great Lifetime material.
“HEY! The fuck–? What does PINK mean?”
“I don’t know! Read the fucking box!”
Yoshida frowned as she listened to Felicia grumble to herself, and finally curse loudly.
“IT FUCKING LIES! THE FUCKING PEE STICK LIES!” she heard the girl scream maniacally.
“So? Are you? Or aren’t you?”
Felicia opened the door suddenly, and Yoshida lost her balance, falling backward with a wild swing of her arms.
“It’s undetermined,” Felicia answered, glaring at the stick. “I don’t want to go to some fuckin’ doctor. Then they’ll go directly to the fuckin’ press.”
“Use the other test.”
“I can’t pee anymore!”
“Well, drink something! Quick!”
“I can’t just drink something and pee later! I mean, right now! Plus, we gotta go. Help me bury the evidence...”
“I ain’t touchin’ the stick.”
“I’ll go do something with it. Can you please hide the other stick in a place Max can’t find it? I know he snoops through my things...cuz I do with him...cuz he ALWAYS has the best bi-porn...”
“So, you’re really lezzie...”
“NO! I’m NOT! I’m just saying...shit. We need to go. We’re going to be late for that one appointment.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Gerard...you have to at least let me kick him in the nuts, once. You make it look so fun...”
“What can I say? I’m the best, kick-ass hench in the fuckin’ world, man. Respect!”
“Yeah...a hench with a bun in the oven...”
“IT’S UNCONFIRMED!”
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Trowa glanced at his watch, and wondered if Sylvia had figured it out, yet. He’d left money for their rent, nearly two month’s worth, and no explanation. He knew his ass was going to be kicked if she ever managed to catch up with him. He sighed heavily, lowering his head as he relaxed in his chair. He had chosen to go this route, mainly because he didn’t know how to end his relationship with her any other way. The way he figured it, Sylvia would just guilt him into staying with her...and he knew he had done wrong by her with Quatre, and figured that leaving her would somehow fix things.
And it wasn’t only that...but the ‘love’ that he had for her wasn’t the same as it was before. Thinking about it during her absence made him see a lot of things he hadn’t before...he started to realize that Sylvia had ‘trapped’ him into this relationship by doing what she had in high school...
Maybe they hadn’t been her intentions–to ‘trap’ him...but that’s the way it turned out. It was somewhat crazy and more than fucked up the more he thought about it. The only reason why he stayed with her was because of her loyalty. Because he felt he ‘had’ to. What about his other feelings? Had he truly loved her at all? Sure, there were days when he would look at her and feel content, but when Quatre came back into the picture...all the things he felt ‘content’ with felt forced and dragging.
And he felt he couldn’t talk to her face to face about these things, sure that she’d take it another way, and he’d find himself guilt-tripped right back where he started.
So, he cut ties and ran while she was out of town.
Not very manly, but, hey–there were people that did much worse to their other halves...at least, this is how he justified his disappearing act.
He sighed once more in the last ten minutes and wondered where and what in the hell he was going to do now...he’d given Carl his resignation, and Carl had sympathized with his situation, giving him a good luck pep talk (“Hope you find a less psychotic wench, man. Props to you for growing balls...”), and promising to continue showcasing his work. He had promises in other galleries throughout New Park, but the thing was, where was he going to stay while he waited?
And for this very same situation, he’d called his friend, looking for a bail out of a situation gone bad.
“Nah, man, it’s cool!” Drake Bellows had said, looking stoned out of his mind. “You can shack up with me til ya gots your own place. I just need a hundred for rent, ya know?”
And so, he was staying with Drake, knowing that Sylvia had no idea where Mr. Bellows lived and breathed. Drake, once he’d left high school, had found himself working two movie theaters and a window washing job that paid mad bucks and a new aversion to heights. But he had enough money to make himself comfortable in a five bedroom house he shared with other druggies, and more than enough to keep his mood light with some uppers and downers.
Trowa really didn’t mind Drake–it was just that his own addictions bit at him whenever he tried hard to quit. It had been months since he’d touched a blunt or snorted some rock, and he felt pretty confident in that he could trust himself around them while they did their business. But...there were limits...and he knew he had to find another place, and quick.
Today, he was camping out on the overly comfortable chair that was set in front of a holographic set, and he was thinking about Sylvia while some guy named Miho killed his brain cells with sniffing turpentine. Trowa’s turpentine. The goth hadn’t yet noticed that it was his paint thinner the Japanese was using, but the smell was interrupting his thoughts.
He even changed his cell number so Sylvia couldn’t reach him...on that note, he had to laugh out loud.
He was a man on the run.
What a comedic situation it truly was. He couldn’t think of any other male that was doing the very same thing he was doing.
He wiped his nose and leaned his head back against the seat. So...Sylvia was now out of the picture. Counting that she does not find him, what was he going to do, now? He was on the job prowl, and certainly for a new place to live...but what to do with the rest of his free time?
And what about Quatre?
He had to think about the last one. What about Quatre? While he hated that he had made the guy mad by fighting with Jake Trip, Trowa had to admit to himself that he still felt for the guy. That just thinking of him made him yearning and lonely. But he was so positive that Quatre did not want him back. Proof of this being in that he hadn’t called and cursed him out, yet.
Trowa had hoped for Quatre to at least leave him a ranting and raving message about what had transpired... but there was no luck in that. He wondered what the blond was doing...
Tilting his head up toward the ceiling, he drew his cellphone out of his pocket, and sped-dialed Quatre’s number. When he encountered the answering service, he hung up and winced.
Was he demented to feel this way? He’d always been obsessed with him...had stalked him since he’d arrived at Sophia Darken–cutely confused about his sexuality and maddingly sexy with his rants. And Trowa could still feel shivers up and down his spine whenever he thought of the blond. He was sure he wasn’t the only person to ever feel this way about a person. To know that he breathed, lived, walked, ate and chewed on one person that caught their fancy.
He knew at least three girls that had stalked their prey from high school to marriage. This couldn’t be THAT hard.
He sped-dialed Catherine, but received only her answering service. Hanging up after leaving a belch as a message, he stared at the ceiling.
Moments later, his phone rang, and he checked the number before making a move to answer.
“Yeah?”
“Dude...check it out,” Drake said with one of his crazy spurts of laughter. “Your chick? Just put out an APB on your head. My girl just got the news, man. She crazy!”
Trowa thought of Samantha Neilson, one of Darken’s popular girls. For some odd reason, she hooked up with Drake, and the pair had been together for over a year. It was obvious Drake was whipped, and that Samantha used him for his access to cocaine.
“She doesn’t know where I am, right?”
“Nah, man, Sam don’t even know. I’m just lettin’ ya’ll know, y’know? Man, you’re stupid, Barton. Hiding from a chick. Where’s fuckin’ Winner? Thought you were all loved up on him?”
“He’s a little busy,” Trowa replied. “I don’t want to bother him.”
“Fuck that bullshit, man. Shack up with some other chick. You don’t need no fuckin’ guy...stay straight.”
“I don’t know, Drake. Females are kinda iffy with me, now.”
“Only cuz you make them out that way! Hey, I ain’t gonna be home, tonight. Make sure that fuckin’ Jap don’t get into my room! I know it was him gettin’ into my fuckin’ cigs last night!”
“Yeah, sure.”
After Drake hung up, Trowa reached out with one Converse-clad foot and kicked Miho’s shoulder. “Drake knows you were in his room, last night.”
“Fuck that prairie nigger,” Miho groaned. “He don’t know nothin’.”
Trowa shrugged and shifted low in his chair. Well... if Samantha knew that Sylvia was pissed...she would probably find out where Trowa was hiding... Drake had loose lips. Sighing as he rose from his chair, he figured he’d get a move on before Sylvia Noventa managed to track him down here. Thing was, he didn’t know where else to go.
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Quatre was nearly vibrating with joy and delight as he settled into a seat in his second morning class of the day. Even though many hours had passed since he’d left Jake’s, he was still experiencing the after dregs of their confessions and the kiss. Or...ahem...kisses. He felt his face flush with pleasant warmth, reaching up to touch the left side of his neck, where he’d discovered a tiny sliver of color. It made his stomach curl with warmth knowing that it had been left there by the one he felt strongly attracted to. Just thinking of how he earned that hickie made his mind conjure up yummy images and remembrances of what had transpired on that couch. It also made him wonder fuzzily about their future. That was the best thing of all to think about–the future. What did it hold for him and Jake?
He knew he wanted to get closer to the older male, and not only physically–but in a closer sense of attachment as well. He wanted Jake’s attention on him. He wanted the male to focus in on him. He wanted–things that he wanted from Trowa, and from the others he’d fooled around with in the past, things that they had not given him.
Sighing, he slumped in his chair, shaking his head. Jake was very supportive of him–even if he tossed in teasing barbs and mockeries, it was obvious that the guy looked out for him in ways that Quatre felt he needed.
He hadn’t had that sort of attention from Trowa–who was more likely to think of himself rather than for Quatre and of Quatre. Practically since Jake had gotten to know him, he’d pushed Quatre to do his best. And that sort of support was absolutely wonderful to have. Drumming his fingers along his jawline, he busied himself thinking pleasantly of how it felt to have Jake’s lips on him, what better good they could do elsewhere.
That evening, at work, Felicia called him.
“Hey, man! What the hell you doin’ Saturday?” she practically yelled from the other end.
Quatre immediately thought of Jake, but figured the guy was going to put in some overtime at work. He was busy folding Dost’s underwear into tight squares and fitting them into individual sandwich bags. Trek was nearby, trying on a pair of shirts while Dost moaned about his blisters from a pair of new shoes. The alien was heading out on a cross country trip, and Quatre was doing the packing.
“I dunno. Depends. Why?”
“Let’s all go out, Saturday...there’s a really cool tournament in town, and I wanna catch it. Max is going with me...Yoshida ain’t. Don’t worry about that bitch.”
“Hey!” he heard said subject complain in the background.
“What kinda tournament?” he asked curiously, packing away the last sandwich bag into a medium sized brown bag. Glancing back at his boss, he was amused to find the guy flipping through a Seventeen and asking Trek if he preferred a landing strip or an ‘Adolf’.
“A fighting tournament! You know, the kind that kicks major ass! Bare fists, sweaty male bodies...muscles...”
“I’m there.”
Felicia laughed, and Quatre chimed in a moment later. “All you guys are horndog freaks, man. Anyway, meet us at the convention center down on Eighty-Fourth. Use Valet...and when the guy takes your keys, say, ‘Ain’t it hot?’, and you’ll be given the best service...”
“Your uncle owns that place, huh?”
“Damn skippy, man. OH! And make sure you dress hot, too! No nerdy shtick! You don’t know who you be meetin’ that night!”
“I have somebody, believe it or not.”
“SHUT UP, Quat! You don’t have squat unless I say you do!” Felicia then laughed maniacally. “PEACE!”
After she hung up, Quatre chuckled to himself. Ah, well. It was something to pass the time, he supposed.
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The parking garage was nearly full, and there were many people, especially reporters, milling around the convention center. Quatre was in awe of it all as he handed his keys to the valet, feeling rather embarrassed as he uttered the magic words. The valet grinned at him and nodded in confirmation, taking his car to a very close parking spot nearby. Quatre adjusted his bangs so that they weren’t completely in his eyes, and tentatively made his way toward the convention center.
He had taken his time to dress right, tonight, and that meant wearing a silk tee tucked into a pair of slacks hung low on his hips. He had on leather Luggs and wore his best cologne, taking his time to make sure that he looked dressed up, yet casual. While he was certain he had a future with Jake in the picture, one just never knew what or whom they were going to run into on a hot Saturday night.
He really had no idea what he was walking into, and Felicia had said they’d meet him at the front entrance. The sidewalk was crowded with people wanting to get in, all of them held back by several bouncers and security personnel. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go, but he heard his name shouted by someone near the front entrance doors.
It was Felicia, and she raced down the stairs to launch herself at him. Amid camera flashes from paparazzi that gathered around to catch sight of famous faces, Quatre tugged himself away from her.
“Yay! You came!” she said with glee, pulling away from him. As he pulled away, Max was hurrying after her, looking frazzled at the attention from the outside. “And you’re not dressed retarded!”
“You actually look feminine for once,” he told her, taking in the corset-style top with fluttery skirt material. She was also a few inches higher with strappy shoes that looked barely enough to floss one’s teeth. “What’s the occasion?”
“You look great, Quatre,” Max said happily, nodding. He took off a neckstrap that had a bright yellow pass clinging to it, and laid it around Quatre’s head. The beautiful boy was dressed in a light, open collar shirt in a muted gray color and baggy black jeans. It offset his coloring in an eye catching way. The diamonds in his ears winked with his movements, and his hair was styled to hang around his eyes in a boyish manner. Quatre was caught staring at him as he numbly took the pass from him.
“Let’s go in! I have backstage passes for the hot hunks of manliness, and I want you to meet your future husband within...” Felicia said, adjusting one of her shoulder straps and missing the look from her friend to her boyfriend.
“They have really good looking guys in there, Quatre,” Max hissed conspiratorially as he kept pace besides the blond, even as Felicia was yanking Quatre up the stairs toward the entrance. “I’m sure you can find somebody in there.”
“I HAVE SOMEONE!” he growled angrily.
“Nonsense. Not until I say so...” Felicia grinned at him, then marched him into a long corridor that was littered with security personnel.
With a few flashes of their backstage passes, and a quick weapons check, she continued to drag him down the corridor and into a large ball room area. This area was set up with various screens similar to cubicles, with many people milling about. Trainers, fighters, reporters and people like them that were just interested in the background goings-on during the tournament.
They took a few dizzying turns until they came to a cubicle that was littered with security personnel, and banners that belonged to the fighter and the home he represented. Both Max and Quatre were looking around curiously as Felicia showed the head of security her backstage pass and ID, the two boys being roughly shoved aside.
“Hey! The hell–?” Quatre grumbled as two burly security guards held them aside, Felicia walking into the cubicle with a joyous shout.
“What’s going on?” Max asked curiously as the two guards began frisking them for any weapons or questionable material on their persons. Amid all the groping and rough handling, he was able to see his girlfriend laughing about something to someone out of their sight.
Then, the fighter rose with a cheery smile, and shocked both Max and Quatre with his appearance.
“Hi, guys!” GoDarun said cheerily, looking not like the ‘simple’, blue-haired student that they knew in high school.
For one thing, the six foot nine alien was completely packed with muscle–he still had the slender build, but his long arms and legs were compactly fitted with brawn, everything flexing and bunching with his movements. From his head down to his hips, he was completely bare. His shorts were made from a filmy material that flitted around his thighs, and clung to his trim frame, giving all that looked what surprises he had hidden underneath his clothes.
Max and Quatre’s eyes widened in disbelief as he walked over to them, reaching out to shake their hands companionably. Quatre hadn’t seen the alien in what felt like ages, so as he looked up at Go’s cheery face, he felt as if he were seeing him for the first time all over again. Go had very short, neon blue hair that was cropped evenly and just above his slender neck, but had platinum colored bangs that hung over his wide, light blue eyes. He still had the face of an innocent, his childish lips curved with a smile and his nose pertly cute, but there was an underlying maturity in his features that made one think he was ‘legal’.
It also helped that the visible muscle confirmed this. Looking down at his chiseled abs and pecs that looked as if they were made out of steel caused him to go rigid. All through high school, Go had worn long sleeved, collared shirts and pants, no matter the weather. And if he chose to wear shorts, they were the kind that hung over his calves, and he had to wonder how in the hell Go was able to hide all this muscle. It was a complete shocker to see that instead of a soft, slender body, Go possessed something that looked as if it were created strictly for a musclemag.
He looked over at Max, who looked just as surprised as he looked over at him.
“Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone that I look like this,” Go said, interpreting their stunned expressions with an embarrassed laugh. His voice was still soft and sweet, and his laughter was something that caressed the boys’ tummies. “But I’ve been kickboxing since I was like five years old. I entered the fighting tournaments when I was ten, and turned pro at twelve. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think anyone would believe. And, so that people wouldn’t be scared of me.”
“No fucking way,” Quatre breathed, staring at the alien once more.
“He’s also a prince,” Felicia added, grinning at them. She wrapped her arms as close to Go’s waist as she could, having to stand on her tiptoes to do so. “He couldn’t tell anyone about it. Security restrictions an’ all. What number are ya?”
“Oh. Um, I’m the thirteenth boy in my family...and the only single born to my parents,” Go said sheepishly, a flush creeping onto his features. “All my brothers and sisters are sets.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Max asked incredulously.
“28.”
“Ha!” Quatre shouted. “I have 29 sisters!”
Go just laughed, his green-haired trainer coming over and picking up one of his hands. As he began taping Go’s knuckles and fingers, the alien continued talking. “It’s really nice seeing you two, again. I didn’t expect to see anybody I recognized here.”
“We didn’t know what we were coming into,” Max confessed, looking at Felicia. “She dragged us out here.”
“We have third row seats, man,” Felicia said, slapping one of Go’s arms. “When do you go out?”
“At nine.”
“That’s in twenty. Welp! See you out there! Win this match, okay?”
“I haven’t lost yet,” Go replied proudly, looking down at her and ruffling her hair. “You look great, Felicia. Very gorgeous.”
“Thanks, man.”
As the three waved goodbye to the gentle giant, Felicia giggled. “Hey, you guys wanna know a fun fact about that guy?”
“What?” Max added, a trace of irritation in his tone.
“Well, you remember how he was back in high school, right? All...prudish and shy of everything that had tits. Well, his race is kinda...funny...”
“This is going to make me look at him differently, isn’t it?” Max asked her suspiciously, reaching over to slide his hand into one of Quatre’s backpockets. The blond jumped in surprise as he looked at the other guy, who grinned wolfishly at him.
“Yup! See, his alien race is funny this way...a guy can’t have contact with a female in a sexual manner until they’re ‘approved’. They have to stay virgins for as long as possible. These people are so fuckin’ horny, man! That’s why he’s got all those fuckin’ sibs! They had to sterilize his mom cuz they don’t believe in birth control, and his planet’s so overcrowded. Which is why he’s on Earth. Anyway, once they have sexual contact with a female, that’s all they can think about. They’re so promiscuous that they attach themselves to anyone that has interest in them. Girls can’t resist it! So, anyway, the other thing is...they can’t get a girl pregnant.”
“Like...they’re sterile, or something?” Quatre asked, removing Max’s hand from his pocket and giving him a look. They were making their way into the main hall again, and this time, they began climbing a set of stairs.
“Yeah. Basically. The only way they can get gals preggers is if they, the guy, has sexual contact with a man,” Felicia ended with a whoop of laughter. “Go can fuck all sorts of bitches and never get a single one pregnant, but if he has a man climb on top of him, the next gal he gets he can get pregnant.”
Both boys blinked and looked at each other in confusion and shock as she cackled again.
“Go lost his virginity just out of high school, and knocked boots with everyone I could fuckin’ think of!” she said, slapping her thigh. “Even ‘Shida got his dick! Ain’t that gross?”
“Did you two...?” Max asked her suspiciously, reaching over to hug her from behind.
“NO! Shit, what do you take me for? I know the guy! That’d be like, me havin’ sex with Quat!” she said, clearly insulted. “That’s gross.”
“So...let me get this straight,” Quatre said, rubbing his chin as they made their way into another long corridor, the sounds of the arena catching his ear. “He can’t get a girl pregnant unless he’s mounted by a guy...and the next girl he has unprotected sex with he gets pregnant?”
“Yup. Ain’t that weird?”
Quatre had to laugh.
“And Go’s so straight, man. The mere thought of a guy eyeing him like that makes him very iffy...and he has a very MEAN roundhouse. That’s why there was so many guards around him...if someone was intent on terrorizing his royal highness, they’d go and try to rape him. The royal family has guarded seed, man. He can only mate with specified males to continue the bloodline,” Felicia continued, snickering as they made their way through an open doorway, heading out onto a crowded stairway. “That’s why ya’ll were man-handled...to keep males from...uh...mounting him in a terrorist attack. HA! HA! But he’s still the sweetest guy...”
“I’ll bet,” Max muttered, holding her hand and linking his arm through Quatre’s to make sure they didn’t get separated as they made their way down to the third row outside the fighting ring. Quatre was staring wide-eyed at a pair of males that were boxing the shit out of each other within the roped in area. The ring was basically a raised cement rectangle that was the size of an Olympic-swimming pool, and the fighters were kept within by a pair of ropes and poles.
The arena was crowded, and Quatre felt deafened by the noise. He avoided a man that was passed out within the pathway, and someone’s popcorn as it was thrown in frustration.
They made their way to a trio of seats, and sat down.
“BEER!” Felicia crowed, waving to a man that was selling nearby. As he came over, maneuvering within shouting spectators and dodging flying objects, she paid for three and passed them out to the boys. “This is AWESOME!”
Quatre shook his head, giving Max an exasperated expression as the boy returned it. “Are you sure you’re with a girl?”
“I’m positive. Been there, done that,” Max said with a firm nod of his head.
“Just to be sure...”
“Hey, what you two talkin’ about?”
“The weather...”
Felicia gave them a skeptical look, but was distracted by one fighter being knocked clear out of the ring and into the front row. Cheering and whooping it up, she forgot about her boytoys and turned to holler with the crowd.
“So, who is it you’re seeing?” Max asked Quatre, sipping at his beer.
“Well...Jake Trip.”
“Get out!” Max cried, shoving him in surprise. Quatre sputtered his beer and almost dropped his cup. “He’s gay?”
“I...I guess. He...told me he had feelings for me!”
“NO WAY! I totally don’t believe you! That’s fucked up, Quatre!” Max cried. “He’s hot! I like him!”
“He’s all mine, man. Well, I think. We’ll see how things go,” Quatre said, grinning as he finished off his beer.
“I can’t believe he’d like you,” Max sighed, pouting as he flicked his hair from his face. “And here, you two get along like nothing, and he doesn’t seem the type to hit on guys...he seems like the type to beat on them.”
“Well, yeah, but...we mesh well. Although, I don’t know if he’d fully commit to the idea, you know? Man, this is cheap stuff...hey! More beer!”
“Don’t you have school, tomorrow? And work?”
“I can call into work,” Quatre said, paying for another beer. “This is actually pretty fun.”
Max shrugged and finished off his own beer and getting another. “Well, that’s cool, I guess...say. Where’d Felicia go?”
“Probably bullied some helpless girl into a closet with her.”
Max laughed and shook his head. “Whatever, Quatre. Oh! Look! Go’s up!”
Quatre finished off his recent beer, hating the watered down version, but shrugging with the effects. He was looking to have fun, tonight, and if watered down beer was his only vice, then so be it...
They cheered and shouted in awe and glee as Go kicked his opponent’s ass through two straight rounds. Felicia never returned from where she disappeared to, so the boys entertained themselves as they watched Go throw quick punches and even quicker kicks that looked impossible for his long, lean form. His opponent never had a chance–by the time Go won the second round, the large black man was bleeding from a cut over his left eyebrow and was throwing hits at invisible people around him.
By the time his female friend returned from wherever she’d disappeared, Quatre was suffering a buzz from the cheap beer and openly flirting with Max as they watched the next match.
“You guys ready to call it a night?” she asked them curiously, noting their collection of empty beer cups.
“NO! Let’s go somewhere else!” Quatre said happily, aware that he was swaying slightly.
“To BuBinga!” Max cried happily, missing his cup completely when he tried drinking from it.
Felicia laughed at both of them. “Are you sure? You guys look fuckin’ buzzed, man...”
“YES! Let’s go somewhere else!”
“BuBinga!!”
Felicia rolled her eyes and nodded, leading the way out of there. The guys she was hanging with were cruising their way to drunkenness, and hell if she could stop them. She figured she’d get good pics later on.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Jake sighed as he glared at his cellphone, wondering why Quatre wasn’t answering. The last he heard, the blond was going to be out and about with Felicia and Max, but had said he’d have his cell on him. Having gotten home around twelve, Jake was feeling a little lonely for company, and had contemplated having Quatre come over to...er...shoot the shit. Or...something.
But in the last hour and a half, the boy hadn’t answered his phone. Jake was starting to wonder if he were even in the area when he rose from his couch, sighing as he kicked off his work boots. He hoped that wherever Quatre was, the boy was staying out of trouble.
And away from Trowa.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Sylvia drummed her fingers along the couch, glaring at the tv set. She was alone on a Saturday, and more than pissed at Trowa’s disappearance. She had cried her eyes out in the past three days, but the hurt and the frustration had finally dwindled down to rage and anger. She wanted to see Trowa, and tear that bang right out of his head. She wanted to use one of his grommet belts to choke the life out of him. She wanted to tear all his money earning canvases to bits...
But, of course, she could not because SHE DID NOT KNOW WHERE HE WAS.
Which was even more frustrating, because she would feel better if she did. She would know where to go when she went to murder him for doing this to her.
She eyed her cellphone with a blaze in her dark blue eyes, and picked at her nose stud. While she accepted that Trowa was being entirely foolish and more than immature with his disappearing act, she hadn’t accepted the fact that they hadn’t had ‘closure’.
She was sure she didn’t want him back–but she needed closure! She needed to look him into his gorgeous face, spit at him, and declare him a loser; or huff that she didn’t want him in the first place, and that she was glad he was gone.
Either way...she just wished she could see him again.
This was ridiculous! She hated that she didn’t have closure.
She wanted to wring his neck. Kick his ass. Tear his face to shreds.
Oh, yes. Anger was a much better sister to pity.