Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ In My Place ( Chapter 7 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Her name is Sylvia Noventa...will she be the destruction of all that was fragile?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
Her name is Sylvia Noventa...will she be the destruction of all that was fragile?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 9.6K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
Chapter Seven~
“In My Place” = Coldplay
Quatre frowned hard as he tossed his basketball from one hand to the other, eyeing the lone figure that sat on the bleachers nearby. With a half hearted toss toward the worn rim, he paid no particular attention to his ball as he watched Trowa smoke a blunt and ignore him. Drugs bothered him–he didn’t like the way people behaved while they were under the influence. Alcohol–fine. One could expect certain things here and there, but drugs? He just had something against it. He knew Trowa used the occasional recreation here and there, but did he have to do it around him? Not that he was afraid of getting a contact high, it was just...disturbing.
Trowa was ignoring him, and he didn’t like it. The tension between them was pretty factual, and it drove him nuts. He had nothing against Trowa’s cheating on him, and he certainly wasn’t ready to confess his own ‘infidelity’ anytime soon, but he wished that Trowa would just get over it and get on with his life already. The six foot three student was rather mopey when he had something on his mind, and while Quatre was used to it, it was just...after not seeing him for three months, Quatre just wanted quality time spent together just as they always had before.
He sighed heavily, drooping his shoulders as he went to retrieve his ball. The day was warm, bright, and despite doing one of his most favorite things in the world, he felt down. It was nearly a week after school started, and not any time in between had Trowa made any attempt to hold his hand, hug him, kiss him, or even use a hated pet name on him. Quatre was growing depressed at Trowa’s lack of attention, and, while frustrating, it was sort of giving him time to reflect on other things.
He wanted to do better this year–summer school had taught him a lesson. He was going to avoid summer school even if he had to sleep with various teachers along the way! Well...he wouldn’t go that far (ew, gross), but he was going to avoid flunking. And among other things, he was going to work on his damn people skills, and try not to get into so much trouble with others. It was bad enough having your boyfriend dislike you because of his own issues, but to have others on his ass all freakin’ year over stupid little things that he caused on his own? No way.
And another? He was going to lose weight, even if it damn well killed him! He figured that it was that that (sigh) was keeping Trowa from liking him. All last year, Trowa was all over him, constantly, and especially after their first time together, but this year...Trowa couldn’t even manage a French kiss without grimacing and shoving away from him with a mortified cry of some...odd pitch, and it really hurt Quatre. But he figured, what the hell? Might as well as do something that would get Trowa all over him again, no matter what situation it was.
But then again, he wondered. Picking up his ball, picking at the various little pebbles that were embedded within the rubber, what if...what if Trowa didn’t like him anymore? What if Trowa didn’t like him and liked only that...that nameless/faceless person he’d left behind in Spain? What if all that Trowa thought about was that person? And whenever he looked at Quatre, he grew disappointed that he was not sharing time with that Spanish tasty?
At that thought, he grimaced, hanging his head. It hadn’t even occurred to him that that could be the case! Frowning, hating the way that he felt inside because of that horrible thought, Quatre sighed again. It would explain some things...Trowa had always said he loved him no matter what, but what if that love wasn’t there anymore, and he couldn’t let Quatre know just yet? He was probably just waiting for the right time before letting the bomb drop. And he couldn’t do it right now, because it would be entirely hurtful (it would hurt anyway, no matter what time or event was taking place!), because he’d just gotten back from Spain?
He clutched his ball, then whirled around to look at Trowa. The former goth was too busy choking on inhaled marijuana smoke, and wasn’t paying attention to Quatre’s thinking.
Dribbling absently, making his way to the other end of the court, Quatre kept his head bowed, feeling that little tickle of self-rejection feathering at both his mind and heart. Well, he thought as he shot the ball from half court, I probably deserve it, anyway. Going off with Justin and doing stupid shit...Trowa probably found out what I was doing and then snagged someone else to get back at me...
Which would be fair. Absolutely fair. And while Trowa was at it, he probably fell in love with that one-night-stand as well. Which would not be fair because while Quatre had been interested in messing around with Justin purely for physical needs, he did not fall in love with Justin, and he certainly did not think about him. Trowa wasn’t going by the rules, and it made him...feel insecure. Even more so than usual.
He watched the ball bounce away, and hung his shoulders. Well, what would Trowa want with his fat lard ass, anyway? Look at him...
He glanced over one shoulder to watch as his ‘boyfriend’ rose from the bench he was sitting on, stretching his long, graceful arms upward, revealing a fashionably thin body that was perfect in every aspect. Long, firm legs, squeezable round ass, tight middle, perfect width of hard chest, modelesque face...even the way he wore his shoes was perfect! And then look at him...Quatre looked down at himself with a frown, noting the ever-present basketball shoes, the baggy pants that fit him comfortably due to his added width, the Invader Zim ring t-shirt that would have hung off him like curtains last year, the unkempt blond hair...plus the fact that his ass was fatter than Martha Stewart’s during high stress...
He sighed heavily, entire body seemingly deflating. He sunk down to the sun-warmed court, pouting as he crossed his arms in front of him, resting his chin on them. He decided to mentally draw a picture of the person Trowa cheated on him with. It’ll be a guy: he’d have perfectly golden skin, skin that shimmered with a flicker of grease from lotion, with a slender form that moved gracefully with every move, clothes that fit in all the right places, and a big happy smiley face with sprouts of hair coming from the top! Bah, he was never good at imagining such things, anyway. Well, the girl was probably built, and–wait a minute! He didn’t like girls that way, so he could haven’t anything to imagine and compare to. But just in the interest of thinking and imagining, he figured that she had long legs, large breasts, small hips, and a huge smiley face with pigtails!
He grunted, shifting his forehead against his arms. Well, whomever Trowa cheated with, they were much better looking than him. Lighter, thinner, and much more attractive...
“Did you die of heart failure?” Trowa’s deep voice interrupted his thoughts, and one shoe lightly nudged him in the side.
Quatre lifted his face from his arms and scowled up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Trowa shrugged, and coughed again. He smelled of marijuana, and his eyes were red and squinty. “Nothing. I was just asking. Because you shouldn’t overwork yourself when you’re so...well...”
Despair ran all through his veins, and Quatre couldn’t hide his hurt expression. Trowa was instantly contrite–he’d merely been joking. Blinking, he crouched to try and soothe over his words, but Quatre pushed himself up from the court, brushing himself off. Muttering something that Trowa couldn’t hear, he watched as Quatre stomped over to where his ball lay, and pick it up. Trowa sighed, hanging his head as Quatre then walked off without him.
Then, halfway near the dormitory, Quatre paused on the sidewalk, ball cradled underneath one arm. “I’M SORRY I COULDN’T BE PERFECT LIKE HER!” he shouted angrily, picking whatever sex came immediately to tongue, then turned and stomped off.
Trowa froze, wondering if Quatre knew. He couldn’t have–! Trowa didn’t give him any clues, nor mentioned anybody–! Unless...unless he was being very obvious...in whichever case, he realized that Quatre knew he’d done something in Spain, and...he would eventually have to come clean...
Which he would do if he were asked! But...but what about the resulting consequences afterward? He definitely didn’t want to lose his boyfriend...he sighed heavily and rose, making his way to the dormitory and trying to figure out the best way he could tell Quatre without having to go into so much detail. He may as well as get it over with...
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Triton was ready to start pounding at the vending machine as it refused to give him his bag of Skittles when Quatre burst into the lobby of the dormitory, looking furious. Forgetting about his candy, which hit the empty bucket as soon as he turned, Triton hurried over to see if this fury had something to do with his stupid boyfriend. Which would be good, because if Quatre was mad at Trowa, then it was obvious there was something going down between them, which meant he had a chance–!
“Hey, what crawled up your ass and died?” he commented as Quatre began stomping up the stairs. The blond looked at him sharply, slapping stray strands of hair from his eyes, a scathing comment more than ready to burst forth from the opening mouth. Triton grinned, glad to have gotten his attention when something seemed to shift in the blond’s blue/green eyes and his entire manner changed. Instead of the deadly expression that had been directed at him, a sunny smile took its place and white eyebrows rose in question.
“Wouldn’t you want to know? What are you doing?” he countered, turning away from the stairs and facing him.
Triton was a little confused by the change, and had to blink, stepping back. Quatre smiled down at him, and walked back down the stairs to face him. Well, Triton was more than several inches taller, having stayed at six foot four, so it wasn’t exactly face to face. But what was height, really?
“Er...well...I was getting something to eat,” Triton said, looking back at the vending machine and moving back over to it. He was thrown off by the cheery comment, when before, Quatre would regard him with nothing but wary scorn because of the fuck-up Triton had done last year. “Then I was going to go study for awhile...what about you?”
“I don’t know...”
Triton pounded on the machine, frowning at it when he realized that his Skittles were no longer caught in the wire. So he bent, fumbling around in the bucket to find his candy lying within. With a grin, he straightened and opened it, offering some in Quatre’s direction. Candy did sound good, but...Trowa didn’t like the added weight, so Quatre declined with a disappointed frown.
Triton dipped the bag into his palm, shaking a lot of the rainbow colored candies into his hand.
“What, you on a diet, now?” he asked, raising his thin eyebrows and doing a once over on the frame presented before him. Personally, he liked the weight gain. Sure, it added a little fluff here and there, but that didn’t change Quatre’s personality, nor did it evoke any strain on Triton’s libido. He especially like where most of that lower body weight had gone to–that ass was just delectable, and he knew he wasn’t the only one checking it out. It just begged to be swatted, squeezed and groped, and Triton was more than willing to do all three with much relish.
“Yeah...otherwise, I’ll never get any again,” Quatre said on a sigh, looking entirely miserable. “Trowa doesn’t like the way that I look, and he hasn’t even bothered with anything physical...”
Triton tried not to look too damn happy about that, and managed to screw his face into something resembling concern. To hide a squeal of happiness, he dumped the rest of the candies into his mouth and chewed. The effect was good–concentration on keeping his mouth moving to chew on the candy kept him from revealing his happiness at Quatre’s obvious misery. Yes, discontent between the two was very good. Very good!
“Tha’ shucks,” he said, trying not to sound too happy about it. He managed to twist his mouth into a frown.
“Yeah, well, oh fucking well, huh? See you around,” Quatre muttered, tossing his ball from hand to hand as he walked away.
Triton waved, but he found his eyes glued to that very round ass that shifted deliciously with each step. He stared with his mouth slightly open, his expression resembling the way a man would appreciate a woman’s breasts as they jiggled with her steps. At the sound of someone clearing their throat to catch his attention, he blinked and looked down, continuing to chew on his candy once more.
“Not too obvious,” the girl muttered as she indicated for him to move so that she may get something from the vending machine.
Triton grinned a rainbow colored smile and walked off to complete his studying. He was heading toward the cafeteria, where his books were when Trowa walked into the building, frowning. Triton couldn’t help an expression of disapproval to hit his face at the sight of the guy, and Trowa caught the look as Triton swept past him to venture outside. Sighing with obvious discontent over Quatre’s choice of boyfriends, Triton headed toward the cafeteria and hoped for the best–meaning, that those two broke up. It was about time for other people to have a chance at their respective crushes...
Meanwhile, Trowa frowned at Triton’s retreating back and walked up the stairway, figuring Quatre had headed toward his room. It was still the same room he’d gotten last year, so Trowa had no trouble locating it. He had just ventured past the sophomore level when he nearly collided with a girl coming down the stairway from the junior level.
“Oops...I’m so sorry,” she apologized with an embarrassed air, moving around him.
He nodded absentmindedly and continued up his way, never noticing the way the girl turned and stared after him in obvious rapture. When he was out of sight, she squealed in excited joy and continued along her way.
When Trowa found that Quatre wasn’t in his room, he sighed, wondering where the boy could have gone. He turned and began heading downstairs when he heard familiar shouts of fury from down the hall. A door opened, Felicia’s manly curses filling the air, and Quatre stumbled out, laughing as he avoided collusion with flying objects. The door slammed as Quatre walked off, spotting Trowa at the end of the hall. Frowning, Quatre hesitated in continuing in that direction, and Trowa saw this.
He took a deep breath, then raised his hand, waving at him to come over so that he could talk to him. Quatre frowned harder, but walked over, minus his basketball. Self-consciously, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he were at least ten pounds lighter so that he could evoke Trowa’s like again. Unfortunately, it seemed that with each step he took, he could feel his love handles jiggling, his ass bouncing like rubber against pavement, and his double chin wobbling slightly with his frowning. He could understand why Trowa wouldn’t like him–he wouldn’t like himself, either.
“What?” he snapped upon coming near his taller, more perfect boyfriend. Enviously, Quatre wondered where all the food went because Trowa didn’t do much activity. He was just naturally slender.
Trowa frowned. “I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Could we go in your room? I need to tell you something...”
Oh, God, he’s going to tell me about his fling, Quatre realized, pulling his hands from his pockets. Was he really ready to hear what Trowa had to say? That he didn’t want him anymore? That his lover was coming to the States, or that Trowa was transferring permanently? And that he’d have to confess his own infidelity?! He wasn’t ready–! He wasn’t ready to do so, yet!
“Er...about what?” he stalled, blinking rapidly as he looked up at Trowa’s slowly frowning face.
“Quat...just...come with me and talk to me, all right?” Trowa said softly, gesturing at the door.
“Does this...concern something...important?” Quatre asked, feeling his face flush with uncertainty. “I don’t like your tone, Trowa. What are you going to say?”
“Let’s go to your room and talk, all right?”
“Why not here?”
Trowa turned to face him, frowning. “What’s wrong with going into your room and talking, Quatre?”
Quatre licked his lips with uncertainty, then caught his tongue between his teeth as he realized that he wasn’t ready to hear what Trowa had to say. He didn’t want to break up with Trowa. He didn’t want to lose Trowa. And this didn’t sound too good, at all.
“N-Nothing,” he said reluctantly. “I just...what does this concern? I mean, you’re so serious...Look, Trowa, I can lose my weight! I can do it really easily! I know it turns you off, and I know it disgusts you–!”
“Quatre, please!”
“I want to make you like me again, Trowa! You never touch me, or kiss me, and whenever I do something in that aspect, you just–shut me aside!” Quatre finally cried. He reached forward, clutching Trowa’s shirt, burying his face against his chest. “I don’t want to break up with you! I know you hate me because I’m fat!”
“QUATRE, that’s not it!” Trowa growled, trying to push him off to talk to him face to face. “It’s something else entirely!!”
“What else can it be?! NO! No, don’t tell me!” Quatre pleaded, shaking Trowa’s shirt. Refusing to acknowledge Trowa’s hands pushing at him, he pressed his face against his chest once more. “I don’t want to know! Whatever it is, whatever that you did, I don’t care! I don’t care! You’re here now, that’s all that matters! I don’t want to break up with you!”
“Quat–! Please!”
“No, Trowa!!!”
Trowa finally managed to get a good hold of Quatre’s shoulders and shoved him roughly off. Quatre caught himself before slamming against his door, but fidgeted nervously as Trowa swallowed hard, facing him.
“Look...I don’t want other people hearing what I have to say, so let’s just go into your room and discuss things,” he said lowly, raising both eyebrows.
Quatre hesitated once more, but then nodded, opening the door. They walked in, and he felt his heart race and bump with fear at what Trowa had to say. Trowa shut the door behind him, and slid his hands into his back pockets. He stared at the usual mess that Quatre’s room contained, and then lifted his eyes to the face that was staring at him with much worry and agitation.
Unsure of how to go about confessing, Trowa licked his lips and lifted his hands to crack the knuckles. The marijuana he’d smoked had loosened him up more than he was comfortable with, but it was enough to start talking.
“I....I met someone in Spain, besides Sicily,” he began, hearing a strangled sound from Quatre. He looked up in worry, watching as Quatre sat down on his desk chair, staring at the floor. “It...her name was Amelie. She...we...it was a mistake. I didn’t have feelings for her, but...things just happened! I swear, I–I wasn’t thinking clearly, I was missing you so much, and she doesn’t mean anything, I just–!”
“I don’t care if you cheated on me,” Quatre muttered, lowering his head. “That doesn’t matter to me. I kind of figured you would. Look at you. You’re gorgeous. Why would you want to wait to come home to something like me? I won’t hold it against you, Trowa. I mean, I kind of figured that you did because you...didn’t look at me the same, and it wasn’t because that I’m fat. I just want to make you like me again, Trowa. I’ll lose the weight–I want you to like me the same way you had before...I don’t care what you did...”
Trowa didn’t know what to say, his hands dropping to his side. He felt immensely better now that that was off his chest. But what bothered him now was the after-results of such a confession. He studied his lover’s face, looking for anything else that Quatre would have a problem with.
Frankly, he was wondering why Quatre wasn’t throwing a fit. And in a way, it made him suspicious by the lack of returning anger. Frowning, he stepped forward, moving to sit down on the bed. He stared at Quatre in silence, of whom was staring at the floor, some kind of resolution coming to the blond’s face because Quatre then looked up and looked at him, fiddling with his hair.
“Is that all you have to tell me?” he asked quietly, dropping his eyes back to the messy floor.
Trowa felt himself raise his hands in question. “Is that it?”
“...What do you expect me to say, Trowa? Do you want me to be pissed? I am mad, but...what else can I do? What was done was done.. And...she’s over there, and you’re here...I don’t want to break up with you, Trowa. We have far too much between us to even...stop things now.”
Trowa stared at him silently, feeling one of his thumbs fiddle with the other. He didn’t like this. In a way, he was glad that Quatre accepted it the way that he had, and he could see the blond’s point. Amelie would never come to the States, and it wasn’t as if he’d run on over to her if she ever did. He loved Quatre, and it would only be his own issues that he had to deal with to get over the Spanish woman. In a way, that large weight on his chest was lifted, and he felt more inclined to do things more, on a personal level. But then again...touching Quatre wouldn’t be the same. His hands were dirtied, sullied, having caressed and loved someone else intimately. Would he be able to get over these things?
He knew Quatre was a needy person, needing contact. He had a libido that was very healthy, perhaps more so than Trowa could handle on some days, and he knew that it drove him crazy that Trowa didn’t touch him, or return any affection.
And yet...his love for the boy was so much that Quatre was willing to ignore the cheating and looking only to move forward. Quatre loved him enough to do so! And Trowa felt bad about it, bad because he’d cheated in the first place, bad that Quatre loved him so much, and...bad because he couldn’t see past the weight gain.
“I’m a pig,” he muttered to himself, reaching up to rub his eyes. They were suddenly overloading on moisture, and he was embarrassed by the fact that he found he was crying silent tears as the result of what he’d confessed, of what had been done. “I really hate myself for being this way, Quat...”
Quatre looked up from the floor, frowning at the hitch in Trowa’s voice. He peered closer at his boyfriend, and realized that Trowa was rubbing his eyes for a reason. The heavy load of self-guilt over making the decision in keeping quiet about Justin increased a hundred-fold as he realized that Trowa was fighting back tears. The guy never cried. And yet...he was breaking down in front of him.
Feeling entirely agonized by the whole thing, of his own secret tucked away and that Trowa obviously felt so much self-loathing by his own decision, Quatre rose from his chair and hurried over to him, trying to sooth him with touches and murmurs of comfort. Trowa pushed away from him, standing with a suddenness that made Quatre feel hurt once more. Trowa wiped at his eyes once more, hating himself a little more for being such a baby about things.
Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then stared down at a frowning Quatre nearby. “Look...I have some issues to deal with, all right? I feel like I can’t touch you anymore. I feel so dirty...I feel like I’ll contaminate you whenever I touch you. I hate it when you kiss me because I feel like I’m spreading her onto you. And when I hold you...I keep...I keep feeling her instead...”
“So, you still have feelings for her,” Quatre murmured, looking down, feeling entirely crushed.
“No, no, no! I don’t. I don’t have any feelings for her whatsoever, Quatre!” Trowa said quickly, fretting.. “It’s just...it’s just...I feel so ugly and gross and I’m spreading her on you. I don’t want her on you. I just...I just have these things to deal with, that’s all.”
Gee, you put it that way, and it sounds more like you haven’t gotten over her, Quatre thought, looking away. Then you leave her to come home to me, and you find a large tub of greasy–Christ.
“Oh,” he murmured in lame reply. He couldn’t look at Trowa, now. Not after knowing that whomever this Amelie was, and knowing that she sure made a lasting impression. He felt intense curiosity of this person, but then intense hate. Hate at her for taking his Trowa away from him, even when the other claimed that he had no feelings for her. Because he obviously did if Trowa couldn’t act toward him as he usually did because of her...
“Quatre...please...I won’t try and ask that you understand...I’m just so sorry!” Trowa whimpered, wiping his eyes again. He could tell that Quatre was upset, and he didn’t know what to do without having to touch him. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he fucked up pretty damn good. But he just didn’t know how to go about fixing things so that they could be what they were once again. He knew things were going to change between them–even if Amelie was still in Spain, her presence was going to be stuck between them because Quatre would wonder about her constantly, and Trowa would only be reminded of her because of their rather intense time together.
It was a fucked up situation, and it didn’t look good at all. For either. Quatre said that he was forgiving him for the incident, but...but that was for the incident. What happened afterward?
He wanted to touch him, but he felt so dirty! Would Quatre want to touch him, anyway? Would he want Trowa touching him, knowing that Trowa had touched someone else with his arms, his hands, used his body to pleasure the person that wasn’t Quatre? In a way, if Quatre had done so with someone else, Trowa knew he would be agonizing over every detail–did Quatre like kissing and fucking with someone else? Did he prefer their touch to Trowa’s? Did that person enjoy the way Quatre would moan heavily when caressed on the part where thigh met ass? When they were having sex, would Quatre be thinking of that one person and not of Trowa?
Trowa knew that Quatre would be thinking those things, and he ached at the loss of what was once so sweet between them. He’d gone and fucked up, and he would be paying for it now. As much as he wanted things to be the way they were before, he knew it couldn’t be fixed with a simple wish. He just wished that he knew what to do!
Tiredly, he swiped the hair from his face, turning away from Quatre. Quatre stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say, but knowing things were definitely changing now. Even if he felt as if this wouldn’t bother him...and he had his own thing to feel guilty about...he couldn’t help but feel entirely self-conscious and self-loathing of himself. Self-loathing because his physical appearance changed, because he wasn’t enough to keep Trowa faithful, because...because that while Trowa obviously felt very bad about it, Quatre couldn’t help but feel secretly happy because Trowa deserved to feel that way.
Despite himself, he found himself wondering what the woman looked like, what she did to seduce and entice him, what made her so much better than him. He wondered if Trowa preferred women, now that he had a taste of what was what. And he wanted to cry because he wasn’t Trowa’s ideal shape and form anymore!
He felt his eyes water with tremendous force, and he quickly turned away, sprawling out on his bed and facing the wall, cradling his pillow. Well, what was done was done, he supposed. Trowa did seem to want to work things out, and he would absolutely go along with the choice but...could he actually do it? He suddenly didn’t feel the same way to Trowa as he did before the confession. Now he was wondering what Trowa was thinking of if he ever began touching him again. Now he would wonder if he could satisfy Trowa the way the woman had. Now he would find himself comparing what he would be doing, what he was doing wrong, what he couldn’t do right.
“Quat...”
“Go away for awhile, Trowa,” he heard himself saying. He didn’t want to look at him. He wondered why he felt this way and wondered if he should just confess about Justin. But thinking about it on a different manner, he realized that he’d only be adding to the trouble, not fixing it. Trowa would be feeling the same way toward him as he felt toward Trowa, and their relationship would seriously be on the rocks. He sighed deeply when he heard Trowa whisper another apology before leaving him alone to cry.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The next day, Felicia looked up suspiciously from her homework as she caught the scent of peppermint and something sweet. A girl with light gold hair stood there at her right, smiling shyly at her. Felicia’s suspicions rose ten fold as she cautiously gathered her things to her, the girl holding onto the chair’s back next to her. The girl was dressed in standard girls’ uniform, complete with blazer, yellow tie, khaki skirt, and what looked to be rainbow striped knee high socks, of which were encased within chunky Mary Janes. The girl’s ears were pierced with small, silver hoops all the way up the earlobe and shell, and there was a tiny nose stud in the left nostril. She was very pretty, but then again, there were so many pretty people in the school, it was a rarity to see someone of average looks.
She had wide, blue eyes that were thickly decorated with eyeliner and mascara, and she wore glittery rose lip gloss. She looked very friendly, if not very shy as she kept her chin ducked, her wide forehead bowed. Her hair was separated down the middle, clipped to the sides with little barrettes. She didn’t look like any of the other girls around here, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Can I sit here?” the girl asked, her voice clear and high.
“Is my name on it?” Felicia asked snottily, giving the girl her best Get-The-Fuck-Away-From-Me glare. The girl actually looked for a name, then shook her head. Annoyed, Felicia shrugged, and spread her things out before her once more. “Then you can.”
“Thanks.” The girl sat, propping her Hello Kitty purse on the table and rummaging through it. She withdrew a sucker from the small depths, and offered one in Felicia’s direction. The Native American looked at the offered candy, but shook her head. The girl shrugged, popping the sucker into her mouth after unwrapping it.
“My name’s Sylvia,” she said, turning to face Felicia, holding her hand out. “Sylvia Noventa. I’m in your Advanced Anatomy class tomorrow...”
“Yo,” Felicia muttered, ignoring the hand.
Sylvia stared at her for several bewildered seconds, then shrugged again, withdrawing her hand. She fiddled with the straps of her purse, then looked at her again. “You and Quatre Winner are really close, huh?”
“Eh. We’re not fuckin’, if’n that’s what you’re lookin’ for,” Felicia muttered.
“I wouldn’t think so. He has a boyfriend...” Sylvia laughed nervously, having heard the rumors.
“Hn.”
“So...I just moved her over the summer...from Reno. Nevada.”
“Groovin’ for you.”
“New Park’s really big. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to its size,” Sylvia again laughed nervously. Then she cleared her throat, seeing that the other girl was ignoring her. She sighed, hunching her shoulders as she fiddled with her sucker. She wondered why the girl was so...abrasive.
“So...what race are you? Are you Hispanic? Asian?”
“No.”
Sylvia waited for her to elaborate, but nothing came. Frowning, she fiddled with her hair, twirling one strand around on her finger. She took the time to admire the long, dark hair that was pulled up into a messy bun, the exotic features of the girl’s profile, the pretty diamond studs that decorated the delicate earlobes, and the way the other girl exuded Fuck-You vibes. Sylvia had always gravitated toward the more tougher girls of her school, simply because she felt safe with them once they allowed her past their defenses. They were often the most misunderstood ones, the insecure, the more fun. Sylvia wasn’t a bad girl–she barely managed to dare skipping curfew every once and awhile. She was more the type to try and keep her friends out of trouble when they went looking for it, and enjoyed it all the way through.
She wasn’t lesbian–she loved boys. And this school had a lot of them.
She had noticed the racial situation, and frankly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about who was colored or what. She wasn’t that judgmental. She had liked the way Quatre Winner interacted with the very few minorities that attended the school, and she especially liked the relationship that Felicia had with the guy. They were very open with each other, spastic, and often times, very obvious in their need to touch. Touch, touch, touch. She found them amusing while everyone else found them annoying. And when she watched Felicia in her more comfortable environment (with boys), she found that she wanted to befriend the girl, because really, when she watched her, Sylvia found it obvious that the girl was actually looking for more female interaction with others. But it was obvious that the females of the school looked down at the girl, simply because she was stand-offish to others, very brash and loud, and completely lacking in girlish routine.
And because Sylvia wasn’t the type to hang out with the cheerleaders/dance team members (ugh, too-faced and bubble brained), the jockettes (ew, lesbians), the geeks (er, don’t do fanclubs, thank you), the outcasts (don’t like the way she would have to smoke and ingest illegal substances just to look cool), and the strange (um, she doesn’t do depression very well), she wanted to hang out with someone that looked to be having fun every minute of the day, no matter what the subject at hand was, and Felicia was the one.
Plus, it would be so cool to hang out with a girl that knew every guy in the school without having to sleep with the lot of them to do so.
“So, um...those are pretty earrings,” Sylvia tried again, smiling.
Felicia looked at her once more, blinking. Finally, she turned, facing her. Sylvia wondered if she were able to get away with wearing boys’ clothing as well, because she really didn’t like the skirts that were required. It was rather...femmy.
“Are you lez?” Felicia then asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Because, really, I ain’t no damn dyke!”
“No! No, I’m not. I just...I just want to be friends with you,” Sylvia said.
“Why?”
“Huh?”
Felicia stared at her for long, several moments, then sighed, crossing her legs. “All right, which one are you into?” she then asked tiredly.
“W-what?”
“Is it Drake? I can get you his phone number, but–!”
“Ew, no!” Sylvia thought of the loud-mouthed Seminole that chain-smoked and shuddered in revulsion.
“Go? Go’s really shy, but–”
“No, I–!” GoDarun?! The guy couldn’t concentrate on a single sentence, let alone notice that someone liked him.
“William? Travis? Jake? Sean? Shane? Shawn? Aaron? Cody? Butch? Booby? Derrick? Mike? Winston? Darrell?...”
“No, no, no!” Sylvia shook her head as Felicia proceeded to name off almost every boy in their class. “No, I’m not looking for anyone’s phone number, or any such things. I just...I just want to get to know you. As a friend. I notice that you don’t have very many female friends, and I figure we might have a lot in common.”
Felicia raised the other eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “Really? What are you, dumb? Do you even know who I am?”
Sylvia frowned, picking at her nails. “No, I don’t think that I’m dumb...and I know who you are, but...I feel as if we have a lot in common...”
“You suck dick, too? Because that’s what everyone says that I do.”
“No, I don’t think that you do. You don’t seem the type to mess around with anyone..”
Felicia narrowed her eyes at the girl, tapping her pen on the table top. She turned away from her, muttering, “You’re freaking me out.”
“Why? Because someone wants to be friendly with you?” Sylvia asked, leaning on the table. “I don’t have any evil intent or purposes, Felicia. I just find you interesting, and I would like to get to know you as a friend.”
“Frankly, chick, you’re scary. What chick comes up to another chick and asks to be friends?”
“Not very many do this to you, don’t they?” Sylvia asked sadly, shaking her head.
“Now you feel pity for me?”
“NO! No, I don’t. I just...I think you’re a nice person, once you let someone in. I’m new here, and–”
“See, there’s your problem, girl. You’re new. You don’t know me. All the girls hate me, and I hate them. There’s no fine line between anything,” Felicia snapped, gathering her things and stuffing them into her backpack. “Leave me alone. Find your own way around some guy you want.”
“But–! But–!” Sylvia watched in frustration as the girl stomped off, looking rather irritated. Sighing, Sylvia dropped her shoulders and fiddled with her hair. “Damn it...I only want to be friends...”
A guy snorted nearby. “Good luck.”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Middie Une wasn’t having a very good day. Her short hair, having been...rudely rearranged last year due to a fight with Felicia Passage, had grown out to curl fashionably just below her chin, and she’d taken up wearing plain barrettes, rather than her usual Hello Kitty attire. She had completely changed her makeup routine, wearing longer lashes, dark eyeliner and lighter lipgloss. When she had come back this year, she was fully expecting a whole lot of different things–more class time with the popular kids, more cute boys and less competitive girls, and less of Quatre Winner with Trowa Barton. This year, she fully planned on getting those two separated, and when she’d heard the rumors that things were troubled in paradise (she kept hearing something about a kid from Sageville, but those rumors were currently unconfirmed), she hoped for the very best.
Even seeing them once more during the beginning of the week (eeek! Quatre’s fat!), she saw that they didn’t hang all over each other as they used to. Trowa was deadly gorgeous and perfect, and Middie had gone literally pale and still at the sight of him. Gorgeousness overload, as you will. And when she’d seen her most hated rival, she’d shrieked with laughter, clapping in delight. There was no way Trowa would want a fat cow hanging all over him, and it looked as if she had a chance.
Trowa didn’t make any efforts in touching Quatre, and whenever the blond tried making his own advances, Trowa would somehow slip away with a smooth move and an even smoother excuse. Middie was utterly delighted that things were going to be easy for her, and her plans had been given a major re-overhaul. She didn’t get very many classes with her usual gaggle of friends (no more gossiping with Relena Peacecraft and Duo Maxwell), but she got enough friends in her other classes to keep from being bored. Samantha Neilson, Perfect Cindy’s best friend and co-conspirator extraordinaire, happened to be in a few classes, and Middie caught up in her gossip with her.
There was a little strain between them, as Samantha was seriously getting tired of hearing her best friend whine and complain about her boyfriend not proposing to her, and while Middie could be there to comfort Samantha (“Oh, the fat bitch doesn’t have to be so annoyingly obvious!” “Of course he isn’t going to propose when she’s expecting it!”), she knew Samantha was just talking about her behind her back after each session. But that was the rule of the jungle, and Middie knew how to survive its tough, unforgiving ways.
This year, things would be different. She was sure of it. She would be able to snag Trowa (even if it were just a simple one-night stand–oh, God, please, please, please!), kick the admission in Quatre’s face, overcome Felicia Passage’s defensive bullying (please, like there isn’t something going on between those two if that stupid colored cow wasn’t constantly defending him) and eventually come out on top. She wasn’t looking to overcome the more popular girls in the school, just overcome enough obstacles to be respected in their eyes.
She’d dated their boys of choice, had risen to respectable ranks of high school popularity, and was just as easily one of the more beautiful girls in the school. She had it all and then some.
Shifting through the crowds between classes, ignoring the praising greetings from the more unpopular kids that were desperate for her attention, Middie made straight away toward Trowa Barton as he made his way down the hall (minus Quatre for once!), his hands tucked into his uniform pockets and truly beautifully proportionate body swaying with each step. She felt her face grow immensely red with pleasure and utter admirance as she quickened her step, reaching out to grab his blazer and jerk him to a stop.
But there was an interception! Another girl latched onto him with a small laugh of surprising musical quality, startling both Middie and Trowa in its abruptness.
“Good morning!” the girl sang, letting go of him and running to glomp another boy nearby.
Middie was stunned. Who the hell was that bitch? She didn’t recall ever seeing her!
There was bubbling laughter at her right, and she shifted her incredulous gaze from the girl disappearing down the hall, hugging every other boy, and looked at Felicia Passage, who was standing amid her usual group of guys.
“Ooh, shut down, ennit?” Felicia smirked as the boys looked at Middie, some with varying expressions of laughter and appreciation.
Middie glared at her, shifting her purse from one hand to the other as the bell rang, signaling the need for students to hurry up and get to their class before they were given tardy slips. Since no comment could come quickly enough to satisfy her, Middie huffed away, seeing that Trowa had long since escaped in that moment of distraction.
“Damn bitch,” she muttered as she made her way to her next class. “Both of them!”
She would find out who that girl was, the one that dared to hug her conquest. And once she did, she’d make damn sure that her reputation, no matter what the hell it was, was destroyed thoroughly by Middie’s conniving ways.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo Maxwell took the seat next to Hiiro in their shared Advanced French class, something that wasn’t important because he sure as hell wasn’t heading across the big pond to France, but because Hiiro had taken the class because of his aspirations in heading over for some European backpacking after school ended. He smiled in greeting at his friend, the guy giving an annoyed roll of his eyes as Relena kept talking at his side, gabbering on and on about something that had happened before school started.
“Yo, Relena,” Duo said in greeting as he leaned back in his chair and input his access code on the computer set in front of him. “How’s it going?”
“Not very well, thanks for asking,” Relena said, interrupting herself. “So, I heard you were running Cross Country this year!”
“No, by the time I wanted to take that chance, it was too late. They were already into their fifth run, and I figure, Next year,” Duo said, shaking his head. “But I want to go out for Track and Field.”
“Running?” Hiiro asked.
“The two mile, the baton-thingy...”
“You’re fast enough. You could do those things easily,” Relena commented, nodding. Her wheat colored blond hair was blunt cut in the bangs, swept casually aside, the longer bits of her hair pulled into a fashionable bun on the top of her head. She was pretty in a casual way, but not exceptionally pretty that made one look twice. Duo liked her as a separate person–just not a separate person with Hiiro. “You’ll do really well in that aspect, Duo.”
“Thanks, Relena. What about you?” Duo fought the tingle of electricity that shot down his arm when he reached out to hit Hiiro with the back of his hand.
Hiiro grunted, shrugging his shoulders as he looked through what looked to be a Sports Illustrated.
“I’m just playing basketball, this year.”
“Think we’ll make State, this time?” Duo asked, smiling as Relena was forgotten. “We almost made it last year! We have two more chances, counting this year!”
“Yeah...I suppose. I just hope this year goes better than last,” Hiiro muttered, frowning.
Duo know what, or whom, he was talking about. He shrugged a shoulder, looking away. “Maybe. Sally Po graduated last year, though. And I heard Hilde sayin’ she wasn’t going this year because Winner was such an ass to her...”
“Is he really a misogynist?” Relena interrupted their conversation, pausing in applying cherry flavored lipgloss to her thin lips.
“Dunno. Acts like he hates girls....”
“Whatever,” Hiiro butted in. “Whatever the case, I’m trying out no matter who’s there. I just hope we do better this year than last. I really want another chance at Duncan Jones...”
“Dude, seriously. And we need to whomp on Balkin Public to save face,” Duo groaned, hanging his head. He flicked his braid over his shoulder, sighing. “It was so embarrassing losing to them last year. I mean, they didn’t even do well. And we were ranked third in our division! How fuckin’ mortifying...”
“We’ll get it all back. Hopefully this year, there won’t be so much fuck-ups...Manny, Sally, Zechs and Tony aren’t going to be there, anymore,” Hiiro commented, naming off the seniors of their team last year.
“Nah, but I’m sure we’ll get along without them...Triton’s still here. He’s still hella cool...”
“That guy’s cool. He keeps fuckin’ Winner in line...”
“Yeah. Hautta’s not going to try out. His fuckin’ therapy’s keepin’ him from doing anything involving violence, and basketball’s been crossed off his list,” Duo said with a frown.
Hiiro shrugged. “He was good...what about Winnie?”
“Yeah, he’s playin’. We’re playing....we’ll just see who else is gonna show up...”
“The girls were good last year.”
“Yeah...just that they were just...I dunno. Dude, when you think about it, Winner messed up everything. I mean, him and the girls were always at each other’s throats, then it was like, he was fighting with us...” Duo sighed, hanging his shoulders. “I just hope things go better this year.”
“Why’s he so...heavy?”
“Huh? Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t notice anything.”
“He’s really chubby, now,” Relena butted in, finding her angle into the conversation. “I don’t know, I don’t think he’s fat, he’s just...more...more...”
“He’s fat, Hiiro,” Duo said, looking at the Japanese pointedly. “Relena’s just tryin’ to be nice about it.”
“He’s not fat, Duo. Just a little chubby. I heard he partied a lot with those stupid kids...”
“I heard that, too.”
“In any case,” Hiiro interrupted, not one to gossip, “This year should be good.”
“Yeah, hella good. We’ll get to State. Just you wait, ‘Ro!”
“Yeah...”
When the conversation trailed off then, Relena asked Hiiro something of non-importance to Duo, who turned away from his crush. Just being near Hiiro made him feel even more warm than usual, and the usual indifference he had to his and Relena’s relationship had bloomed into something bigger than annoyance. He hated the way Relena had to touch Hiiro every five seconds, whether it be laying her hand over Hiiro’s, touching her leg against his, or leaning her head against his shoulder. She seemed so damn needy, and Duo hated seeing that.
He wanted to be the one in Relena’s place.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
At lunch, Quatre stood in the center of the cafeteria, debating on whether or not to hit the long lines for either kitchen or lunch cart food, and while both had the best of options available, he kept thinking of how heavy he’d gotten. Frowning in disappointment, wanting Trowa to like him again, he turned away from the lines, ignoring the grumble of his tummy.
Oh, shut it, you fat turd, he thought to himself as he searched for someone to sit with, seeing that Trowa was no where in sight, and he figured that he wouldn’t be able to face him, anyway. He didn’t feel the same now that Trowa had confessed. Which was really want he wanted, but he’d never expected the resulting difficulty that he felt once getting himself to wonder what had gone on in Spain. He started walking for the outside, wondering if he should just get something to drink (a Coke or Pepsi sounded really good, considering that he’d skipped dinner last night and breakfast that morning as well). Pushing his way through the doors, ignoring the way his stomach growled venomously for something to eat, he saw that everyone had got it in their heads to have their lunch out in the nice, warm afternoon, and the smells of food wafted into the air.
What he should really be doing was exercise, but he didn’t have the energy for it just yet. He’d do some running after school, and actually looked forward to it. Physical activity was something he’d always enjoyed doing, and it was especially helpful in the terms of stress. Walking around the building, sighing heavily, he pursed his lips and looked for someone to talk to. He spotted Drake talking to Trowa, and turned abruptly, going in the other direction. It looked as if those two were exchanging money credits and plastic baggies full of bud, and he didn’t want that drama. It looked, though, that Trowa was relying more and more on that escape than anything else.
Feeling miserable that his relationship, so perfect (?) before, was falling into shambles, Quatre felt that awkward heaviness between his shoulder blades that signaled his unreleased stress. Adjusting his pack over his back, he made his way back the way he’d came, and headed for the soda machine. He thought that water would do him better, but what the hell? He was under stress. Let him have caffeine. He bought a bottle of Pepsi and headed his way toward the dormitory instead.
Along the way, though, he heard the approaching footsteps of someone behind him, so he paused in place, looking behind him to see who was coming. He expected Felicia, or Drake, or Go, or perhaps even a classmate that wanted to ask him something, but it was neither. Thinking about it now, he realized that he didn’t have very many friends–Trowa and the aforementioned were really the ones he truly talked to and considered friends. And that was sad on its own because currently, he and Trowa were having problems and the other three were always off doing something that Quatre didn’t care to get involved with anymore.
But, no, a girl from one of his classes was hurrying up to him, smiling brightly.
“Hi!” she greeted, fiddling with her bottle of Coke. “You’re all alone!”
“Um...yeah...” She had to be new. Every other girl hated him once they realized his personality.
“My name’s Sylvia. We have a couple of classes together,” she said, reaching out for a handshake.
Cautiously, he shook her head, recalling her talking to him that one day. “Oh, uh–”
“I know your name! So, what are you doing, all alone? Where’s your boyfriend?”
At that, Quatre felt depressed. “I dunno,” he muttered, turning and walking off.
Sylvia followed, looking concerned. “Oh, I’m sorry...I just touched on something sore, didn’t I? I really am sorry...Look. I have some candy. Want some?”
“NO.”
Sylvia jumped back at the growl, feeling as if she just escaped a snapping of teeth. Freezing in place, she watched as Quatre stalked off toward the dormitory, leaving her in the dust. Sighing, she dribbled some M&M’s into her palm and slapped them into her mouth. Figuring that she’d try and be friendly some other time, when he wasn’t sore over something between him and his boyfriend, Sylvia hurried off toward the cafeteria, to finish her search in finding Felicia Passage.
“In My Place” = Coldplay
Quatre frowned hard as he tossed his basketball from one hand to the other, eyeing the lone figure that sat on the bleachers nearby. With a half hearted toss toward the worn rim, he paid no particular attention to his ball as he watched Trowa smoke a blunt and ignore him. Drugs bothered him–he didn’t like the way people behaved while they were under the influence. Alcohol–fine. One could expect certain things here and there, but drugs? He just had something against it. He knew Trowa used the occasional recreation here and there, but did he have to do it around him? Not that he was afraid of getting a contact high, it was just...disturbing.
Trowa was ignoring him, and he didn’t like it. The tension between them was pretty factual, and it drove him nuts. He had nothing against Trowa’s cheating on him, and he certainly wasn’t ready to confess his own ‘infidelity’ anytime soon, but he wished that Trowa would just get over it and get on with his life already. The six foot three student was rather mopey when he had something on his mind, and while Quatre was used to it, it was just...after not seeing him for three months, Quatre just wanted quality time spent together just as they always had before.
He sighed heavily, drooping his shoulders as he went to retrieve his ball. The day was warm, bright, and despite doing one of his most favorite things in the world, he felt down. It was nearly a week after school started, and not any time in between had Trowa made any attempt to hold his hand, hug him, kiss him, or even use a hated pet name on him. Quatre was growing depressed at Trowa’s lack of attention, and, while frustrating, it was sort of giving him time to reflect on other things.
He wanted to do better this year–summer school had taught him a lesson. He was going to avoid summer school even if he had to sleep with various teachers along the way! Well...he wouldn’t go that far (ew, gross), but he was going to avoid flunking. And among other things, he was going to work on his damn people skills, and try not to get into so much trouble with others. It was bad enough having your boyfriend dislike you because of his own issues, but to have others on his ass all freakin’ year over stupid little things that he caused on his own? No way.
And another? He was going to lose weight, even if it damn well killed him! He figured that it was that that (sigh) was keeping Trowa from liking him. All last year, Trowa was all over him, constantly, and especially after their first time together, but this year...Trowa couldn’t even manage a French kiss without grimacing and shoving away from him with a mortified cry of some...odd pitch, and it really hurt Quatre. But he figured, what the hell? Might as well as do something that would get Trowa all over him again, no matter what situation it was.
But then again, he wondered. Picking up his ball, picking at the various little pebbles that were embedded within the rubber, what if...what if Trowa didn’t like him anymore? What if Trowa didn’t like him and liked only that...that nameless/faceless person he’d left behind in Spain? What if all that Trowa thought about was that person? And whenever he looked at Quatre, he grew disappointed that he was not sharing time with that Spanish tasty?
At that thought, he grimaced, hanging his head. It hadn’t even occurred to him that that could be the case! Frowning, hating the way that he felt inside because of that horrible thought, Quatre sighed again. It would explain some things...Trowa had always said he loved him no matter what, but what if that love wasn’t there anymore, and he couldn’t let Quatre know just yet? He was probably just waiting for the right time before letting the bomb drop. And he couldn’t do it right now, because it would be entirely hurtful (it would hurt anyway, no matter what time or event was taking place!), because he’d just gotten back from Spain?
He clutched his ball, then whirled around to look at Trowa. The former goth was too busy choking on inhaled marijuana smoke, and wasn’t paying attention to Quatre’s thinking.
Dribbling absently, making his way to the other end of the court, Quatre kept his head bowed, feeling that little tickle of self-rejection feathering at both his mind and heart. Well, he thought as he shot the ball from half court, I probably deserve it, anyway. Going off with Justin and doing stupid shit...Trowa probably found out what I was doing and then snagged someone else to get back at me...
Which would be fair. Absolutely fair. And while Trowa was at it, he probably fell in love with that one-night-stand as well. Which would not be fair because while Quatre had been interested in messing around with Justin purely for physical needs, he did not fall in love with Justin, and he certainly did not think about him. Trowa wasn’t going by the rules, and it made him...feel insecure. Even more so than usual.
He watched the ball bounce away, and hung his shoulders. Well, what would Trowa want with his fat lard ass, anyway? Look at him...
He glanced over one shoulder to watch as his ‘boyfriend’ rose from the bench he was sitting on, stretching his long, graceful arms upward, revealing a fashionably thin body that was perfect in every aspect. Long, firm legs, squeezable round ass, tight middle, perfect width of hard chest, modelesque face...even the way he wore his shoes was perfect! And then look at him...Quatre looked down at himself with a frown, noting the ever-present basketball shoes, the baggy pants that fit him comfortably due to his added width, the Invader Zim ring t-shirt that would have hung off him like curtains last year, the unkempt blond hair...plus the fact that his ass was fatter than Martha Stewart’s during high stress...
He sighed heavily, entire body seemingly deflating. He sunk down to the sun-warmed court, pouting as he crossed his arms in front of him, resting his chin on them. He decided to mentally draw a picture of the person Trowa cheated on him with. It’ll be a guy: he’d have perfectly golden skin, skin that shimmered with a flicker of grease from lotion, with a slender form that moved gracefully with every move, clothes that fit in all the right places, and a big happy smiley face with sprouts of hair coming from the top! Bah, he was never good at imagining such things, anyway. Well, the girl was probably built, and–wait a minute! He didn’t like girls that way, so he could haven’t anything to imagine and compare to. But just in the interest of thinking and imagining, he figured that she had long legs, large breasts, small hips, and a huge smiley face with pigtails!
He grunted, shifting his forehead against his arms. Well, whomever Trowa cheated with, they were much better looking than him. Lighter, thinner, and much more attractive...
“Did you die of heart failure?” Trowa’s deep voice interrupted his thoughts, and one shoe lightly nudged him in the side.
Quatre lifted his face from his arms and scowled up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Trowa shrugged, and coughed again. He smelled of marijuana, and his eyes were red and squinty. “Nothing. I was just asking. Because you shouldn’t overwork yourself when you’re so...well...”
Despair ran all through his veins, and Quatre couldn’t hide his hurt expression. Trowa was instantly contrite–he’d merely been joking. Blinking, he crouched to try and soothe over his words, but Quatre pushed himself up from the court, brushing himself off. Muttering something that Trowa couldn’t hear, he watched as Quatre stomped over to where his ball lay, and pick it up. Trowa sighed, hanging his head as Quatre then walked off without him.
Then, halfway near the dormitory, Quatre paused on the sidewalk, ball cradled underneath one arm. “I’M SORRY I COULDN’T BE PERFECT LIKE HER!” he shouted angrily, picking whatever sex came immediately to tongue, then turned and stomped off.
Trowa froze, wondering if Quatre knew. He couldn’t have–! Trowa didn’t give him any clues, nor mentioned anybody–! Unless...unless he was being very obvious...in whichever case, he realized that Quatre knew he’d done something in Spain, and...he would eventually have to come clean...
Which he would do if he were asked! But...but what about the resulting consequences afterward? He definitely didn’t want to lose his boyfriend...he sighed heavily and rose, making his way to the dormitory and trying to figure out the best way he could tell Quatre without having to go into so much detail. He may as well as get it over with...
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Triton was ready to start pounding at the vending machine as it refused to give him his bag of Skittles when Quatre burst into the lobby of the dormitory, looking furious. Forgetting about his candy, which hit the empty bucket as soon as he turned, Triton hurried over to see if this fury had something to do with his stupid boyfriend. Which would be good, because if Quatre was mad at Trowa, then it was obvious there was something going down between them, which meant he had a chance–!
“Hey, what crawled up your ass and died?” he commented as Quatre began stomping up the stairs. The blond looked at him sharply, slapping stray strands of hair from his eyes, a scathing comment more than ready to burst forth from the opening mouth. Triton grinned, glad to have gotten his attention when something seemed to shift in the blond’s blue/green eyes and his entire manner changed. Instead of the deadly expression that had been directed at him, a sunny smile took its place and white eyebrows rose in question.
“Wouldn’t you want to know? What are you doing?” he countered, turning away from the stairs and facing him.
Triton was a little confused by the change, and had to blink, stepping back. Quatre smiled down at him, and walked back down the stairs to face him. Well, Triton was more than several inches taller, having stayed at six foot four, so it wasn’t exactly face to face. But what was height, really?
“Er...well...I was getting something to eat,” Triton said, looking back at the vending machine and moving back over to it. He was thrown off by the cheery comment, when before, Quatre would regard him with nothing but wary scorn because of the fuck-up Triton had done last year. “Then I was going to go study for awhile...what about you?”
“I don’t know...”
Triton pounded on the machine, frowning at it when he realized that his Skittles were no longer caught in the wire. So he bent, fumbling around in the bucket to find his candy lying within. With a grin, he straightened and opened it, offering some in Quatre’s direction. Candy did sound good, but...Trowa didn’t like the added weight, so Quatre declined with a disappointed frown.
Triton dipped the bag into his palm, shaking a lot of the rainbow colored candies into his hand.
“What, you on a diet, now?” he asked, raising his thin eyebrows and doing a once over on the frame presented before him. Personally, he liked the weight gain. Sure, it added a little fluff here and there, but that didn’t change Quatre’s personality, nor did it evoke any strain on Triton’s libido. He especially like where most of that lower body weight had gone to–that ass was just delectable, and he knew he wasn’t the only one checking it out. It just begged to be swatted, squeezed and groped, and Triton was more than willing to do all three with much relish.
“Yeah...otherwise, I’ll never get any again,” Quatre said on a sigh, looking entirely miserable. “Trowa doesn’t like the way that I look, and he hasn’t even bothered with anything physical...”
Triton tried not to look too damn happy about that, and managed to screw his face into something resembling concern. To hide a squeal of happiness, he dumped the rest of the candies into his mouth and chewed. The effect was good–concentration on keeping his mouth moving to chew on the candy kept him from revealing his happiness at Quatre’s obvious misery. Yes, discontent between the two was very good. Very good!
“Tha’ shucks,” he said, trying not to sound too happy about it. He managed to twist his mouth into a frown.
“Yeah, well, oh fucking well, huh? See you around,” Quatre muttered, tossing his ball from hand to hand as he walked away.
Triton waved, but he found his eyes glued to that very round ass that shifted deliciously with each step. He stared with his mouth slightly open, his expression resembling the way a man would appreciate a woman’s breasts as they jiggled with her steps. At the sound of someone clearing their throat to catch his attention, he blinked and looked down, continuing to chew on his candy once more.
“Not too obvious,” the girl muttered as she indicated for him to move so that she may get something from the vending machine.
Triton grinned a rainbow colored smile and walked off to complete his studying. He was heading toward the cafeteria, where his books were when Trowa walked into the building, frowning. Triton couldn’t help an expression of disapproval to hit his face at the sight of the guy, and Trowa caught the look as Triton swept past him to venture outside. Sighing with obvious discontent over Quatre’s choice of boyfriends, Triton headed toward the cafeteria and hoped for the best–meaning, that those two broke up. It was about time for other people to have a chance at their respective crushes...
Meanwhile, Trowa frowned at Triton’s retreating back and walked up the stairway, figuring Quatre had headed toward his room. It was still the same room he’d gotten last year, so Trowa had no trouble locating it. He had just ventured past the sophomore level when he nearly collided with a girl coming down the stairway from the junior level.
“Oops...I’m so sorry,” she apologized with an embarrassed air, moving around him.
He nodded absentmindedly and continued up his way, never noticing the way the girl turned and stared after him in obvious rapture. When he was out of sight, she squealed in excited joy and continued along her way.
When Trowa found that Quatre wasn’t in his room, he sighed, wondering where the boy could have gone. He turned and began heading downstairs when he heard familiar shouts of fury from down the hall. A door opened, Felicia’s manly curses filling the air, and Quatre stumbled out, laughing as he avoided collusion with flying objects. The door slammed as Quatre walked off, spotting Trowa at the end of the hall. Frowning, Quatre hesitated in continuing in that direction, and Trowa saw this.
He took a deep breath, then raised his hand, waving at him to come over so that he could talk to him. Quatre frowned harder, but walked over, minus his basketball. Self-consciously, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he were at least ten pounds lighter so that he could evoke Trowa’s like again. Unfortunately, it seemed that with each step he took, he could feel his love handles jiggling, his ass bouncing like rubber against pavement, and his double chin wobbling slightly with his frowning. He could understand why Trowa wouldn’t like him–he wouldn’t like himself, either.
“What?” he snapped upon coming near his taller, more perfect boyfriend. Enviously, Quatre wondered where all the food went because Trowa didn’t do much activity. He was just naturally slender.
Trowa frowned. “I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Could we go in your room? I need to tell you something...”
Oh, God, he’s going to tell me about his fling, Quatre realized, pulling his hands from his pockets. Was he really ready to hear what Trowa had to say? That he didn’t want him anymore? That his lover was coming to the States, or that Trowa was transferring permanently? And that he’d have to confess his own infidelity?! He wasn’t ready–! He wasn’t ready to do so, yet!
“Er...about what?” he stalled, blinking rapidly as he looked up at Trowa’s slowly frowning face.
“Quat...just...come with me and talk to me, all right?” Trowa said softly, gesturing at the door.
“Does this...concern something...important?” Quatre asked, feeling his face flush with uncertainty. “I don’t like your tone, Trowa. What are you going to say?”
“Let’s go to your room and talk, all right?”
“Why not here?”
Trowa turned to face him, frowning. “What’s wrong with going into your room and talking, Quatre?”
Quatre licked his lips with uncertainty, then caught his tongue between his teeth as he realized that he wasn’t ready to hear what Trowa had to say. He didn’t want to break up with Trowa. He didn’t want to lose Trowa. And this didn’t sound too good, at all.
“N-Nothing,” he said reluctantly. “I just...what does this concern? I mean, you’re so serious...Look, Trowa, I can lose my weight! I can do it really easily! I know it turns you off, and I know it disgusts you–!”
“Quatre, please!”
“I want to make you like me again, Trowa! You never touch me, or kiss me, and whenever I do something in that aspect, you just–shut me aside!” Quatre finally cried. He reached forward, clutching Trowa’s shirt, burying his face against his chest. “I don’t want to break up with you! I know you hate me because I’m fat!”
“QUATRE, that’s not it!” Trowa growled, trying to push him off to talk to him face to face. “It’s something else entirely!!”
“What else can it be?! NO! No, don’t tell me!” Quatre pleaded, shaking Trowa’s shirt. Refusing to acknowledge Trowa’s hands pushing at him, he pressed his face against his chest once more. “I don’t want to know! Whatever it is, whatever that you did, I don’t care! I don’t care! You’re here now, that’s all that matters! I don’t want to break up with you!”
“Quat–! Please!”
“No, Trowa!!!”
Trowa finally managed to get a good hold of Quatre’s shoulders and shoved him roughly off. Quatre caught himself before slamming against his door, but fidgeted nervously as Trowa swallowed hard, facing him.
“Look...I don’t want other people hearing what I have to say, so let’s just go into your room and discuss things,” he said lowly, raising both eyebrows.
Quatre hesitated once more, but then nodded, opening the door. They walked in, and he felt his heart race and bump with fear at what Trowa had to say. Trowa shut the door behind him, and slid his hands into his back pockets. He stared at the usual mess that Quatre’s room contained, and then lifted his eyes to the face that was staring at him with much worry and agitation.
Unsure of how to go about confessing, Trowa licked his lips and lifted his hands to crack the knuckles. The marijuana he’d smoked had loosened him up more than he was comfortable with, but it was enough to start talking.
“I....I met someone in Spain, besides Sicily,” he began, hearing a strangled sound from Quatre. He looked up in worry, watching as Quatre sat down on his desk chair, staring at the floor. “It...her name was Amelie. She...we...it was a mistake. I didn’t have feelings for her, but...things just happened! I swear, I–I wasn’t thinking clearly, I was missing you so much, and she doesn’t mean anything, I just–!”
“I don’t care if you cheated on me,” Quatre muttered, lowering his head. “That doesn’t matter to me. I kind of figured you would. Look at you. You’re gorgeous. Why would you want to wait to come home to something like me? I won’t hold it against you, Trowa. I mean, I kind of figured that you did because you...didn’t look at me the same, and it wasn’t because that I’m fat. I just want to make you like me again, Trowa. I’ll lose the weight–I want you to like me the same way you had before...I don’t care what you did...”
Trowa didn’t know what to say, his hands dropping to his side. He felt immensely better now that that was off his chest. But what bothered him now was the after-results of such a confession. He studied his lover’s face, looking for anything else that Quatre would have a problem with.
Frankly, he was wondering why Quatre wasn’t throwing a fit. And in a way, it made him suspicious by the lack of returning anger. Frowning, he stepped forward, moving to sit down on the bed. He stared at Quatre in silence, of whom was staring at the floor, some kind of resolution coming to the blond’s face because Quatre then looked up and looked at him, fiddling with his hair.
“Is that all you have to tell me?” he asked quietly, dropping his eyes back to the messy floor.
Trowa felt himself raise his hands in question. “Is that it?”
“...What do you expect me to say, Trowa? Do you want me to be pissed? I am mad, but...what else can I do? What was done was done.. And...she’s over there, and you’re here...I don’t want to break up with you, Trowa. We have far too much between us to even...stop things now.”
Trowa stared at him silently, feeling one of his thumbs fiddle with the other. He didn’t like this. In a way, he was glad that Quatre accepted it the way that he had, and he could see the blond’s point. Amelie would never come to the States, and it wasn’t as if he’d run on over to her if she ever did. He loved Quatre, and it would only be his own issues that he had to deal with to get over the Spanish woman. In a way, that large weight on his chest was lifted, and he felt more inclined to do things more, on a personal level. But then again...touching Quatre wouldn’t be the same. His hands were dirtied, sullied, having caressed and loved someone else intimately. Would he be able to get over these things?
He knew Quatre was a needy person, needing contact. He had a libido that was very healthy, perhaps more so than Trowa could handle on some days, and he knew that it drove him crazy that Trowa didn’t touch him, or return any affection.
And yet...his love for the boy was so much that Quatre was willing to ignore the cheating and looking only to move forward. Quatre loved him enough to do so! And Trowa felt bad about it, bad because he’d cheated in the first place, bad that Quatre loved him so much, and...bad because he couldn’t see past the weight gain.
“I’m a pig,” he muttered to himself, reaching up to rub his eyes. They were suddenly overloading on moisture, and he was embarrassed by the fact that he found he was crying silent tears as the result of what he’d confessed, of what had been done. “I really hate myself for being this way, Quat...”
Quatre looked up from the floor, frowning at the hitch in Trowa’s voice. He peered closer at his boyfriend, and realized that Trowa was rubbing his eyes for a reason. The heavy load of self-guilt over making the decision in keeping quiet about Justin increased a hundred-fold as he realized that Trowa was fighting back tears. The guy never cried. And yet...he was breaking down in front of him.
Feeling entirely agonized by the whole thing, of his own secret tucked away and that Trowa obviously felt so much self-loathing by his own decision, Quatre rose from his chair and hurried over to him, trying to sooth him with touches and murmurs of comfort. Trowa pushed away from him, standing with a suddenness that made Quatre feel hurt once more. Trowa wiped at his eyes once more, hating himself a little more for being such a baby about things.
Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then stared down at a frowning Quatre nearby. “Look...I have some issues to deal with, all right? I feel like I can’t touch you anymore. I feel so dirty...I feel like I’ll contaminate you whenever I touch you. I hate it when you kiss me because I feel like I’m spreading her onto you. And when I hold you...I keep...I keep feeling her instead...”
“So, you still have feelings for her,” Quatre murmured, looking down, feeling entirely crushed.
“No, no, no! I don’t. I don’t have any feelings for her whatsoever, Quatre!” Trowa said quickly, fretting.. “It’s just...it’s just...I feel so ugly and gross and I’m spreading her on you. I don’t want her on you. I just...I just have these things to deal with, that’s all.”
Gee, you put it that way, and it sounds more like you haven’t gotten over her, Quatre thought, looking away. Then you leave her to come home to me, and you find a large tub of greasy–Christ.
“Oh,” he murmured in lame reply. He couldn’t look at Trowa, now. Not after knowing that whomever this Amelie was, and knowing that she sure made a lasting impression. He felt intense curiosity of this person, but then intense hate. Hate at her for taking his Trowa away from him, even when the other claimed that he had no feelings for her. Because he obviously did if Trowa couldn’t act toward him as he usually did because of her...
“Quatre...please...I won’t try and ask that you understand...I’m just so sorry!” Trowa whimpered, wiping his eyes again. He could tell that Quatre was upset, and he didn’t know what to do without having to touch him. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he fucked up pretty damn good. But he just didn’t know how to go about fixing things so that they could be what they were once again. He knew things were going to change between them–even if Amelie was still in Spain, her presence was going to be stuck between them because Quatre would wonder about her constantly, and Trowa would only be reminded of her because of their rather intense time together.
It was a fucked up situation, and it didn’t look good at all. For either. Quatre said that he was forgiving him for the incident, but...but that was for the incident. What happened afterward?
He wanted to touch him, but he felt so dirty! Would Quatre want to touch him, anyway? Would he want Trowa touching him, knowing that Trowa had touched someone else with his arms, his hands, used his body to pleasure the person that wasn’t Quatre? In a way, if Quatre had done so with someone else, Trowa knew he would be agonizing over every detail–did Quatre like kissing and fucking with someone else? Did he prefer their touch to Trowa’s? Did that person enjoy the way Quatre would moan heavily when caressed on the part where thigh met ass? When they were having sex, would Quatre be thinking of that one person and not of Trowa?
Trowa knew that Quatre would be thinking those things, and he ached at the loss of what was once so sweet between them. He’d gone and fucked up, and he would be paying for it now. As much as he wanted things to be the way they were before, he knew it couldn’t be fixed with a simple wish. He just wished that he knew what to do!
Tiredly, he swiped the hair from his face, turning away from Quatre. Quatre stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say, but knowing things were definitely changing now. Even if he felt as if this wouldn’t bother him...and he had his own thing to feel guilty about...he couldn’t help but feel entirely self-conscious and self-loathing of himself. Self-loathing because his physical appearance changed, because he wasn’t enough to keep Trowa faithful, because...because that while Trowa obviously felt very bad about it, Quatre couldn’t help but feel secretly happy because Trowa deserved to feel that way.
Despite himself, he found himself wondering what the woman looked like, what she did to seduce and entice him, what made her so much better than him. He wondered if Trowa preferred women, now that he had a taste of what was what. And he wanted to cry because he wasn’t Trowa’s ideal shape and form anymore!
He felt his eyes water with tremendous force, and he quickly turned away, sprawling out on his bed and facing the wall, cradling his pillow. Well, what was done was done, he supposed. Trowa did seem to want to work things out, and he would absolutely go along with the choice but...could he actually do it? He suddenly didn’t feel the same way to Trowa as he did before the confession. Now he was wondering what Trowa was thinking of if he ever began touching him again. Now he would wonder if he could satisfy Trowa the way the woman had. Now he would find himself comparing what he would be doing, what he was doing wrong, what he couldn’t do right.
“Quat...”
“Go away for awhile, Trowa,” he heard himself saying. He didn’t want to look at him. He wondered why he felt this way and wondered if he should just confess about Justin. But thinking about it on a different manner, he realized that he’d only be adding to the trouble, not fixing it. Trowa would be feeling the same way toward him as he felt toward Trowa, and their relationship would seriously be on the rocks. He sighed deeply when he heard Trowa whisper another apology before leaving him alone to cry.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The next day, Felicia looked up suspiciously from her homework as she caught the scent of peppermint and something sweet. A girl with light gold hair stood there at her right, smiling shyly at her. Felicia’s suspicions rose ten fold as she cautiously gathered her things to her, the girl holding onto the chair’s back next to her. The girl was dressed in standard girls’ uniform, complete with blazer, yellow tie, khaki skirt, and what looked to be rainbow striped knee high socks, of which were encased within chunky Mary Janes. The girl’s ears were pierced with small, silver hoops all the way up the earlobe and shell, and there was a tiny nose stud in the left nostril. She was very pretty, but then again, there were so many pretty people in the school, it was a rarity to see someone of average looks.
She had wide, blue eyes that were thickly decorated with eyeliner and mascara, and she wore glittery rose lip gloss. She looked very friendly, if not very shy as she kept her chin ducked, her wide forehead bowed. Her hair was separated down the middle, clipped to the sides with little barrettes. She didn’t look like any of the other girls around here, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Can I sit here?” the girl asked, her voice clear and high.
“Is my name on it?” Felicia asked snottily, giving the girl her best Get-The-Fuck-Away-From-Me glare. The girl actually looked for a name, then shook her head. Annoyed, Felicia shrugged, and spread her things out before her once more. “Then you can.”
“Thanks.” The girl sat, propping her Hello Kitty purse on the table and rummaging through it. She withdrew a sucker from the small depths, and offered one in Felicia’s direction. The Native American looked at the offered candy, but shook her head. The girl shrugged, popping the sucker into her mouth after unwrapping it.
“My name’s Sylvia,” she said, turning to face Felicia, holding her hand out. “Sylvia Noventa. I’m in your Advanced Anatomy class tomorrow...”
“Yo,” Felicia muttered, ignoring the hand.
Sylvia stared at her for several bewildered seconds, then shrugged again, withdrawing her hand. She fiddled with the straps of her purse, then looked at her again. “You and Quatre Winner are really close, huh?”
“Eh. We’re not fuckin’, if’n that’s what you’re lookin’ for,” Felicia muttered.
“I wouldn’t think so. He has a boyfriend...” Sylvia laughed nervously, having heard the rumors.
“Hn.”
“So...I just moved her over the summer...from Reno. Nevada.”
“Groovin’ for you.”
“New Park’s really big. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to its size,” Sylvia again laughed nervously. Then she cleared her throat, seeing that the other girl was ignoring her. She sighed, hunching her shoulders as she fiddled with her sucker. She wondered why the girl was so...abrasive.
“So...what race are you? Are you Hispanic? Asian?”
“No.”
Sylvia waited for her to elaborate, but nothing came. Frowning, she fiddled with her hair, twirling one strand around on her finger. She took the time to admire the long, dark hair that was pulled up into a messy bun, the exotic features of the girl’s profile, the pretty diamond studs that decorated the delicate earlobes, and the way the other girl exuded Fuck-You vibes. Sylvia had always gravitated toward the more tougher girls of her school, simply because she felt safe with them once they allowed her past their defenses. They were often the most misunderstood ones, the insecure, the more fun. Sylvia wasn’t a bad girl–she barely managed to dare skipping curfew every once and awhile. She was more the type to try and keep her friends out of trouble when they went looking for it, and enjoyed it all the way through.
She wasn’t lesbian–she loved boys. And this school had a lot of them.
She had noticed the racial situation, and frankly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about who was colored or what. She wasn’t that judgmental. She had liked the way Quatre Winner interacted with the very few minorities that attended the school, and she especially liked the relationship that Felicia had with the guy. They were very open with each other, spastic, and often times, very obvious in their need to touch. Touch, touch, touch. She found them amusing while everyone else found them annoying. And when she watched Felicia in her more comfortable environment (with boys), she found that she wanted to befriend the girl, because really, when she watched her, Sylvia found it obvious that the girl was actually looking for more female interaction with others. But it was obvious that the females of the school looked down at the girl, simply because she was stand-offish to others, very brash and loud, and completely lacking in girlish routine.
And because Sylvia wasn’t the type to hang out with the cheerleaders/dance team members (ugh, too-faced and bubble brained), the jockettes (ew, lesbians), the geeks (er, don’t do fanclubs, thank you), the outcasts (don’t like the way she would have to smoke and ingest illegal substances just to look cool), and the strange (um, she doesn’t do depression very well), she wanted to hang out with someone that looked to be having fun every minute of the day, no matter what the subject at hand was, and Felicia was the one.
Plus, it would be so cool to hang out with a girl that knew every guy in the school without having to sleep with the lot of them to do so.
“So, um...those are pretty earrings,” Sylvia tried again, smiling.
Felicia looked at her once more, blinking. Finally, she turned, facing her. Sylvia wondered if she were able to get away with wearing boys’ clothing as well, because she really didn’t like the skirts that were required. It was rather...femmy.
“Are you lez?” Felicia then asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Because, really, I ain’t no damn dyke!”
“No! No, I’m not. I just...I just want to be friends with you,” Sylvia said.
“Why?”
“Huh?”
Felicia stared at her for long, several moments, then sighed, crossing her legs. “All right, which one are you into?” she then asked tiredly.
“W-what?”
“Is it Drake? I can get you his phone number, but–!”
“Ew, no!” Sylvia thought of the loud-mouthed Seminole that chain-smoked and shuddered in revulsion.
“Go? Go’s really shy, but–”
“No, I–!” GoDarun?! The guy couldn’t concentrate on a single sentence, let alone notice that someone liked him.
“William? Travis? Jake? Sean? Shane? Shawn? Aaron? Cody? Butch? Booby? Derrick? Mike? Winston? Darrell?...”
“No, no, no!” Sylvia shook her head as Felicia proceeded to name off almost every boy in their class. “No, I’m not looking for anyone’s phone number, or any such things. I just...I just want to get to know you. As a friend. I notice that you don’t have very many female friends, and I figure we might have a lot in common.”
Felicia raised the other eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “Really? What are you, dumb? Do you even know who I am?”
Sylvia frowned, picking at her nails. “No, I don’t think that I’m dumb...and I know who you are, but...I feel as if we have a lot in common...”
“You suck dick, too? Because that’s what everyone says that I do.”
“No, I don’t think that you do. You don’t seem the type to mess around with anyone..”
Felicia narrowed her eyes at the girl, tapping her pen on the table top. She turned away from her, muttering, “You’re freaking me out.”
“Why? Because someone wants to be friendly with you?” Sylvia asked, leaning on the table. “I don’t have any evil intent or purposes, Felicia. I just find you interesting, and I would like to get to know you as a friend.”
“Frankly, chick, you’re scary. What chick comes up to another chick and asks to be friends?”
“Not very many do this to you, don’t they?” Sylvia asked sadly, shaking her head.
“Now you feel pity for me?”
“NO! No, I don’t. I just...I think you’re a nice person, once you let someone in. I’m new here, and–”
“See, there’s your problem, girl. You’re new. You don’t know me. All the girls hate me, and I hate them. There’s no fine line between anything,” Felicia snapped, gathering her things and stuffing them into her backpack. “Leave me alone. Find your own way around some guy you want.”
“But–! But–!” Sylvia watched in frustration as the girl stomped off, looking rather irritated. Sighing, Sylvia dropped her shoulders and fiddled with her hair. “Damn it...I only want to be friends...”
A guy snorted nearby. “Good luck.”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Middie Une wasn’t having a very good day. Her short hair, having been...rudely rearranged last year due to a fight with Felicia Passage, had grown out to curl fashionably just below her chin, and she’d taken up wearing plain barrettes, rather than her usual Hello Kitty attire. She had completely changed her makeup routine, wearing longer lashes, dark eyeliner and lighter lipgloss. When she had come back this year, she was fully expecting a whole lot of different things–more class time with the popular kids, more cute boys and less competitive girls, and less of Quatre Winner with Trowa Barton. This year, she fully planned on getting those two separated, and when she’d heard the rumors that things were troubled in paradise (she kept hearing something about a kid from Sageville, but those rumors were currently unconfirmed), she hoped for the very best.
Even seeing them once more during the beginning of the week (eeek! Quatre’s fat!), she saw that they didn’t hang all over each other as they used to. Trowa was deadly gorgeous and perfect, and Middie had gone literally pale and still at the sight of him. Gorgeousness overload, as you will. And when she’d seen her most hated rival, she’d shrieked with laughter, clapping in delight. There was no way Trowa would want a fat cow hanging all over him, and it looked as if she had a chance.
Trowa didn’t make any efforts in touching Quatre, and whenever the blond tried making his own advances, Trowa would somehow slip away with a smooth move and an even smoother excuse. Middie was utterly delighted that things were going to be easy for her, and her plans had been given a major re-overhaul. She didn’t get very many classes with her usual gaggle of friends (no more gossiping with Relena Peacecraft and Duo Maxwell), but she got enough friends in her other classes to keep from being bored. Samantha Neilson, Perfect Cindy’s best friend and co-conspirator extraordinaire, happened to be in a few classes, and Middie caught up in her gossip with her.
There was a little strain between them, as Samantha was seriously getting tired of hearing her best friend whine and complain about her boyfriend not proposing to her, and while Middie could be there to comfort Samantha (“Oh, the fat bitch doesn’t have to be so annoyingly obvious!” “Of course he isn’t going to propose when she’s expecting it!”), she knew Samantha was just talking about her behind her back after each session. But that was the rule of the jungle, and Middie knew how to survive its tough, unforgiving ways.
This year, things would be different. She was sure of it. She would be able to snag Trowa (even if it were just a simple one-night stand–oh, God, please, please, please!), kick the admission in Quatre’s face, overcome Felicia Passage’s defensive bullying (please, like there isn’t something going on between those two if that stupid colored cow wasn’t constantly defending him) and eventually come out on top. She wasn’t looking to overcome the more popular girls in the school, just overcome enough obstacles to be respected in their eyes.
She’d dated their boys of choice, had risen to respectable ranks of high school popularity, and was just as easily one of the more beautiful girls in the school. She had it all and then some.
Shifting through the crowds between classes, ignoring the praising greetings from the more unpopular kids that were desperate for her attention, Middie made straight away toward Trowa Barton as he made his way down the hall (minus Quatre for once!), his hands tucked into his uniform pockets and truly beautifully proportionate body swaying with each step. She felt her face grow immensely red with pleasure and utter admirance as she quickened her step, reaching out to grab his blazer and jerk him to a stop.
But there was an interception! Another girl latched onto him with a small laugh of surprising musical quality, startling both Middie and Trowa in its abruptness.
“Good morning!” the girl sang, letting go of him and running to glomp another boy nearby.
Middie was stunned. Who the hell was that bitch? She didn’t recall ever seeing her!
There was bubbling laughter at her right, and she shifted her incredulous gaze from the girl disappearing down the hall, hugging every other boy, and looked at Felicia Passage, who was standing amid her usual group of guys.
“Ooh, shut down, ennit?” Felicia smirked as the boys looked at Middie, some with varying expressions of laughter and appreciation.
Middie glared at her, shifting her purse from one hand to the other as the bell rang, signaling the need for students to hurry up and get to their class before they were given tardy slips. Since no comment could come quickly enough to satisfy her, Middie huffed away, seeing that Trowa had long since escaped in that moment of distraction.
“Damn bitch,” she muttered as she made her way to her next class. “Both of them!”
She would find out who that girl was, the one that dared to hug her conquest. And once she did, she’d make damn sure that her reputation, no matter what the hell it was, was destroyed thoroughly by Middie’s conniving ways.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo Maxwell took the seat next to Hiiro in their shared Advanced French class, something that wasn’t important because he sure as hell wasn’t heading across the big pond to France, but because Hiiro had taken the class because of his aspirations in heading over for some European backpacking after school ended. He smiled in greeting at his friend, the guy giving an annoyed roll of his eyes as Relena kept talking at his side, gabbering on and on about something that had happened before school started.
“Yo, Relena,” Duo said in greeting as he leaned back in his chair and input his access code on the computer set in front of him. “How’s it going?”
“Not very well, thanks for asking,” Relena said, interrupting herself. “So, I heard you were running Cross Country this year!”
“No, by the time I wanted to take that chance, it was too late. They were already into their fifth run, and I figure, Next year,” Duo said, shaking his head. “But I want to go out for Track and Field.”
“Running?” Hiiro asked.
“The two mile, the baton-thingy...”
“You’re fast enough. You could do those things easily,” Relena commented, nodding. Her wheat colored blond hair was blunt cut in the bangs, swept casually aside, the longer bits of her hair pulled into a fashionable bun on the top of her head. She was pretty in a casual way, but not exceptionally pretty that made one look twice. Duo liked her as a separate person–just not a separate person with Hiiro. “You’ll do really well in that aspect, Duo.”
“Thanks, Relena. What about you?” Duo fought the tingle of electricity that shot down his arm when he reached out to hit Hiiro with the back of his hand.
Hiiro grunted, shrugging his shoulders as he looked through what looked to be a Sports Illustrated.
“I’m just playing basketball, this year.”
“Think we’ll make State, this time?” Duo asked, smiling as Relena was forgotten. “We almost made it last year! We have two more chances, counting this year!”
“Yeah...I suppose. I just hope this year goes better than last,” Hiiro muttered, frowning.
Duo know what, or whom, he was talking about. He shrugged a shoulder, looking away. “Maybe. Sally Po graduated last year, though. And I heard Hilde sayin’ she wasn’t going this year because Winner was such an ass to her...”
“Is he really a misogynist?” Relena interrupted their conversation, pausing in applying cherry flavored lipgloss to her thin lips.
“Dunno. Acts like he hates girls....”
“Whatever,” Hiiro butted in. “Whatever the case, I’m trying out no matter who’s there. I just hope we do better this year than last. I really want another chance at Duncan Jones...”
“Dude, seriously. And we need to whomp on Balkin Public to save face,” Duo groaned, hanging his head. He flicked his braid over his shoulder, sighing. “It was so embarrassing losing to them last year. I mean, they didn’t even do well. And we were ranked third in our division! How fuckin’ mortifying...”
“We’ll get it all back. Hopefully this year, there won’t be so much fuck-ups...Manny, Sally, Zechs and Tony aren’t going to be there, anymore,” Hiiro commented, naming off the seniors of their team last year.
“Nah, but I’m sure we’ll get along without them...Triton’s still here. He’s still hella cool...”
“That guy’s cool. He keeps fuckin’ Winner in line...”
“Yeah. Hautta’s not going to try out. His fuckin’ therapy’s keepin’ him from doing anything involving violence, and basketball’s been crossed off his list,” Duo said with a frown.
Hiiro shrugged. “He was good...what about Winnie?”
“Yeah, he’s playin’. We’re playing....we’ll just see who else is gonna show up...”
“The girls were good last year.”
“Yeah...just that they were just...I dunno. Dude, when you think about it, Winner messed up everything. I mean, him and the girls were always at each other’s throats, then it was like, he was fighting with us...” Duo sighed, hanging his shoulders. “I just hope things go better this year.”
“Why’s he so...heavy?”
“Huh? Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t notice anything.”
“He’s really chubby, now,” Relena butted in, finding her angle into the conversation. “I don’t know, I don’t think he’s fat, he’s just...more...more...”
“He’s fat, Hiiro,” Duo said, looking at the Japanese pointedly. “Relena’s just tryin’ to be nice about it.”
“He’s not fat, Duo. Just a little chubby. I heard he partied a lot with those stupid kids...”
“I heard that, too.”
“In any case,” Hiiro interrupted, not one to gossip, “This year should be good.”
“Yeah, hella good. We’ll get to State. Just you wait, ‘Ro!”
“Yeah...”
When the conversation trailed off then, Relena asked Hiiro something of non-importance to Duo, who turned away from his crush. Just being near Hiiro made him feel even more warm than usual, and the usual indifference he had to his and Relena’s relationship had bloomed into something bigger than annoyance. He hated the way Relena had to touch Hiiro every five seconds, whether it be laying her hand over Hiiro’s, touching her leg against his, or leaning her head against his shoulder. She seemed so damn needy, and Duo hated seeing that.
He wanted to be the one in Relena’s place.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
At lunch, Quatre stood in the center of the cafeteria, debating on whether or not to hit the long lines for either kitchen or lunch cart food, and while both had the best of options available, he kept thinking of how heavy he’d gotten. Frowning in disappointment, wanting Trowa to like him again, he turned away from the lines, ignoring the grumble of his tummy.
Oh, shut it, you fat turd, he thought to himself as he searched for someone to sit with, seeing that Trowa was no where in sight, and he figured that he wouldn’t be able to face him, anyway. He didn’t feel the same now that Trowa had confessed. Which was really want he wanted, but he’d never expected the resulting difficulty that he felt once getting himself to wonder what had gone on in Spain. He started walking for the outside, wondering if he should just get something to drink (a Coke or Pepsi sounded really good, considering that he’d skipped dinner last night and breakfast that morning as well). Pushing his way through the doors, ignoring the way his stomach growled venomously for something to eat, he saw that everyone had got it in their heads to have their lunch out in the nice, warm afternoon, and the smells of food wafted into the air.
What he should really be doing was exercise, but he didn’t have the energy for it just yet. He’d do some running after school, and actually looked forward to it. Physical activity was something he’d always enjoyed doing, and it was especially helpful in the terms of stress. Walking around the building, sighing heavily, he pursed his lips and looked for someone to talk to. He spotted Drake talking to Trowa, and turned abruptly, going in the other direction. It looked as if those two were exchanging money credits and plastic baggies full of bud, and he didn’t want that drama. It looked, though, that Trowa was relying more and more on that escape than anything else.
Feeling miserable that his relationship, so perfect (?) before, was falling into shambles, Quatre felt that awkward heaviness between his shoulder blades that signaled his unreleased stress. Adjusting his pack over his back, he made his way back the way he’d came, and headed for the soda machine. He thought that water would do him better, but what the hell? He was under stress. Let him have caffeine. He bought a bottle of Pepsi and headed his way toward the dormitory instead.
Along the way, though, he heard the approaching footsteps of someone behind him, so he paused in place, looking behind him to see who was coming. He expected Felicia, or Drake, or Go, or perhaps even a classmate that wanted to ask him something, but it was neither. Thinking about it now, he realized that he didn’t have very many friends–Trowa and the aforementioned were really the ones he truly talked to and considered friends. And that was sad on its own because currently, he and Trowa were having problems and the other three were always off doing something that Quatre didn’t care to get involved with anymore.
But, no, a girl from one of his classes was hurrying up to him, smiling brightly.
“Hi!” she greeted, fiddling with her bottle of Coke. “You’re all alone!”
“Um...yeah...” She had to be new. Every other girl hated him once they realized his personality.
“My name’s Sylvia. We have a couple of classes together,” she said, reaching out for a handshake.
Cautiously, he shook her head, recalling her talking to him that one day. “Oh, uh–”
“I know your name! So, what are you doing, all alone? Where’s your boyfriend?”
At that, Quatre felt depressed. “I dunno,” he muttered, turning and walking off.
Sylvia followed, looking concerned. “Oh, I’m sorry...I just touched on something sore, didn’t I? I really am sorry...Look. I have some candy. Want some?”
“NO.”
Sylvia jumped back at the growl, feeling as if she just escaped a snapping of teeth. Freezing in place, she watched as Quatre stalked off toward the dormitory, leaving her in the dust. Sighing, she dribbled some M&M’s into her palm and slapped them into her mouth. Figuring that she’d try and be friendly some other time, when he wasn’t sore over something between him and his boyfriend, Sylvia hurried off toward the cafeteria, to finish her search in finding Felicia Passage.