Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ (Sic) ( Chapter 8 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Hasn't anybody learned NOT to piss off Trowa Barton?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
Hasn't anybody learned NOT to piss off Trowa Barton?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
Chapter Eight~
“(sic)” Slipknot
It was nearly a week since Trowa had confessed, and things hadn’t changed since then. Despite their want to work things out and over, the tension was truly unbearable between the both of them. And thus, they had begun to spend less and less time together, choosing their other crowds to hang out with. Words unspoken, glances turning into lowered stares of disappointment at their respective shoes, they hadn’t yet begun the process to soothe things over.
Quatre couldn’t look at Trowa without hating himself, and Trowa couldn’t look at Quatre without loathing his own bad choices. And so, things were definitely not going well between them, and they’d taken comfort in other activities. For Trowa, that meant more time spent under the influence.
Drake finished putting together the line of Gin-Gin that Trowa agreed to share with him, and then picked up the rolled dollar bill to complete the process. The mixture, undetectable by conventional standards, was designed to give the user a very active high while also maintaining coherent brain processing. It commonly sped up metabolism, giving a user a constant adrenaline race, and heightened the senses tenfold. While some experienced users grew extra paranoid and down feelings became amplified, the high was worth the side effects. The high commonly lasted over six hours, in which time, the down that followed was nothing more than a dry throat and slight headache.
The pair were sitting behind the school near the teacher’s parking lot, and Drake Bellows knew that Trowa was depressed over something, and had proposed the line in order to cheer him up. Personally, he could give a rat’s ass about homosexual relationships, but he liked Trowa enough to look beyond that aspect. He knew that he and Quatre were having some kind of problems, and it was obvious whenever people saw the two together. The strain was very obvious between them, and the rumor mill had given the suggestion that it had something to do with some guy from Sageville.
Drake had thought Justin was cool, but he never guessed that he and Quatre were messing around. The two were so eerily alike when they were partying, t hat Drake had thought they were just good friends. But someone from Darken had seen otherwise and had let their friends know, and from there, it had just spread. Drake looked at Trowa now, wondering if that was the case, and if he should intervene or something. But then again, he didn’t know. Felicia did. And if he said something...fuck. It would just fuck something up even more, and he didn’t want to be caught in the middle.
He finished his half of the line, wincing at the burning sensation in his nostrils, then passed the dollar bill to Trowa, who finished the other half. After recovering from the burn, Drake wiped his eyes and sat back against the wall, gathering their evidence up and putting it away.
“So...what’s been up, man?” he asked conversationally, starting to cough as he yearned for a cig.
Trowa shrugged, pressing on the bridge of his nose, willing away the hot burning sensation that tickled his nose. In no time, his mind was whirling with thoughts that seemed to register much faster than normal. His feelings about the current situation were amplified, but he could see clearly the lines in which the situation could be fixed, or sent straight to disaster. “Not much. You?”
“You an’ Quat not together, anymore?”
“Probably not.”
Drake rose his eyebrows, blinking repeatedly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah...”
“Why? You two were like...really tight.”
Trowa shrugged, fiddling with the ends of his blazer. “Dunno. Things just change, I suppose.”
Drake snorted, and instantly regretted the action. He hocked up a loogie and spit across the sidewalk. “Cuz he gained weight, ennit?”
“A little. He just doesn’t look the same...”
Drake sighed. He, for one, wasn’t for the chubby or hefty, but he felt that it was wrong for Trowa to base a breakup simply on that. He really noticed no difference in Quatre’s appearance, except that he needed a haircut, but that was a fucked up reason to just drop a year long relationship.
“That’s messed up, man. I mean, shit. You guys were together for a long time. I think it’s fucked up to drop somethin’ that’s lasted like yours...”
“It’s not only that, and I feel stupid now, for even letting the weight issue bother me, but...sometimes that’s just how it is. I feel like a total monster about it, but what can you do? And it isn’t just that...”
Trowa trailed off, hanging his head.
Drake waited, and in the meantime, made up his own scenarios. He hit Trowa’s arm. “You ain’t thinkin’ that Felicia’s fuckin’ around with him again, are you?”
“No. See, what happened was–”
“Dude, don’t even fuckin’ worry about it,” Drake said in disgust, waving his hand around. “Man, it wasn’t like him and Justin were like, fuckin’. Don’t even believe what those motherfuckers say, all right?”
Shaking his head, Drake took out a cigarette from the battered pack he had in his backpack, lighting it. Blowing smoke around the cancerstick, he replaced his silver propane fueled lighter and rolled his eyes at the drama. Trowa was staring at him.
“Who’s Justin?”
Drake paused, blinking as he withdrew the cigarette. Something in the tone and in the expression made him realize that he’d just fucked up. That what he said was supposed to be secret. And now that he thought about it, Felicia had made it definite that Drake not tell Trowa about Justin in any situation, need or gesture. Which, in turn, would make him an accomplice in crime because he was covering for Quatre. And in turn, Trowa would be pissed at him for hiding something like this from him when they were supposed to be friends. Thinking fast, not wanting to be involved in this bullshit drama, Drake shook his head.
“Kids around the school are sayin’ that Quat was messin’ around with some guy from Sageville. It wasn’t true. Quat was with me and Leash all that time. Leash most of the time. And he didn’t hang around with anybody. Dude, they’re probably just talkin’ shit cuz that one girl wants you, and she–”
“What were you guys doing? What do you mean, ‘with you and Leash’? He doesn’t party.”
Drake found his throat grow tight as he realized he was digging deeper and deeper into something that shouldn’t have even left his mouth. But, hell, it wasn’t like he was Quatre’s keeper, anyway. Frowning, he took a few puffs while Trowa stared at him angrily, mind working furiously.
“He was out with us a few times. Didn’t mean anythin’, though. He wanted to see us play.”
“And who’s this ‘Justin’?”
“I just told you! He’s this fucker from Sageville!”
“And why are they saying shit like that? Quatre never told me about him!”
“Probably because he ain’t important! Kids are just talkin’ shit!” Drake insisted as Trowa rose from the ground, brushing himself off. “An’ anyways, it ain’t like you fuckin’ care, right? You’re the one all hatin’ on his being, fuckin’, tubby. What the fuck do you care?”
Trowa frowned at this, realizing that he did. He’d never heard any such rumors, and the way Drake was trying to cover himself was pretty obvious. Quatre mentioned nothing of partying, or going out at any time, and Drake and Felicia were big-time partiers, and–! And why would kids be talking about this Justin from Sageville if there wasn’t anything going on? Something told him that Quatre was hiding something from him, that he wasn’t the only one at fault in their relationship. He had to get to the bottom of this. Now.
Stalking away from Drake, who muttered obscenities underneath his breath as he quickly took out his cell phone, Trowa went in search of Quatre.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia heard the ringing of her cellphone, pausing Quatre’s tirade about being hungry and picked it up. He’d come to her for help in getting him skinny again, and she had proposed the usual girls’ method of losing weight–starving one’s self. Unfortunately, the only side effects consisted of being hungry continuously throughout the entire time. Otherwise, they even went out to the track and she walked and talked on her phone while he huffed and puffed his way through four or five laps. He was still in good shape–just a little overwhelmed.
Frankly, she thought Trowa was stupid–Quatre would always be cute, fat or skinny. And personally, while she had liked him being skinny, she liked him better this way. There was so much to hug! And anyways, he wasn’t even fat! People just over exaggerated on that aspect. Sure, he went up a couple of sizes, but hell, who doesn’t?! He wasn’t fat! Just pleasantly chubby!
“Meet and Greet Escort Service! How may I service you?” she answered, picking at her nails.
“Leash! I fucked up! I told Trowa about Justin!!” Drake’s panicked voice was heard by Quatre, who was sitting next to her. The pair were sitting at a stone bench underneath an oak tree on campus, a distance away from the cafeteria entrance doors on the school’s west side. From their position, they could easily see who was coming in and out of the double doors, and who was sitting where on the immaculately groomed lawn of the campus.
His eyes widened considerably as Felicia gave a strangled gasping sound. She looked at Quatre, who looked at her in terror.
“What’d you say?!” she then demanded as Quatre looked around them, looking for Trowa.
“I just said kids were talkin’ about him an’ Justin! Nothin’ else, cuz I don’t know about anythin’ else!”
“Great, great, then we can still do damage control,” Felicia muttered, chewing at her thumbnail. “You fuckin’ dick! I paid you to keep quiet about that! Gimme back my five dollars!!”
“‘Five dollars’?!” Quatre shouted in disgust.
“I’m sorry! It totally slipped! And he’s fuckin’ high on the double G, too!”
“Drake, you fuckin’ fuck! You stupid impotent dick! Ragh!” Felicia hung up her phone and clung to Quatre maniacally. “We can still save you! Just tell him this...”
“It’s bad enough he fucked around on me!” Quatre gasped, hands on his face. “If he really knows about Justin–! We’ll never be saved!”
“All right all right all right all right! Listen! Just...listen!” Felicia took a deep breath, gripping his shoulders. “Justin was just a friend, all right? And we’ll just mention that Middie was involved, y’know, tryin’ to get the rumor around that you were fuckin’ around on Trowa. Er...you and Justin didn’t...?”
“NO! Dude, I told you about Mr. Ogre!!”
“Oh! Oh! Anyway, just say that you were just friends, and nothin’ else. And that whatever people saw was wrong. Because, really, if’n you think of it like that, that’s how it was, right?!”
“Yes! That’s how it was! We didn’t even do anything until that last morning! And even then–!”
“Good! Good! Just...and I’ll cover for you, all right? Just mention the basics–oh, yeah, we were partying, I met this guy, yadda, yadda, yadda, he wasn’t gay, we are just strictly friends. Got it?”
Worried that Trowa would absolutely see through him, Quatre chewed at his nails, clinging to her tie with a tight grip. The pair of them stared around the campus, especially eyeing the cafeteria doors.
“If he finds out, Felicia, we’re done,” he moaned, feeling his heart sink to his stomach. “I don’t want to lose him! I just want to get over this fucked up shit with him and that woman, and–!”
“I know, I know! He’s not going to, buddy. Never! I will take this secret to the grave!” She then paused, blinking. “Wait a minute...you never mentioned that he was with a woman...”
“God...God, I should have never–!”
“There’s no time for that! Maybe we can stall him,” Felicia said, tugging her tie away from his grip and running off.
“FELICIA! Don’t leave me here all alone!!” Quatre shouted after her as she sprinted for the cafeteria. Whimpering, drawing his knees up to his chest, he scanned the campus for the tall figure of his boyfriend, heart beating quickly. He wondered what had made Drake say such a thing when he’d promised Felicia that he wouldn’t say anything about Justin!!
Unless, someone else had told Trowa about Justin, and he’d asked Drake...he hadn’t heard any of the rumors circulating, so it just must be a select few that were talking about it, and he knew he and Justin hadn’t exactly done anything in front of people, anyway! But there was always someone who knew somebody that had seen something.
Then his heart stilled at the sight of Trowa stalking out the cafeteria doors, looking absolutely furious. Wanting to hide from the pissed off guy, Quatre covered his noticeable hair with his blazer and tried to think ‘tiny’ thoughts. Trowa started moving in his direction, looking at everyone when the doors opened behind him, and Middie was running after him, shouting in joy. Trowa turned once he was glomped from behind by the annoying girl, and Quatre felt that urge to quickly get out of sight. He abandoned his things and made a run for it toward the dormitory, seeing that Trowa was too occupied by the girl to even look up.
Huffing and puffing, Quatre made it to the dormitory, but knew that he couldn’t hide there for long. Hell, he had at least one afternoon class with him, but if he were given enough time to come up with a viable story about Justin–! He raced around the dormitory building and headed toward the garage, where some kids left to either smoke or hide in their cars for personal things. He burst into the first level of the garage, stumbling over a rail. Picking himself up, he ran off and hid between a gray Mazda and a Ford with butterflies on the side.
Gasping for breath, glad that he’d at least began his running routine a week earlier, he pressed himself against the tire and rested his hands on top of his head. This was going to be so fucked up! He didn’t want Trowa knowing about Justin! Trowa was so insecure, so jealous–! Nothing that Quatre could do afterward would even try and fix things between them!
His cell rang, then, and he looked at the window before answering.
“You safe?! My distraction worked just long enough for you to get away!” Felicia practically yelled.
“Yes, thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’m hiding in the parking garage!”
Felicia burst into maniacal laughter. “My GOD! If you get caught–! Listen, we can fix this, all right? We just need to stall him until you and I can come up with a real good story!”
“I have him in my last class of the day!”
“Oh my God, okay, okay–! Look, we’ll work it out in Anatomy, all right?”
“‘K. How am I going to get to class?! I left my things with yours!”
“I’ll grab them. If he gets to me, I’ll just tell him that you had to go take a shit, all right?”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem! See ya in class, all right?!”
Quatre hung up the phone, setting it back into his blazer pocket. Exhaling heavily, he pulled his knees up to his chest and hoped for the best.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Sylvia saw the two huddling at the back table during their class, and made a beeline in that direction. Hopefully things went better this time around, because she truly wanted to be their friend. They were so active, so busy, never in the process of being bored. While she was nervous about approaching them for this reason, she had to try anyway.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted as she took a chair next to them, startling them out of their whispering conversation.
Both of them blinked at her as she unwrapped a sucker and popped it in her mouth. She offered one in their direction, and Felicia recovered quickly, taking one.
“Here. This has, like, five calories or something in it,” she said, passing it to Quatre, who took it gratefully.
“Are you on a diet?” Sylvia asked, blinking.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing so far?”
“Well, I try and run at least a mile and a half every day, and then I totally cut back on my meals–”
“Basically stopped eating, in other words,” Felicia cut in, looking at Sylvia in annoyance. “Got any other suggestions? He really needs to get laid.”
“Felicia!!” Quatre griped in mortification, looking at the unknown girl.
Sylvia giggled. “Look, another way to lose weight is to drink a lot of Diet Coke and eat only an apple, three crackers, and three slices of cheese. And you need to run more than that. What about sit-ups, push-ups?”
“He can do those. Dude, you can do those, right?”
“I don’t like Diet Coke...”
“Diet Coke is, like, a natural laxative. It makes you go constantly, and thus, you lose weight,” Sylvia said, smiling.
“Drink Diet Coke, Quat!”
“No! I don’t like it!”
“How much weight do you want to lose, anyway?” Sylvia asked.
“About twenty pounds. That’s what I packed on.”
“I don’t think you’re fat,” Sylvia said, frowning.
“He’s not, huh?” Felicia agreed, glad to know another soul that thought so.
“No.” Sylvia nodded repeatedly to prove her point.
“Quat, just drop the loser,” Felicia then demanded.
“I love him!”
“If he doesn’t love you for who you are, then why even bother? You’re just going to spend your time trying to make him happy, and you’d only end up making the both of you miserable...” Sylvia said.
Quatre sighed, not liking it when it was put that way. He groaned, hanging his head as he mauled the grape flavored sucker. Felicia looked at Sylvia, nodding in agreement. Sylvia, seeing that she had her foot in the door, smiled brightly.
“Quat, do you seriously want to fix things with the Tro-man?” Felicia then demanded. “Because if so–this thing with Justin can be the thing that breaks it all!”
“No. NO, I want to fix things! I want to fix things! They were so good before, and...I can’t just give up, Felicia...I just can’t...”
Felicia shrugged. “Whatever, then. So, anyway, what are you going to do when you see him?”
“Act normal.”
“And?”
“Don’t say anything until he does.”
“And if he asks about Justin?”
“Who’s Justin?” Sylvia asked curiously, receiving a hand in her face from Felicia.
“Tell him he was just some dude that partied with us.”
“And if Trowa makes a big deal about it?!”
“Remind him of his own cheating–! NO! Then, it’ll be like, I’m admitting it for my own crime!”
“Just let Trowa know that his insecurity is taking things all wrong, and that if he truly did love and care for you, he would have trusted you,” Sylvia suggested, earning a pair of stares in her direction. “If he’s so intensely focused on his own mess-up, then that would drag him down faster than this one of your own.”
“Ooh..she’s good,” Felicia muttered, nudging Quatre’s arm.
“And if he doesn’t? If he’s more focused on that...?” Quatre pressed.
“Then, it’s obvious the relationship is over with. If he’s more than willing to concentrate on whatever wrong that you either did or didn’t, then he’s looking for someone else to blame, and therefore placing all your troubles on what you did without trying to admit what he did was the deciding factor in your problem.” Sylvia gulped for breath.
Quatre thought about this for a few moments, then nodded. “All right. Then...then it all depends on that...”
“Yop.”
“But I don’t want to lose him, Felicia!”
Felicia sighed, slouching forward. Sometimes, the things Quatre decided to be stubborn on was truly taxing...
“Quat...you have to admit it...if things don’t work...you both don’t work and never will. Sometimes, there’s just a point in which you have to admit that you gotta give up.”
“No...no giving up...” Quatre murmured, turning away to eye his mauled sucker.
Sylvia frowned, eyeing them both. She took a deep breath, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. Then she exhaled, thinking furiously. When Quatre’s cell phone rang, Felicia snagged it before the teacher could hear it and before Quatre could react. She turned the ringer off and gestured that it was Trowa. Quatre took it from her before she could react and answered it, ducking low in his seat to avoid being caught by the teacher. Frowning, Felicia listened to the one-sided conversation. Apparently, Trowa was trying to get him to take a bathroom break, and Quatre didn’t want to.
Finally, he hung up and rose from his chair, passing her the phone. Felicia caught the phone and hissed at him not to go, but he walked determinedly to the front to ask the teacher to let him go for a bathroom break. The teacher nodded him off, and both Felicia and Sylvia watched as Quatre left the room.
“Dude, he’s gonna die,” Felicia muttered, tapping the BlackBerry against her chin. Then she shrugged, rummaging through the various numbers he had on his phone. She found that he had not yet erased Justin’s (Mr. Ogre as depicted in the address book) number from the information he carried around, and snooping through the past calls, Mr. Ogre called repeatedly. Being the true friend that she was, she erased all evidence, leaving his name in the address book just because.
“Think he’ll be okay?” Sylvia asked worriedly. “He seems so depressed.”
“Yeah, but he and Trowa have tons of drama to go through all the time. If it ain’t one thing, it’s fuckin’ another,” Felicia grumbled. “Frankly, I’d rather them break up so I could have Quat all to myself.”
Sylvia stared at her, wondering what she meant by that.
Felicia looked at her. “As per rumors.”
“Ooh,” Sylvia breathed in understanding. She licked her lips nervously. “I’ve never seen them happy together...”
“Oh, yeah, when things are goin’ great, it’s all Kodak moment. Y’know? So sickeningly perfect it makes one gag?” Felicia rolled her eyes. “Except, like, they ain’t your average love-bug pair. Quatre likes hitting him, Trowa likes being hit, they both goad each other in a lotta shit, and...they fuck a lot. A LOT. The only thing that bothers me about the entire thing is that they don’t let me watch. They’re very selfish in that aspect.”
Sylvia laughed. “I’m sure that’s a really yummy thing to see, huh? They’re both really cute!”
“They are, huh? Trowa’s a hot GOD. Quatre’s just a yummy piece of ass.”
“They’d look so hot in bed...Trowa’s all manly and Quatre would be all womanly and submissive...”
“Yeah. ‘Oh, Trowa! Don’t put it there!’” Felicia tried to capture Quatre’s tenor, looking helpless while Sylvia reared on her threateningly.
“‘It’ll only hurt a second, now bend that ass to me!’”
They laughed while the other kids nearest them stared at them crazily.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre took a deep breath before approaching the restrooms located near the cafeteria, knowing that Trowa was waiting within. Hopelessly panicked for a few seconds, his hand reached for the handle of the door, his brain racing for excuses, explanations, apologies, and food. The last thought made him wince, touching his stomach, wanting real food, not a sugary sweet sucker. Fingers trembling before the handle, he considered just turning around and racing off, but then again, that would seem very suspicious to Trowa.
He took another deep breath then grasped the handle, engaging it and pushing it inward. He smelled cigarette smoke as he walked into the tiled restroom, and walked around a half wall to see that Trowa was sitting in one of the stalls, smoking.
Trowa killed the cancer stick as Quatre’s heart raced and pounded with panic and self-doubt. He knew without having to ask that Trowa was under the influence of something, and it made him uneasy. The marijuana effects he would be fine with, considering that they made Trowa a little sluggish and mentally dumb, but this stuff? It made Trowa fidget with more energy than he could deal with, his eyes dilated with abnormal design, his every move sharp and jerky. Quatre gulped, trying to remember what Drake had meant by the Double G.
“You wanted to talk to me?” His voice sounded so small and timid that he cleared his throat and assumed his assertive stance–hands on hips, head held high, stomach sucked in slightly.
When Trowa rose from the closed toilet lid, he looked unnaturally powerful. “Who’s Justin?” was his first question.
I can do this! Quatre thought determinedly as he frowned. “This guy that hung around with us.”
“You never told me you partied.”
“It wasn’t anything special, or anything of importance. I still passed summer school. What’s this all about, Trowa?”
Trowa frowned, not liking the way Quatre sounded so defensive. “Why didn’t you ever mention that? It sounds like you were trying to hide something from me...”
“I wasn’t...Trowa, what are you trying to get at?”
Trowa shrugged one shoulder, lower lip being sucked between his teeth, then chewed on thoughtfully by said teeth. After that, his jaw was moving from side to side, considering the details that were being left unsaid. The unusual mouth movements had Quatre staring up at him in disgust, and he dropped his hands from his sides.
“What are you on?” he demanded.
“None of your fucking business. I’m on nothing. I’m just wondering why you have never mentioned this guy to me, or the fact that you’re lying about everything.”
“I’m not lying!” Quatre exclaimed, but his face grew bright red by his lie. “I’m not! Why would I lie to you, Trowa?! I love you! I would never do that to you!”
“You’re lying,” Trowa said, shortly. “You always turn red when you’re lying!”
“I don’t! And I’m not lying!”
“What did you do with this guy, huh? All the while you were telling me fucking garbage, here you are, fucking around with someone else!”
“I wasn’t, Trowa! I never fucked anybody!” Which was the truth, considering...
“Fucking liar! You had me all worked up for fucking around with someone else, and here you are, fucking lying to me about being with someone else!” Trowa roared, and Quatre didn’t know why, but he took a couple of steps back. There was just something wrong about Trowa’s actions, and he felt suddenly scared. That face that he so loved was taking on a similar expression that his father’s had that night over Christmas Break, when he’d confronted Quatre back in Laramie. And this situation wasn’t right...he was scared. Trowa didn’t act this way, and whatever he’d used was changing him into something different. This was different from the times when they found themselves fighting over something, because that whatever Trowa had taken was shifting this somewhere else.
He shook his head. “I can’t talk to you while you’re on something, Trowa. You’re taking things out of proportion–!”
“What am I taking out of proportion, Quatre?! You fucking cheated on me, and you’re denying it to save your own ass!”
“I didn’t!”
“Just fucking admit it!”
“I didn’t do anything...”
“Liar. You fucking liar.”
“Stop it, Trowa. Stop! You’re not yourself! Whatever you took, it’s messing you up!”
“Fuck you.”
Quatre quieted, fiddling with his hands and looking away from the person that resembled the person he loved, but wasn’t. He hated drugs! He hated what they did! Why did Trowa feel he had to take them! He was so out of character that it make Quatre sick. He wasn’t sure how to act or what to say to keep Trowa from throwing a fit, and he knew he could handle his own in a fight, but he didn’t want to fight his boyfriend over something incredibly stupid as this.
He had to get away, let Trowa calm down a little, even if that incriminated him to his own fault. He held up his hands. “Look...we can talk about this later, all right? Adams has me timed. I need to get back to class.”
“You’re not going anywhere until we figure this shit out.”
“I don’t want to get into trouble! You’re going to get into trouble, too, if you don’t go back to class!”
“Fuck them. This is more important. If our relationship was so important to you, you wouldn’t care about getting into trouble, either, Quatre.”
Quatre frowned. Their relationship was important. But this situation was bad. He eyed the door behind Trowa, wondering how he could get to it without having to come to unnecessary measures to do so. He stared up at the too wide pupils, the furious face, the incredibly tense shoulders and balled fists. He hated drugs. There was no way in Hell someone was going to make him take it to merely‘experiment’, no matter what it was. Look at what they did to his boyfriend. They made him into a complete stranger. Like they needed this crap now, when things were already so fragile.
“Our relationship is important, Trowa,” he said quietly, inching toward the wall in an effort to slide right by and make a run for it. “And I do want to fix things, and forget what bad there is. I want to make this all right, again. But there was nothing between Justin and I, and...I think your insecurity is overrunning your rational thought. Along with that shit you took.”
“Fuck that bullshit, Quatre!”
He winced at the abnormal pitch that had been taken with the rising shout. He definitely wanted out and now.
“Look, I won’t get mad if you just confess, all right? Just...just tell me the truth, all right? That’s all I want. All I want is the truth. Is that so hard to ask for?! If you didn’t do anything with that guy, then you would have said something in passing, or-or just let me know!” Trowa continued, gesturing wildly with his hands.
Quatre quickly ran for the door, but his blazer was caught by a pair of strong hands, and he was hauled bodily back into the bathroom. A brief struggle ensued as he tried desperately to get out of the angry grip that ensnared his blazer, and things just escalated from there. Wild fear at this different person had him kicking one inside ankle, and suddenly he was being punched across the back of his head. He turned, whirling out of his blazer and threw a punch at the darkened face above him. He then turned and ran again, but the door opened, nearly hitting him as someone waltzed in.
Triton looked at him in confusion as Trowa came to a stop behind Quatre, and the immediate tension was glaringly obvious. Triton blinked as he stepped aside, practically suffocating in the tension that clung to the very air. Quatre then made his way out from the bathroom without another thought, and Triton registered Trowa’s wild state and looked at him in disgust.
Trowa shoved past him, dropping Quatre’s blazer just inside the doorway, and Triton followed him out of the bathroom to make sure that nothing more was happening. Trowa left through the side doors of the cafeteria, heading away from the school, and he heard the ringing footsteps that were heading through the far hall, toward the classrooms. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief, picking up the abandoned blazer. The tension was still lingering, and he couldn’t imagine what the hell was going on, but it couldn’t have been that bad...
Shrugging, feeling uneasy about what he’d interrupted, he turned and entered the bathroom to continue on with his business. He’d figure it all out later.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Drake was putting his things away in his bag, to catch a ride to town when someone knocked at his door. Well, his and his roommates’. His roommate, some jock named Aaron, looked him, gesturing that he answer the door because he was busy. Drake left his bag, moving over to answer it. Felicia hurried in, looking intensely furious. When she saw Aaron, she made a gesture with her head in the direction of the door, and Drake took one look at the serious expression and grabbed his things. Without another word, the pair filed out from the room.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sliding his pack on over his back.
“Trowa was on Double G, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it a bad batch?”
Drake stilled as Felicia asked, looking at him intently. “Why? Did he get fucked up?”
“Dude! He fuckin’ attacked Quat in the bathroom! That motherfucker tried beating him up!”
Drake went white, feeling sick. “We only had half a line!”
Felicia licked her lips nervously, looking around them. No one was close enough to hear what was being said, and she certainly didn’t want people finding out what had happened. It made her sick to know that Trowa would resort to such things, but he had been taking more drugs than normal...she knew what they did to people, but just to think that Trowa would actually try and hurt his boyfriend while under the influence? Suddenly, the situation was serious, and she didn’t like it. High school was meant to be fun and games. Not something like this. This didn’t happen at Darken. Well, she was sure it did, but not to them.
“Do you know what he had earlier?”
“No...but he had just bought some bud from me, earlier. That wouldn’t fuck him up–but then again, he was buying shit from Delson, too.”
“Dude...this is...I don’t want things this way, Drake. Don’t do shit with him, anymore. Quat’s fuckin’ freaked out, man! Trowa’s never acted that way before!”
“Why was he freakin’ out?”
“DUH! Trowa’s pissed about Justin! Thanks a lot, loud mouth!”
“I SAID I was fuckin’ SORRY! It just slipped out! We don’t talk about that kind of shit, Leash!”
“Well...shit...just don’t do anything with him anymore, all right? Trowa’s still fuckin’ wired as shit. I think he was leaving campus for the city.” Felicia frowned harder, curling her fists at her side. “Is that a half batch you got? Or more?”
“It’s the fuckin’ usual, man. If he’s fucked up, it’s cuz of his own fault. He might have taken somethin’ else before it,” Drake said, shrugging, feeling entirely bad because he’d been the one to suggest a line with him. He wanted to apologize to Quatre, but didn’t know how to go about it. “Where’s Quat?”
“Hiding.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah. It just scared him more than anything...He’s never dealt with that shit, before, Drake. You gotta remember, the guy’s a small town hick. He can’t handle this shit like the rest of us!”
“Is he with someone?”
“No. Just...hiding.” Felicia then gave a sardonic snort. “Triton actually stopped things.”
“Not-uh. That stalker?”
“Yeah. He walked in, but I don’t think he knew what was happening. Thank God he stalks Quat, ennit?”
“Yeah, I s’ppose...look, I’m really sorry, all right? I didn’t know Trowa was wired from before. If I see him...I’ll fuckin’ exchange words, all right? Damn...I feel fuckin’ bad that this shit happened. It’s all my fuckin’ fault,” Drake grumbled, turning and walking for the stairway.
“It’s not your fault!” Felicia called after him, then sighed when the boy left her sight. She felt bad for her friends, all three of them. She knew Trowa would have never done that or gone that far if he were clean. But the drugs...the drugs fucked a person up, messed up their thinking. Trowa, once he came down, would feel incredibly bad about the whole situation, and their relationship suddenly seemed rockier than before. She wondered if they were strong enough to master their way through it. On one level, she really hoped so.
On another...it would probably be for the best....
“(sic)” Slipknot
It was nearly a week since Trowa had confessed, and things hadn’t changed since then. Despite their want to work things out and over, the tension was truly unbearable between the both of them. And thus, they had begun to spend less and less time together, choosing their other crowds to hang out with. Words unspoken, glances turning into lowered stares of disappointment at their respective shoes, they hadn’t yet begun the process to soothe things over.
Quatre couldn’t look at Trowa without hating himself, and Trowa couldn’t look at Quatre without loathing his own bad choices. And so, things were definitely not going well between them, and they’d taken comfort in other activities. For Trowa, that meant more time spent under the influence.
Drake finished putting together the line of Gin-Gin that Trowa agreed to share with him, and then picked up the rolled dollar bill to complete the process. The mixture, undetectable by conventional standards, was designed to give the user a very active high while also maintaining coherent brain processing. It commonly sped up metabolism, giving a user a constant adrenaline race, and heightened the senses tenfold. While some experienced users grew extra paranoid and down feelings became amplified, the high was worth the side effects. The high commonly lasted over six hours, in which time, the down that followed was nothing more than a dry throat and slight headache.
The pair were sitting behind the school near the teacher’s parking lot, and Drake Bellows knew that Trowa was depressed over something, and had proposed the line in order to cheer him up. Personally, he could give a rat’s ass about homosexual relationships, but he liked Trowa enough to look beyond that aspect. He knew that he and Quatre were having some kind of problems, and it was obvious whenever people saw the two together. The strain was very obvious between them, and the rumor mill had given the suggestion that it had something to do with some guy from Sageville.
Drake had thought Justin was cool, but he never guessed that he and Quatre were messing around. The two were so eerily alike when they were partying, t hat Drake had thought they were just good friends. But someone from Darken had seen otherwise and had let their friends know, and from there, it had just spread. Drake looked at Trowa now, wondering if that was the case, and if he should intervene or something. But then again, he didn’t know. Felicia did. And if he said something...fuck. It would just fuck something up even more, and he didn’t want to be caught in the middle.
He finished his half of the line, wincing at the burning sensation in his nostrils, then passed the dollar bill to Trowa, who finished the other half. After recovering from the burn, Drake wiped his eyes and sat back against the wall, gathering their evidence up and putting it away.
“So...what’s been up, man?” he asked conversationally, starting to cough as he yearned for a cig.
Trowa shrugged, pressing on the bridge of his nose, willing away the hot burning sensation that tickled his nose. In no time, his mind was whirling with thoughts that seemed to register much faster than normal. His feelings about the current situation were amplified, but he could see clearly the lines in which the situation could be fixed, or sent straight to disaster. “Not much. You?”
“You an’ Quat not together, anymore?”
“Probably not.”
Drake rose his eyebrows, blinking repeatedly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah...”
“Why? You two were like...really tight.”
Trowa shrugged, fiddling with the ends of his blazer. “Dunno. Things just change, I suppose.”
Drake snorted, and instantly regretted the action. He hocked up a loogie and spit across the sidewalk. “Cuz he gained weight, ennit?”
“A little. He just doesn’t look the same...”
Drake sighed. He, for one, wasn’t for the chubby or hefty, but he felt that it was wrong for Trowa to base a breakup simply on that. He really noticed no difference in Quatre’s appearance, except that he needed a haircut, but that was a fucked up reason to just drop a year long relationship.
“That’s messed up, man. I mean, shit. You guys were together for a long time. I think it’s fucked up to drop somethin’ that’s lasted like yours...”
“It’s not only that, and I feel stupid now, for even letting the weight issue bother me, but...sometimes that’s just how it is. I feel like a total monster about it, but what can you do? And it isn’t just that...”
Trowa trailed off, hanging his head.
Drake waited, and in the meantime, made up his own scenarios. He hit Trowa’s arm. “You ain’t thinkin’ that Felicia’s fuckin’ around with him again, are you?”
“No. See, what happened was–”
“Dude, don’t even fuckin’ worry about it,” Drake said in disgust, waving his hand around. “Man, it wasn’t like him and Justin were like, fuckin’. Don’t even believe what those motherfuckers say, all right?”
Shaking his head, Drake took out a cigarette from the battered pack he had in his backpack, lighting it. Blowing smoke around the cancerstick, he replaced his silver propane fueled lighter and rolled his eyes at the drama. Trowa was staring at him.
“Who’s Justin?”
Drake paused, blinking as he withdrew the cigarette. Something in the tone and in the expression made him realize that he’d just fucked up. That what he said was supposed to be secret. And now that he thought about it, Felicia had made it definite that Drake not tell Trowa about Justin in any situation, need or gesture. Which, in turn, would make him an accomplice in crime because he was covering for Quatre. And in turn, Trowa would be pissed at him for hiding something like this from him when they were supposed to be friends. Thinking fast, not wanting to be involved in this bullshit drama, Drake shook his head.
“Kids around the school are sayin’ that Quat was messin’ around with some guy from Sageville. It wasn’t true. Quat was with me and Leash all that time. Leash most of the time. And he didn’t hang around with anybody. Dude, they’re probably just talkin’ shit cuz that one girl wants you, and she–”
“What were you guys doing? What do you mean, ‘with you and Leash’? He doesn’t party.”
Drake found his throat grow tight as he realized he was digging deeper and deeper into something that shouldn’t have even left his mouth. But, hell, it wasn’t like he was Quatre’s keeper, anyway. Frowning, he took a few puffs while Trowa stared at him angrily, mind working furiously.
“He was out with us a few times. Didn’t mean anythin’, though. He wanted to see us play.”
“And who’s this ‘Justin’?”
“I just told you! He’s this fucker from Sageville!”
“And why are they saying shit like that? Quatre never told me about him!”
“Probably because he ain’t important! Kids are just talkin’ shit!” Drake insisted as Trowa rose from the ground, brushing himself off. “An’ anyways, it ain’t like you fuckin’ care, right? You’re the one all hatin’ on his being, fuckin’, tubby. What the fuck do you care?”
Trowa frowned at this, realizing that he did. He’d never heard any such rumors, and the way Drake was trying to cover himself was pretty obvious. Quatre mentioned nothing of partying, or going out at any time, and Drake and Felicia were big-time partiers, and–! And why would kids be talking about this Justin from Sageville if there wasn’t anything going on? Something told him that Quatre was hiding something from him, that he wasn’t the only one at fault in their relationship. He had to get to the bottom of this. Now.
Stalking away from Drake, who muttered obscenities underneath his breath as he quickly took out his cell phone, Trowa went in search of Quatre.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia heard the ringing of her cellphone, pausing Quatre’s tirade about being hungry and picked it up. He’d come to her for help in getting him skinny again, and she had proposed the usual girls’ method of losing weight–starving one’s self. Unfortunately, the only side effects consisted of being hungry continuously throughout the entire time. Otherwise, they even went out to the track and she walked and talked on her phone while he huffed and puffed his way through four or five laps. He was still in good shape–just a little overwhelmed.
Frankly, she thought Trowa was stupid–Quatre would always be cute, fat or skinny. And personally, while she had liked him being skinny, she liked him better this way. There was so much to hug! And anyways, he wasn’t even fat! People just over exaggerated on that aspect. Sure, he went up a couple of sizes, but hell, who doesn’t?! He wasn’t fat! Just pleasantly chubby!
“Meet and Greet Escort Service! How may I service you?” she answered, picking at her nails.
“Leash! I fucked up! I told Trowa about Justin!!” Drake’s panicked voice was heard by Quatre, who was sitting next to her. The pair were sitting at a stone bench underneath an oak tree on campus, a distance away from the cafeteria entrance doors on the school’s west side. From their position, they could easily see who was coming in and out of the double doors, and who was sitting where on the immaculately groomed lawn of the campus.
His eyes widened considerably as Felicia gave a strangled gasping sound. She looked at Quatre, who looked at her in terror.
“What’d you say?!” she then demanded as Quatre looked around them, looking for Trowa.
“I just said kids were talkin’ about him an’ Justin! Nothin’ else, cuz I don’t know about anythin’ else!”
“Great, great, then we can still do damage control,” Felicia muttered, chewing at her thumbnail. “You fuckin’ dick! I paid you to keep quiet about that! Gimme back my five dollars!!”
“‘Five dollars’?!” Quatre shouted in disgust.
“I’m sorry! It totally slipped! And he’s fuckin’ high on the double G, too!”
“Drake, you fuckin’ fuck! You stupid impotent dick! Ragh!” Felicia hung up her phone and clung to Quatre maniacally. “We can still save you! Just tell him this...”
“It’s bad enough he fucked around on me!” Quatre gasped, hands on his face. “If he really knows about Justin–! We’ll never be saved!”
“All right all right all right all right! Listen! Just...listen!” Felicia took a deep breath, gripping his shoulders. “Justin was just a friend, all right? And we’ll just mention that Middie was involved, y’know, tryin’ to get the rumor around that you were fuckin’ around on Trowa. Er...you and Justin didn’t...?”
“NO! Dude, I told you about Mr. Ogre!!”
“Oh! Oh! Anyway, just say that you were just friends, and nothin’ else. And that whatever people saw was wrong. Because, really, if’n you think of it like that, that’s how it was, right?!”
“Yes! That’s how it was! We didn’t even do anything until that last morning! And even then–!”
“Good! Good! Just...and I’ll cover for you, all right? Just mention the basics–oh, yeah, we were partying, I met this guy, yadda, yadda, yadda, he wasn’t gay, we are just strictly friends. Got it?”
Worried that Trowa would absolutely see through him, Quatre chewed at his nails, clinging to her tie with a tight grip. The pair of them stared around the campus, especially eyeing the cafeteria doors.
“If he finds out, Felicia, we’re done,” he moaned, feeling his heart sink to his stomach. “I don’t want to lose him! I just want to get over this fucked up shit with him and that woman, and–!”
“I know, I know! He’s not going to, buddy. Never! I will take this secret to the grave!” She then paused, blinking. “Wait a minute...you never mentioned that he was with a woman...”
“God...God, I should have never–!”
“There’s no time for that! Maybe we can stall him,” Felicia said, tugging her tie away from his grip and running off.
“FELICIA! Don’t leave me here all alone!!” Quatre shouted after her as she sprinted for the cafeteria. Whimpering, drawing his knees up to his chest, he scanned the campus for the tall figure of his boyfriend, heart beating quickly. He wondered what had made Drake say such a thing when he’d promised Felicia that he wouldn’t say anything about Justin!!
Unless, someone else had told Trowa about Justin, and he’d asked Drake...he hadn’t heard any of the rumors circulating, so it just must be a select few that were talking about it, and he knew he and Justin hadn’t exactly done anything in front of people, anyway! But there was always someone who knew somebody that had seen something.
Then his heart stilled at the sight of Trowa stalking out the cafeteria doors, looking absolutely furious. Wanting to hide from the pissed off guy, Quatre covered his noticeable hair with his blazer and tried to think ‘tiny’ thoughts. Trowa started moving in his direction, looking at everyone when the doors opened behind him, and Middie was running after him, shouting in joy. Trowa turned once he was glomped from behind by the annoying girl, and Quatre felt that urge to quickly get out of sight. He abandoned his things and made a run for it toward the dormitory, seeing that Trowa was too occupied by the girl to even look up.
Huffing and puffing, Quatre made it to the dormitory, but knew that he couldn’t hide there for long. Hell, he had at least one afternoon class with him, but if he were given enough time to come up with a viable story about Justin–! He raced around the dormitory building and headed toward the garage, where some kids left to either smoke or hide in their cars for personal things. He burst into the first level of the garage, stumbling over a rail. Picking himself up, he ran off and hid between a gray Mazda and a Ford with butterflies on the side.
Gasping for breath, glad that he’d at least began his running routine a week earlier, he pressed himself against the tire and rested his hands on top of his head. This was going to be so fucked up! He didn’t want Trowa knowing about Justin! Trowa was so insecure, so jealous–! Nothing that Quatre could do afterward would even try and fix things between them!
His cell rang, then, and he looked at the window before answering.
“You safe?! My distraction worked just long enough for you to get away!” Felicia practically yelled.
“Yes, thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’m hiding in the parking garage!”
Felicia burst into maniacal laughter. “My GOD! If you get caught–! Listen, we can fix this, all right? We just need to stall him until you and I can come up with a real good story!”
“I have him in my last class of the day!”
“Oh my God, okay, okay–! Look, we’ll work it out in Anatomy, all right?”
“‘K. How am I going to get to class?! I left my things with yours!”
“I’ll grab them. If he gets to me, I’ll just tell him that you had to go take a shit, all right?”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem! See ya in class, all right?!”
Quatre hung up the phone, setting it back into his blazer pocket. Exhaling heavily, he pulled his knees up to his chest and hoped for the best.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Sylvia saw the two huddling at the back table during their class, and made a beeline in that direction. Hopefully things went better this time around, because she truly wanted to be their friend. They were so active, so busy, never in the process of being bored. While she was nervous about approaching them for this reason, she had to try anyway.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted as she took a chair next to them, startling them out of their whispering conversation.
Both of them blinked at her as she unwrapped a sucker and popped it in her mouth. She offered one in their direction, and Felicia recovered quickly, taking one.
“Here. This has, like, five calories or something in it,” she said, passing it to Quatre, who took it gratefully.
“Are you on a diet?” Sylvia asked, blinking.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing so far?”
“Well, I try and run at least a mile and a half every day, and then I totally cut back on my meals–”
“Basically stopped eating, in other words,” Felicia cut in, looking at Sylvia in annoyance. “Got any other suggestions? He really needs to get laid.”
“Felicia!!” Quatre griped in mortification, looking at the unknown girl.
Sylvia giggled. “Look, another way to lose weight is to drink a lot of Diet Coke and eat only an apple, three crackers, and three slices of cheese. And you need to run more than that. What about sit-ups, push-ups?”
“He can do those. Dude, you can do those, right?”
“I don’t like Diet Coke...”
“Diet Coke is, like, a natural laxative. It makes you go constantly, and thus, you lose weight,” Sylvia said, smiling.
“Drink Diet Coke, Quat!”
“No! I don’t like it!”
“How much weight do you want to lose, anyway?” Sylvia asked.
“About twenty pounds. That’s what I packed on.”
“I don’t think you’re fat,” Sylvia said, frowning.
“He’s not, huh?” Felicia agreed, glad to know another soul that thought so.
“No.” Sylvia nodded repeatedly to prove her point.
“Quat, just drop the loser,” Felicia then demanded.
“I love him!”
“If he doesn’t love you for who you are, then why even bother? You’re just going to spend your time trying to make him happy, and you’d only end up making the both of you miserable...” Sylvia said.
Quatre sighed, not liking it when it was put that way. He groaned, hanging his head as he mauled the grape flavored sucker. Felicia looked at Sylvia, nodding in agreement. Sylvia, seeing that she had her foot in the door, smiled brightly.
“Quat, do you seriously want to fix things with the Tro-man?” Felicia then demanded. “Because if so–this thing with Justin can be the thing that breaks it all!”
“No. NO, I want to fix things! I want to fix things! They were so good before, and...I can’t just give up, Felicia...I just can’t...”
Felicia shrugged. “Whatever, then. So, anyway, what are you going to do when you see him?”
“Act normal.”
“And?”
“Don’t say anything until he does.”
“And if he asks about Justin?”
“Who’s Justin?” Sylvia asked curiously, receiving a hand in her face from Felicia.
“Tell him he was just some dude that partied with us.”
“And if Trowa makes a big deal about it?!”
“Remind him of his own cheating–! NO! Then, it’ll be like, I’m admitting it for my own crime!”
“Just let Trowa know that his insecurity is taking things all wrong, and that if he truly did love and care for you, he would have trusted you,” Sylvia suggested, earning a pair of stares in her direction. “If he’s so intensely focused on his own mess-up, then that would drag him down faster than this one of your own.”
“Ooh..she’s good,” Felicia muttered, nudging Quatre’s arm.
“And if he doesn’t? If he’s more focused on that...?” Quatre pressed.
“Then, it’s obvious the relationship is over with. If he’s more than willing to concentrate on whatever wrong that you either did or didn’t, then he’s looking for someone else to blame, and therefore placing all your troubles on what you did without trying to admit what he did was the deciding factor in your problem.” Sylvia gulped for breath.
Quatre thought about this for a few moments, then nodded. “All right. Then...then it all depends on that...”
“Yop.”
“But I don’t want to lose him, Felicia!”
Felicia sighed, slouching forward. Sometimes, the things Quatre decided to be stubborn on was truly taxing...
“Quat...you have to admit it...if things don’t work...you both don’t work and never will. Sometimes, there’s just a point in which you have to admit that you gotta give up.”
“No...no giving up...” Quatre murmured, turning away to eye his mauled sucker.
Sylvia frowned, eyeing them both. She took a deep breath, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. Then she exhaled, thinking furiously. When Quatre’s cell phone rang, Felicia snagged it before the teacher could hear it and before Quatre could react. She turned the ringer off and gestured that it was Trowa. Quatre took it from her before she could react and answered it, ducking low in his seat to avoid being caught by the teacher. Frowning, Felicia listened to the one-sided conversation. Apparently, Trowa was trying to get him to take a bathroom break, and Quatre didn’t want to.
Finally, he hung up and rose from his chair, passing her the phone. Felicia caught the phone and hissed at him not to go, but he walked determinedly to the front to ask the teacher to let him go for a bathroom break. The teacher nodded him off, and both Felicia and Sylvia watched as Quatre left the room.
“Dude, he’s gonna die,” Felicia muttered, tapping the BlackBerry against her chin. Then she shrugged, rummaging through the various numbers he had on his phone. She found that he had not yet erased Justin’s (Mr. Ogre as depicted in the address book) number from the information he carried around, and snooping through the past calls, Mr. Ogre called repeatedly. Being the true friend that she was, she erased all evidence, leaving his name in the address book just because.
“Think he’ll be okay?” Sylvia asked worriedly. “He seems so depressed.”
“Yeah, but he and Trowa have tons of drama to go through all the time. If it ain’t one thing, it’s fuckin’ another,” Felicia grumbled. “Frankly, I’d rather them break up so I could have Quat all to myself.”
Sylvia stared at her, wondering what she meant by that.
Felicia looked at her. “As per rumors.”
“Ooh,” Sylvia breathed in understanding. She licked her lips nervously. “I’ve never seen them happy together...”
“Oh, yeah, when things are goin’ great, it’s all Kodak moment. Y’know? So sickeningly perfect it makes one gag?” Felicia rolled her eyes. “Except, like, they ain’t your average love-bug pair. Quatre likes hitting him, Trowa likes being hit, they both goad each other in a lotta shit, and...they fuck a lot. A LOT. The only thing that bothers me about the entire thing is that they don’t let me watch. They’re very selfish in that aspect.”
Sylvia laughed. “I’m sure that’s a really yummy thing to see, huh? They’re both really cute!”
“They are, huh? Trowa’s a hot GOD. Quatre’s just a yummy piece of ass.”
“They’d look so hot in bed...Trowa’s all manly and Quatre would be all womanly and submissive...”
“Yeah. ‘Oh, Trowa! Don’t put it there!’” Felicia tried to capture Quatre’s tenor, looking helpless while Sylvia reared on her threateningly.
“‘It’ll only hurt a second, now bend that ass to me!’”
They laughed while the other kids nearest them stared at them crazily.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre took a deep breath before approaching the restrooms located near the cafeteria, knowing that Trowa was waiting within. Hopelessly panicked for a few seconds, his hand reached for the handle of the door, his brain racing for excuses, explanations, apologies, and food. The last thought made him wince, touching his stomach, wanting real food, not a sugary sweet sucker. Fingers trembling before the handle, he considered just turning around and racing off, but then again, that would seem very suspicious to Trowa.
He took another deep breath then grasped the handle, engaging it and pushing it inward. He smelled cigarette smoke as he walked into the tiled restroom, and walked around a half wall to see that Trowa was sitting in one of the stalls, smoking.
Trowa killed the cancer stick as Quatre’s heart raced and pounded with panic and self-doubt. He knew without having to ask that Trowa was under the influence of something, and it made him uneasy. The marijuana effects he would be fine with, considering that they made Trowa a little sluggish and mentally dumb, but this stuff? It made Trowa fidget with more energy than he could deal with, his eyes dilated with abnormal design, his every move sharp and jerky. Quatre gulped, trying to remember what Drake had meant by the Double G.
“You wanted to talk to me?” His voice sounded so small and timid that he cleared his throat and assumed his assertive stance–hands on hips, head held high, stomach sucked in slightly.
When Trowa rose from the closed toilet lid, he looked unnaturally powerful. “Who’s Justin?” was his first question.
I can do this! Quatre thought determinedly as he frowned. “This guy that hung around with us.”
“You never told me you partied.”
“It wasn’t anything special, or anything of importance. I still passed summer school. What’s this all about, Trowa?”
Trowa frowned, not liking the way Quatre sounded so defensive. “Why didn’t you ever mention that? It sounds like you were trying to hide something from me...”
“I wasn’t...Trowa, what are you trying to get at?”
Trowa shrugged one shoulder, lower lip being sucked between his teeth, then chewed on thoughtfully by said teeth. After that, his jaw was moving from side to side, considering the details that were being left unsaid. The unusual mouth movements had Quatre staring up at him in disgust, and he dropped his hands from his sides.
“What are you on?” he demanded.
“None of your fucking business. I’m on nothing. I’m just wondering why you have never mentioned this guy to me, or the fact that you’re lying about everything.”
“I’m not lying!” Quatre exclaimed, but his face grew bright red by his lie. “I’m not! Why would I lie to you, Trowa?! I love you! I would never do that to you!”
“You’re lying,” Trowa said, shortly. “You always turn red when you’re lying!”
“I don’t! And I’m not lying!”
“What did you do with this guy, huh? All the while you were telling me fucking garbage, here you are, fucking around with someone else!”
“I wasn’t, Trowa! I never fucked anybody!” Which was the truth, considering...
“Fucking liar! You had me all worked up for fucking around with someone else, and here you are, fucking lying to me about being with someone else!” Trowa roared, and Quatre didn’t know why, but he took a couple of steps back. There was just something wrong about Trowa’s actions, and he felt suddenly scared. That face that he so loved was taking on a similar expression that his father’s had that night over Christmas Break, when he’d confronted Quatre back in Laramie. And this situation wasn’t right...he was scared. Trowa didn’t act this way, and whatever he’d used was changing him into something different. This was different from the times when they found themselves fighting over something, because that whatever Trowa had taken was shifting this somewhere else.
He shook his head. “I can’t talk to you while you’re on something, Trowa. You’re taking things out of proportion–!”
“What am I taking out of proportion, Quatre?! You fucking cheated on me, and you’re denying it to save your own ass!”
“I didn’t!”
“Just fucking admit it!”
“I didn’t do anything...”
“Liar. You fucking liar.”
“Stop it, Trowa. Stop! You’re not yourself! Whatever you took, it’s messing you up!”
“Fuck you.”
Quatre quieted, fiddling with his hands and looking away from the person that resembled the person he loved, but wasn’t. He hated drugs! He hated what they did! Why did Trowa feel he had to take them! He was so out of character that it make Quatre sick. He wasn’t sure how to act or what to say to keep Trowa from throwing a fit, and he knew he could handle his own in a fight, but he didn’t want to fight his boyfriend over something incredibly stupid as this.
He had to get away, let Trowa calm down a little, even if that incriminated him to his own fault. He held up his hands. “Look...we can talk about this later, all right? Adams has me timed. I need to get back to class.”
“You’re not going anywhere until we figure this shit out.”
“I don’t want to get into trouble! You’re going to get into trouble, too, if you don’t go back to class!”
“Fuck them. This is more important. If our relationship was so important to you, you wouldn’t care about getting into trouble, either, Quatre.”
Quatre frowned. Their relationship was important. But this situation was bad. He eyed the door behind Trowa, wondering how he could get to it without having to come to unnecessary measures to do so. He stared up at the too wide pupils, the furious face, the incredibly tense shoulders and balled fists. He hated drugs. There was no way in Hell someone was going to make him take it to merely‘experiment’, no matter what it was. Look at what they did to his boyfriend. They made him into a complete stranger. Like they needed this crap now, when things were already so fragile.
“Our relationship is important, Trowa,” he said quietly, inching toward the wall in an effort to slide right by and make a run for it. “And I do want to fix things, and forget what bad there is. I want to make this all right, again. But there was nothing between Justin and I, and...I think your insecurity is overrunning your rational thought. Along with that shit you took.”
“Fuck that bullshit, Quatre!”
He winced at the abnormal pitch that had been taken with the rising shout. He definitely wanted out and now.
“Look, I won’t get mad if you just confess, all right? Just...just tell me the truth, all right? That’s all I want. All I want is the truth. Is that so hard to ask for?! If you didn’t do anything with that guy, then you would have said something in passing, or-or just let me know!” Trowa continued, gesturing wildly with his hands.
Quatre quickly ran for the door, but his blazer was caught by a pair of strong hands, and he was hauled bodily back into the bathroom. A brief struggle ensued as he tried desperately to get out of the angry grip that ensnared his blazer, and things just escalated from there. Wild fear at this different person had him kicking one inside ankle, and suddenly he was being punched across the back of his head. He turned, whirling out of his blazer and threw a punch at the darkened face above him. He then turned and ran again, but the door opened, nearly hitting him as someone waltzed in.
Triton looked at him in confusion as Trowa came to a stop behind Quatre, and the immediate tension was glaringly obvious. Triton blinked as he stepped aside, practically suffocating in the tension that clung to the very air. Quatre then made his way out from the bathroom without another thought, and Triton registered Trowa’s wild state and looked at him in disgust.
Trowa shoved past him, dropping Quatre’s blazer just inside the doorway, and Triton followed him out of the bathroom to make sure that nothing more was happening. Trowa left through the side doors of the cafeteria, heading away from the school, and he heard the ringing footsteps that were heading through the far hall, toward the classrooms. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief, picking up the abandoned blazer. The tension was still lingering, and he couldn’t imagine what the hell was going on, but it couldn’t have been that bad...
Shrugging, feeling uneasy about what he’d interrupted, he turned and entered the bathroom to continue on with his business. He’d figure it all out later.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Drake was putting his things away in his bag, to catch a ride to town when someone knocked at his door. Well, his and his roommates’. His roommate, some jock named Aaron, looked him, gesturing that he answer the door because he was busy. Drake left his bag, moving over to answer it. Felicia hurried in, looking intensely furious. When she saw Aaron, she made a gesture with her head in the direction of the door, and Drake took one look at the serious expression and grabbed his things. Without another word, the pair filed out from the room.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sliding his pack on over his back.
“Trowa was on Double G, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it a bad batch?”
Drake stilled as Felicia asked, looking at him intently. “Why? Did he get fucked up?”
“Dude! He fuckin’ attacked Quat in the bathroom! That motherfucker tried beating him up!”
Drake went white, feeling sick. “We only had half a line!”
Felicia licked her lips nervously, looking around them. No one was close enough to hear what was being said, and she certainly didn’t want people finding out what had happened. It made her sick to know that Trowa would resort to such things, but he had been taking more drugs than normal...she knew what they did to people, but just to think that Trowa would actually try and hurt his boyfriend while under the influence? Suddenly, the situation was serious, and she didn’t like it. High school was meant to be fun and games. Not something like this. This didn’t happen at Darken. Well, she was sure it did, but not to them.
“Do you know what he had earlier?”
“No...but he had just bought some bud from me, earlier. That wouldn’t fuck him up–but then again, he was buying shit from Delson, too.”
“Dude...this is...I don’t want things this way, Drake. Don’t do shit with him, anymore. Quat’s fuckin’ freaked out, man! Trowa’s never acted that way before!”
“Why was he freakin’ out?”
“DUH! Trowa’s pissed about Justin! Thanks a lot, loud mouth!”
“I SAID I was fuckin’ SORRY! It just slipped out! We don’t talk about that kind of shit, Leash!”
“Well...shit...just don’t do anything with him anymore, all right? Trowa’s still fuckin’ wired as shit. I think he was leaving campus for the city.” Felicia frowned harder, curling her fists at her side. “Is that a half batch you got? Or more?”
“It’s the fuckin’ usual, man. If he’s fucked up, it’s cuz of his own fault. He might have taken somethin’ else before it,” Drake said, shrugging, feeling entirely bad because he’d been the one to suggest a line with him. He wanted to apologize to Quatre, but didn’t know how to go about it. “Where’s Quat?”
“Hiding.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah. It just scared him more than anything...He’s never dealt with that shit, before, Drake. You gotta remember, the guy’s a small town hick. He can’t handle this shit like the rest of us!”
“Is he with someone?”
“No. Just...hiding.” Felicia then gave a sardonic snort. “Triton actually stopped things.”
“Not-uh. That stalker?”
“Yeah. He walked in, but I don’t think he knew what was happening. Thank God he stalks Quat, ennit?”
“Yeah, I s’ppose...look, I’m really sorry, all right? I didn’t know Trowa was wired from before. If I see him...I’ll fuckin’ exchange words, all right? Damn...I feel fuckin’ bad that this shit happened. It’s all my fuckin’ fault,” Drake grumbled, turning and walking for the stairway.
“It’s not your fault!” Felicia called after him, then sighed when the boy left her sight. She felt bad for her friends, all three of them. She knew Trowa would have never done that or gone that far if he were clean. But the drugs...the drugs fucked a person up, messed up their thinking. Trowa, once he came down, would feel incredibly bad about the whole situation, and their relationship suddenly seemed rockier than before. She wondered if they were strong enough to master their way through it. On one level, she really hoped so.
On another...it would probably be for the best....