Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Personal Jesus ( Chapter 9 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Quatre makes it sweet for ALL the girls!
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 8.1K | Visits: 236 | Status: Completed
Quatre makes it sweet for ALL the girls!
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 8.1K | Visits: 236 | Status: Completed
Chapter Nine~
“Personal Jesus”= Marilyn Manson
The flyer posted on the bulletin board registered that try-outs were slated to begin in November, which was plenty of time to hurry up and get into shape. The gym was open at night for those that wanted to play a few harmless games, but so far, since it opened, Duo hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Quatre Winner. The basketball freak usually occupied one court either on the outside courts or dominating within, but he hadn’t seen him at all. Frowning, Duo paused in retrieving his lost ball as he turned, searching the gym’s crowd for that familiar face. Hiiro, an Australian named William, Travis, Jason, Hilde, a couple of girls whom he didn’t know, and Triton (which was very rare) were the only ones playing a lazy game of four on four, with Duo taking the shot at the basket whenever they were down court.
Wondering why Quatre wasn’t here, Duo picked up his ball and dribbled back on court as the two ragtag teams headed down to the other court, one of the girls screeching loudly in protest over losing a ball to flirtatious William. Duo rolled his eyes and hoped that girl didn’t think of trying out for the team. He liked flirting, and he loved girls, but the court wasn’t for such things. He shot a lazy three then retrieved his ball as the teams moved back this way. So far, Hiiro was dominating the court, taking no regard for the girls and roughly shunting them aside whenever he went up for a basket. The girls avoided him in favor of the other boys, and screeched and squealed their way into getting the ball back. Duo winced at the loss of hearing and gave Hiiro a sad expression.
Hiiro rolled his eyes, muttered something Duo couldn’t catch, and caught the ball on a stray pass. Duo wandered off court, dribbling between his legs, and spotted Relena nearby, watching Hiiro with a frown. Duo looked back on court to see one of those girls clinging to him with unnecessary contact, and looked back at Relena with a half grin. Looks like Hiiro was going to get a lecture tonight. Relena was one of the more jealous people, and Duo was glad he didn’t have to deal with that kind of bullshit. There was nothing worse than added drama in a relationship.
“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted as he sat beside her, dribbling continuously.
“Not much. Who are those girls? Are they freshmen?”
“I think so. Why?”
“They’re rather...annoying. Why do they feel the need to hang off him like that?”
“Does it bother you? They’re annoying him.”
“Yes, it bothers me. He hates when people hang off him,” Relena murmured on a frown, crossing her hands on her lap. “He hates when I even hold his hand in public.”
“But you do it anyway.”
“He’s my boyfriend! We’re allowed to do those sorts of things!”
Duo rolled his eyes and looked back at the court. The way Hiiro handled the ball had him in knots–the boy knew what he was doing, and worked hard to get the ball where they wanted it–through the net. He easily dribbled around the more difficult players, Triton and William, but those two were engaged in some sort of conversation and were making half-hearted attempts in keeping Hiiro from scoring. Hiiro set himself up for a three, and one of the girls awkwardly slammed against him as he shot. The ball managed to slip through the net without failure, and the girl received a rather menacing glare from cold blue eyes. The girl hurriedly slipped away and sought out the safety of her friend, who was too busy trying to catch Triton’s attention with numerous tugs on his shorts.
Duo snorted, shaking his heads. “Girls like that should be shot, man. I hate it when they act that way. Lost in a candy shop and can’t get out.”
“It’s usually the freshmen girls that act that way,” Relena said with a haughty sniff. She rose from the bench, frowning.
“Hey, don’t you have practice, or something?” Duo asked.
“Yes, it ended nearly ten minutes ago. Can you tell Hiiro I went to Dorothy’s?”
Ew, he thought, but nodded for her benefit. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”
“See you, Duo.” She waved at him as she walked on by, flipping her wheat colored hair over her shoulder. Duo smirked as he looked over at Hiiro, who had spotted her leaving as he made a bank shot. Hiiro looked at Duo, gesturing for an answer, and Duo simply put two fingers on each eyebrow, Hiiro rolling his eyes from his position.
Duo grinned, nodding maniacally as Relena left the gym. Hiiro walked over, wiping sweat from his face and sat down next to him. “Just talking, right?” Hiiro asked, rather sarcastically as he leaned forward on his knees with his elbows.
“Who the hell knows and who the hell cares? Who are those girls?”
“Fuck if I know. They’re very annoying,” Hiiro’s accented voice dropped a couple of degrees, and Duo grinned broadly, bouncing his ball off his knee and watching the two girls flirt madly with the boys leftover on the court.
“Where’s Quatre?” Hiiro asked, wiping his face once more, but with the collar of his shirt. “Usually he’s in here.”
“Maybe he’s too fuckin’ fat.”
“He’s heavy, but not fat.”
“Dunno. Who the fuck cares?”
“I want him to scare off these girls.”
Duo laughed, catching his ball. “True, true. He’ll make ‘em either run like hell or throw a big enough pissy fit to get out of here, anyway. I really haven’t seen him around.”
Hiiro snorted, hocking up a loogie then wiping what spit he spat at the court underneath his shoes. He headed back onto the court, catching the ball that William tossed to him before being mauled by one of the girls. Duo rolled his eyes, rising from the bench as well, and taking over the court that the team left behind. Dribbling, he eyed the doors expectedly, wondering when Quatre was going to show up. Then they’d have even enough teams...discounting those two bitches that were currently whining over who got to pants Triton in mid-shot.
Then he shrugged and began shooting, thinking about his dreams for this year’s team.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Coming down from a high wasn’t something that he liked doing. In fact, he’d rather he wasn’t coming down. Sure, all one got from a round of Double G was a sore throat and a headache, but when one came down from both meth and Double G , it gave a user the serious effects of stomachaches, shakes, an extra round of paranoia, short temper and more commonly, cotton mouth and nausea. There were others that he usually experienced, but tonight, while he sat alone in a children’s playground in Maryville’s Elementary School No. 3, about twenty blocks away from Darken and isolated enough to allow him some time to think, the other thing that bothered him was what he did.
Even now, as he kept his head pinned in place with his hands, his fingers shaking and his stomach gurgling unpleasantly, he couldn’t believe he’d gone and did that to Quatre. It was one of the more stupider things he had done so far. He couldn’t believe he’d gone and attacked him, in a fit of rage. Rage, because he thought that Quatre was cheating on him and was letting him suffer alone in his own confession. Rage because things weren’t the same and didn’t look as if they’d ever be the same. Rage because...his perspectives were being shown the door.
Things were growing more and more unclear with his thinking over his relationship, and he really had no one else to blame. He was still stewing in self-loathing and guilt due to his relationship with Amelie, and then his own feelings over Quatre’s appearance, and what he was doing to the blond...and really, the stress was fucking him over. So, he’d turned to drugs. A little here and there, not enough for Quatre to notice that he’d been a little more than buzzed every time he saw him. Marijuana was common, and he smoked it as openly as he dared, but the meth...well...that had just sort of slipped in between tokes and smokes, and before he knew it, he was using it more and more each day.
He just wanted to escape his problems, even if it were just a little while. He wanted things to be better again, he wanted to have Quatre happy and carefree and psychotic, and he wanted his blond to be skinny and fit again, and he wanted to be able to touch Quatre without remembering Amelie–! Things were so messed up for him, that he felt he had no one to turn to. Catherine had not yet returned to the States, and she wouldn’t want to hear about his relationship woes, anyway, and talking to Quatre had been somewhat of a pain, because they were both tense and things were strained between them.
Quatre had told him that he forgave him for cheating, but the blond was obviously torn between accepting what was or throwing a fit. He knew that Quatre wanted his physical expression, but Trowa couldn’t bring himself to touch or hug without feeling the same way he had before, and Quatre was holding back as well, and Trowa knew that he was questioning things–am I good enough to be touched? Is he thinking about her? Those sorts of things Trowa knew he was thinking, and it was understandable. He’d be doing the very same thing.
He knew that he wanted to fix his relationship, but things were so messed up! It didn’t look repairable, and he was in misery. Then, he had to go and do this thing with Quatre...the blond had been terrified, he could tell by the blond’s expression, and the way he’d wanted to leave. And it had just made Trowa so angry that Quatre was more focused on continuing to put the problems aside that things just grew out of perspective and escalated from there.
He had never wanted to hurt his boyfriend in any way, and here, since he’d gotten back from Spain, he’d hurt him over and over again. He felt worthless, monstrous, and completely despicable. He wasn’t good enough for the blond–the blond deserved someone that could like him no matter what his size or condition, someone that will keep up with his sex drive, someone who will see him as he should really be seen.
Trowa didn’t feel like he was enough. On one point, he did, but after this...
He knew Quatre wasn’t comfortable around drugs, yet he did them anyway. And as he did them, he was building up an immunity to small highs and needed bigger doses, and such things were growing to bigger problems. He’d gotten over his addiction before, but that was in a different situation. That was when he’d been courting Quatre. And in that time, he didn’t want drugs to mess up something so new and blossoming, that he’d just put his addictions aside and focused more on that. Now, because he’d fucked up with Amelie, he found himself reverting back to their comforting blanket. And they were bad choices, horrible choices, because they’d caused him to hurt Quatre.
Well, he shouldn’t blame them...he was part of it. Because he’d allowed himself to consume and ingest, he was part of the problem. He should have known that meth and Gin-Gin weren’t a very good combination, and he was paying for it now. He’d thrown up what little he’d eaten, and if he didn’t get somewhere quick, he’d be losing it through the other end.
Rising from the swings, he began making his way across the street toward a residential area that had an open pool house with a restroom. He’d left Darken to think things through, to cool off his high, to realize what an asshole he was.
He knew what an asshole he was. It made him feel so utterly bad, with a hard pain in his heart, to know that he’d hurt Quatre so...so thoroughly. And Quatre had did nothing wrong–so what if he’d hung out with another boy?! Trowa hung out with other boys all the time, and they did nothing! All his insecurity, jealousy, and paranoia, amplified by all that he’d taken, had just thrown his feelings off the deep end and he’d gone crazy. It was all his fault–his fault with Amelie, his fault for feeling the way he did toward Quatre’s weight, for doing drugs, for wishing that Quatre had done something wrong so that Trowa could blame him instead.
That wasn’t right....it wasn’t. Quatre would never cheat on him. Ever! He showed Trowa constantly that he loved and cared for him, even when Trowa wasn’t feeling particularly giving. And despite all his complaints that all Quatre did was take, take, take, he was always giving in return. Little things, small things that Trowa ignored. The hugs, the kisses, the need for physical affection was wholly part of it. But so were the constant pushes in keeping Trowa busy, the constant need to keep his idle hands working once more with his gift with art...Quatre cared for him in so many ways that Trowa was putting up blinders for some reason, and ignoring those gestures.
He really loved Quatre. He did. There wasn’t a question about it. But if accepting a person within agreeable terms, such as physical appearance–did that make him a bad person? He loved Quatre, but the weight issue...it really, really bothered him. He wasn’t into tubby people. He just couldn’t handle the softness of their bodies, the jiggles, the stretch marks, the...rotund-ness. And Quatre wasn’t fat, it was just...he was getting there. Trowa could only look at the way Quatre seemed to...drag his steps and the way his stomach made a slight roll in his t-shirt, and...it just wasn’t good. And Quatre had never been that size, so there had to be stretch marks...
Was he wrong to feel that way?! He knew of several others, practically a whole grade level of people who really liked him that way, and thought that it made him more...attractive on a wholly different level. And others were telling Trowa that Quatre was more approachable that way, more human. And others, the cruel ones, were always remarking on how Trowa must be drowning in that heaviness, must get crushed whenever Quatre ‘was on top’, or how much cushion was for the pushing, and Trowa felt disgusted and slightly agreed with them, never admitting that they had yet to even have sex, any sort of sex.
But was it so wrong?!
He didn’t want Quatre to completely change everything!! He just wanted him to lose weight. And cut his hair. And stop being so damn clingy. And stop hanging around that girl. And–
He dragged his hands down his face and found the restroom. Seeing that no one was around, he stepped inside and hoped that this expulsion helped out his upset tummy. Then, after this, after he cooled down considerably, he was going to apologize for being a dick. He needed Quatre. That was all there was to it. But then again, he needed his drugs. Maybe, on some level, both of them could somehow equal out the other–he could still have Quatre, but cut down on the drugs. Maybe a puff here, a puff there, and he’d quit once he and Quatre got over this relationship woe.
Yes, that sounded agreeable. Muy bien!
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
That night, Quatre found himself staring silently at the dark shapes in his room, the blankets pulled up around his shoulders. He went over everything that had happened today–from Trowa’s finding out about Justin, to the incident in the bathroom. One thing was clear–he positively hated drugs. Especially what Felicia called the Double G, Gin-Gin. Pathetically stupid word for something pathetically stupid. He hated what it had made Trowa do, how it made him behave. He really hated it. Trowa would have never behaved in such an out of control manner if he weren’t all ‘wired up’ on that stuff. Trowa wouldn’t have ever thought about behaving that way! It just wasn’t going very well...it didn’t look good for their relationship. He was scared then, unsure of what to do, but now that he’d been given time to really think about what happened to them, he realized that drugs weren’t going to scare him off, no matter what they did to Trowa. He loved Trowa.
If drugs were his boyfriend’s choice, then he’d either have to deal with it, or break up with him. And he wasn’t even thinking about breaking up with him. They had gone through so much together–why ruin it now? He was sure that if Trowa weren’t taking that stuff, he wouldn’t have done what he’d done. He decided that it was merely stress that had Trowa drugging, and it wasn’t as if Trowa were merely dabbling in the stuff. He’d done it all before, according to his friends. Trowa had only been clean during that period when he’d courted Quatre, and that was a long enough period for Quatre to fall in love and accept whatever Trowa dished out.
Now, since he knew that Trowa had done such things before (especially the marijuana), he couldn’t exactly ask Trowa to stop. That was Trowa’s decision. But if it became such a big deal...then what? He didn’t know what people with addictions were like full term, and considering their relationship, they were still frighteningly new to each other. This drug aspect was certainly new–Trowa had only done a few things here and there when they were first getting to know each other, but then again, Felicia had mentioned sometime previous that Trowa was a ‘druggie’...in fact, her very words were, “He’s all up into that drug scene, you know?”...She had also mentioned that he partied, and that he sold. Quatre knew that he sold, and he got a pretty good profit from it. That’s where Trowa’s extra money came from, and he knew little details about it, but Trowa had mentioned before that he had to try out whatever he was selling just to prove that it was good, and therefore he had to experience in whatever he was selling.
Usually it was marijuana, which was so easy to acquire, and then the harder stuff was rare. Trowa had never came to him as wired up as he was today, and so Quatre was a little freaked out by what that stuff did to him. It entirely changed Trowa’s personality and mannerism, changing him into someone totally different. He hated it. He wanted his Trowa back.
But he didn’t know how to go about it.
Could he just go up to Trowa and ask him to cut it out indefinitely? Would Trowa do so? And what were addictions truly like? Would an addict really drop what he was addicted to?
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. Maybe he would find a better way to deal with it, tomorrow...
Then, hours later, he awoke with a start because he felt someone against him, curling one arm over his stomach and chest, pressing him hard into a air-depleting hug. He started to panic, brought from deep sleep to wide-awake in instants due to the sudden unexpectedness of the movement, but then relaxed slightly at the familiar smells of cigarette and cologne.
Still, he was unsure of what to do even as Trowa pressed his forehead against the back of his neck and hugged him even tighter, sniffling piteously. Quatre knew he couldn’t hold Trowa’s out of character behavior against him forever, and relaxed completely against the body he knew so well. Trowa didn’t say anything for a long while, and Quatre found himself wondering what time it was. He knew that Trowa had his ways of sneaking past security measures and knew his room access code, so it wasn’t a real Mission: Impossible to get into his room way after curfew. Even so, the fact that Trowa was trying to apologize for his behavior made Quatre forgive him.
Trowa didn’t mean it. It was only going to be a one time thing. He would never do this again.
“I’m sorry,” he heard his boyfriend croak against his back, and he felt the unfamiliar wetness of the other’s tears on his skin. He felt his heart break for the sincerity that he felt coming from Trowa in waves–it was thick and strong, and he truly believed that Trowa was really sorry. “I’m so fucking sorry....I know what I did today was so wrong...I was so wrong! I can’t believe I lost control like that!”
“It’s all right,” Quatre murmured, hugging the arm that was slung around him. His body had missed this comfort, simple as it was. To be touched, hugged, wanted...Trowa didn’t want to do either, and his entire body and mind missed it.
“NO, it’s not all right! I shouldn’t be doing shit like that! I shouldn’t be doing things–! I fucked up, and it’s–there’s no damn excuse for what I did...it was so stupid. I was just angry, more at myself, Quatre, and not at you. I knew that what I was doing was so wrong, and I knew you were scared, and I knew–! I knew it all, and I couldn’t stop myself from acting the way that I had. I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to do that. I lost control. I’m so sorry...”
“Shh...it’s all right....it’s okay. No one was hurt,” Quatre said, trying to soothe away the raw grief that he felt from his beloved. He didn’t know how to make Trowa okay again, so he hoped that by the backward press of his body against Trowa’s, and by the hug on his arm, helped his boyfriend realize that he’d already been forgiven. He didn’t want Trowa this way–it was so weird for him to accept. He was supposed to be the wild emotional one, not Trowa. Trowa was always so cool, so collected, sarcastic and sardonic. Not weepy and self-loathing...none of that!
“No, you were hurt, Quatre. I shouldn’t have done any of that...I’m so sorry...all this fucking stress over my fuck-up in Spain, and then coming back and realizing what a fucking shit I am, it just...it didn’t go well with what I’ve been doing...” Trowa sniffed, pressing his face against the back of his boyfriend’s neck, feeling immediately soothed by Quatre’s presence, by his familiar scent, by the feel of his body against him. It didn’t evoke anything sexual–he just wanted his comfort. He wanted his forgiveness. He wouldn’t forgive himself for what had happened, and so, he was at a lost of what to do. “I love you, I love you so much and all I’ve done since I came back was hurt you. I love you so much...I didn’t want to hurt you, and I did, and I don’t know what to do anymore...oh, God, please forgive me....”
“Shh, Trowa, I do! I forgive you. Nothing’s wrong...nothing’s wrong...just...don’t do that anymore, all right? I was scared because I didn’t even know who you were,” Quatre said softly, turning in his arms, wrapping his arms around Trowa’s shoulders and burying his face against his boyfriend’s neck. He sighed in absolute rapture at being this close once again, at having Trowa hold him without grimacing or pulling away. The abrasive edge of their relationship woes were gone in an instant as he held him, breathing in his familiar scents and feeling the familiarity of his body. Eyes closed in pure bliss, his expression plainly expressing what joy he was feeling at this moment, Quatre was the picture of content.
Trowa’s arms tightened around him, and Quatre could feel his tears against his ear, against his neck. “I’m so sorry, Quatre...I’m so sorry...Did I hurt you? I never wanted to hit you, I never wanted to do that to you...I’m so sorry....”
“Trowa, I hit you all the time,” Quatre laughed gently against the pulsing beat in Trowa’s throat, kissing it briefly. He was rewarded with gentle fingers threading through his hair, smoothing over his scalp. If he were an animal, he’d be purring very loudly. “What’s the difference between today and then?”
“You weren’t serious about those...and I was messed up today...”
“Oh, Trowa...don’t even worry about it. I love you–nothing you can do is wrong. Except, maybe, calling me something stupid, like poodle-puff, or some stupid shit like that...”
Trowa laughed shakily, holding him tightly, pressing kisses against his neck and ear. Then he searched out Quatre’s lips, melding his against the firm, dry lips that he was familiar with. Quatre kissed him back with as much feeling as he could, holding his face between his hands, heart alighting with joy that Trowa was going to be okay, that they were going to be okay. Trowa broke the kiss, giving smaller, wetter ones on his jawbone and leading up to his ears.
Extremely hopeful for more physical activity, Quatre pressed against him, his hands searching out his boyfriend’s body, tracing his hands over the hooded sweater and jeans, and feeling something strange in the back pockets. He paused at those rolled tubes of something, frowning, wondering if they were chapstick or something of the sort. Trowa pulled away from him, grabbing and holding onto his hands. Disappointed that Trowa was stopping their physical expression, Quatre forgot all about those tubes and focused instead on trying to get Trowa to open up again. He was very eager for some physical action, but when Trowa told him gently that he didn’t feel up to it tonight, Quatre was very disappointed and tried not to be too hurt about it.
At least things were looking better.
But he sighed heavily and settled against Trowa’s body for a night of no-sex once again. Even as his body ached and cried for some attention that he’d been deprived of, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to go without it one more night.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“You playing tonight?”
Quatre looked up from his studying, blinking repeatedly as he looked at a very serious Hiiro Yuy. The words he’d never thought he’d ever hear from someone who disliked him was absolutely mind-blowing. He stuttered in disbelief, rising away from his notebook and straightening in his chair.
“You guys started that already?” he asked, never even giving a thought to playing in the gym with the others. All he’d thought about were his problems with Trowa.
Hiiro gave him a frown, waiting to see if Quatre was serious. When the incredulous expression was indeed utter seriousness, he nodded slowly. “A long time ago. Why haven’t you been there?”
“Because I’m fat.”
Hiiro scowled at him, shaking his head as Quatre grinned. “Quit acting like a girl and get over there, tonight. I’ll tell the others that you’ll be there.”
“But what if I don’t want to be there?”
Hiiro raised a forked eyebrow. The idea was just as far-out as the land of Oz. “You? You don’t want to play?”
“All right, you talked me into it.”
“At seven.”
“At seven.”
When Hiiro nodded in confirmation and walked away, Quatre stared after him in stunned shock, unsure if that conversation had actually taken place. He turned to a female classmate, asking her if Hiiro Yuy had just finished talking to him. With a disgusted expression, she confirmed this and walked off, muttering under her breath.
Quatre then grinned and lost all further thought of his stressing situation with his boyfriend. Tonight, no matter what, he was headed to the gym.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo had just made his last basket for the winning shot on a game of three on three when Hiiro walked into the gym, minus Relena (for once). Mariemaia and Brittany were still there, Brittany the blond tugging on Triton’s shorts and whining about him making more points than her.
Both were freshmen, Duo had learned, and both were really good ball players, but they just didn’t have the experience to keep up with the more senior players. They were good at dribbling and passing the ball, and making the occasional shot, but in-between, they had come to the idea that the fact that they were the only girls playing with a large group of attractive boys had given them free reign to flirt, act helpless and protest everything. Frankly, Duo’s ear drums couldn’t take anymore screeching and howling, and playful protest.
They were annoying, and they needed to be taught a lesson.
Hiiro sat down on the lowest bench and slid on his basketball shoes, looking up when Duo walked over. “He’s coming,” Hiiro said simply, and Duo grinned manically.
“Awesome. We should be girl-free by the end of tonight,” he said happily, looking over his shoulders at the door and then at the girls. Mariemaia, the redhead, was feeling up William’s arm muscle and cooing over his accent, as most girls did. Brittany had moved on in trying to lace Travis’s shoes, as the six foot nine student seemed to be having trouble doing it on his own.
Hiiro nodded in confirmation, then rose, stretching his arms. He saw that besides the usual William, Travis, Triton, and Duo, there was Winston ‘Winnie’ Pulma, and a new senior named Otto that were taking up the court floor. The girls were the only ones playing, and the ones sitting on the benches, watching the yummy group of guys were all busy within their cliques and ignoring others that approached them. Since there was seven, counting Hiiro, they needed Quatre to show up to make it all even, or someone had to sit out.
“When’s he coming? I wanna play.”
“I told him seven.”
“It’s past seven.”
“Then he’s coming.”
Duo sighed with impatience, actually looking forward to playing with the fanatical Point Guard. He disliked Quatre Winner...he always would. He felt the guy was too much of a prick to even be friendly with, and he especially hated that he was absolutely gifted on court, giving Duo much more of a reason to hate that he had to admit that.
Tossing the ball from side to side, brushing up his headband that kept his trademark bangs out of his face, Duo watched the door with an expectant expression. Hiiro walked onto the court, talking to Winnie, the Romanian. Winnie’s deep voice managed to penetrate the sudden squeal of Brittany as Travis tossed her over his shoulder and marched around.
With a frown, Duo studied the two girls: Brittany Daniels was a five foot two blond, entirely skinny except for the extra large rack she carried up front, and was pretty quick for a girl. She had pleasant features that were similar to that Britney Spears that was so popular, but without the added weight.
Mariemaia Kushrenada, was a petite redhead with bright blue eyes that dominated a very childlike face. She stood at five foot even, with the potential for even greater height once she started growing. Her short hair was pinned at her ears in small pigtails with barely any tuft, and while she was quick, she wasn’t quick enough to keep up with the boys, which was understandable, considering that most were over six feet. He was short, standing at five foot ten, Hiiro was the same height, and the others were completely over the six foot range. Quatre himself was still standing at five foot eight, but Point Guards were usually the smallest, anyway.
He began dribbling, heaving a sigh, then looking up happily when someone walked into the gym. He frowned at a very indifferent Trowa Barton, who immediately drew interested stares from all those around him, including the girls on the benches. Dressed in baggy jeans, a simple black tee and his customary hair swept to the left of his face, Duo could sort of understand why the girls would pay so much attention to him. But personally, Duo thought he was...well...a fag.
Trowa walked in, and right behind him, Quatre came strolling in, dressed as he usually was for basketball in a pair of shorts and a muscle tee. Duo had to grin–Quatre was definitely not fat, but he carried more than he had last year. His arms were thicker, but he saw the definition of muscle, and his legs were once more toning into that irritatingly perfect mass of worked muscle. He’d lost a little weight since Duo last paid attention, and didn’t look as tubby.
But that was good enough–! As long as he ran the girls out of the gym, Quatre could be any way he was.
Trowa took a seat on the bleachers, taking Quatre’s shower slippers and muttering something that Duo couldn’t hear from his distance. Quatre said something in reply, something short and snappish, and Duo suspected more trouble in paradise. He shrugged. Like he cared.
“Who’s that?” he heard Brittany ask curiously, and he turned, leering at her.
“One of our best players,” he answered, walking onto the court.
“Ew. Is he gay? Is that his boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s gross. I don’t like gay guys.”
“Well, they don’t like you.”
Brittany rolled her eyes and walked over to Mariemaia, who was frowning in Quatre’s direction upon hearing her friend’s whispered announcement.
Quatre walked onto the court, Triton immediately walking over after disentangling himself from Mariemaia’s grip.
“Your boyfriend actually let you come out?” Triton gasped in mock shock. Yup, despite it all, he’d still hit that ass. It was slowly disappearing (Triton decided then and there he hated diets), but somewhat still alive in that way that it still bounced with each step. Rather, it was more perky than large, so it was still one of his more favorite features on his blond obsession.
Quatre frowned up at him, tugging on a wristguard. “Jealous?”
Triton grunted and lowered his voice. “Actually, yeah. Quit rubbing it in.”
“Gross.”
“Gross, yourself. You better play good, too.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“Whatever.”
“Quit talking to me. Your boyfriend looks like he’s going to rip my head off. Why’s he so jealous all the time?”
“Fuck off.”
Triton laughed, turning to face the others as Hiiro split up the teams: himself, Duo, Otto, Winnie, and Brittany were a team. Quatre, Triton, Mariemaia, Travis and William were the other. And because Hiiro was feeling rather nice tonight, he passed Quatre the ball.
Quatre wondered what the meaning of all the secretive smirks were as Duo, Hiiro, Triton, and Winnie looked at each other. Vaguely passing the ball into William’s possession, his team spread out on offense while Hiiro’s spread into defense on the other end of the court. William passed him the ball, and Quatre immediately began assessing the contents–Duo was moving upward to intercept him, Winnie was sitting his post under the basket, Hiiro was covering Triton, and the two girls were giggling at something near half court line.
In disgust, he completely shoved them out of his mind. In his opinion, girls shouldn’t be allowed to play. What a distraction.
He began moving quickly, tossing the ball to Travis, who dribbled easily around Duo, and tossed it back to Quatre. Quatre caught the ball in one hand, smoothly switching it over his back and reverting the ball to Travis, who quickly shot a three. Without bothering to consider who was in his way, Quatre sprinted forward, slamming past Brittany’s weak defense and rebounding the ball. Brittany stumbled, tripped over her feet, and hit knees first onto the court.
“FOUL!” she screamed, but it went unheard as the boys wrestled for possession of the ball. “I said FOUL!”
Quatre retrieved the ball, dribbling past three point line, and hurled a pass to Triton. Triton quickly out shuffled Winnie’s defense and put it up for a bank shot. At the two pointer, Quatre directed his team back onto the other end, completely ignoring Mariemaia, who wandered somewhat distractedly near the left side of their court, blinking at Brittany’s furious expression.
Because Hiiro was still feeling nice, he passed the ball to the slighted Brittany. Quatre gave a groan as Hiiro jogged past him, smirk on his face. Brittany tossed loose strands of hair out of her face and began dribbling down court, eyeing her guys. Duo was wide open, moving quickly to keep Mariemaia off of him, and Hiiro himself was waiting down the right hand corner of their court while the defense set up rather neatly in their sections.
Quatre sighed, figuring he’d give the girl until she got to half court to make it somewhat fair, and the moment she stepped over, he went after the ball. She tried to squeal with mock fear as he reached for it, pulling it back with a quick movement of her upper body, but she suddenly found her foot caught by his, and he used that against her, shoving forward with a shoulder to retrieve the ball and completely knocking her aside. Duo and the others went after the ball while Quatre dribbled quickly to make a bank shot that kept them four points ahead.
Brittany picked herself up from the floor with an enraged face, Mariemaia looking at her in questioning concern.
“That was a foul, motherfucker!” she yelled as she stomped across the court to Quatre, to confront him.
He glanced at her from over his shoulder, and shook his head. He pointed at Triton to cover Winnie, for Travis to cover Duo, for William to cover Otto. He moved onto Hiiro as he caught the inbounds pass, and used the same move he’d used on Brittany to take the ball away. But because Hiiro was so used to the physical contact, he was unmoved by the shove and dribbled around Quatre quickly, the boys nearly plowing into the girls that stood in confusion at the center of the court.
“Hello?! My foul?!” Brittany cried after them as Mariemaia began chewing her nails anxiously.
“Shut up and get into the game if you wanna play!” someone shouted from the bleachers.
Brittany turned to give that person a piece of her mind, but the ball went sailing past her face, so she went after it. Quatre was there once more, blowing past her, retrieving the ball as if she weren’t even there. He whirled around her, leaving her easily in the dust. Mariemaia, seeing that she was wide open, called for the ball as she went down court.
Ignoring her, Quatre waited until Travis was open and hurled the ball in his direction. Mariemaia looked after him in aghast surprise, signaling with her arms that she’d been open. Travis ignored her, plowing through Winnie and trying to put the ball up. Quatre waited impatiently for the ball to be returned to him, and when it did, Hiiro and Duo was on him immediately. He lowered his shoulder, pushing Duo back while keeping Hiiro from taking over the ball. He ducked low enough to pass through Duo’s spread legs, and Triton put it up for an easy three.
Hiiro pushed at Quatre, muttering an expletive, but Quatre brushed him off and replied, “That’s seven, sucker. You’re losing.”
Because Otto felt sorry for the girls that were being obviously ignored, he passed the ball to Brittany. Brittany huffed, tossing her head as she began making her way down court, frowning as Quatre began advancing to her.
Triton danced past, signaling that he was open. Confused, Brittany looked back at him, and Quatre smacked her hand, causing her to toss the ball unwillingly into his possession. She held her hand and cried aloud once more as the teams shifted down court, to keep Triton from scoring.
“What a fucking prick!!” Brittany exclaimed, holding her stinging hand. “I hate him! Fucking fairy! Fucking fag! You can’t do that to me!”
“Brittany, shut up!” Mariemaia hissed as she slapped her friend’s arm. “They’re playing seriously. Step up! Don’t be like that!”
“No! I won’t take that shit from him!”
With a sigh, Mariemaia moved past her to at least signal she was open for a pass as Hiiro made their first points from the three point line. Travis tossed the ball in, and gave it to Mariemaia, for pity’s sake. Mariemaia turned to start dribbling, but Duo was there, laughingly taking the ball from her.
Giggling, she tried catching his braid to stop him, but Quatre was there, yelling, “If you want the damn ball, hold the fucking ball! This isn’t Dating Central, Goddamn it! If you want to PLAY, PLAY BALL!”
Mariemaia stared at him with widened eyes, unsure if he were serious. At the drop dead glare he gave her because Duo made two more points, she realized that he was. She looked around at Brittany, whose mouth was wide open.
There were people laughing, so the redhead turned in that direction. A couple of junior girls laughed and pointed directly at her.
“You wanna play, play, you dumb frosh!” one of them shouted in mocking laughter.
Furious, Mariemaia turned to give Quatre a piece of her mind when she realized the ball was bouncing her way. She picked it up and began dribbling, fumbling when Duo was there, waving his arms and shuffling before her. She picked the ball up to pass, but Duo was there, keeping her from even seeing an opportunity. He was making funny faces at her, making her giggle and blush, but his crowding caused her to take a few steps back, traveling.
“WHAT THE HELL, YOU STUPID GIRL! ARGH! Girls can’t play ball!! Why the hell are you here?!”
She froze as Duo laughed at her, turning away while the blond shouted in furious annoyance. She felt her entire face turn red as everyone’s attention was turned on her, and she hunched her shoulders as Brittany came to her defense, standing next to her and glowering at the blond that was yelling directions to his other teammates, completely leaving Mariemaia out.
“Who the hell does he think he is, stupid prick?!” Brittany growled. The ball sailed past them, then, startling them both. Brittany turned to run after it, and heard the thunder of running footsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Quatre was running after the ball, and so she threw herself onto the ball, in a matter of saving face against this raging psycho. Even after her body was on the ball, and she lifted her face to give him a gleeful smile, he fell to his knees, reached under her, and ripped the ball from her hands and from the weight she applied onto it from her position. She was sent onto her back in the move, and Quatre was once again shouting for positions as he dribbled away from her.
Utterly furious at the lack of common grace that he’d given her, Brittany picked herself up from the floor and raced after him. Duo advanced on him, shooting forward to crowd him back toward half-court line, and Brittany, in her line of vision, missed the braided wonder completely. So when Quatre moved back, throwing his elbow back with his dribbling and aiming to dribble around Duo, he connected with her face, earning her a sharp blow to the nose and causing her to scream with unbridled pain.
The game stopped then as she cradled her nose, Quatre looking back at her in surprise. Then, when he saw that Brittany was sprouting blood, he sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes skyward as Brittany cried.
Duo snorted sheepishly as everyone crowded around Brittany to see if she were okay. It was a complete accident, something that happened all the time (especially when such victims were trying to get into a position to strangle their intended), but it was amplified because Brittany then released her nose and attacked Quatre with a deranged scream.
Quatre merely stepped out of her path of thrown intention, shaking his head in disgust. He gave her a sincere apology and walked away, most of the boys turning to resume the game. Brittany stared after the boys that had given her and her friend so much attention and flirtatious design, that she was simply mortified at their behavior.
Mariemaia hurried over in concern, and the two of them left the court.
“Congratulations,” one of those juniors commented mockingly.
“For WHAT?!” Brittany yelled from behind her bloodied nose.
“You just got schooled.”
“Fuck you, bitch! Bitch! Cunt! Cock-sucker! You too, you fucking homo-fag!” she shouted at the blond, who gave her nothing but an eye roll and focused his attention on winning. Bursting into tears, Brittany ran out of the gym, wholly mortified. Mariemaia hurried after her, she, too, mortified by the boys’ turn on them.
“Don’t worry,” the green-eyed boyfriend said as she past by him. “He does that to all the girls. Frankly, if you can’t put up with it, you really shouldn’t be playing.”
She scowled at him, then hurried after her friend.
Trowa just chuckled and added two more girls to the list of females that hated Quatre Winner.
“Personal Jesus”= Marilyn Manson
The flyer posted on the bulletin board registered that try-outs were slated to begin in November, which was plenty of time to hurry up and get into shape. The gym was open at night for those that wanted to play a few harmless games, but so far, since it opened, Duo hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Quatre Winner. The basketball freak usually occupied one court either on the outside courts or dominating within, but he hadn’t seen him at all. Frowning, Duo paused in retrieving his lost ball as he turned, searching the gym’s crowd for that familiar face. Hiiro, an Australian named William, Travis, Jason, Hilde, a couple of girls whom he didn’t know, and Triton (which was very rare) were the only ones playing a lazy game of four on four, with Duo taking the shot at the basket whenever they were down court.
Wondering why Quatre wasn’t here, Duo picked up his ball and dribbled back on court as the two ragtag teams headed down to the other court, one of the girls screeching loudly in protest over losing a ball to flirtatious William. Duo rolled his eyes and hoped that girl didn’t think of trying out for the team. He liked flirting, and he loved girls, but the court wasn’t for such things. He shot a lazy three then retrieved his ball as the teams moved back this way. So far, Hiiro was dominating the court, taking no regard for the girls and roughly shunting them aside whenever he went up for a basket. The girls avoided him in favor of the other boys, and screeched and squealed their way into getting the ball back. Duo winced at the loss of hearing and gave Hiiro a sad expression.
Hiiro rolled his eyes, muttered something Duo couldn’t catch, and caught the ball on a stray pass. Duo wandered off court, dribbling between his legs, and spotted Relena nearby, watching Hiiro with a frown. Duo looked back on court to see one of those girls clinging to him with unnecessary contact, and looked back at Relena with a half grin. Looks like Hiiro was going to get a lecture tonight. Relena was one of the more jealous people, and Duo was glad he didn’t have to deal with that kind of bullshit. There was nothing worse than added drama in a relationship.
“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted as he sat beside her, dribbling continuously.
“Not much. Who are those girls? Are they freshmen?”
“I think so. Why?”
“They’re rather...annoying. Why do they feel the need to hang off him like that?”
“Does it bother you? They’re annoying him.”
“Yes, it bothers me. He hates when people hang off him,” Relena murmured on a frown, crossing her hands on her lap. “He hates when I even hold his hand in public.”
“But you do it anyway.”
“He’s my boyfriend! We’re allowed to do those sorts of things!”
Duo rolled his eyes and looked back at the court. The way Hiiro handled the ball had him in knots–the boy knew what he was doing, and worked hard to get the ball where they wanted it–through the net. He easily dribbled around the more difficult players, Triton and William, but those two were engaged in some sort of conversation and were making half-hearted attempts in keeping Hiiro from scoring. Hiiro set himself up for a three, and one of the girls awkwardly slammed against him as he shot. The ball managed to slip through the net without failure, and the girl received a rather menacing glare from cold blue eyes. The girl hurriedly slipped away and sought out the safety of her friend, who was too busy trying to catch Triton’s attention with numerous tugs on his shorts.
Duo snorted, shaking his heads. “Girls like that should be shot, man. I hate it when they act that way. Lost in a candy shop and can’t get out.”
“It’s usually the freshmen girls that act that way,” Relena said with a haughty sniff. She rose from the bench, frowning.
“Hey, don’t you have practice, or something?” Duo asked.
“Yes, it ended nearly ten minutes ago. Can you tell Hiiro I went to Dorothy’s?”
Ew, he thought, but nodded for her benefit. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”
“See you, Duo.” She waved at him as she walked on by, flipping her wheat colored hair over her shoulder. Duo smirked as he looked over at Hiiro, who had spotted her leaving as he made a bank shot. Hiiro looked at Duo, gesturing for an answer, and Duo simply put two fingers on each eyebrow, Hiiro rolling his eyes from his position.
Duo grinned, nodding maniacally as Relena left the gym. Hiiro walked over, wiping sweat from his face and sat down next to him. “Just talking, right?” Hiiro asked, rather sarcastically as he leaned forward on his knees with his elbows.
“Who the hell knows and who the hell cares? Who are those girls?”
“Fuck if I know. They’re very annoying,” Hiiro’s accented voice dropped a couple of degrees, and Duo grinned broadly, bouncing his ball off his knee and watching the two girls flirt madly with the boys leftover on the court.
“Where’s Quatre?” Hiiro asked, wiping his face once more, but with the collar of his shirt. “Usually he’s in here.”
“Maybe he’s too fuckin’ fat.”
“He’s heavy, but not fat.”
“Dunno. Who the fuck cares?”
“I want him to scare off these girls.”
Duo laughed, catching his ball. “True, true. He’ll make ‘em either run like hell or throw a big enough pissy fit to get out of here, anyway. I really haven’t seen him around.”
Hiiro snorted, hocking up a loogie then wiping what spit he spat at the court underneath his shoes. He headed back onto the court, catching the ball that William tossed to him before being mauled by one of the girls. Duo rolled his eyes, rising from the bench as well, and taking over the court that the team left behind. Dribbling, he eyed the doors expectedly, wondering when Quatre was going to show up. Then they’d have even enough teams...discounting those two bitches that were currently whining over who got to pants Triton in mid-shot.
Then he shrugged and began shooting, thinking about his dreams for this year’s team.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Coming down from a high wasn’t something that he liked doing. In fact, he’d rather he wasn’t coming down. Sure, all one got from a round of Double G was a sore throat and a headache, but when one came down from both meth and Double G , it gave a user the serious effects of stomachaches, shakes, an extra round of paranoia, short temper and more commonly, cotton mouth and nausea. There were others that he usually experienced, but tonight, while he sat alone in a children’s playground in Maryville’s Elementary School No. 3, about twenty blocks away from Darken and isolated enough to allow him some time to think, the other thing that bothered him was what he did.
Even now, as he kept his head pinned in place with his hands, his fingers shaking and his stomach gurgling unpleasantly, he couldn’t believe he’d gone and did that to Quatre. It was one of the more stupider things he had done so far. He couldn’t believe he’d gone and attacked him, in a fit of rage. Rage, because he thought that Quatre was cheating on him and was letting him suffer alone in his own confession. Rage because things weren’t the same and didn’t look as if they’d ever be the same. Rage because...his perspectives were being shown the door.
Things were growing more and more unclear with his thinking over his relationship, and he really had no one else to blame. He was still stewing in self-loathing and guilt due to his relationship with Amelie, and then his own feelings over Quatre’s appearance, and what he was doing to the blond...and really, the stress was fucking him over. So, he’d turned to drugs. A little here and there, not enough for Quatre to notice that he’d been a little more than buzzed every time he saw him. Marijuana was common, and he smoked it as openly as he dared, but the meth...well...that had just sort of slipped in between tokes and smokes, and before he knew it, he was using it more and more each day.
He just wanted to escape his problems, even if it were just a little while. He wanted things to be better again, he wanted to have Quatre happy and carefree and psychotic, and he wanted his blond to be skinny and fit again, and he wanted to be able to touch Quatre without remembering Amelie–! Things were so messed up for him, that he felt he had no one to turn to. Catherine had not yet returned to the States, and she wouldn’t want to hear about his relationship woes, anyway, and talking to Quatre had been somewhat of a pain, because they were both tense and things were strained between them.
Quatre had told him that he forgave him for cheating, but the blond was obviously torn between accepting what was or throwing a fit. He knew that Quatre wanted his physical expression, but Trowa couldn’t bring himself to touch or hug without feeling the same way he had before, and Quatre was holding back as well, and Trowa knew that he was questioning things–am I good enough to be touched? Is he thinking about her? Those sorts of things Trowa knew he was thinking, and it was understandable. He’d be doing the very same thing.
He knew that he wanted to fix his relationship, but things were so messed up! It didn’t look repairable, and he was in misery. Then, he had to go and do this thing with Quatre...the blond had been terrified, he could tell by the blond’s expression, and the way he’d wanted to leave. And it had just made Trowa so angry that Quatre was more focused on continuing to put the problems aside that things just grew out of perspective and escalated from there.
He had never wanted to hurt his boyfriend in any way, and here, since he’d gotten back from Spain, he’d hurt him over and over again. He felt worthless, monstrous, and completely despicable. He wasn’t good enough for the blond–the blond deserved someone that could like him no matter what his size or condition, someone that will keep up with his sex drive, someone who will see him as he should really be seen.
Trowa didn’t feel like he was enough. On one point, he did, but after this...
He knew Quatre wasn’t comfortable around drugs, yet he did them anyway. And as he did them, he was building up an immunity to small highs and needed bigger doses, and such things were growing to bigger problems. He’d gotten over his addiction before, but that was in a different situation. That was when he’d been courting Quatre. And in that time, he didn’t want drugs to mess up something so new and blossoming, that he’d just put his addictions aside and focused more on that. Now, because he’d fucked up with Amelie, he found himself reverting back to their comforting blanket. And they were bad choices, horrible choices, because they’d caused him to hurt Quatre.
Well, he shouldn’t blame them...he was part of it. Because he’d allowed himself to consume and ingest, he was part of the problem. He should have known that meth and Gin-Gin weren’t a very good combination, and he was paying for it now. He’d thrown up what little he’d eaten, and if he didn’t get somewhere quick, he’d be losing it through the other end.
Rising from the swings, he began making his way across the street toward a residential area that had an open pool house with a restroom. He’d left Darken to think things through, to cool off his high, to realize what an asshole he was.
He knew what an asshole he was. It made him feel so utterly bad, with a hard pain in his heart, to know that he’d hurt Quatre so...so thoroughly. And Quatre had did nothing wrong–so what if he’d hung out with another boy?! Trowa hung out with other boys all the time, and they did nothing! All his insecurity, jealousy, and paranoia, amplified by all that he’d taken, had just thrown his feelings off the deep end and he’d gone crazy. It was all his fault–his fault with Amelie, his fault for feeling the way he did toward Quatre’s weight, for doing drugs, for wishing that Quatre had done something wrong so that Trowa could blame him instead.
That wasn’t right....it wasn’t. Quatre would never cheat on him. Ever! He showed Trowa constantly that he loved and cared for him, even when Trowa wasn’t feeling particularly giving. And despite all his complaints that all Quatre did was take, take, take, he was always giving in return. Little things, small things that Trowa ignored. The hugs, the kisses, the need for physical affection was wholly part of it. But so were the constant pushes in keeping Trowa busy, the constant need to keep his idle hands working once more with his gift with art...Quatre cared for him in so many ways that Trowa was putting up blinders for some reason, and ignoring those gestures.
He really loved Quatre. He did. There wasn’t a question about it. But if accepting a person within agreeable terms, such as physical appearance–did that make him a bad person? He loved Quatre, but the weight issue...it really, really bothered him. He wasn’t into tubby people. He just couldn’t handle the softness of their bodies, the jiggles, the stretch marks, the...rotund-ness. And Quatre wasn’t fat, it was just...he was getting there. Trowa could only look at the way Quatre seemed to...drag his steps and the way his stomach made a slight roll in his t-shirt, and...it just wasn’t good. And Quatre had never been that size, so there had to be stretch marks...
Was he wrong to feel that way?! He knew of several others, practically a whole grade level of people who really liked him that way, and thought that it made him more...attractive on a wholly different level. And others were telling Trowa that Quatre was more approachable that way, more human. And others, the cruel ones, were always remarking on how Trowa must be drowning in that heaviness, must get crushed whenever Quatre ‘was on top’, or how much cushion was for the pushing, and Trowa felt disgusted and slightly agreed with them, never admitting that they had yet to even have sex, any sort of sex.
But was it so wrong?!
He didn’t want Quatre to completely change everything!! He just wanted him to lose weight. And cut his hair. And stop being so damn clingy. And stop hanging around that girl. And–
He dragged his hands down his face and found the restroom. Seeing that no one was around, he stepped inside and hoped that this expulsion helped out his upset tummy. Then, after this, after he cooled down considerably, he was going to apologize for being a dick. He needed Quatre. That was all there was to it. But then again, he needed his drugs. Maybe, on some level, both of them could somehow equal out the other–he could still have Quatre, but cut down on the drugs. Maybe a puff here, a puff there, and he’d quit once he and Quatre got over this relationship woe.
Yes, that sounded agreeable. Muy bien!
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
That night, Quatre found himself staring silently at the dark shapes in his room, the blankets pulled up around his shoulders. He went over everything that had happened today–from Trowa’s finding out about Justin, to the incident in the bathroom. One thing was clear–he positively hated drugs. Especially what Felicia called the Double G, Gin-Gin. Pathetically stupid word for something pathetically stupid. He hated what it had made Trowa do, how it made him behave. He really hated it. Trowa would have never behaved in such an out of control manner if he weren’t all ‘wired up’ on that stuff. Trowa wouldn’t have ever thought about behaving that way! It just wasn’t going very well...it didn’t look good for their relationship. He was scared then, unsure of what to do, but now that he’d been given time to really think about what happened to them, he realized that drugs weren’t going to scare him off, no matter what they did to Trowa. He loved Trowa.
If drugs were his boyfriend’s choice, then he’d either have to deal with it, or break up with him. And he wasn’t even thinking about breaking up with him. They had gone through so much together–why ruin it now? He was sure that if Trowa weren’t taking that stuff, he wouldn’t have done what he’d done. He decided that it was merely stress that had Trowa drugging, and it wasn’t as if Trowa were merely dabbling in the stuff. He’d done it all before, according to his friends. Trowa had only been clean during that period when he’d courted Quatre, and that was a long enough period for Quatre to fall in love and accept whatever Trowa dished out.
Now, since he knew that Trowa had done such things before (especially the marijuana), he couldn’t exactly ask Trowa to stop. That was Trowa’s decision. But if it became such a big deal...then what? He didn’t know what people with addictions were like full term, and considering their relationship, they were still frighteningly new to each other. This drug aspect was certainly new–Trowa had only done a few things here and there when they were first getting to know each other, but then again, Felicia had mentioned sometime previous that Trowa was a ‘druggie’...in fact, her very words were, “He’s all up into that drug scene, you know?”...She had also mentioned that he partied, and that he sold. Quatre knew that he sold, and he got a pretty good profit from it. That’s where Trowa’s extra money came from, and he knew little details about it, but Trowa had mentioned before that he had to try out whatever he was selling just to prove that it was good, and therefore he had to experience in whatever he was selling.
Usually it was marijuana, which was so easy to acquire, and then the harder stuff was rare. Trowa had never came to him as wired up as he was today, and so Quatre was a little freaked out by what that stuff did to him. It entirely changed Trowa’s personality and mannerism, changing him into someone totally different. He hated it. He wanted his Trowa back.
But he didn’t know how to go about it.
Could he just go up to Trowa and ask him to cut it out indefinitely? Would Trowa do so? And what were addictions truly like? Would an addict really drop what he was addicted to?
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. Maybe he would find a better way to deal with it, tomorrow...
Then, hours later, he awoke with a start because he felt someone against him, curling one arm over his stomach and chest, pressing him hard into a air-depleting hug. He started to panic, brought from deep sleep to wide-awake in instants due to the sudden unexpectedness of the movement, but then relaxed slightly at the familiar smells of cigarette and cologne.
Still, he was unsure of what to do even as Trowa pressed his forehead against the back of his neck and hugged him even tighter, sniffling piteously. Quatre knew he couldn’t hold Trowa’s out of character behavior against him forever, and relaxed completely against the body he knew so well. Trowa didn’t say anything for a long while, and Quatre found himself wondering what time it was. He knew that Trowa had his ways of sneaking past security measures and knew his room access code, so it wasn’t a real Mission: Impossible to get into his room way after curfew. Even so, the fact that Trowa was trying to apologize for his behavior made Quatre forgive him.
Trowa didn’t mean it. It was only going to be a one time thing. He would never do this again.
“I’m sorry,” he heard his boyfriend croak against his back, and he felt the unfamiliar wetness of the other’s tears on his skin. He felt his heart break for the sincerity that he felt coming from Trowa in waves–it was thick and strong, and he truly believed that Trowa was really sorry. “I’m so fucking sorry....I know what I did today was so wrong...I was so wrong! I can’t believe I lost control like that!”
“It’s all right,” Quatre murmured, hugging the arm that was slung around him. His body had missed this comfort, simple as it was. To be touched, hugged, wanted...Trowa didn’t want to do either, and his entire body and mind missed it.
“NO, it’s not all right! I shouldn’t be doing shit like that! I shouldn’t be doing things–! I fucked up, and it’s–there’s no damn excuse for what I did...it was so stupid. I was just angry, more at myself, Quatre, and not at you. I knew that what I was doing was so wrong, and I knew you were scared, and I knew–! I knew it all, and I couldn’t stop myself from acting the way that I had. I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to do that. I lost control. I’m so sorry...”
“Shh...it’s all right....it’s okay. No one was hurt,” Quatre said, trying to soothe away the raw grief that he felt from his beloved. He didn’t know how to make Trowa okay again, so he hoped that by the backward press of his body against Trowa’s, and by the hug on his arm, helped his boyfriend realize that he’d already been forgiven. He didn’t want Trowa this way–it was so weird for him to accept. He was supposed to be the wild emotional one, not Trowa. Trowa was always so cool, so collected, sarcastic and sardonic. Not weepy and self-loathing...none of that!
“No, you were hurt, Quatre. I shouldn’t have done any of that...I’m so sorry...all this fucking stress over my fuck-up in Spain, and then coming back and realizing what a fucking shit I am, it just...it didn’t go well with what I’ve been doing...” Trowa sniffed, pressing his face against the back of his boyfriend’s neck, feeling immediately soothed by Quatre’s presence, by his familiar scent, by the feel of his body against him. It didn’t evoke anything sexual–he just wanted his comfort. He wanted his forgiveness. He wouldn’t forgive himself for what had happened, and so, he was at a lost of what to do. “I love you, I love you so much and all I’ve done since I came back was hurt you. I love you so much...I didn’t want to hurt you, and I did, and I don’t know what to do anymore...oh, God, please forgive me....”
“Shh, Trowa, I do! I forgive you. Nothing’s wrong...nothing’s wrong...just...don’t do that anymore, all right? I was scared because I didn’t even know who you were,” Quatre said softly, turning in his arms, wrapping his arms around Trowa’s shoulders and burying his face against his boyfriend’s neck. He sighed in absolute rapture at being this close once again, at having Trowa hold him without grimacing or pulling away. The abrasive edge of their relationship woes were gone in an instant as he held him, breathing in his familiar scents and feeling the familiarity of his body. Eyes closed in pure bliss, his expression plainly expressing what joy he was feeling at this moment, Quatre was the picture of content.
Trowa’s arms tightened around him, and Quatre could feel his tears against his ear, against his neck. “I’m so sorry, Quatre...I’m so sorry...Did I hurt you? I never wanted to hit you, I never wanted to do that to you...I’m so sorry....”
“Trowa, I hit you all the time,” Quatre laughed gently against the pulsing beat in Trowa’s throat, kissing it briefly. He was rewarded with gentle fingers threading through his hair, smoothing over his scalp. If he were an animal, he’d be purring very loudly. “What’s the difference between today and then?”
“You weren’t serious about those...and I was messed up today...”
“Oh, Trowa...don’t even worry about it. I love you–nothing you can do is wrong. Except, maybe, calling me something stupid, like poodle-puff, or some stupid shit like that...”
Trowa laughed shakily, holding him tightly, pressing kisses against his neck and ear. Then he searched out Quatre’s lips, melding his against the firm, dry lips that he was familiar with. Quatre kissed him back with as much feeling as he could, holding his face between his hands, heart alighting with joy that Trowa was going to be okay, that they were going to be okay. Trowa broke the kiss, giving smaller, wetter ones on his jawbone and leading up to his ears.
Extremely hopeful for more physical activity, Quatre pressed against him, his hands searching out his boyfriend’s body, tracing his hands over the hooded sweater and jeans, and feeling something strange in the back pockets. He paused at those rolled tubes of something, frowning, wondering if they were chapstick or something of the sort. Trowa pulled away from him, grabbing and holding onto his hands. Disappointed that Trowa was stopping their physical expression, Quatre forgot all about those tubes and focused instead on trying to get Trowa to open up again. He was very eager for some physical action, but when Trowa told him gently that he didn’t feel up to it tonight, Quatre was very disappointed and tried not to be too hurt about it.
At least things were looking better.
But he sighed heavily and settled against Trowa’s body for a night of no-sex once again. Even as his body ached and cried for some attention that he’d been deprived of, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to go without it one more night.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“You playing tonight?”
Quatre looked up from his studying, blinking repeatedly as he looked at a very serious Hiiro Yuy. The words he’d never thought he’d ever hear from someone who disliked him was absolutely mind-blowing. He stuttered in disbelief, rising away from his notebook and straightening in his chair.
“You guys started that already?” he asked, never even giving a thought to playing in the gym with the others. All he’d thought about were his problems with Trowa.
Hiiro gave him a frown, waiting to see if Quatre was serious. When the incredulous expression was indeed utter seriousness, he nodded slowly. “A long time ago. Why haven’t you been there?”
“Because I’m fat.”
Hiiro scowled at him, shaking his head as Quatre grinned. “Quit acting like a girl and get over there, tonight. I’ll tell the others that you’ll be there.”
“But what if I don’t want to be there?”
Hiiro raised a forked eyebrow. The idea was just as far-out as the land of Oz. “You? You don’t want to play?”
“All right, you talked me into it.”
“At seven.”
“At seven.”
When Hiiro nodded in confirmation and walked away, Quatre stared after him in stunned shock, unsure if that conversation had actually taken place. He turned to a female classmate, asking her if Hiiro Yuy had just finished talking to him. With a disgusted expression, she confirmed this and walked off, muttering under her breath.
Quatre then grinned and lost all further thought of his stressing situation with his boyfriend. Tonight, no matter what, he was headed to the gym.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo had just made his last basket for the winning shot on a game of three on three when Hiiro walked into the gym, minus Relena (for once). Mariemaia and Brittany were still there, Brittany the blond tugging on Triton’s shorts and whining about him making more points than her.
Both were freshmen, Duo had learned, and both were really good ball players, but they just didn’t have the experience to keep up with the more senior players. They were good at dribbling and passing the ball, and making the occasional shot, but in-between, they had come to the idea that the fact that they were the only girls playing with a large group of attractive boys had given them free reign to flirt, act helpless and protest everything. Frankly, Duo’s ear drums couldn’t take anymore screeching and howling, and playful protest.
They were annoying, and they needed to be taught a lesson.
Hiiro sat down on the lowest bench and slid on his basketball shoes, looking up when Duo walked over. “He’s coming,” Hiiro said simply, and Duo grinned manically.
“Awesome. We should be girl-free by the end of tonight,” he said happily, looking over his shoulders at the door and then at the girls. Mariemaia, the redhead, was feeling up William’s arm muscle and cooing over his accent, as most girls did. Brittany had moved on in trying to lace Travis’s shoes, as the six foot nine student seemed to be having trouble doing it on his own.
Hiiro nodded in confirmation, then rose, stretching his arms. He saw that besides the usual William, Travis, Triton, and Duo, there was Winston ‘Winnie’ Pulma, and a new senior named Otto that were taking up the court floor. The girls were the only ones playing, and the ones sitting on the benches, watching the yummy group of guys were all busy within their cliques and ignoring others that approached them. Since there was seven, counting Hiiro, they needed Quatre to show up to make it all even, or someone had to sit out.
“When’s he coming? I wanna play.”
“I told him seven.”
“It’s past seven.”
“Then he’s coming.”
Duo sighed with impatience, actually looking forward to playing with the fanatical Point Guard. He disliked Quatre Winner...he always would. He felt the guy was too much of a prick to even be friendly with, and he especially hated that he was absolutely gifted on court, giving Duo much more of a reason to hate that he had to admit that.
Tossing the ball from side to side, brushing up his headband that kept his trademark bangs out of his face, Duo watched the door with an expectant expression. Hiiro walked onto the court, talking to Winnie, the Romanian. Winnie’s deep voice managed to penetrate the sudden squeal of Brittany as Travis tossed her over his shoulder and marched around.
With a frown, Duo studied the two girls: Brittany Daniels was a five foot two blond, entirely skinny except for the extra large rack she carried up front, and was pretty quick for a girl. She had pleasant features that were similar to that Britney Spears that was so popular, but without the added weight.
Mariemaia Kushrenada, was a petite redhead with bright blue eyes that dominated a very childlike face. She stood at five foot even, with the potential for even greater height once she started growing. Her short hair was pinned at her ears in small pigtails with barely any tuft, and while she was quick, she wasn’t quick enough to keep up with the boys, which was understandable, considering that most were over six feet. He was short, standing at five foot ten, Hiiro was the same height, and the others were completely over the six foot range. Quatre himself was still standing at five foot eight, but Point Guards were usually the smallest, anyway.
He began dribbling, heaving a sigh, then looking up happily when someone walked into the gym. He frowned at a very indifferent Trowa Barton, who immediately drew interested stares from all those around him, including the girls on the benches. Dressed in baggy jeans, a simple black tee and his customary hair swept to the left of his face, Duo could sort of understand why the girls would pay so much attention to him. But personally, Duo thought he was...well...a fag.
Trowa walked in, and right behind him, Quatre came strolling in, dressed as he usually was for basketball in a pair of shorts and a muscle tee. Duo had to grin–Quatre was definitely not fat, but he carried more than he had last year. His arms were thicker, but he saw the definition of muscle, and his legs were once more toning into that irritatingly perfect mass of worked muscle. He’d lost a little weight since Duo last paid attention, and didn’t look as tubby.
But that was good enough–! As long as he ran the girls out of the gym, Quatre could be any way he was.
Trowa took a seat on the bleachers, taking Quatre’s shower slippers and muttering something that Duo couldn’t hear from his distance. Quatre said something in reply, something short and snappish, and Duo suspected more trouble in paradise. He shrugged. Like he cared.
“Who’s that?” he heard Brittany ask curiously, and he turned, leering at her.
“One of our best players,” he answered, walking onto the court.
“Ew. Is he gay? Is that his boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s gross. I don’t like gay guys.”
“Well, they don’t like you.”
Brittany rolled her eyes and walked over to Mariemaia, who was frowning in Quatre’s direction upon hearing her friend’s whispered announcement.
Quatre walked onto the court, Triton immediately walking over after disentangling himself from Mariemaia’s grip.
“Your boyfriend actually let you come out?” Triton gasped in mock shock. Yup, despite it all, he’d still hit that ass. It was slowly disappearing (Triton decided then and there he hated diets), but somewhat still alive in that way that it still bounced with each step. Rather, it was more perky than large, so it was still one of his more favorite features on his blond obsession.
Quatre frowned up at him, tugging on a wristguard. “Jealous?”
Triton grunted and lowered his voice. “Actually, yeah. Quit rubbing it in.”
“Gross.”
“Gross, yourself. You better play good, too.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“Whatever.”
“Quit talking to me. Your boyfriend looks like he’s going to rip my head off. Why’s he so jealous all the time?”
“Fuck off.”
Triton laughed, turning to face the others as Hiiro split up the teams: himself, Duo, Otto, Winnie, and Brittany were a team. Quatre, Triton, Mariemaia, Travis and William were the other. And because Hiiro was feeling rather nice tonight, he passed Quatre the ball.
Quatre wondered what the meaning of all the secretive smirks were as Duo, Hiiro, Triton, and Winnie looked at each other. Vaguely passing the ball into William’s possession, his team spread out on offense while Hiiro’s spread into defense on the other end of the court. William passed him the ball, and Quatre immediately began assessing the contents–Duo was moving upward to intercept him, Winnie was sitting his post under the basket, Hiiro was covering Triton, and the two girls were giggling at something near half court line.
In disgust, he completely shoved them out of his mind. In his opinion, girls shouldn’t be allowed to play. What a distraction.
He began moving quickly, tossing the ball to Travis, who dribbled easily around Duo, and tossed it back to Quatre. Quatre caught the ball in one hand, smoothly switching it over his back and reverting the ball to Travis, who quickly shot a three. Without bothering to consider who was in his way, Quatre sprinted forward, slamming past Brittany’s weak defense and rebounding the ball. Brittany stumbled, tripped over her feet, and hit knees first onto the court.
“FOUL!” she screamed, but it went unheard as the boys wrestled for possession of the ball. “I said FOUL!”
Quatre retrieved the ball, dribbling past three point line, and hurled a pass to Triton. Triton quickly out shuffled Winnie’s defense and put it up for a bank shot. At the two pointer, Quatre directed his team back onto the other end, completely ignoring Mariemaia, who wandered somewhat distractedly near the left side of their court, blinking at Brittany’s furious expression.
Because Hiiro was still feeling nice, he passed the ball to the slighted Brittany. Quatre gave a groan as Hiiro jogged past him, smirk on his face. Brittany tossed loose strands of hair out of her face and began dribbling down court, eyeing her guys. Duo was wide open, moving quickly to keep Mariemaia off of him, and Hiiro himself was waiting down the right hand corner of their court while the defense set up rather neatly in their sections.
Quatre sighed, figuring he’d give the girl until she got to half court to make it somewhat fair, and the moment she stepped over, he went after the ball. She tried to squeal with mock fear as he reached for it, pulling it back with a quick movement of her upper body, but she suddenly found her foot caught by his, and he used that against her, shoving forward with a shoulder to retrieve the ball and completely knocking her aside. Duo and the others went after the ball while Quatre dribbled quickly to make a bank shot that kept them four points ahead.
Brittany picked herself up from the floor with an enraged face, Mariemaia looking at her in questioning concern.
“That was a foul, motherfucker!” she yelled as she stomped across the court to Quatre, to confront him.
He glanced at her from over his shoulder, and shook his head. He pointed at Triton to cover Winnie, for Travis to cover Duo, for William to cover Otto. He moved onto Hiiro as he caught the inbounds pass, and used the same move he’d used on Brittany to take the ball away. But because Hiiro was so used to the physical contact, he was unmoved by the shove and dribbled around Quatre quickly, the boys nearly plowing into the girls that stood in confusion at the center of the court.
“Hello?! My foul?!” Brittany cried after them as Mariemaia began chewing her nails anxiously.
“Shut up and get into the game if you wanna play!” someone shouted from the bleachers.
Brittany turned to give that person a piece of her mind, but the ball went sailing past her face, so she went after it. Quatre was there once more, blowing past her, retrieving the ball as if she weren’t even there. He whirled around her, leaving her easily in the dust. Mariemaia, seeing that she was wide open, called for the ball as she went down court.
Ignoring her, Quatre waited until Travis was open and hurled the ball in his direction. Mariemaia looked after him in aghast surprise, signaling with her arms that she’d been open. Travis ignored her, plowing through Winnie and trying to put the ball up. Quatre waited impatiently for the ball to be returned to him, and when it did, Hiiro and Duo was on him immediately. He lowered his shoulder, pushing Duo back while keeping Hiiro from taking over the ball. He ducked low enough to pass through Duo’s spread legs, and Triton put it up for an easy three.
Hiiro pushed at Quatre, muttering an expletive, but Quatre brushed him off and replied, “That’s seven, sucker. You’re losing.”
Because Otto felt sorry for the girls that were being obviously ignored, he passed the ball to Brittany. Brittany huffed, tossing her head as she began making her way down court, frowning as Quatre began advancing to her.
Triton danced past, signaling that he was open. Confused, Brittany looked back at him, and Quatre smacked her hand, causing her to toss the ball unwillingly into his possession. She held her hand and cried aloud once more as the teams shifted down court, to keep Triton from scoring.
“What a fucking prick!!” Brittany exclaimed, holding her stinging hand. “I hate him! Fucking fairy! Fucking fag! You can’t do that to me!”
“Brittany, shut up!” Mariemaia hissed as she slapped her friend’s arm. “They’re playing seriously. Step up! Don’t be like that!”
“No! I won’t take that shit from him!”
With a sigh, Mariemaia moved past her to at least signal she was open for a pass as Hiiro made their first points from the three point line. Travis tossed the ball in, and gave it to Mariemaia, for pity’s sake. Mariemaia turned to start dribbling, but Duo was there, laughingly taking the ball from her.
Giggling, she tried catching his braid to stop him, but Quatre was there, yelling, “If you want the damn ball, hold the fucking ball! This isn’t Dating Central, Goddamn it! If you want to PLAY, PLAY BALL!”
Mariemaia stared at him with widened eyes, unsure if he were serious. At the drop dead glare he gave her because Duo made two more points, she realized that he was. She looked around at Brittany, whose mouth was wide open.
There were people laughing, so the redhead turned in that direction. A couple of junior girls laughed and pointed directly at her.
“You wanna play, play, you dumb frosh!” one of them shouted in mocking laughter.
Furious, Mariemaia turned to give Quatre a piece of her mind when she realized the ball was bouncing her way. She picked it up and began dribbling, fumbling when Duo was there, waving his arms and shuffling before her. She picked the ball up to pass, but Duo was there, keeping her from even seeing an opportunity. He was making funny faces at her, making her giggle and blush, but his crowding caused her to take a few steps back, traveling.
“WHAT THE HELL, YOU STUPID GIRL! ARGH! Girls can’t play ball!! Why the hell are you here?!”
She froze as Duo laughed at her, turning away while the blond shouted in furious annoyance. She felt her entire face turn red as everyone’s attention was turned on her, and she hunched her shoulders as Brittany came to her defense, standing next to her and glowering at the blond that was yelling directions to his other teammates, completely leaving Mariemaia out.
“Who the hell does he think he is, stupid prick?!” Brittany growled. The ball sailed past them, then, startling them both. Brittany turned to run after it, and heard the thunder of running footsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Quatre was running after the ball, and so she threw herself onto the ball, in a matter of saving face against this raging psycho. Even after her body was on the ball, and she lifted her face to give him a gleeful smile, he fell to his knees, reached under her, and ripped the ball from her hands and from the weight she applied onto it from her position. She was sent onto her back in the move, and Quatre was once again shouting for positions as he dribbled away from her.
Utterly furious at the lack of common grace that he’d given her, Brittany picked herself up from the floor and raced after him. Duo advanced on him, shooting forward to crowd him back toward half-court line, and Brittany, in her line of vision, missed the braided wonder completely. So when Quatre moved back, throwing his elbow back with his dribbling and aiming to dribble around Duo, he connected with her face, earning her a sharp blow to the nose and causing her to scream with unbridled pain.
The game stopped then as she cradled her nose, Quatre looking back at her in surprise. Then, when he saw that Brittany was sprouting blood, he sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes skyward as Brittany cried.
Duo snorted sheepishly as everyone crowded around Brittany to see if she were okay. It was a complete accident, something that happened all the time (especially when such victims were trying to get into a position to strangle their intended), but it was amplified because Brittany then released her nose and attacked Quatre with a deranged scream.
Quatre merely stepped out of her path of thrown intention, shaking his head in disgust. He gave her a sincere apology and walked away, most of the boys turning to resume the game. Brittany stared after the boys that had given her and her friend so much attention and flirtatious design, that she was simply mortified at their behavior.
Mariemaia hurried over in concern, and the two of them left the court.
“Congratulations,” one of those juniors commented mockingly.
“For WHAT?!” Brittany yelled from behind her bloodied nose.
“You just got schooled.”
“Fuck you, bitch! Bitch! Cunt! Cock-sucker! You too, you fucking homo-fag!” she shouted at the blond, who gave her nothing but an eye roll and focused his attention on winning. Bursting into tears, Brittany ran out of the gym, wholly mortified. Mariemaia hurried after her, she, too, mortified by the boys’ turn on them.
“Don’t worry,” the green-eyed boyfriend said as she past by him. “He does that to all the girls. Frankly, if you can’t put up with it, you really shouldn’t be playing.”
She scowled at him, then hurried after her friend.
Trowa just chuckled and added two more girls to the list of females that hated Quatre Winner.