Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Modern Romance ( Chapter 13 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
What are friends for if you can't beat up on them for therapy?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.8K | Visits: 223 | Status: Completed
What are friends for if you can't beat up on them for therapy?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.8K | Visits: 223 | Status: Completed
Chapter Thirteen:
“Modern Romance” = Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
“FOUL! Oh, god that was so fucking obvious–GODDAMN YOU, YOU FUCKING BLIND motherfucker!!”
Much giggling and laughter ensued, and Quatre scowled, remembering that he was watching the game down in the lobby of the dormitory, where a Laker had just completed a fairly obvious offensive, and yet had walked away from the fallen Spur with nothing more than a gesture of innocence. Riled, because the refs were calling mainly for the Lakers (playing their homecourt, where Quatre swore up and down that the only reason why Lakers won was because of the rumor that the refs were paid off quite handsomely by the Lakers team), Quatre resumed his seat on the couch, and grumbled about the game. His team, the San Antonio Spurs, were losing by twenty points because the refs were adamant about having the Lakers win.
He ignored the two boys that were sitting nearby, the very same ones that had been there since his encounter with Justin, and while they were occasionally quiet and never did anything to bother him, their presence was annoying him. He had sneaking suspicions that they weren’t here to watch the game because they liked the Spurs----it had to be something else. He sneaked a glance at them, seeing them looking at something they held together, whispering and giggling.
Rolling his eyes, he crossed his ankles and watched as the point guard was attacked by the Lakers’ center, causing him to crash out of bounds, the ref calling a technical on his Spurs player. Quatre clenched his eyes shut and tried willing those refs to die in a horrible accident. Letting out an angry breath, he reached out for a throw pillow, mashing it against his chest as he focused once more on the game, the commentaries giving snide remarks on how the Spurs were playing like crap this year. They weren’t–it was the beginning the season, and the only reason why they were saying such things was because they were rooting for the Lakers.
Giving another annoyed grumble, Quatre straightened up from the couch, watching with jiggling knees as the Spurs made a miraculous three against the Lakers’ defense, the ball flapping through the net with ease. Giving an encouraging exclamation, he sat at the edge of his seat and sent goodwill vibes towards his favorite team, hoping for a win over a team he thought sucked.
Triton walked over from the nearby vending machine, and both boys that were crammed in the chair looked at him. The tall center frowned down at them, fashionably thin frame slouching in an offended manner as the boys looked away, cringing.
Triton looked over at his crush, and winced at the stream of foul words that were directed at the refs. “Jesus, man,” he complained. “Everyone’s hiding out because they think you’re cussing them out! You’re, like, Charles Barkley on crack...”
“Get the fuck out of my face, Triton. I’m busy.”
Triton looked at the screen, watching a Laker mow down a Spur with nothing more than a wild cackle as he got away with the action. He looked at Quatre, then at the boys.
“Don’t you two have something better to do?” he asked one of them.
“We’re just watching the game,” one whispered, in awe of the senior, both of them blushing madly. They were quite feminine, Triton realized, staring at them. They were both fashionably thin, pretty, and if neither opened their mouth to speak, he would never have realized that they were boys. They were quite fascinating to look at, actually. He blinked to save himself from trying to hit on them. Despite their looks, they were frosh, and he wasn’t interested in the inexperienced...
“I’m sure you are. Scram.”
They hurriedly left their chair, leaving Triton alone with Quatre. That guy attracted the oddest people to him, Triton thought with a lift of his eyebrow. Then he frowned. What did that make him?
He took the boys’ spot, grinning. He studied his crush, at the maddening way he was so out of his grasp.
God, just one night, he thought with some frustration, leaning back in the chair to look at the screen. Even if it’s just an hour! I can do a lot within an hour!!
“SONOFABITCH!!! THAT WAS FOUL! GOD! I fucking hate the Lakers...pussy-ass team, couldn’t win a single GAME if they weren’t PAYING people OFF to WIN THEM!!”
Triton looked at him, smiling. Trowa Barton was just plain...stupid, he decided, watching as Quatre gave his characteristic pouts and shouts at the holographic screen, as if hollering at the refs would somehow allow them to make better calls on the game.
The blond was entirely gorgeous...filled with passion, excitement, and just plain ole zesty sexiness. Dressed as he was in that old, hooded sweater and track pants (dear Lord, please let him be wearing only underwear under there!), he looked ripe enough to curl up against, or have him curled up in his lap. He was openly expressive about certain things, modest when it came down to it, and certainly fun to be with...Quatre Winner was the type one settled down with on the long road, not a short fling. He was the loyal, intensively faithful type (though that thing with that Sageville kid had Triton wondering and quite hopeful), and that didn’t exist in these parts of New Park City.
Either way, that sort of package didn’t come along very often, and Triton found himself desiring the boy very intensely.
It made him uncomfortable, he decided as he shifted, hoping that mini-Bloom would go away before really announcing his presence. Yes, Quatre was undeterminably attractive, and that passion he had for his sport was a major turn-on, because one could only imagine how he would direct it in the bedroom...
And with basketball coming up? Triton could only wish for time-travel, in order to sneak into the locker rooms before and after games just to see glimpses of pale white, toned flesh, and to just...okay, okay, getting off track, here...
“That’s a pretty mean theory,” Triton said on a drawl, elbows on his knees. “The Lakers are pretty–”
He scrambled out of his chair, just to avoid contact with the flying coffee table.
“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PUSSY-ASS LAKERS FAN! GO TO HELL, DEVIL SPAWN!”
Laughing, Triton walked off, the boys waiting nearby to regain their seat after replacing the table where it had previously sat.
Yes...Trowa Barton had to be the luckiest motherfucker in the world to have that piece of ass to play with, he decided, quite sadly as he retired his room to take care of certain business.
During the third quarter, Quatre’s cellphone rang. He moved to ignore it, focused on an intensive play. The rings stopped after the caller reached his answering service, and seconds later, began ringing again. Annoyed, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and tossed it at one of the boys.
“Take a message for me,” he ordered, eyes never leaving the game.
Happy to comply, one of them answered tentatively, the other bemoaning that he wanted to do it. Quatre leapt from his seat in a happy display, the Spurs scoring against the Lakers in a particularly tricky instance, the refs unable to make a believable call that would discount the point. Not that the other calls were believable...
“It’s Trowa,” the boy who answered his phone said, and Quatre frowned, tearing his eyes from the screen and wondering if Trowa would ever forgive him if he chose to continue watching the game and not answer his phone. He clenched his fists and looked with some desperation at the screen, giving a pained gurgle.
“He sounds mad,” the boy continued. Quatre found that his decision was made, and he figured it would be fine if he watched the game, instead of answering to some unexplained wrath from the other. The boy figured as much, having known his crush since school started, and moved to take a message, fiddling with the other boy’s shirt sleeve. Then he looked up from the given, snarling reply. “He says it’s important, and he’d rather not leave a message. You’d better answer your phone, he says.”
With a heavy, pained sigh, Quatre turned away from the holoset, reaching for the phone.
“Where the hell have you been?!” he then demanded, walking away from the entertainment area.
“Who the fuck was that answering your phone?!” Trowa demanded back, and Quatre gave a strong kick to one of the vending machines that he passed by.
“Don’t be changing the subject, fucker! You’ve been gone for nearly a week, not even calling me or letting me know what the fuck is going on!” Quatre yelled at him, flinging his arm about. “You have no right to get pissed at me! I’m pissed at you!”
“Yeah, well, I got caught up in a few...er, things. Look, I really need to talk to you.”
“You’re talking to me now,” Quatre pointed out.
“Alone. Face to face.”
Quatre sucked in a deep breath, casting a longing glance toward the holoset, then frowning as he began walking up toward his room. Sacrifices would have to be made to fix this one...“Okay, fine. Where?”
“Meet me at the park on...Seventh and Valor. You know where that’s at?”
“Yes, I know where that’s at. You better be there, too, Trowa! I don’t want to show up there, and you’re gone! And you better not be all high!”
“Quat, I really don’t want to hear it...”
“Are you?!”
“What?”
“Are you high?”
“I had a little, but it’s not that bad.”
“Uh-uh. No. I’m not going out there if you’re high,” Quatre growled, frowning as he stabbed his passcode into the keypad next to his door, and walked in.
“Quatre, seriously? Stop fucking around. Just get out here. I need to talk to you, and I can’t do it at the school.”
“WHY?! Are you on the run? Did the cops finally catch up with you?”
“Quatre Winner, what the fuck is your problem?”
Quatre sighed heavily, kicking off his shoes and switching them. He figured Trowa wouldn’t mind it if he showed up wearing a pair of tearaways and a hooded sweater with his old high school’s name on it. He swept a hand through his hair and grabbed his wallet, walking out from his room.
“Nothing,” he said sullenly, starting down the stairs. “I can act this way, Trowa. I’m fucking pissed that you chose to skip out, without saying anything to me.”
“I...I know. I’m really sorry, Quatre. I just...something came up, a-and I really need to talk to you about it. It...it’s very important.”
Quatre didn’t want to know just how important it was. He was feeling a little sick as he left the building, heading out to the front gates of the school. Since it was nearly four hours before curfew, the campus security would hesitate on letting him go.
He let Trowa know he was going to be there in ten minutes, and hung up. After much haggling with the security officers, who were reluctant to let him go because of the time, he ventured out the gates and headed toward the park.
Trowa was waiting there, just as he said. After a cautious glance around, Quatre walked over to him, looking pissed as he stared at his boyfriend accusingly, his lips turned in a stern frown. Trowa looked a little paler, a bit more gaunt, his lower jaw working with some suspicious movement, eyes bleary but wide and round. Quatre felt himself slump slightly, sighing heavily as he realized his boyfriend was indeed high. On what, he had no clue. He just hoped nothing bad happened in this meeting as it had the last time they’d talked while he was high.
“I’m sorry I took off like that the other day,” Trowa said to him softly, reaching out to embrace him. Quatre had to relinquish his anger for a few moments to hug him back, squeezing tightly. Then they pulled apart, Quatre walking along beside him as they made their way to one of the benches nearby. The park was active, with kids climbing all over the playground equipment, people walking their dogs, and lovers cuddling in various areas. While it was a little chilly, there was still enough warmth in the area to comfortably wear shorts.
“What’s this all about, Trowa? Seriously, it’s really fucked up that you left,” Quatre said, frowning at him. “God, things were going good! They really were! Why?”
Trowa swallowed hard, kicking at the grass. “I...I’ve got something to tell you, Quat, and it’s...pretty difficult to say...”
Quatre stared up at him, eyes widening. “You...you got her....preggers?” he ended in a whisper.
“NO!” Trowa snarled, then laughed. “That would have been an easier problem to deal with! I wouldn’t mind being a father, even though it isn’t the right time...but that isn’t it...”
“What is it, then? What could be worse than getting some woman pregnant during your affair–?”
“Having her make a movie of it and selling it.”
Quatre trailed off as he heard those words, blinking dumbly as Trowa stared at the ground. The silence grew interminably louder, the kids’ frantic noises becoming something of a building thunder. When it got too much, Trowa looked at Quatre, cautiously, judging the mood.
He was startled to see Quatre staring at him with his large eyes watering dangerously. Unsure of how to react, turning and reaching for him, to comfort him in some way, Trowa grimaced and despised Amelie ‘Lady’ Une.
“You...you’re a porn star?”
Somehow, that didn’t sound right. Quatre’s voice was somewhat...awed. Trowa scowled ferociously at the dirt. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know she was a fucking porn star, Quat. I didn’t! It’s not like I go out and rent the fucking things! I didn’t know!”
“You...she...you...and she...you...and...she...”
“Quat, you sound like a broken record...I’m so fucking ashamed of myself, man! I mean, this is seriously fucked up shit! I didn’t want this to happen to me! I didn’t want that to happen in Spain! But it did, and what makes it worse is that she’s a fucking best-seller, and this fuckin’ thing’s being sold over the internet all ready, and–!”
“WAH! My boyfriend’s a porn star!!” Quatre wailed, but turned it into a laugh.
“I AM NOT A STAR! At least, I didn’t want to be!”
“Trowa, I’m so...I’m so...GODDAMN IT!” Quatre then shrieked, kicking at the air and throwing wild punches. Trowa looked for cover, sure that his ass was about to be kicked. “They knew it before I did!! What the fuck–?! That fucking bitch! That Goddamn piece of shit Derrick!! ARGH! They knew before I did!! GODDAMN IT!!”
“What are you talking about?” Trowa asked, feeling dread build up from within, fearing that the school already knew his secret.
Quatre turned, and lunged at him. Trowa thought he was going to be smacked around, and threw up his arms in defense. He was NOT expecting to be hugged fiercely. “Oh, Trowa, things will be fine! You’re awesome in bed, and I’m sure you taught her a thing or two! You couldn’t help it if people are so drawn to you! You’re a fucking sex God, and people will now know your talents in the sheets–!”
“QUATRE!”
“What?”
Trowa pushed away from him, staring at him with a mixture of outrage and bewilderment. “You’re–! You’re saying you’re okay with it?! Dude, I don’t think you listened well enough–! The woman I slept with?! She taped everything! People are watching it all over the fucking place!”
Quatre scratched his knee with some thought. “Okay, I’m a little miffed at that,” he decided with a firm press of his lips. “I mean, that whore-cunt. What gives her the right to tape your infidelity...that bitch.”
“Quatre, for some reason, I don’t think you’re taking this seriously..”
“Oh, c’mon, Trowa! What can I do about it?!” Quatre demanded, throwing his arms up in the air. He thrust them at his boyfriend, waving them up and down, indicating Trowa’s overall frame. “LOOK at you! You make–uh, some...hot...actor guy look pathetic! You have both guys and girls drooling all over you every time you walk down the hall! You have men and women groping your ass whenever we hit the mall or movie theater! A fucking porn star is your sister, and then some porn star hits on you, and you fuck her, and she fucks you, and you both fuck each other, and everyone ends up watching!!! Er...can I ask who it was...?”
“...She calls herself Lady Une–”
“FUCKING BITCHES!” Quatre screamed, kicking the air once more, several people ducking for cover. “THEY KNEW! THEY KNEEEEWWWW! Well, damn it, I’m going to show them. They can’t think this is going to drive me away from you, Trowa. I don’t see why you would freak out about it...”
Trowa stared at his boyfriend, sure that, somehow, Quatre had shorted a fuse within his brain circuits, rendering the boy temporarily insane. He was taking this piece of news quite lightly...then he scowled as Quatre ripped a pen from his pocket, and wrote something down on his hand.
“What are you writing?”
“Er...nothing...Trowa....” Replacing the pen, Quatre smiled warmly at him. “Hungry?”
“QUATRE.”
“Yes?”
Trowa blinked several times, then decided that Quatre had, indeed, gone insane. Trowa reached up, gripping his hair in agitation. This was not going the way he’d expected...he’d expected Quatre to be hurt, furious, demanding respect. Not...accepting and awed. No, never those two. But he had to admit that it was a big relief. “You’re–! You’re not serious, are you?”
“What? I am kind of hungry...remember? My diet? I still have to eat, you know...”
“But–! But–! You’re taking this too damn lightly!”
“Trowa, seriously? You’re hot. You’re beautiful. And you’re damn fantastic in bed...in this sense, I am rather proud that my boyfriend for almost over a year, has been an unwilling porn star in his own movie, holding his own with some...mannish...psychotically pierced...dykish...ugly...really, really UGLY man-thing that’s respected by both men and women in the triple-X world of erotica...while I understand that you’re rather iffy with being bare and nude and fucking and all that, with the rest of the world watching, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I just have to deal with it, as you do. Really, it isn’t all that bad, Trowa...man, people are going to FREAK when they realize that they KNOW you! You’re going to be so fucking popular...I’ll never see you again...Oh, Trowa, I hope I’m able to make you happy after knowing you were with a man-thing that lets dogs fuck her...”
Trowa blinked stupidly. “What?”
“Never mind. EW! GOD, that just makes ME SICK!” Quatre then screamed, hands over his stomach. “I am fucking with a guy that fucked a lady that allowed an animal on her!”
“WHAT!?”
“But that’s all right, Trowa. I still love you. Maybe she’d done that years ago, so the notion of doggie germs being transmitted to me will be nil. Seriously. C’mon. Let’s go home...”
“Quatre...you’re not...I don’t...you’re weird, man.”
Quatre sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked at Trowa tiredly. “What do you mean by that? Why am I weird? You’re the one fucking her and having it displayed everywhere...I didn’t do anything but fall in love with you. What, did you think I was going to dump you, or some shit like that because you confessed? Dude. Get over it.”
Trowa shook his head slowly, looking at the grass and fiddling with his belt. “Look. It’s just..I don’t think I can face people, right now. I mean...you know how I am. I hate attention of any kind. And I know I’m getting it involuntarily with this thing...”
“Trowa? Seriously? There isn’t a thing you can do about it. No matter what, people are going to see that tape and just...worship you. At the worst, you’ll probably end up with a devoted fanclub...”
“Like you?”
“...Why would I have a fanclub? People hate my guts.” Quatre waved that away, reaching for his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go eat before curfew comes up, okay?”
“Quat...”
“WHAT, Trowa? Geez...give me some credit. I’m accepting the fact that you cheated on me with some pornstar and now have your very own video circulating the airwaves...hell, everyone can see now what I get to have in bed, and while I am rather unwilling to share the wealth with them, I just have to deal with my boyfriend’s bits and privates being seen by millions and gazillions of people---er...sorry. Just...rambling. Hunger pains. I blame them for my rambling.”
“You’re angry, aren’t you?”
“NO, Trowa. I am not angry about you cheating on me with some pornstar and have your very own video circulating the airwaves, with everyone now able to see what I get to have in bed, and while I–”
Trowa sighed, shoulders slumping once again. “You’re angry...”
“No, Trowa, I am not angry with you. After all, you did cheat on me–”
“ALL RIGHT, all right. Quatre...I’m so sorry...I mean...the fact that this happened, well...it’s your payback, right? I mean...”
Quatre fiddled with the feel of Trowa’s fingers within his hand, and gave his tall, beautiful boyfriend a small smile. “Yeah. I considered you tried and punished for what you did. Now, enough of this bullshit. Let’s go eat. I hadn’t had my apple and cheese today, and I’m really craving chicken tacos from Jimboy’s...”
Trowa squeezed his hand, and began walking with him, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“I’m...sure you do. You’re paying, right? Since you’re famous?”
“Quatre....”
“I was just kidding...”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked up when Hiiro walked into the gym, smiling from ear to ear. A frantic thump-de-thump in Duo’s chest signified what he already knew upon seeing that look. He rose from the bench, adjusting his headband as Hiiro walked over to him.
“I did it,” he said proudly, straight teeth shining with white intensity. “I broke up with her.”
Duo fell to his knees, singing, “Hallelujah!”
Hiiro kicked him, laughing. “Stop being an ass. It wasn’t that hard at all! I just went up to her, said that I didn’t want to be with her anymore, and that was that! I’d expected her to throw a fit of some kind and try and kick my ass...we were going out for so long–!”
Duo adjusted his headband again, frowning at him. “And?”
“And what?”
“What about your next chick?”
Hiiro shrugged as he changed from his off-court shoes to his court shoes. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be single for awhile. Try it out with this girl and that. You know? I’m newly single–shouldn’t I enjoy it?”
“Yeah, but...the reason you broke up with Relena was to get with that chick...”
“Duo...why are you pushing me onto someone else when I’m not ready?” Hiiro asked with irritation, rising from the bench and adjusting his shorts. He shot Duo a glare as he walked out onto the court, and Duo hesitated, then followed, noting that Hiiro must have somehow gained an inch from this afternoon.
He fiddled with his braid, then stuffed the lanky rope into his shirt. Dribbling his basketball, he scanned the court of players, finding that they were missing several. Mariemaia was shooting down at one end, Otto was flirting with a few seniors, and William was talking on his cellphone, fiddling with his own on-court shoes.
Duo looked at Hiiro, licking his lips as he studied the Asian. His muscles flexed and bunched as he shot, his expression casual, chocolate-brown hair mussy as it always was, and Duo had to sigh. Hiiro was so attractive, and so undeniably hot...Duo couldn’t help but appreciate the other teen’s appearance with all the worship and praise one would fine in some hot actor...Hiiro was physically beautiful, as were all the other kids attending Darken’s snotty standards, but there was so much more appeal in his personality, as well. Duo liked hanging out with the guy, loving his dry humor and his serious attitude. Relena had been attracted to the same as well, but she made it no secret that their private life was just as fascinating.
Just trying to imagine what it would feel like to be with Hiiro in that aspect had Duo’s face blushing bright red. He shot calmly, aiming for the backboard, and frowned when he connected with the hoop. The loud metal twang let him know that while the situation looked good, his aim was still off.
He’d just have to work on it.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The next day, Felicia was busily threatening a timid girl by the name of Jamie to do her Calculus when someone tackled her from behind. With a startled yelp, she was forced to let go of the girl’s blazer, and found herself head over heels down the small staircase that led to the lower classmen’s classes. Unsure of why she was currently under attack, and being superhuman, feeling nothing of the physical hurts that would accompany the tumble down the stairs, she shoved off her attacker and rose to her feet, huffing, ready to start pounding that person into a pulp.
Quatre grabbed her into a headlock and gave her a fierce noogie, slamming her head into a nearby trashcan. Repeatedly.
“OW!” she screamed, then laughed, trying to throw him off without hurting him. She managed to reach up, curl one arm around his neck, and body slam him onto the floor. The movement caused him to lose his breath, and she took the time to check her hair and straighten her clothes. Then she stared down at him in confusion. “What the hell was that about?!”
He rose shakily, trying to breathe, but looking furiously angry about it. His fingers curled around her neck, and she pushed him away.
Moments later, he was growling, “YOU KNEW!”
“Knew what?”
“YOU KNEW!! All of you! That’s why you were looking at me so...so...damn...ARGH!”
Felicia stared at him for several seconds, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tapped her chin, then sighed, shoulders slumped as she stared thoughtfully at the floor. Then she gave up, shrugging.
“I seriously have no idea what you are talkin’ about, Quat,” she admitted, looking sheepish.
He thrust his hand out at her, the words ‘Lady U.’ imprinted on his hand. She stared at it blankly, then looked back at him. “Buttered toast?” she uttered dumbly.
“NO! You knew this woman had an affair with TROWA!” he snarled savagely, gripping her collar and practically pulling her off her feet. She may have been the superhuman, but he still had the height advantage over her. She clutched his arms with a startled grunt, steadying herself as she stared at him, thinking he had gone insane on her.
Then it all clicked, and she threw up her arms, laughing up at a storm.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD! He TOLD you?!” she shrieked.
He shoved her off with the heel of his foot. “FUCKER!”
“I wasn’t going to say anything! I didn’t even SEE the thing yet! Derrick was the one that brought it up! I wanted to keep it from you so that Trowa can confess, that cheating whore-dog!!”
She laughed again, dropping to the ground with a loud exclaim of sound. Quatre took this convenient opportunity to kick at her, and she hurried to her feet, trying to escape his wrathful fury. Their spectacle drew some interested spectators, and before she knew it, they were once more tumbling down a set of stairs, landing smack-dab in front of some freshmen and sophomores, all of who looked at them curiously.
“I was going to tell you!” she shouted as he pulled her hair, slamming her face against the floor and trying to instill rug burns on that smooth face of hers. She ended up laughing hysterically, batting at him, trying half-heartedly to get away from him. But she was felled by her laughter, and ended up hitting the floor in merriment. He soon tired of trying to instill pain on the superhuman and rose, glaring at her darkly as she held her stomach and cried actual tears of laughter.
“Bitch!” he exclaimed, kicking her. “I can’t believe you! Why?! Why?!!!”
“Why–what?” she huffed between barks, wiping at her eyes. “Dude, I wanted to tell you. Seriously! I was totally looking out for you, Quat! That’s why I was tryin’ ta set you up with someone else! Someone that ain’t humped on a dog humpee!”
“Some friend you are!” he shouted, stomping back up to their correct level, leaving behind a hysterically giggling Felicia Passage.
Numbly, she climbed to her feet and held the banister for dear life as she trudged upwards, occasionally dropping to her knees in a fit of renewed laughter at the situation, and for the fact that Quatre seriously tried to hurt her. It was funny, to her. She managed to reached the third floor and stumbled her way to class, knowing he’d be sitting beside her at their assigned monitor. The bell had rung a few minutes earlier, when he was kicking her, so she received her usual tardy notice and was instructed to stay after school ended to serve detention.
She collapsed into her seat next to Quatre, who glared at her every chance he got.
Sniffing deeply to quell an onslaught of giggles, she slung an arm over his shoulders and ignored it when Quatre threw her arm off him forcibly.
“Look...if I told you, what would have your reaction been? You’d’ve thrown yourself into your room and committed sepukku, and I really wouldn’t have wanted to be your second...ew...that’s so fuckin’ gory. But look here, pal–! Your boy-toy confessed! CONFESSED! Without prodding! So, what’s the deal? Why you all mad at me? Why ain’t you mad at him?”
‘Because you didn’t tell me, and because you let DERRICK hit on me, knowing that he was HITTING on me because he KNEW what TROWA had DONE!”
“Dude, I was looking out for your best interests!” she stressed, waving her hands about. “I love you so much, Quatre! I want to have your babies! I want you to pick out my living room furniture, one day! Everyone knows gays have better fashion sense than straights! I need you!”
“GOD!!”
“I know, ennit? Anyway, I was only looking out for you.” She paused as she considered the ceiling. “If I told you, it wouldn’t’ve have gone good. You’da gone to Derrick for a pity fuck–!”
“I WOULD NOT!”
“Admit it, coolio, you would have. Gettin’ Trowa to tell you of his crime was a better option! And he followed through with true colors! Even though, just ta let you know, I’m still takin’ numbers and pictures from those that are interested in you–!”
“I’m not interested in anybody but Trowa!” Quatre hissed at her. “Get that in your fucking head!”
“But if he drops you because you can never be what his lady-whore is, then what?” she asked worriedly.
The words stunned Quatre, and he found himself blinking repeatedly. He’d certainly given that aspect plenty of thought, wondering how his performance in bed was going to be like after Trowa had someone like Lady Une, erotica extraordinaire. It was kind of a low point.
Felicia realized she’d gone too far when she saw the expression on his face, and exhaled heavily, running a hand through her hair.
“I’m...I’m sorry, Quatre. That was in poor taste. My mouth ran before my thoughts did...”
Quatre looked at the floor. “But...it’s true...I mean, this is Lady Une...Everyone thinks so highly of her... and when he came back, he didn’t even...and...Christ.”
Felicia looked very remorseful, swallowing hard as she studied the sad expression on her friend’s face. Her merriment and her laughter was long gone, and she reached out, then quickly dropped her hand, fumbling with her fingers.
“Shit...” she muttered, dropping her head. “I’m so sorry, Quat. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that shit to you...”
“No...it’s all right. It...it kinda makes sense, I mean...it’s not like...we’ve only had sex once since he came back, Felicia. And it’s nearly November...” Quatre felt his eyes prick with tears as he looked away, smoothing at his pants with a nervous gesture. “I wasn’t going to let this bother me, but...you can’t help but think about it when you realize your boyfriend doesn’t even accept you for your physical appearance after awhile...”
Felicia felt absolutely horrible, looking over at him with an uncharacteristic expression. Her stomach turned and twisted, and she suddenly had nothing more to say. She wished that she was able to turn back time, in order to take back those words. Of course they’d have an effect on her friend! He’d been so low about not being enough for Trowa before this stupid thing with the woman, and she’d gone and said that bullshit just to...just to what? Fuck things up?
She licked at her lips nervously, glancing at him, fretting when she realized that he was terribly upset about things. Realizing this made her very uncomfortable, for she wasn’t sure how to deal with these sorts of things. The shortage of actual female feelings was quite annoying...there were times like these when she wished she actually had the capability of acting, thinking, and feeling like a girl. Then at least, she wouldn’t have said what she did and would know how to fix things after she did make the mistake...
“Quatre, I’m sorry...”
“It’s all right, Felicia. It’s not like...it’s not like it isn’t the truth, anyway. I mean, look at us–Trowa’s off doing his stupid thing with drugs, and then basketball season’s coming up...you know how I was with basketball last year!” he said on a sigh, hand falling to his thigh. “It was all that I focused on...this thing with Trowa requires a lot of time and effort, and neither, despite my feelings for him, do I have time to spend it, no matter how much I feel about him!”
Felicia hesitated on venturing forth on the subject, and she nodded in her remembrance on Quatre’s treating of his favorite past time. It had been his one and only, and despite his relationship with Trowa, had been the only particular thing he really concentrated on. Their relationship, as thin as it was now, wasn’t going to survive once Quatre focused on his passion, and Trowa realized this.
Man, this fucking sucks, she thought with a low sigh. She hung her head. I did this! I set them up in the first fucking place! I have to fix things! Now...how did I fix them the last time...?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Somewhere, far away from Sophia Darken Academy, Travis Justin Sharp, Jamie Anderson, Triton Bloom (who was at the mall, skipping classes), Adam Byrons, Larson Edwards, and a lonely little guy named Jake Trip sneezed repeatedly in rapid succession, forgetting to bless themselves afterward.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa looked up from his cigarette as Drake walked over, having spotted the former goth on his way over to Jimboy’s. Trowa and Drake met and slapped hands in greeting. An ever present cigarette dangling low from his lip, Drake exclaimed, “Where the fuck have you been, muthafucker?!”
“Out.”
“Why?! Quat’s all cryin’ around back at the school!”
Trowa shifted uncomfortably on the park bench and gave Drake a dubious look. “Really?”
“Well....no...but...he’s spending a lot of time with Leash....HEY! Get back here!” he then shouted as Trowa nearly left the park in a cloud of dust. Drake scowled at him as Trowa walked back, looking a little sheepish as he moved in nervous habit.
“Sorry...it’s just...whenever he’s with her, she crams really stupid ideas into his head...”
Drake snorted. That was a tame way of putting things. He finished the cig he had in his mouth and flicked it aside. “Whatever, man. So? Where’ve you been?”
Trowa shrugged, taking his seat once more on the bench. “Oh, just...out. I just had to leave school for awhile.”
“You droppin’ out?”
“I seriously want to.”
Drake’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose high upon his forehead. He forgot the need to head on to his destination that he’d been focused on since school let out. He sat down on the bench, offering Trowa a cig. When the other teen took one, he took out his lighter and lit it. He then recoiled from the other boy, staring at him in shock.
“Why?” he finally asked. “What kind of shit’s going down with you?”
Trowa puffed around the cigarette, shrugging again. “I just...when I fucked over Quat in Spain, I did it with the wrong person.”
“So...you got her pregnant?”
“NO! Fuck, why is that the first thing people say when shit like this happens?” Trowa bemoaned, rolling his eyes up to the sky. “No. That...that isn’t it. If you haven’t heard, yet, then it really isn’t my place to confess, first.”
Drake shrugged. He was right. He really didn’t want to know if Trowa wasn’t going to tell him. There was more manly ways of going about such things, and the first person he’d talk to was his best friend, Felicia. He lit his own cig and stared out at the park that Trowa was watching. On his way to a party, he looked at Trowa, nodding. “You wanna come with?”
“Where are you going?”
“To a party. Plenty of chicks and beer all for me!”
Trowa shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
Drake rose from the bench, looking down at him with some worry. “So, you seriously thinkin’ of transferring from Darken? I mean, that’s pretty big shit, man. That shit that went down must’ve been big!”
Trowa snorted. “Yeah. I don’t know. Catherine’s already looking to transfer me to that Arts school on the West Side of New Park...”
“Dude...does Quat know?”
“...Not yet. But...he knows why I would leave...”
Drake mulled this idea over in his head, frowning as he sucked on his cigarette. He then shook his head. “Don’t be a pussy, man. If you gotta skip out, let it be for some cool reason, like you were expelled or some shit like that. Don’t just go because you fucked up...fuck, take it like a man! You fucked on your boy, man. Get with the consequences of your action! Don’t fuckin’ run off cuz you think it’s all fucked up. Face it. Man up and face it.”
Trowa lifted an eyebrow, looking at Drake with some disbelief. “You don’t know what happened! What makes you so fucking up?”
Drake shrugged his thin shoulders. “I’m just sayin’, man. If you can’t face up to what the fuck you did, then maybe you shouldn’t be with him, anymore. I don’t like those fuckin’ homo relationships, but you’re my friend, man. And that guy’s Leash’s friend. I’m just sayin’, stand up to what you fuckin’ did and face it. In the end, it probably ain’t that bad! You’re the one that’s makin’ it all drama, and shit. Quat’s lookin’ to accept you, anyway! Just go with it!”
Trowa frowned at him, shifting in his seat. “Why are you getting all Chief Sitting Bull on me?”
“I’m just sayin’ it like it is, sucka. You can’t handle, get the fuck out of there so’s someone else can come along and treat him right. It ain’t fair to nobody, fuckin’ male or female. He’s willin’ to overlook that shit you did, and here you are, cryin’ like some girl over what you did. Fuck...if I didn’t know you and respect you like I do now, I wouldn’t even like you. That’s just pussy-shit! Get back there to your boy, man. Just stop being a pussy...”
With a disgusted shake of his head, Drake walked off, muttering to himself.
Trowa stared after him with some shock, wondering if Drake Bellows, the guy that thought cheating on his various girlfriends, had the right to talk that way to him.
Even then, what he said made a lot of sense to Trowa.
But he was still pissed about Drake talking to him that way because he didn’t know what Trowa had done to get in this position. Put Drake in his place, and the fucker would be all happy because he was in a porn. All the guys that he knew (minus Quatre) would have been delirious with the fact that they found themselves worthy of Lady Une’s attention. But then again, they weren’t Trowa Barton. Trowa hated hand-holding, kissing, and general sappiness in public, and even then, when he did participate in such things, it was designated to piss Quatre of or send the guy into a frenzy spiral that Trowa had found so amusing.
And at other times, it was done when they weren’t really in the public eye.
And this video that was circulating the net and store shelves, was incredibly raunchy and publicly humiliating. Truth be told, he’d had fun with Amelie Une, doing all those sexual naughties with the experienced woman (why in the hell did Quatre mention a dog?!), and it was quite evident that she liked it as well. But to have millions of people viewing it? Watching him do such things? When he didn’t even like the fact that people could hear what he and Quatre were doing to each other (and Quatre was so vocal at some points!), millions of people could see and hear things?!
People just didn’t understand!
And to know that the kids at school knew something was up, well, that was entirely different, there. These were his classmates–people he saw and talked with on a regular basis...this was DIFFERENT.
He loved Quatre. He really did. The chase and the exciting climax of their relationship was entirely exciting and completely binding...
But he had to wonder if his love for the other boy was going to be enough to pull him through this situation...
“Modern Romance” = Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
“FOUL! Oh, god that was so fucking obvious–GODDAMN YOU, YOU FUCKING BLIND motherfucker!!”
Much giggling and laughter ensued, and Quatre scowled, remembering that he was watching the game down in the lobby of the dormitory, where a Laker had just completed a fairly obvious offensive, and yet had walked away from the fallen Spur with nothing more than a gesture of innocence. Riled, because the refs were calling mainly for the Lakers (playing their homecourt, where Quatre swore up and down that the only reason why Lakers won was because of the rumor that the refs were paid off quite handsomely by the Lakers team), Quatre resumed his seat on the couch, and grumbled about the game. His team, the San Antonio Spurs, were losing by twenty points because the refs were adamant about having the Lakers win.
He ignored the two boys that were sitting nearby, the very same ones that had been there since his encounter with Justin, and while they were occasionally quiet and never did anything to bother him, their presence was annoying him. He had sneaking suspicions that they weren’t here to watch the game because they liked the Spurs----it had to be something else. He sneaked a glance at them, seeing them looking at something they held together, whispering and giggling.
Rolling his eyes, he crossed his ankles and watched as the point guard was attacked by the Lakers’ center, causing him to crash out of bounds, the ref calling a technical on his Spurs player. Quatre clenched his eyes shut and tried willing those refs to die in a horrible accident. Letting out an angry breath, he reached out for a throw pillow, mashing it against his chest as he focused once more on the game, the commentaries giving snide remarks on how the Spurs were playing like crap this year. They weren’t–it was the beginning the season, and the only reason why they were saying such things was because they were rooting for the Lakers.
Giving another annoyed grumble, Quatre straightened up from the couch, watching with jiggling knees as the Spurs made a miraculous three against the Lakers’ defense, the ball flapping through the net with ease. Giving an encouraging exclamation, he sat at the edge of his seat and sent goodwill vibes towards his favorite team, hoping for a win over a team he thought sucked.
Triton walked over from the nearby vending machine, and both boys that were crammed in the chair looked at him. The tall center frowned down at them, fashionably thin frame slouching in an offended manner as the boys looked away, cringing.
Triton looked over at his crush, and winced at the stream of foul words that were directed at the refs. “Jesus, man,” he complained. “Everyone’s hiding out because they think you’re cussing them out! You’re, like, Charles Barkley on crack...”
“Get the fuck out of my face, Triton. I’m busy.”
Triton looked at the screen, watching a Laker mow down a Spur with nothing more than a wild cackle as he got away with the action. He looked at Quatre, then at the boys.
“Don’t you two have something better to do?” he asked one of them.
“We’re just watching the game,” one whispered, in awe of the senior, both of them blushing madly. They were quite feminine, Triton realized, staring at them. They were both fashionably thin, pretty, and if neither opened their mouth to speak, he would never have realized that they were boys. They were quite fascinating to look at, actually. He blinked to save himself from trying to hit on them. Despite their looks, they were frosh, and he wasn’t interested in the inexperienced...
“I’m sure you are. Scram.”
They hurriedly left their chair, leaving Triton alone with Quatre. That guy attracted the oddest people to him, Triton thought with a lift of his eyebrow. Then he frowned. What did that make him?
He took the boys’ spot, grinning. He studied his crush, at the maddening way he was so out of his grasp.
God, just one night, he thought with some frustration, leaning back in the chair to look at the screen. Even if it’s just an hour! I can do a lot within an hour!!
“SONOFABITCH!!! THAT WAS FOUL! GOD! I fucking hate the Lakers...pussy-ass team, couldn’t win a single GAME if they weren’t PAYING people OFF to WIN THEM!!”
Triton looked at him, smiling. Trowa Barton was just plain...stupid, he decided, watching as Quatre gave his characteristic pouts and shouts at the holographic screen, as if hollering at the refs would somehow allow them to make better calls on the game.
The blond was entirely gorgeous...filled with passion, excitement, and just plain ole zesty sexiness. Dressed as he was in that old, hooded sweater and track pants (dear Lord, please let him be wearing only underwear under there!), he looked ripe enough to curl up against, or have him curled up in his lap. He was openly expressive about certain things, modest when it came down to it, and certainly fun to be with...Quatre Winner was the type one settled down with on the long road, not a short fling. He was the loyal, intensively faithful type (though that thing with that Sageville kid had Triton wondering and quite hopeful), and that didn’t exist in these parts of New Park City.
Either way, that sort of package didn’t come along very often, and Triton found himself desiring the boy very intensely.
It made him uncomfortable, he decided as he shifted, hoping that mini-Bloom would go away before really announcing his presence. Yes, Quatre was undeterminably attractive, and that passion he had for his sport was a major turn-on, because one could only imagine how he would direct it in the bedroom...
And with basketball coming up? Triton could only wish for time-travel, in order to sneak into the locker rooms before and after games just to see glimpses of pale white, toned flesh, and to just...okay, okay, getting off track, here...
“That’s a pretty mean theory,” Triton said on a drawl, elbows on his knees. “The Lakers are pretty–”
He scrambled out of his chair, just to avoid contact with the flying coffee table.
“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PUSSY-ASS LAKERS FAN! GO TO HELL, DEVIL SPAWN!”
Laughing, Triton walked off, the boys waiting nearby to regain their seat after replacing the table where it had previously sat.
Yes...Trowa Barton had to be the luckiest motherfucker in the world to have that piece of ass to play with, he decided, quite sadly as he retired his room to take care of certain business.
During the third quarter, Quatre’s cellphone rang. He moved to ignore it, focused on an intensive play. The rings stopped after the caller reached his answering service, and seconds later, began ringing again. Annoyed, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and tossed it at one of the boys.
“Take a message for me,” he ordered, eyes never leaving the game.
Happy to comply, one of them answered tentatively, the other bemoaning that he wanted to do it. Quatre leapt from his seat in a happy display, the Spurs scoring against the Lakers in a particularly tricky instance, the refs unable to make a believable call that would discount the point. Not that the other calls were believable...
“It’s Trowa,” the boy who answered his phone said, and Quatre frowned, tearing his eyes from the screen and wondering if Trowa would ever forgive him if he chose to continue watching the game and not answer his phone. He clenched his fists and looked with some desperation at the screen, giving a pained gurgle.
“He sounds mad,” the boy continued. Quatre found that his decision was made, and he figured it would be fine if he watched the game, instead of answering to some unexplained wrath from the other. The boy figured as much, having known his crush since school started, and moved to take a message, fiddling with the other boy’s shirt sleeve. Then he looked up from the given, snarling reply. “He says it’s important, and he’d rather not leave a message. You’d better answer your phone, he says.”
With a heavy, pained sigh, Quatre turned away from the holoset, reaching for the phone.
“Where the hell have you been?!” he then demanded, walking away from the entertainment area.
“Who the fuck was that answering your phone?!” Trowa demanded back, and Quatre gave a strong kick to one of the vending machines that he passed by.
“Don’t be changing the subject, fucker! You’ve been gone for nearly a week, not even calling me or letting me know what the fuck is going on!” Quatre yelled at him, flinging his arm about. “You have no right to get pissed at me! I’m pissed at you!”
“Yeah, well, I got caught up in a few...er, things. Look, I really need to talk to you.”
“You’re talking to me now,” Quatre pointed out.
“Alone. Face to face.”
Quatre sucked in a deep breath, casting a longing glance toward the holoset, then frowning as he began walking up toward his room. Sacrifices would have to be made to fix this one...“Okay, fine. Where?”
“Meet me at the park on...Seventh and Valor. You know where that’s at?”
“Yes, I know where that’s at. You better be there, too, Trowa! I don’t want to show up there, and you’re gone! And you better not be all high!”
“Quat, I really don’t want to hear it...”
“Are you?!”
“What?”
“Are you high?”
“I had a little, but it’s not that bad.”
“Uh-uh. No. I’m not going out there if you’re high,” Quatre growled, frowning as he stabbed his passcode into the keypad next to his door, and walked in.
“Quatre, seriously? Stop fucking around. Just get out here. I need to talk to you, and I can’t do it at the school.”
“WHY?! Are you on the run? Did the cops finally catch up with you?”
“Quatre Winner, what the fuck is your problem?”
Quatre sighed heavily, kicking off his shoes and switching them. He figured Trowa wouldn’t mind it if he showed up wearing a pair of tearaways and a hooded sweater with his old high school’s name on it. He swept a hand through his hair and grabbed his wallet, walking out from his room.
“Nothing,” he said sullenly, starting down the stairs. “I can act this way, Trowa. I’m fucking pissed that you chose to skip out, without saying anything to me.”
“I...I know. I’m really sorry, Quatre. I just...something came up, a-and I really need to talk to you about it. It...it’s very important.”
Quatre didn’t want to know just how important it was. He was feeling a little sick as he left the building, heading out to the front gates of the school. Since it was nearly four hours before curfew, the campus security would hesitate on letting him go.
He let Trowa know he was going to be there in ten minutes, and hung up. After much haggling with the security officers, who were reluctant to let him go because of the time, he ventured out the gates and headed toward the park.
Trowa was waiting there, just as he said. After a cautious glance around, Quatre walked over to him, looking pissed as he stared at his boyfriend accusingly, his lips turned in a stern frown. Trowa looked a little paler, a bit more gaunt, his lower jaw working with some suspicious movement, eyes bleary but wide and round. Quatre felt himself slump slightly, sighing heavily as he realized his boyfriend was indeed high. On what, he had no clue. He just hoped nothing bad happened in this meeting as it had the last time they’d talked while he was high.
“I’m sorry I took off like that the other day,” Trowa said to him softly, reaching out to embrace him. Quatre had to relinquish his anger for a few moments to hug him back, squeezing tightly. Then they pulled apart, Quatre walking along beside him as they made their way to one of the benches nearby. The park was active, with kids climbing all over the playground equipment, people walking their dogs, and lovers cuddling in various areas. While it was a little chilly, there was still enough warmth in the area to comfortably wear shorts.
“What’s this all about, Trowa? Seriously, it’s really fucked up that you left,” Quatre said, frowning at him. “God, things were going good! They really were! Why?”
Trowa swallowed hard, kicking at the grass. “I...I’ve got something to tell you, Quat, and it’s...pretty difficult to say...”
Quatre stared up at him, eyes widening. “You...you got her....preggers?” he ended in a whisper.
“NO!” Trowa snarled, then laughed. “That would have been an easier problem to deal with! I wouldn’t mind being a father, even though it isn’t the right time...but that isn’t it...”
“What is it, then? What could be worse than getting some woman pregnant during your affair–?”
“Having her make a movie of it and selling it.”
Quatre trailed off as he heard those words, blinking dumbly as Trowa stared at the ground. The silence grew interminably louder, the kids’ frantic noises becoming something of a building thunder. When it got too much, Trowa looked at Quatre, cautiously, judging the mood.
He was startled to see Quatre staring at him with his large eyes watering dangerously. Unsure of how to react, turning and reaching for him, to comfort him in some way, Trowa grimaced and despised Amelie ‘Lady’ Une.
“You...you’re a porn star?”
Somehow, that didn’t sound right. Quatre’s voice was somewhat...awed. Trowa scowled ferociously at the dirt. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know she was a fucking porn star, Quat. I didn’t! It’s not like I go out and rent the fucking things! I didn’t know!”
“You...she...you...and she...you...and...she...”
“Quat, you sound like a broken record...I’m so fucking ashamed of myself, man! I mean, this is seriously fucked up shit! I didn’t want this to happen to me! I didn’t want that to happen in Spain! But it did, and what makes it worse is that she’s a fucking best-seller, and this fuckin’ thing’s being sold over the internet all ready, and–!”
“WAH! My boyfriend’s a porn star!!” Quatre wailed, but turned it into a laugh.
“I AM NOT A STAR! At least, I didn’t want to be!”
“Trowa, I’m so...I’m so...GODDAMN IT!” Quatre then shrieked, kicking at the air and throwing wild punches. Trowa looked for cover, sure that his ass was about to be kicked. “They knew it before I did!! What the fuck–?! That fucking bitch! That Goddamn piece of shit Derrick!! ARGH! They knew before I did!! GODDAMN IT!!”
“What are you talking about?” Trowa asked, feeling dread build up from within, fearing that the school already knew his secret.
Quatre turned, and lunged at him. Trowa thought he was going to be smacked around, and threw up his arms in defense. He was NOT expecting to be hugged fiercely. “Oh, Trowa, things will be fine! You’re awesome in bed, and I’m sure you taught her a thing or two! You couldn’t help it if people are so drawn to you! You’re a fucking sex God, and people will now know your talents in the sheets–!”
“QUATRE!”
“What?”
Trowa pushed away from him, staring at him with a mixture of outrage and bewilderment. “You’re–! You’re saying you’re okay with it?! Dude, I don’t think you listened well enough–! The woman I slept with?! She taped everything! People are watching it all over the fucking place!”
Quatre scratched his knee with some thought. “Okay, I’m a little miffed at that,” he decided with a firm press of his lips. “I mean, that whore-cunt. What gives her the right to tape your infidelity...that bitch.”
“Quatre, for some reason, I don’t think you’re taking this seriously..”
“Oh, c’mon, Trowa! What can I do about it?!” Quatre demanded, throwing his arms up in the air. He thrust them at his boyfriend, waving them up and down, indicating Trowa’s overall frame. “LOOK at you! You make–uh, some...hot...actor guy look pathetic! You have both guys and girls drooling all over you every time you walk down the hall! You have men and women groping your ass whenever we hit the mall or movie theater! A fucking porn star is your sister, and then some porn star hits on you, and you fuck her, and she fucks you, and you both fuck each other, and everyone ends up watching!!! Er...can I ask who it was...?”
“...She calls herself Lady Une–”
“FUCKING BITCHES!” Quatre screamed, kicking the air once more, several people ducking for cover. “THEY KNEW! THEY KNEEEEWWWW! Well, damn it, I’m going to show them. They can’t think this is going to drive me away from you, Trowa. I don’t see why you would freak out about it...”
Trowa stared at his boyfriend, sure that, somehow, Quatre had shorted a fuse within his brain circuits, rendering the boy temporarily insane. He was taking this piece of news quite lightly...then he scowled as Quatre ripped a pen from his pocket, and wrote something down on his hand.
“What are you writing?”
“Er...nothing...Trowa....” Replacing the pen, Quatre smiled warmly at him. “Hungry?”
“QUATRE.”
“Yes?”
Trowa blinked several times, then decided that Quatre had, indeed, gone insane. Trowa reached up, gripping his hair in agitation. This was not going the way he’d expected...he’d expected Quatre to be hurt, furious, demanding respect. Not...accepting and awed. No, never those two. But he had to admit that it was a big relief. “You’re–! You’re not serious, are you?”
“What? I am kind of hungry...remember? My diet? I still have to eat, you know...”
“But–! But–! You’re taking this too damn lightly!”
“Trowa, seriously? You’re hot. You’re beautiful. And you’re damn fantastic in bed...in this sense, I am rather proud that my boyfriend for almost over a year, has been an unwilling porn star in his own movie, holding his own with some...mannish...psychotically pierced...dykish...ugly...really, really UGLY man-thing that’s respected by both men and women in the triple-X world of erotica...while I understand that you’re rather iffy with being bare and nude and fucking and all that, with the rest of the world watching, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I just have to deal with it, as you do. Really, it isn’t all that bad, Trowa...man, people are going to FREAK when they realize that they KNOW you! You’re going to be so fucking popular...I’ll never see you again...Oh, Trowa, I hope I’m able to make you happy after knowing you were with a man-thing that lets dogs fuck her...”
Trowa blinked stupidly. “What?”
“Never mind. EW! GOD, that just makes ME SICK!” Quatre then screamed, hands over his stomach. “I am fucking with a guy that fucked a lady that allowed an animal on her!”
“WHAT!?”
“But that’s all right, Trowa. I still love you. Maybe she’d done that years ago, so the notion of doggie germs being transmitted to me will be nil. Seriously. C’mon. Let’s go home...”
“Quatre...you’re not...I don’t...you’re weird, man.”
Quatre sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked at Trowa tiredly. “What do you mean by that? Why am I weird? You’re the one fucking her and having it displayed everywhere...I didn’t do anything but fall in love with you. What, did you think I was going to dump you, or some shit like that because you confessed? Dude. Get over it.”
Trowa shook his head slowly, looking at the grass and fiddling with his belt. “Look. It’s just..I don’t think I can face people, right now. I mean...you know how I am. I hate attention of any kind. And I know I’m getting it involuntarily with this thing...”
“Trowa? Seriously? There isn’t a thing you can do about it. No matter what, people are going to see that tape and just...worship you. At the worst, you’ll probably end up with a devoted fanclub...”
“Like you?”
“...Why would I have a fanclub? People hate my guts.” Quatre waved that away, reaching for his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go eat before curfew comes up, okay?”
“Quat...”
“WHAT, Trowa? Geez...give me some credit. I’m accepting the fact that you cheated on me with some pornstar and now have your very own video circulating the airwaves...hell, everyone can see now what I get to have in bed, and while I am rather unwilling to share the wealth with them, I just have to deal with my boyfriend’s bits and privates being seen by millions and gazillions of people---er...sorry. Just...rambling. Hunger pains. I blame them for my rambling.”
“You’re angry, aren’t you?”
“NO, Trowa. I am not angry about you cheating on me with some pornstar and have your very own video circulating the airwaves, with everyone now able to see what I get to have in bed, and while I–”
Trowa sighed, shoulders slumping once again. “You’re angry...”
“No, Trowa, I am not angry with you. After all, you did cheat on me–”
“ALL RIGHT, all right. Quatre...I’m so sorry...I mean...the fact that this happened, well...it’s your payback, right? I mean...”
Quatre fiddled with the feel of Trowa’s fingers within his hand, and gave his tall, beautiful boyfriend a small smile. “Yeah. I considered you tried and punished for what you did. Now, enough of this bullshit. Let’s go eat. I hadn’t had my apple and cheese today, and I’m really craving chicken tacos from Jimboy’s...”
Trowa squeezed his hand, and began walking with him, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“I’m...sure you do. You’re paying, right? Since you’re famous?”
“Quatre....”
“I was just kidding...”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked up when Hiiro walked into the gym, smiling from ear to ear. A frantic thump-de-thump in Duo’s chest signified what he already knew upon seeing that look. He rose from the bench, adjusting his headband as Hiiro walked over to him.
“I did it,” he said proudly, straight teeth shining with white intensity. “I broke up with her.”
Duo fell to his knees, singing, “Hallelujah!”
Hiiro kicked him, laughing. “Stop being an ass. It wasn’t that hard at all! I just went up to her, said that I didn’t want to be with her anymore, and that was that! I’d expected her to throw a fit of some kind and try and kick my ass...we were going out for so long–!”
Duo adjusted his headband again, frowning at him. “And?”
“And what?”
“What about your next chick?”
Hiiro shrugged as he changed from his off-court shoes to his court shoes. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be single for awhile. Try it out with this girl and that. You know? I’m newly single–shouldn’t I enjoy it?”
“Yeah, but...the reason you broke up with Relena was to get with that chick...”
“Duo...why are you pushing me onto someone else when I’m not ready?” Hiiro asked with irritation, rising from the bench and adjusting his shorts. He shot Duo a glare as he walked out onto the court, and Duo hesitated, then followed, noting that Hiiro must have somehow gained an inch from this afternoon.
He fiddled with his braid, then stuffed the lanky rope into his shirt. Dribbling his basketball, he scanned the court of players, finding that they were missing several. Mariemaia was shooting down at one end, Otto was flirting with a few seniors, and William was talking on his cellphone, fiddling with his own on-court shoes.
Duo looked at Hiiro, licking his lips as he studied the Asian. His muscles flexed and bunched as he shot, his expression casual, chocolate-brown hair mussy as it always was, and Duo had to sigh. Hiiro was so attractive, and so undeniably hot...Duo couldn’t help but appreciate the other teen’s appearance with all the worship and praise one would fine in some hot actor...Hiiro was physically beautiful, as were all the other kids attending Darken’s snotty standards, but there was so much more appeal in his personality, as well. Duo liked hanging out with the guy, loving his dry humor and his serious attitude. Relena had been attracted to the same as well, but she made it no secret that their private life was just as fascinating.
Just trying to imagine what it would feel like to be with Hiiro in that aspect had Duo’s face blushing bright red. He shot calmly, aiming for the backboard, and frowned when he connected with the hoop. The loud metal twang let him know that while the situation looked good, his aim was still off.
He’d just have to work on it.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The next day, Felicia was busily threatening a timid girl by the name of Jamie to do her Calculus when someone tackled her from behind. With a startled yelp, she was forced to let go of the girl’s blazer, and found herself head over heels down the small staircase that led to the lower classmen’s classes. Unsure of why she was currently under attack, and being superhuman, feeling nothing of the physical hurts that would accompany the tumble down the stairs, she shoved off her attacker and rose to her feet, huffing, ready to start pounding that person into a pulp.
Quatre grabbed her into a headlock and gave her a fierce noogie, slamming her head into a nearby trashcan. Repeatedly.
“OW!” she screamed, then laughed, trying to throw him off without hurting him. She managed to reach up, curl one arm around his neck, and body slam him onto the floor. The movement caused him to lose his breath, and she took the time to check her hair and straighten her clothes. Then she stared down at him in confusion. “What the hell was that about?!”
He rose shakily, trying to breathe, but looking furiously angry about it. His fingers curled around her neck, and she pushed him away.
Moments later, he was growling, “YOU KNEW!”
“Knew what?”
“YOU KNEW!! All of you! That’s why you were looking at me so...so...damn...ARGH!”
Felicia stared at him for several seconds, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tapped her chin, then sighed, shoulders slumped as she stared thoughtfully at the floor. Then she gave up, shrugging.
“I seriously have no idea what you are talkin’ about, Quat,” she admitted, looking sheepish.
He thrust his hand out at her, the words ‘Lady U.’ imprinted on his hand. She stared at it blankly, then looked back at him. “Buttered toast?” she uttered dumbly.
“NO! You knew this woman had an affair with TROWA!” he snarled savagely, gripping her collar and practically pulling her off her feet. She may have been the superhuman, but he still had the height advantage over her. She clutched his arms with a startled grunt, steadying herself as she stared at him, thinking he had gone insane on her.
Then it all clicked, and she threw up her arms, laughing up at a storm.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD! He TOLD you?!” she shrieked.
He shoved her off with the heel of his foot. “FUCKER!”
“I wasn’t going to say anything! I didn’t even SEE the thing yet! Derrick was the one that brought it up! I wanted to keep it from you so that Trowa can confess, that cheating whore-dog!!”
She laughed again, dropping to the ground with a loud exclaim of sound. Quatre took this convenient opportunity to kick at her, and she hurried to her feet, trying to escape his wrathful fury. Their spectacle drew some interested spectators, and before she knew it, they were once more tumbling down a set of stairs, landing smack-dab in front of some freshmen and sophomores, all of who looked at them curiously.
“I was going to tell you!” she shouted as he pulled her hair, slamming her face against the floor and trying to instill rug burns on that smooth face of hers. She ended up laughing hysterically, batting at him, trying half-heartedly to get away from him. But she was felled by her laughter, and ended up hitting the floor in merriment. He soon tired of trying to instill pain on the superhuman and rose, glaring at her darkly as she held her stomach and cried actual tears of laughter.
“Bitch!” he exclaimed, kicking her. “I can’t believe you! Why?! Why?!!!”
“Why–what?” she huffed between barks, wiping at her eyes. “Dude, I wanted to tell you. Seriously! I was totally looking out for you, Quat! That’s why I was tryin’ ta set you up with someone else! Someone that ain’t humped on a dog humpee!”
“Some friend you are!” he shouted, stomping back up to their correct level, leaving behind a hysterically giggling Felicia Passage.
Numbly, she climbed to her feet and held the banister for dear life as she trudged upwards, occasionally dropping to her knees in a fit of renewed laughter at the situation, and for the fact that Quatre seriously tried to hurt her. It was funny, to her. She managed to reached the third floor and stumbled her way to class, knowing he’d be sitting beside her at their assigned monitor. The bell had rung a few minutes earlier, when he was kicking her, so she received her usual tardy notice and was instructed to stay after school ended to serve detention.
She collapsed into her seat next to Quatre, who glared at her every chance he got.
Sniffing deeply to quell an onslaught of giggles, she slung an arm over his shoulders and ignored it when Quatre threw her arm off him forcibly.
“Look...if I told you, what would have your reaction been? You’d’ve thrown yourself into your room and committed sepukku, and I really wouldn’t have wanted to be your second...ew...that’s so fuckin’ gory. But look here, pal–! Your boy-toy confessed! CONFESSED! Without prodding! So, what’s the deal? Why you all mad at me? Why ain’t you mad at him?”
‘Because you didn’t tell me, and because you let DERRICK hit on me, knowing that he was HITTING on me because he KNEW what TROWA had DONE!”
“Dude, I was looking out for your best interests!” she stressed, waving her hands about. “I love you so much, Quatre! I want to have your babies! I want you to pick out my living room furniture, one day! Everyone knows gays have better fashion sense than straights! I need you!”
“GOD!!”
“I know, ennit? Anyway, I was only looking out for you.” She paused as she considered the ceiling. “If I told you, it wouldn’t’ve have gone good. You’da gone to Derrick for a pity fuck–!”
“I WOULD NOT!”
“Admit it, coolio, you would have. Gettin’ Trowa to tell you of his crime was a better option! And he followed through with true colors! Even though, just ta let you know, I’m still takin’ numbers and pictures from those that are interested in you–!”
“I’m not interested in anybody but Trowa!” Quatre hissed at her. “Get that in your fucking head!”
“But if he drops you because you can never be what his lady-whore is, then what?” she asked worriedly.
The words stunned Quatre, and he found himself blinking repeatedly. He’d certainly given that aspect plenty of thought, wondering how his performance in bed was going to be like after Trowa had someone like Lady Une, erotica extraordinaire. It was kind of a low point.
Felicia realized she’d gone too far when she saw the expression on his face, and exhaled heavily, running a hand through her hair.
“I’m...I’m sorry, Quatre. That was in poor taste. My mouth ran before my thoughts did...”
Quatre looked at the floor. “But...it’s true...I mean, this is Lady Une...Everyone thinks so highly of her... and when he came back, he didn’t even...and...Christ.”
Felicia looked very remorseful, swallowing hard as she studied the sad expression on her friend’s face. Her merriment and her laughter was long gone, and she reached out, then quickly dropped her hand, fumbling with her fingers.
“Shit...” she muttered, dropping her head. “I’m so sorry, Quat. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that shit to you...”
“No...it’s all right. It...it kinda makes sense, I mean...it’s not like...we’ve only had sex once since he came back, Felicia. And it’s nearly November...” Quatre felt his eyes prick with tears as he looked away, smoothing at his pants with a nervous gesture. “I wasn’t going to let this bother me, but...you can’t help but think about it when you realize your boyfriend doesn’t even accept you for your physical appearance after awhile...”
Felicia felt absolutely horrible, looking over at him with an uncharacteristic expression. Her stomach turned and twisted, and she suddenly had nothing more to say. She wished that she was able to turn back time, in order to take back those words. Of course they’d have an effect on her friend! He’d been so low about not being enough for Trowa before this stupid thing with the woman, and she’d gone and said that bullshit just to...just to what? Fuck things up?
She licked at her lips nervously, glancing at him, fretting when she realized that he was terribly upset about things. Realizing this made her very uncomfortable, for she wasn’t sure how to deal with these sorts of things. The shortage of actual female feelings was quite annoying...there were times like these when she wished she actually had the capability of acting, thinking, and feeling like a girl. Then at least, she wouldn’t have said what she did and would know how to fix things after she did make the mistake...
“Quatre, I’m sorry...”
“It’s all right, Felicia. It’s not like...it’s not like it isn’t the truth, anyway. I mean, look at us–Trowa’s off doing his stupid thing with drugs, and then basketball season’s coming up...you know how I was with basketball last year!” he said on a sigh, hand falling to his thigh. “It was all that I focused on...this thing with Trowa requires a lot of time and effort, and neither, despite my feelings for him, do I have time to spend it, no matter how much I feel about him!”
Felicia hesitated on venturing forth on the subject, and she nodded in her remembrance on Quatre’s treating of his favorite past time. It had been his one and only, and despite his relationship with Trowa, had been the only particular thing he really concentrated on. Their relationship, as thin as it was now, wasn’t going to survive once Quatre focused on his passion, and Trowa realized this.
Man, this fucking sucks, she thought with a low sigh. She hung her head. I did this! I set them up in the first fucking place! I have to fix things! Now...how did I fix them the last time...?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Somewhere, far away from Sophia Darken Academy, Travis Justin Sharp, Jamie Anderson, Triton Bloom (who was at the mall, skipping classes), Adam Byrons, Larson Edwards, and a lonely little guy named Jake Trip sneezed repeatedly in rapid succession, forgetting to bless themselves afterward.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa looked up from his cigarette as Drake walked over, having spotted the former goth on his way over to Jimboy’s. Trowa and Drake met and slapped hands in greeting. An ever present cigarette dangling low from his lip, Drake exclaimed, “Where the fuck have you been, muthafucker?!”
“Out.”
“Why?! Quat’s all cryin’ around back at the school!”
Trowa shifted uncomfortably on the park bench and gave Drake a dubious look. “Really?”
“Well....no...but...he’s spending a lot of time with Leash....HEY! Get back here!” he then shouted as Trowa nearly left the park in a cloud of dust. Drake scowled at him as Trowa walked back, looking a little sheepish as he moved in nervous habit.
“Sorry...it’s just...whenever he’s with her, she crams really stupid ideas into his head...”
Drake snorted. That was a tame way of putting things. He finished the cig he had in his mouth and flicked it aside. “Whatever, man. So? Where’ve you been?”
Trowa shrugged, taking his seat once more on the bench. “Oh, just...out. I just had to leave school for awhile.”
“You droppin’ out?”
“I seriously want to.”
Drake’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose high upon his forehead. He forgot the need to head on to his destination that he’d been focused on since school let out. He sat down on the bench, offering Trowa a cig. When the other teen took one, he took out his lighter and lit it. He then recoiled from the other boy, staring at him in shock.
“Why?” he finally asked. “What kind of shit’s going down with you?”
Trowa puffed around the cigarette, shrugging again. “I just...when I fucked over Quat in Spain, I did it with the wrong person.”
“So...you got her pregnant?”
“NO! Fuck, why is that the first thing people say when shit like this happens?” Trowa bemoaned, rolling his eyes up to the sky. “No. That...that isn’t it. If you haven’t heard, yet, then it really isn’t my place to confess, first.”
Drake shrugged. He was right. He really didn’t want to know if Trowa wasn’t going to tell him. There was more manly ways of going about such things, and the first person he’d talk to was his best friend, Felicia. He lit his own cig and stared out at the park that Trowa was watching. On his way to a party, he looked at Trowa, nodding. “You wanna come with?”
“Where are you going?”
“To a party. Plenty of chicks and beer all for me!”
Trowa shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
Drake rose from the bench, looking down at him with some worry. “So, you seriously thinkin’ of transferring from Darken? I mean, that’s pretty big shit, man. That shit that went down must’ve been big!”
Trowa snorted. “Yeah. I don’t know. Catherine’s already looking to transfer me to that Arts school on the West Side of New Park...”
“Dude...does Quat know?”
“...Not yet. But...he knows why I would leave...”
Drake mulled this idea over in his head, frowning as he sucked on his cigarette. He then shook his head. “Don’t be a pussy, man. If you gotta skip out, let it be for some cool reason, like you were expelled or some shit like that. Don’t just go because you fucked up...fuck, take it like a man! You fucked on your boy, man. Get with the consequences of your action! Don’t fuckin’ run off cuz you think it’s all fucked up. Face it. Man up and face it.”
Trowa lifted an eyebrow, looking at Drake with some disbelief. “You don’t know what happened! What makes you so fucking up?”
Drake shrugged his thin shoulders. “I’m just sayin’, man. If you can’t face up to what the fuck you did, then maybe you shouldn’t be with him, anymore. I don’t like those fuckin’ homo relationships, but you’re my friend, man. And that guy’s Leash’s friend. I’m just sayin’, stand up to what you fuckin’ did and face it. In the end, it probably ain’t that bad! You’re the one that’s makin’ it all drama, and shit. Quat’s lookin’ to accept you, anyway! Just go with it!”
Trowa frowned at him, shifting in his seat. “Why are you getting all Chief Sitting Bull on me?”
“I’m just sayin’ it like it is, sucka. You can’t handle, get the fuck out of there so’s someone else can come along and treat him right. It ain’t fair to nobody, fuckin’ male or female. He’s willin’ to overlook that shit you did, and here you are, cryin’ like some girl over what you did. Fuck...if I didn’t know you and respect you like I do now, I wouldn’t even like you. That’s just pussy-shit! Get back there to your boy, man. Just stop being a pussy...”
With a disgusted shake of his head, Drake walked off, muttering to himself.
Trowa stared after him with some shock, wondering if Drake Bellows, the guy that thought cheating on his various girlfriends, had the right to talk that way to him.
Even then, what he said made a lot of sense to Trowa.
But he was still pissed about Drake talking to him that way because he didn’t know what Trowa had done to get in this position. Put Drake in his place, and the fucker would be all happy because he was in a porn. All the guys that he knew (minus Quatre) would have been delirious with the fact that they found themselves worthy of Lady Une’s attention. But then again, they weren’t Trowa Barton. Trowa hated hand-holding, kissing, and general sappiness in public, and even then, when he did participate in such things, it was designated to piss Quatre of or send the guy into a frenzy spiral that Trowa had found so amusing.
And at other times, it was done when they weren’t really in the public eye.
And this video that was circulating the net and store shelves, was incredibly raunchy and publicly humiliating. Truth be told, he’d had fun with Amelie Une, doing all those sexual naughties with the experienced woman (why in the hell did Quatre mention a dog?!), and it was quite evident that she liked it as well. But to have millions of people viewing it? Watching him do such things? When he didn’t even like the fact that people could hear what he and Quatre were doing to each other (and Quatre was so vocal at some points!), millions of people could see and hear things?!
People just didn’t understand!
And to know that the kids at school knew something was up, well, that was entirely different, there. These were his classmates–people he saw and talked with on a regular basis...this was DIFFERENT.
He loved Quatre. He really did. The chase and the exciting climax of their relationship was entirely exciting and completely binding...
But he had to wonder if his love for the other boy was going to be enough to pull him through this situation...