Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Samsonite Man ( Chapter 15 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
What good is manipulation without the tears?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.3K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
What good is manipulation without the tears?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.3K | Visits: 220 | Status: Completed
Chapter Fifteen~
“Samsonite Man” Alicia Keys
Quatre looked at Justin as the other boy paid for a couple of Pepsis, then waited patiently while the cashier flirted with him. Chewing on his nail, taking the bottle pointed in his general direction, he stared around the store, wondering if he should pick up a couple of Laffy Taffys that were tantalizing him in their colorful display nearby. Justin was laughing with the girl, taking her attention lightly, and it wasn’t as if Quatre cared, it was just...there was something niggling at the back of his mind, and it was seriously bugging him.
He heard his phone ringing, then, and he frowned over at Justin, who had taken it hostage. The boy said his goodbye to the girl, and the two boys left the store.
“One time snag?” he asked conversationally, wondering which pocket the other boy had his phone in. Justin wouldn’t let him take it, as it was ringing repeatedly, making Quatre wonder who the hell it was trying to get a hold of him. He didn’t think it was Trowa–for one thing, the former goth had not been calling and talking to him, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It would just be cruel.
“No. Shit, I can still score with the ladies,” Justin muttered, opening his Pepsi. After taking a drink, he belched. “So, now what?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one dragging me everywhere. It’s almost curfew.”
“Oh, shit. Really? What time is it?”
“Like...eight o’clock.”
“When’s curfew?”
“Ten thirty.”
Justin rolled his eyes, then gestured at a cement bench that overlooked the mall that they had left nearly twenty minutes ago. Quatre followed him, swinging his bottle about, and checking his watch one more time to make sure that it was nearly eight. Indeed it was, so he sat down beside the other boy, giving them appropriate space. He stared out at the mall with something close to a sigh, feeling a little weird because of this impulse to go out with his summer fling.
Maybe it was just a woe-is-me pity thing, wanting to be with someone that would give him the attention that he needed. Or perhaps he just wanted a change of pace. Whichever, it brought him here tonight, with Justin, who was treating him as normally as he did over the summer.
Which was fine–Quatre didn’t want to be romanced, and he thought that nothing more would come out of this anyway. Save for Justin’s opinion and ear on things.
“Well?” Justin asked, sweeping a hand through his spiky dark hair and looking out at the various people that swept around them. “What’s up? This thing with your boyfriend...is that what’s gettin’ you down?”
Quatre sighed heavily, setting his Pepsi bottle aside. “Yeah. I suppose. Yeah. I told you he cheated on me, right?”
“Yeah. But that doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“Dude...seriously....”
“Still, that’s fucked up shit, Quatre! I don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit! I would like to apologize to the guy, but if he doesn’t know, then...he don’t know, I suppose. It’s fucked up that you’re letting him take the fall when you’re just as guilty...”
“HEY. We didn’t fuck. We didn’t do nothing more than–than–than what...we did. Trowa, he----well, he was a lot worse,” Quatre grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk. “He just...just disappoints me. Disappointed me. And continues to do so...”
“So, what, you gonna cry around about it like a little bitch? Dude, only girls cry around that sort of shit,” Justin scoffed, giving him a glare. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Why did he feel as if lasers were boring into the back of his neck? He rubbed the offending area with a suddenly nervous hand, and glanced around. There were various people sitting around them, in corresponding benches throughout the area, and there were many more passing through to get to and from the mall.
“So?! Damn it, I just...things were going so good before he left, and when he came back...it all just fell to shit,” Quatre grumbled.
“So? You both deserve it. Both of you should man up.”
“Well...it still hurts.”
“Get over it. Stop crying around about it.” Justin took a cautious sip of his soda, and sneezed suddenly.
“Bless you–er. Just...if you were in my situation, what would you do?” Quatre asked him, looking at him.
Justin shrugged. “So, let me get this straight–he fucked around on you with some woman, you fucked around with me, he comes back and doesn’t want you cuz you’re fucking fat, and then once you two get all settled again, he has this big ole secret that has him hiding away for a week from you...”
“Well, you don’t have to make it sound so OC,” Quatre muttered, giving him a dead leg.
Justin pushed him. “Stop touching me! Why do you always have to touch me?!”
“You deserve it, fag. So? Keep going!”
Justin sighed, running his hand through his hair once more. “Okay...I seriously don’t see any problem. The both of you got what you deserved.”
“But–!”
“But what, Quatre?! What do you want me to say? ‘Oh, that bastard, he shouldn’t have done what he did’ and you should come out as the martyr? Fuck. It isn’t going to work like that, Quatre. You fucked up, too. And I wouldn’t be a part of this if you were only truthful to me! I don’t want to be part of this bullshit!”
“I’m just asking you what you would think, Justin. Stop being so fucking dickholey with me.”
“Well, stop crying around about it. You both got what you deserve. Grow up,” Justin muttered, drinking again.
Quatre looked off into the distance, and frowned, crossing his arms over his stomach and leaning back against the bench. He stared off at the various people that passed them, taking in their nameless faces and hearing their unimportant lives. Justin was lost in his own thoughts as he nursed his bottle of Pepsi, and Quatre’s phone rang again. Quatre looked at him, wanting to answer it, but Justin ignored it, staring off to the left.
“Can I answer my phone, now?” he asked impatiently.
“No. We’re still talking.”
‘No, we aren’t! We’re just sitting here, staring at things! I wanna answer my phone! It might be Trowa!”
“That’s his name?” Justin asked, frowning. He looked at Quatre again. “What’s his last name?”
“Sharp.”
“Fuck you, dick. I guess I don’t need to know, then,” Justin decided, leaning forward on his elbows. “So, besides all this chick shit, what else has been happening with you?”
“Nothing. I’ve been staying out of trouble, pretty much,” Quatre answered, straightening out his legs in front of him, feeling suddenly creeped out as hairs rose on his arms. Why in the hell did he feel this way?! “Just getting ready for basketball season. You?”
Justin shrugged. “Just working. Getting ready for that. Actually, I made the team. Our first tourney’s in Roseville.”
“Really? Huh.”
“You’re a shoe-in, huh?”
“Yeah. No worries there.”
“Who’s going out for the team?”
“Same people, pretty much. Except for our seniors last year.”
“Those two chicks playing, too?”
“One of them was a senior, and the other’s not bothering with trying-out. Which is totally fine with me. I hate playing with girls.”
Justin shrugged. “Didn’t you hear the new regulations? At least two girls are required for a team, this year. Whole bunch of bullshit concerning some bitches up north that couldn’t make the team because their school didn’t want coed.”
Quatre scrunched up his face and exhaled heavily. “I hate playing with girls. They’re so fucking slow! There’s a frosh that hangs out with us at the court at night...she’s not that good.”
“Oh yeah? That Hiiro Yuy playing?”
“Yeah. And Duo Maxwell, Triton Bloom, Winnie, this guy named Otto...me, of course...I don’t think the others are going to try out, they just come out to play.”
“Think you’ll have a team this year?”
“Yeah...even though I probably scared off all the girls...”
Justin chuckled, throwing his bottle away from where he sat. The empty canister sank within the large tube nearby, and Quatre handed him his bottle, not feeling very thirsty. Justin took it, opening it as he eyed Quatre’s slender frame.
“You need meat on those bones, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re going to get fucked around with on the court.”
“Trowa didn’t like me fat.”
“So you fuckin’ drop a hundred pounds just to make him happy?”
“Hey, at least I got laid.” Quatre’s jaw tightened, and he stared angrily at the sidewalk. “I had to lose all this weight for him to even consider touching me again. It fucking sucked. Now I know why all those girls get all those stupid eating disorders to make their men happy...”
Justin snorted, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a thoughtful drink.
“Someone that isn’t going to appreciate you for who you are isn’t the right person to be with,” he said afterward.
“That’s funny...someone said the same thing.”
“Then maybe you two should break up, then. Get it over with...”
“Yeah...” Quatre sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m going to break it off with him. I just get so frustrated that things turned out this way. They were so good! But then again....I don’t know. I just wish things were the way that they were.”
“Before you decided to suck cock?”
“Yea–shut the fuck up. You got off on it, didn’t you?”
Justin grinned. “It was my first time with a guy. I couldn’t help it.”
Quatre elbowed him. “So? Did you hook up with anyone else?” he asked.
Justin shrugged a shoulder. “Kinda. Here and there. Nobody interesting. I just don’t connect with them the way that we did. Maybe it was just a one time thing...Anyway, Earl’s looking for someone else for me.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Man, I can’t tell. I’m not good that way. The guy I think looks good is straight as fuck, and the ones that are gay are...too gay. You’re just right. You don’t look and act gay, and I worked well with you,” Justin admitted, scratching at his ear. Then he winced. He felt suddenly run through.
Quatre grunted. “Yeah...I get that a lot. I guess you have to look a certain way for people to tell that you are. Dude, I have all these presents and shit coming to me. All these little freshmen bring these pretty little things with chocolate and give it to me in the hall. It’s fucked up. I don’t care. I just like the candy inside.”
Justin laughed. “Only you, man. Only you. What about you? You thinking of being single for awhile, after you break up with your man?”
“...Yeah. But I’m horny,” Quatre whined, making Justin laugh again. “I only got it once, in like, years, and I want more.”
“Whore.”
“Dude, I know. I am. I can’t help it if I have a very healthy appetite. It’s not fair to deny me what I want.”
“What Lola wants, she gets, eh?”
“...Who the fuck is ‘Lola’?”
Justin sighed with exasperation, finishing off the other Pepsi and tossing that away, as well. He looked at Quatre, then decided on something. He reached up, touching the other’s chin, and kissed him. Quatre froze for a second, decided What The Hell, and kissed him back. It wasn’t as if Trowa were coming back, anyway. He was probably doped up somewhere, crying around about his unfortunate incident with a money-making porn-star and never thinking about Quatre anymore.
Tongues touched and melded, saliva was exchanged, but by the time they pulled away, it was obvious.
Justin stared at him, Quatre stared at him, then both of them shrugged and looked away, wiping their mouths.
“Well, that sucked!” he declared, feeling absolutely nothing at all in that kiss. Not even a tingle, like the first time.
“Yeah, it did,” Justin admitted, crossing his arms and wiping his lips. “Let’s go see a movie.”
“Which one?”
“Something that has chicks with big tits. This gay thing sucks.”
“Tell me about it. I think I’ll go straight,” Quatre muttered, rising with him and walking with him towards the movie theaters, both of them punching and laughing once more. Neither of them noticed a very infuriated teenager trailing after them, fists clenched and murder registering on his face.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre was whistling as he walked up to the dormitory, feeling rather deaf after seeing a movie involving a lot of samurai, blood, straight sex, and a hunky chunk of a man of whose name he didn’t remember. Hanging out with Justin had been fun, and he had forgotten how truly enjoyable it had been. He could just be himself, without having to impress or coddle anybody, and he could count on Justin giving it to him straight. The Sageville teen had been right about things–Trowa wasn’t going to appreciate him for who he was, excess weight or not, and this thing with Lady Une had strained him to his limits. Right now, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he and Trowa were going to continue with their relationship. He just wanted to shove that back into the past.
First off, it was just purely irritating the way Trowa was handling this Lady Une thing, and second, he wasn’t going to have time to coddle Trowa once he began playing. There just wasn’t enough time in his schedule to pay attention to that bullshit.
But he had to admit he still had feelings for the other boy...last year had been so romantic and intriguing, with the pursuit of the former goth evoking feelings that he’d never known he’d had coming into play, and making him realize things. Then this stupid thing happened, and things just...fell to shit.
He just felt tired of it all. He didn’t want to do it anymore. He’d acknowledge the feelings that he had for Trowa, but wasn’t ready to carry on with them.
He’d just have to let the other know whenever he saw him. And from the way things were going, Quatre was sure he wasn’t going to be seeing the other boy anytime soon...
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, then letting his fingertips touch his lips. That kiss from Justin did nothing to evoke feelings of desire or physical awareness the way it had done the last time. Even then, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t have feelings for the guy–but he did enjoy hanging out with him and Mr. Ogre.
Walking into the building, he watched as various students trooped upstairs, heading to their rooms due to curfew. He joined the crowd, frowning, wondering what he’d wear to his try-outs tomorrow–the Jordans, or the Iverson’s? Whichever, he needed to color coordinate his shoes with his shorts, and he couldn’t really decide from the twenty-five pairs of shoes in his possession----
“Quatre! Hey, Quat!” he heard, and he looked up to see Jared yelling at him. He frowned, walking up the rest of the way to the junior level as the bespectacled boy waited for him near the landing.
“Trowa’s back,” he said, rather excitedly.
Quatre gave a small start, looked in that direction, then frowned.
“Thanks,” he muttered, ignoring Jared’s confused sputters as he continued upstairs.
Well, Trowa finally made his appearance to Darken, huh? Quatre wasn’t ready to talk to him, just yet. Instead of his room, he marched further down the hall of the fifth level, and pounded on the door.
Felicia opened it with a heavy sigh, obviously dressed for bed, and he barged in. Her room was so immaculate, it was as if no one really resided there. The boyish posters of Bruce Lee, Scarface, Kill Bill and various other manly activities covered the walls, and a single pair of G.I. Joe slippers lay haphazardly near the bed. The bed was just as immaculate, the black, stiff sheets suggesting not a single use.
“Whhhhaaaaatttttt?” she whined, shutting her door, dressed in a pair of lounge cotton pants and a wife beater. It was apparent that she wasn’t wearing a bra–not that she needed one. Quatre guessed that his were bigger than hers.
He faced her, hands on his hips. “You’re trying out for the team!”
Felicia stared at him, then burst into laughter. “Whatever!”
“YOU ARE! Justin told me that two girls are required of a team, and since I cannot stand any of the other girls, you’re joining!”
“Dude, shut the fuck up. I ain’t joinin’ no Goddamned school team, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it!” she declared, hands on her hips, posture cocky.
Quatre stared at her, working his jaw, then looked at the floor.
Please let this work, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Please...if there is a God...and if she is a girl...this always worked on Lana!
Felicia covered a yawn as she walked around him, sliding onto her bed without removing the blankets. Sprawling out over the comforter, she drew her stiff pillow to her cheek and yawned again.
“‘Night, dude. See ya in the morning! Waitaminute–! What do you mean, ‘Justin said’?! You went and saw Mr. Ogre?!...Uh...Quat? Quatre? Hey. HEY. HEYYYY!!!”
She heard a single sniffle, and frowned in confusion as she studied Quatre’s rigid back, his head bowed, hair covering his face. She heard another sniffle, and rolled her eyes, burying her face into her pillow. “Whatever, dude. That shit ain’t gonna work on me.”
She turned her back to him, drawing her legs up to her stomach and smacking her mouth. She felt Quatre sit down behind her, his weight causing her bed to dip and for her to bump against him. In irritation, she pulled herself hard against the wall, muttering. She heard more sniffles, the obvious sounds of quiet crying, and frowned at the wall.
“T-Trowa d-doesn’t w-want me, huh?” Quatre asked in a tear-thickened voice, wiping his ears. Ah, to cry crocodile tears...the ability was quite useful. “I w-went out with J-Justin because I-I hadn’t h-heard from T-Trowa in so long...I j-just fucking miss him, and he’s just...he d-doesn’t want me anymore!”
Felicia rolled her eyes, determined to keep him from pulling on her heartstrings. She knew what he was doing.
“I can’t stand it when people cry, dude. Take your pity party away from me,” she muttered against the wall.
There was a loud hiccup, then the obvious sounds of a sob being held in check. “Admit it, Felicia! He doesn’t want me!”
“Well, it ain’t like you did pull this shit in the first fuckin’ place,” she grumbled. “You cheated on him, too.”
“B-But I-I didn’t t-treat him the w-way that he h-had,” Quatre sniffled, wiping his eyes. “He fucking d-didn’t want to touch me, Felicia. Because I-I was f-fat! And he had the nerve to t-tell me he loved me! W-Walking around with J-Justin tonight, I just...I just...r-realized that I-I’m never going to get him b-back! We’re done! Over!”
Felicia rolled her eyes, and winced at the pull on her heartstrings. Damn it, he’s good, she thought in consternation. She had to look back over her shoulder just to make sure that he was really-truly-for-fucking-real crying. She watched with some horror as he wiped his ears, the moisture apparent on his hands.
And immediately, she was worried that while he was dumping his heart’s shit on her, she was making fun of him while he was experiencing the real thing. She rose from her position, never seeing the hidden smirk on a tear-stained face.
“Dude...are you for real...crying?” she asked tentatively, peering around his shoulder. He turned away from her, sniffling ultra pitifully, covering his face with his hands. His tears seeped through his fingers, wetting his cheeks, and he could just feel her curious eyes on his face, looking for the trouble.
“I l-lost him, Felicia!” he wailed behind his hands. “LOST HIM! He said that he loved me!”
“Er, yeah, but...I don’t...really...er...”
Quatre removed his hands from his face, turning on his sad puppy face full force. Felicia cringed at the sight of red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips and reddened cheeks. Tear trails streaked down and dripped from his jaw, and despite herself, her resolve crumbled. She rolled her eyes.
“You fucking suck, man...” she muttered, drawing her knees to her chest. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy.”
“I-I j-just want s-someone t-that’s g-going to b-be there for m-me,” he sniffled, his voice trembling and cracking as he wiped his tears away. “Trowa was there for m-me from the very beginning, and–and now he isn’t...Y-You’re the first person I met, and I–I don’t want to lose another f-friend...”
“And you think that with me joining the fuckin’ team, it’s gonna make things all better?!” she roared, hitting the wall. “Man! Seriously! I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna join the team! It’s not me! Can you see me out there with you guys, gettin’ all fuckin’ Sporty Spice on ya?!”
“Y-You’re my one t-true friend, Felicia,” Quatre hiccuped, wiping his eyes. He reached for her, hugging her tightly as he buried his face against her neck.
Felicia’s hands went up in mock surrender, not wanting to touch anything for fear that she’d actually return the wretched action. Her head strained back, teeth bared in a grimace. She felt excess moisture running down her collarbone and felt utterly disgusted at the way her resolve dissolved as if it were nothing.
“S-show me that y-you’re never going to l-leave me,” he sniffled against her neck, shoulders shaking. “I’m so alone...so...all...alone...”
Felicia rolled her eyes again, shaking her head. She used her foot to pry him off.
“I’ll do it. Shit. It’s only for a few games, right?”
Quatre sniffled, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms and trying very hard for the Pity-Me-Please look that he knew no one could resist. Not even Trowa, when he’d learned of its true power, could resist it.
Felicia wilted like a five day old flower without water, and hung her head in shame.
Quatre rose from the bed, wiping his wet hands on his pants.
“Thank you,” he whispered in appreciative gratitude, leaving her room.
He then burst into a grin, punching the air as he hurried to his room. This stupid girl thing with the team was going to be okay! He could concentrate better on his game knowing that the only girl he could tolerate was going to be there. It sure took some power and some determination, but he’d won this round! He could now rest easy, knowing that he’d made some pretty strong choices and some pretty different changes.
He chuckled evilly as he punched in the code to his room and entered, shutting the door behind him with a light click. He turned to undress when he screamed in surprise, staring at Trowa, who sat on his bed with a frown directed in his direction.
He laughed nervously, clearing his throat.
“Woops. Screamed like a girl that time,” he chuckled sheepishly, kicking off his shoes, uncaring where they lay. Then he looked at Trowa closely. “It’s past curfew...”
Trowa shrugged, never taking his eyes off him. “You’ve got something to say to me?”
Quatre straightened, a little startled at the direct question.
“Um...where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a few days, Trowa. I spent all that time being angry and confused, and I’m seriously sick of it,” he muttered, turning to throw off his sweater, dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts that he’d borrowed from William. They were baggy on him, but he hadn’t any in his size, and didn’t have the extra money to buy some of his own. That’s what happens when one gains weight, gives away all his skinny clothes, then loses weight, then having to rely on what skinny clothes one has left. He was forced to borrow from various people until Lana and Rashid could see him some extra spending money. “I can’t help but feel that things were...that things aren’t ever going to be the same.”
Trowa stared silently at him, shoulders slumped. For once, he wasn’t high. He stared at his blond lover (soon to be ex?), shifting to allow his hands to disappear within his pockets. He just felt...numb. After seeing what he had in town, hearing what he had...he knew that Quatre was planning to go through with what he’d decided. And he felt sick about it. But then on another level, he knew he couldn’t stop it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally asked, his voice cracking just slightly.
Quatre shrugged, not wanting to face him. He still had feelings for the guy. But he knew what decision to make, and was already determined that this was for the best. He just couldn’t do it anymore. “You know what it means...”
Trowa’s jaw tightened, and he stared at the floor, feeling the weight of his actions push at him. His body suddenly felt heavy, his gut empty, and his intestines wrung quite nastily. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to break up with Quatre. They’d gone through so much, had experienced so much, had...they had loved each other, damn it!
“So, everything that happened meant nothing to you?” he asked, his words a little thick as the weight of the situation weighed on him, and he really didn’t want this to be happening. But he had to admit to himself that he knew it would come sometime. This was going to happen. This was actually happening. He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees, face in hands.
“No,” Quatre said quietly, staring at his closet, swallowing hard. He couldn’t face the other teen, just hearing from his voice that Trowa was feeling bad about it. But he’d already made his decision. It was final. His gut twisted and his heart clenched, but it was for the best. He had to breath deep and evenly to let the clench slowly loosen. He busied himself with looking for his basketball things, to put it out on the desk so that he was ready by tomorrow.
“Things meant a lot to me, Trowa,” he then continued, hand pausing on a shirt he’d cut the sleeves off. “But they didn’t seem to mean anything to you. Thinking about things, it was obvious that you weren’t...that you didn’t love me as much as you said you did.”
“I did,” Trowa hissed sharply, closing his eyes. “I fucked up, all right?! I did! I admit it! I fucked up, and I’m paying for it, Quat! Just...just don’t do this! Don’t break us up because I fucked you over...things will get better. They’ll–!”
“They won’t, Trowa!” Quatre cried, turning away from the closet, clenching his fists. “Stop acting like you cared! If they did, you wouldn’t have–done what you’ve done! You wouldn’t have–you didn’t even accept me when you came back–!”
“I TOLD YOU WHY!” Trowa shouted at him, but lowered his voice immediately afterward. “I told you why I couldn’t be the same, anymore...I felt too guilty...and–and I can’t help it, Quat! I didn’t like it when you were heavy!”
“Still...loving a person means accepting their faults, damn it,” Quatre muttered, turning away from him, resting his head within the crook of his arm as he propped it against the doorframe of the closet. “It’s over, Trowa. I can’t do this anymore...I’m so sick and tired of it...waiting for you...”
“I’ll fucking wait forever for you, Quatre. Why are you doing this?! I can change, I can–I can change things! We can work through it–! We’ve always done it before!” Trowa pleaded, rising from the bed, his legs shaking.
Quatre shook his head against his arm, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see his beautiful (ex) boyfriend upset, didn’t want to see those emerald eyes that he knew were glittering with tears. He knew that if he did, he would take the decision back, and it would just not bode well. He’d already made the decision, had already forged forward with a new destination in mind, and he couldn’t let Trowa do this to him anymore. He was just so tired of it.
“Please, Quat...please...don’t do this...don’t break us up...”
“I-I’m sorry, Trowa. I’m sorry...”
“Quatre...please...look at me...please?”
“No...”
Trowa sucked in a deep breath, wiped at his eyes, then shoved his hands into his pockets as he stared sullenly at the cluttered floor. He kicked aside a pair of shoes.
“I followed you, you know. You aren’t exactly innocent in this situation!”
Quatre raised his head from his arm and looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“I saw you two. That–that Justin. That was him, wasn’t it?”
Quatre felt doused with dread and sudden guilt as he looked at the floor. “He’s my friend, Trowa.”
“More than that, from what I’d caught.” Trowa felt anger surge through his veins, but he was in control of himself. He glared at the blond, swiping a hand through his own hair to remove it from his face. “I can’t believe you did that, Quat. Made me take the fall when you did it yourself.”
“I didn’t do what you ----”
“It doesn’t fucking matter what did what, who did who! The matter of the fact was that you did it, too!” Trowa cried, throwing his arms out. “How dare you! How dare you, you fucking prick!”
“Get out of my room, Trowa! I don’t like it when you’re like this!” Quatre then declared, facing him, eyes searching for any indication of Trowa’s previous misdeeds.
Trowa dropped his arms to his sides, and stared at Quatre in silence, for a very long time. Quatre fidgeted under that stare, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, unable to meet those accusing green orbs after that unlikely event. No wonder he’d felt so damn creeped out while he’d been with Justin tonight...His mind raced, trying to pinpoint ever seeing Trowa in the crowd at all while they were out and about. And even then, he felt guilty that Trowa found out about his own misdeed..
Trowa slowly shook his head, and wiped at his eyes. “You’re fucked up, Quatre,” he muttered.
Quatre glanced at him, wary of his moods, then felt some relief and despair at the same time as Trowa turned, and walked out his room without another word. When the door closed softly behind him, Quatre sat on the floor, staring almost sightlessly at the clutter on his floor, allowing real tears to fall this time. He reached up to wipe them away, breathing heavily as he tried to keep control of his emotions.
He’d done it. He’d broken up with Trowa. After a year’s relationship, he’d broken up with his first love. The only question was, Now what?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Randy Ramos looked up from his clipboard, frowning slightly as he looked over the small cluster of hopefuls that were sitting in various areas on the court, stretching their limbs. The assistant coaches were watching as well, their eyebrows raised as they took in the small group at the early morning hour. It was just past four thirty, and try-outs began at five. And yet...it looked as if no one was really going to try out for Darken’s team this year.
A former college ball player, taken out by an injury that was easily fixed but pride kept him from playing for himself anymore, Randy Ramos was young, talented, and exuded much promise for the Academy’s basketball team. He’d taken the teams to Zone and State, but had yet to win another State title for the school. He was hoping that this year would become different.
He looked at the old team from last year–Winnie...Triton...Hiiro...Duo...wait a minute...
“Where’s Quatre?” he asked Duo, who was nearby. The braided wonder shrugged.
“It ain’t time to start, yet, man, stop bugging!” Triton called from half court, flirting with one of the two females that were trying out this year. One. Of two.
Ramos stared uneasily at the frosh, Mariemaia, and at the girl he vaguely recognized as being part of the sophomore class, some...he glanced at his clipboard...some Tonya Alain. She wasn’t good. And Mariemaia...well...she had potential, but she was a freshman...and new State rules demanded at least two girls on the team, no matter the position or situation. He frowned, blinking repeatedly as he glanced at his watch. There were at least twenty guys, all of them ranging from freshman year to senior, and he knew for sure who was going to make the team. Winnie, Triton, Hiiro, Duo, and Quatre were definite picks. But now, he needed to create a brand-new team out of what was available, and he was just plain astonished at the lack of response to the school’s most prestigious sport.
Last year, nearly forty people had tried out–and now, there was barely half of that sitting before them. Well, like Triton said, try-outs hadn’t yet started, and he was a little hopeful...though, he blew out a pent-up breath and lowered his clipboard, staring at the various hopefuls that littered his court. As the minutes passed by, a few more hopefuls poured in, but no more girls. Ramos felt a little discouraged, and tried not to let things show.
Then, five minutes before he was going to start them running for endurance, Quatre appeared within the doorway, looking entirely stressed. He paused before entering the gym fully, growling something incomprehensible to someone out of view. Ramos lifted an eyebrow as the blond disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, dragging someone behind him. He swore he heard the entire gym freeze with disbelief as they saw who the Point Guard was pulling, and he found himself surprised as well.
Felicia Passage stared at them all, rather sullenly, dressed in borrowed clothes that were of Quatre’s obvious possession. She frowned, Quatre hurrying off to change out of his slippers and into his court shoes while everyone stared at the Native American that lingered in the doorway. Ramos blinked and scanned his clipboard, seeing that her name was among the others. He blinked again.
He’d been so sure that she hadn’t signed up when he was given this particular print-out...hell. He could at least give her a chance...he didn’t know the kid, but he knew from various teachers that she was a bully and a slacker. And not too many kids enjoyed interacting with minorities that had mouths...hell. He’d give her a chance. That would at least give him some options to choose from.
He waved at her, startling everyone from their paralysis with the sudden movement.
“Get in here! We’ve got laps to do! Everyone! You all stretched and ready to go?!”
“How many?” Duo asked, frowning.
“I want five miles,” Ramos replied, immediate groans already punctuating the air. The girl in the doorway took another step in, hesitated, and frowned as Quatre hurried onto the court. He turned and gestured hurriedly at her, and she continued to hesitate as the assistant coach, Andrew, looked at his watch, and signaled for a countdown for a timed run. Then, at the set direction, the crowd of hopefuls began running, Quatre growling and snarling as he pulled at the girl’s shirt, tugging her into running.
It was obvious she didn’t want to be here–Ramos put that in consideration as he frowned, hands on his hips, the sounds of running feet echoing throughout the gym. Quatre had to continue snarling and whining to get the girl moving, and in time, she was finally moving on her own, complaining right back.
Ramos frowned as he surveyed the group overall–everyone was either tall, lurpy, overly muscular, or in some instances, just right. The timed run was only going to be one of several running exercises, as he liked to keep the kids moving, to keep up their stamina and endurance. This first day of try-outs would only drop those that weren’t willing to pull the extra mile, or the extra wind-sprint. The next day after that was going to be filled with sprints and brutal suicides, and the day after that was a day at the track for some more running. In between and all around, he’d have them work through various dribbling, shooting, offensive and defensive exercises that would pull the weak from the strong, the inexperienced to the experienced... This week was going to be filled with his evil work-out, and nobody better complain if they wanted to make the team.
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Ramos crossed one more name off his list as the sophomore hopeful grew discouraged against Quatre’s more superior dribbling skills, artfully dribbling around the faster boy and making a three that a more experienced player would have blocked. He was having his more senior players pit themselves against the newer ones, and he found it easy to pick out the ones that weren’t worth dealing with, and the ones that had potential. So far, he had about nine kids on his list that he’d wanted on his team, and he was shooting for twelve even. Two extra players were always a consideration during a busy season.
It was the third day of try-outs, and already the ‘crowd’ of thirty had dwindled down to a mere eighteen. Two had already given up earlier today, and there were only three more that he was having doubts about. Mariemaia more than proved her worth, and while Ramos was reluctant to take her due to her inexperience and her grade, he was going to take her over Tonya, because Tonya was more interested in flirting with the boys than trying to impress him with her skill.
Plus, she had already met with Quatre Winner, and he’d already denounced her worth several times, prompting her to cry at one point and to try and kick him at another. He couldn’t have that sort of attitude on the court...
This other girl, Felicia, was showing considerable promise if she would just relax. The running exercises were nothing to her, and she kept up with most of the boys, showing exceeding promise in being faster than his senior players. She handled the ball very well, she was able to handle extreme pressure, she took good shots, and another good thing? She worked exceptionally well with Quatre. The only bad thing about her was her obvious reluctance in playing. She didn’t want to be there. It was obvious in her expression and her sullen attitude, but she was there, trying out, and showing promise.
But it was obvious that Ramos made his decision–after all, only three girls tried out, and he’d already eliminated one.
Now, the boys–Hiiro, Duo, Quatre, Triton, and Winnie were shoe-ins. Definitely. There were other boys that he was interested in–Derrick Converse, Brian Dolt, Houston Peoria were sophomores, and they proved their worth. Paul Minogue, a senior that transferred from New York City, was also very interesting. His style of play was fast and furious, and he connected with Quatre in a level that the blond was grateful for. Ramos was going to settle for the two girls, and the nine boys, but he’d rather for at least another girl and maybe two more boys...he was stretching it so thin with just the two girls, but they’d done well with the same number last year...and if possible, he could borrow from the Junior Varsity team, which the other assistant coach was watching over after the Varsity try-outs were finished...
Now he was looking for his last boy, and he was interested in Colin Brettany, a senior that had transferred from Seattle. As the senior moved forward to intercept one of Hiiro’s passes to Duo, Ramos nodded in approval. He had his team for the season...
“Samsonite Man” Alicia Keys
Quatre looked at Justin as the other boy paid for a couple of Pepsis, then waited patiently while the cashier flirted with him. Chewing on his nail, taking the bottle pointed in his general direction, he stared around the store, wondering if he should pick up a couple of Laffy Taffys that were tantalizing him in their colorful display nearby. Justin was laughing with the girl, taking her attention lightly, and it wasn’t as if Quatre cared, it was just...there was something niggling at the back of his mind, and it was seriously bugging him.
He heard his phone ringing, then, and he frowned over at Justin, who had taken it hostage. The boy said his goodbye to the girl, and the two boys left the store.
“One time snag?” he asked conversationally, wondering which pocket the other boy had his phone in. Justin wouldn’t let him take it, as it was ringing repeatedly, making Quatre wonder who the hell it was trying to get a hold of him. He didn’t think it was Trowa–for one thing, the former goth had not been calling and talking to him, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It would just be cruel.
“No. Shit, I can still score with the ladies,” Justin muttered, opening his Pepsi. After taking a drink, he belched. “So, now what?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one dragging me everywhere. It’s almost curfew.”
“Oh, shit. Really? What time is it?”
“Like...eight o’clock.”
“When’s curfew?”
“Ten thirty.”
Justin rolled his eyes, then gestured at a cement bench that overlooked the mall that they had left nearly twenty minutes ago. Quatre followed him, swinging his bottle about, and checking his watch one more time to make sure that it was nearly eight. Indeed it was, so he sat down beside the other boy, giving them appropriate space. He stared out at the mall with something close to a sigh, feeling a little weird because of this impulse to go out with his summer fling.
Maybe it was just a woe-is-me pity thing, wanting to be with someone that would give him the attention that he needed. Or perhaps he just wanted a change of pace. Whichever, it brought him here tonight, with Justin, who was treating him as normally as he did over the summer.
Which was fine–Quatre didn’t want to be romanced, and he thought that nothing more would come out of this anyway. Save for Justin’s opinion and ear on things.
“Well?” Justin asked, sweeping a hand through his spiky dark hair and looking out at the various people that swept around them. “What’s up? This thing with your boyfriend...is that what’s gettin’ you down?”
Quatre sighed heavily, setting his Pepsi bottle aside. “Yeah. I suppose. Yeah. I told you he cheated on me, right?”
“Yeah. But that doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“Dude...seriously....”
“Still, that’s fucked up shit, Quatre! I don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit! I would like to apologize to the guy, but if he doesn’t know, then...he don’t know, I suppose. It’s fucked up that you’re letting him take the fall when you’re just as guilty...”
“HEY. We didn’t fuck. We didn’t do nothing more than–than–than what...we did. Trowa, he----well, he was a lot worse,” Quatre grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk. “He just...just disappoints me. Disappointed me. And continues to do so...”
“So, what, you gonna cry around about it like a little bitch? Dude, only girls cry around that sort of shit,” Justin scoffed, giving him a glare. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Why did he feel as if lasers were boring into the back of his neck? He rubbed the offending area with a suddenly nervous hand, and glanced around. There were various people sitting around them, in corresponding benches throughout the area, and there were many more passing through to get to and from the mall.
“So?! Damn it, I just...things were going so good before he left, and when he came back...it all just fell to shit,” Quatre grumbled.
“So? You both deserve it. Both of you should man up.”
“Well...it still hurts.”
“Get over it. Stop crying around about it.” Justin took a cautious sip of his soda, and sneezed suddenly.
“Bless you–er. Just...if you were in my situation, what would you do?” Quatre asked him, looking at him.
Justin shrugged. “So, let me get this straight–he fucked around on you with some woman, you fucked around with me, he comes back and doesn’t want you cuz you’re fucking fat, and then once you two get all settled again, he has this big ole secret that has him hiding away for a week from you...”
“Well, you don’t have to make it sound so OC,” Quatre muttered, giving him a dead leg.
Justin pushed him. “Stop touching me! Why do you always have to touch me?!”
“You deserve it, fag. So? Keep going!”
Justin sighed, running his hand through his hair once more. “Okay...I seriously don’t see any problem. The both of you got what you deserved.”
“But–!”
“But what, Quatre?! What do you want me to say? ‘Oh, that bastard, he shouldn’t have done what he did’ and you should come out as the martyr? Fuck. It isn’t going to work like that, Quatre. You fucked up, too. And I wouldn’t be a part of this if you were only truthful to me! I don’t want to be part of this bullshit!”
“I’m just asking you what you would think, Justin. Stop being so fucking dickholey with me.”
“Well, stop crying around about it. You both got what you deserve. Grow up,” Justin muttered, drinking again.
Quatre looked off into the distance, and frowned, crossing his arms over his stomach and leaning back against the bench. He stared off at the various people that passed them, taking in their nameless faces and hearing their unimportant lives. Justin was lost in his own thoughts as he nursed his bottle of Pepsi, and Quatre’s phone rang again. Quatre looked at him, wanting to answer it, but Justin ignored it, staring off to the left.
“Can I answer my phone, now?” he asked impatiently.
“No. We’re still talking.”
‘No, we aren’t! We’re just sitting here, staring at things! I wanna answer my phone! It might be Trowa!”
“That’s his name?” Justin asked, frowning. He looked at Quatre again. “What’s his last name?”
“Sharp.”
“Fuck you, dick. I guess I don’t need to know, then,” Justin decided, leaning forward on his elbows. “So, besides all this chick shit, what else has been happening with you?”
“Nothing. I’ve been staying out of trouble, pretty much,” Quatre answered, straightening out his legs in front of him, feeling suddenly creeped out as hairs rose on his arms. Why in the hell did he feel this way?! “Just getting ready for basketball season. You?”
Justin shrugged. “Just working. Getting ready for that. Actually, I made the team. Our first tourney’s in Roseville.”
“Really? Huh.”
“You’re a shoe-in, huh?”
“Yeah. No worries there.”
“Who’s going out for the team?”
“Same people, pretty much. Except for our seniors last year.”
“Those two chicks playing, too?”
“One of them was a senior, and the other’s not bothering with trying-out. Which is totally fine with me. I hate playing with girls.”
Justin shrugged. “Didn’t you hear the new regulations? At least two girls are required for a team, this year. Whole bunch of bullshit concerning some bitches up north that couldn’t make the team because their school didn’t want coed.”
Quatre scrunched up his face and exhaled heavily. “I hate playing with girls. They’re so fucking slow! There’s a frosh that hangs out with us at the court at night...she’s not that good.”
“Oh yeah? That Hiiro Yuy playing?”
“Yeah. And Duo Maxwell, Triton Bloom, Winnie, this guy named Otto...me, of course...I don’t think the others are going to try out, they just come out to play.”
“Think you’ll have a team this year?”
“Yeah...even though I probably scared off all the girls...”
Justin chuckled, throwing his bottle away from where he sat. The empty canister sank within the large tube nearby, and Quatre handed him his bottle, not feeling very thirsty. Justin took it, opening it as he eyed Quatre’s slender frame.
“You need meat on those bones, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re going to get fucked around with on the court.”
“Trowa didn’t like me fat.”
“So you fuckin’ drop a hundred pounds just to make him happy?”
“Hey, at least I got laid.” Quatre’s jaw tightened, and he stared angrily at the sidewalk. “I had to lose all this weight for him to even consider touching me again. It fucking sucked. Now I know why all those girls get all those stupid eating disorders to make their men happy...”
Justin snorted, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a thoughtful drink.
“Someone that isn’t going to appreciate you for who you are isn’t the right person to be with,” he said afterward.
“That’s funny...someone said the same thing.”
“Then maybe you two should break up, then. Get it over with...”
“Yeah...” Quatre sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m going to break it off with him. I just get so frustrated that things turned out this way. They were so good! But then again....I don’t know. I just wish things were the way that they were.”
“Before you decided to suck cock?”
“Yea–shut the fuck up. You got off on it, didn’t you?”
Justin grinned. “It was my first time with a guy. I couldn’t help it.”
Quatre elbowed him. “So? Did you hook up with anyone else?” he asked.
Justin shrugged a shoulder. “Kinda. Here and there. Nobody interesting. I just don’t connect with them the way that we did. Maybe it was just a one time thing...Anyway, Earl’s looking for someone else for me.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Man, I can’t tell. I’m not good that way. The guy I think looks good is straight as fuck, and the ones that are gay are...too gay. You’re just right. You don’t look and act gay, and I worked well with you,” Justin admitted, scratching at his ear. Then he winced. He felt suddenly run through.
Quatre grunted. “Yeah...I get that a lot. I guess you have to look a certain way for people to tell that you are. Dude, I have all these presents and shit coming to me. All these little freshmen bring these pretty little things with chocolate and give it to me in the hall. It’s fucked up. I don’t care. I just like the candy inside.”
Justin laughed. “Only you, man. Only you. What about you? You thinking of being single for awhile, after you break up with your man?”
“...Yeah. But I’m horny,” Quatre whined, making Justin laugh again. “I only got it once, in like, years, and I want more.”
“Whore.”
“Dude, I know. I am. I can’t help it if I have a very healthy appetite. It’s not fair to deny me what I want.”
“What Lola wants, she gets, eh?”
“...Who the fuck is ‘Lola’?”
Justin sighed with exasperation, finishing off the other Pepsi and tossing that away, as well. He looked at Quatre, then decided on something. He reached up, touching the other’s chin, and kissed him. Quatre froze for a second, decided What The Hell, and kissed him back. It wasn’t as if Trowa were coming back, anyway. He was probably doped up somewhere, crying around about his unfortunate incident with a money-making porn-star and never thinking about Quatre anymore.
Tongues touched and melded, saliva was exchanged, but by the time they pulled away, it was obvious.
Justin stared at him, Quatre stared at him, then both of them shrugged and looked away, wiping their mouths.
“Well, that sucked!” he declared, feeling absolutely nothing at all in that kiss. Not even a tingle, like the first time.
“Yeah, it did,” Justin admitted, crossing his arms and wiping his lips. “Let’s go see a movie.”
“Which one?”
“Something that has chicks with big tits. This gay thing sucks.”
“Tell me about it. I think I’ll go straight,” Quatre muttered, rising with him and walking with him towards the movie theaters, both of them punching and laughing once more. Neither of them noticed a very infuriated teenager trailing after them, fists clenched and murder registering on his face.
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Quatre was whistling as he walked up to the dormitory, feeling rather deaf after seeing a movie involving a lot of samurai, blood, straight sex, and a hunky chunk of a man of whose name he didn’t remember. Hanging out with Justin had been fun, and he had forgotten how truly enjoyable it had been. He could just be himself, without having to impress or coddle anybody, and he could count on Justin giving it to him straight. The Sageville teen had been right about things–Trowa wasn’t going to appreciate him for who he was, excess weight or not, and this thing with Lady Une had strained him to his limits. Right now, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he and Trowa were going to continue with their relationship. He just wanted to shove that back into the past.
First off, it was just purely irritating the way Trowa was handling this Lady Une thing, and second, he wasn’t going to have time to coddle Trowa once he began playing. There just wasn’t enough time in his schedule to pay attention to that bullshit.
But he had to admit he still had feelings for the other boy...last year had been so romantic and intriguing, with the pursuit of the former goth evoking feelings that he’d never known he’d had coming into play, and making him realize things. Then this stupid thing happened, and things just...fell to shit.
He just felt tired of it all. He didn’t want to do it anymore. He’d acknowledge the feelings that he had for Trowa, but wasn’t ready to carry on with them.
He’d just have to let the other know whenever he saw him. And from the way things were going, Quatre was sure he wasn’t going to be seeing the other boy anytime soon...
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, then letting his fingertips touch his lips. That kiss from Justin did nothing to evoke feelings of desire or physical awareness the way it had done the last time. Even then, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t have feelings for the guy–but he did enjoy hanging out with him and Mr. Ogre.
Walking into the building, he watched as various students trooped upstairs, heading to their rooms due to curfew. He joined the crowd, frowning, wondering what he’d wear to his try-outs tomorrow–the Jordans, or the Iverson’s? Whichever, he needed to color coordinate his shoes with his shorts, and he couldn’t really decide from the twenty-five pairs of shoes in his possession----
“Quatre! Hey, Quat!” he heard, and he looked up to see Jared yelling at him. He frowned, walking up the rest of the way to the junior level as the bespectacled boy waited for him near the landing.
“Trowa’s back,” he said, rather excitedly.
Quatre gave a small start, looked in that direction, then frowned.
“Thanks,” he muttered, ignoring Jared’s confused sputters as he continued upstairs.
Well, Trowa finally made his appearance to Darken, huh? Quatre wasn’t ready to talk to him, just yet. Instead of his room, he marched further down the hall of the fifth level, and pounded on the door.
Felicia opened it with a heavy sigh, obviously dressed for bed, and he barged in. Her room was so immaculate, it was as if no one really resided there. The boyish posters of Bruce Lee, Scarface, Kill Bill and various other manly activities covered the walls, and a single pair of G.I. Joe slippers lay haphazardly near the bed. The bed was just as immaculate, the black, stiff sheets suggesting not a single use.
“Whhhhaaaaatttttt?” she whined, shutting her door, dressed in a pair of lounge cotton pants and a wife beater. It was apparent that she wasn’t wearing a bra–not that she needed one. Quatre guessed that his were bigger than hers.
He faced her, hands on his hips. “You’re trying out for the team!”
Felicia stared at him, then burst into laughter. “Whatever!”
“YOU ARE! Justin told me that two girls are required of a team, and since I cannot stand any of the other girls, you’re joining!”
“Dude, shut the fuck up. I ain’t joinin’ no Goddamned school team, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it!” she declared, hands on her hips, posture cocky.
Quatre stared at her, working his jaw, then looked at the floor.
Please let this work, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Please...if there is a God...and if she is a girl...this always worked on Lana!
Felicia covered a yawn as she walked around him, sliding onto her bed without removing the blankets. Sprawling out over the comforter, she drew her stiff pillow to her cheek and yawned again.
“‘Night, dude. See ya in the morning! Waitaminute–! What do you mean, ‘Justin said’?! You went and saw Mr. Ogre?!...Uh...Quat? Quatre? Hey. HEY. HEYYYY!!!”
She heard a single sniffle, and frowned in confusion as she studied Quatre’s rigid back, his head bowed, hair covering his face. She heard another sniffle, and rolled her eyes, burying her face into her pillow. “Whatever, dude. That shit ain’t gonna work on me.”
She turned her back to him, drawing her legs up to her stomach and smacking her mouth. She felt Quatre sit down behind her, his weight causing her bed to dip and for her to bump against him. In irritation, she pulled herself hard against the wall, muttering. She heard more sniffles, the obvious sounds of quiet crying, and frowned at the wall.
“T-Trowa d-doesn’t w-want me, huh?” Quatre asked in a tear-thickened voice, wiping his ears. Ah, to cry crocodile tears...the ability was quite useful. “I w-went out with J-Justin because I-I hadn’t h-heard from T-Trowa in so long...I j-just fucking miss him, and he’s just...he d-doesn’t want me anymore!”
Felicia rolled her eyes, determined to keep him from pulling on her heartstrings. She knew what he was doing.
“I can’t stand it when people cry, dude. Take your pity party away from me,” she muttered against the wall.
There was a loud hiccup, then the obvious sounds of a sob being held in check. “Admit it, Felicia! He doesn’t want me!”
“Well, it ain’t like you did pull this shit in the first fuckin’ place,” she grumbled. “You cheated on him, too.”
“B-But I-I didn’t t-treat him the w-way that he h-had,” Quatre sniffled, wiping his eyes. “He fucking d-didn’t want to touch me, Felicia. Because I-I was f-fat! And he had the nerve to t-tell me he loved me! W-Walking around with J-Justin tonight, I just...I just...r-realized that I-I’m never going to get him b-back! We’re done! Over!”
Felicia rolled her eyes, and winced at the pull on her heartstrings. Damn it, he’s good, she thought in consternation. She had to look back over her shoulder just to make sure that he was really-truly-for-fucking-real crying. She watched with some horror as he wiped his ears, the moisture apparent on his hands.
And immediately, she was worried that while he was dumping his heart’s shit on her, she was making fun of him while he was experiencing the real thing. She rose from her position, never seeing the hidden smirk on a tear-stained face.
“Dude...are you for real...crying?” she asked tentatively, peering around his shoulder. He turned away from her, sniffling ultra pitifully, covering his face with his hands. His tears seeped through his fingers, wetting his cheeks, and he could just feel her curious eyes on his face, looking for the trouble.
“I l-lost him, Felicia!” he wailed behind his hands. “LOST HIM! He said that he loved me!”
“Er, yeah, but...I don’t...really...er...”
Quatre removed his hands from his face, turning on his sad puppy face full force. Felicia cringed at the sight of red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips and reddened cheeks. Tear trails streaked down and dripped from his jaw, and despite herself, her resolve crumbled. She rolled her eyes.
“You fucking suck, man...” she muttered, drawing her knees to her chest. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy.”
“I-I j-just want s-someone t-that’s g-going to b-be there for m-me,” he sniffled, his voice trembling and cracking as he wiped his tears away. “Trowa was there for m-me from the very beginning, and–and now he isn’t...Y-You’re the first person I met, and I–I don’t want to lose another f-friend...”
“And you think that with me joining the fuckin’ team, it’s gonna make things all better?!” she roared, hitting the wall. “Man! Seriously! I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna join the team! It’s not me! Can you see me out there with you guys, gettin’ all fuckin’ Sporty Spice on ya?!”
“Y-You’re my one t-true friend, Felicia,” Quatre hiccuped, wiping his eyes. He reached for her, hugging her tightly as he buried his face against her neck.
Felicia’s hands went up in mock surrender, not wanting to touch anything for fear that she’d actually return the wretched action. Her head strained back, teeth bared in a grimace. She felt excess moisture running down her collarbone and felt utterly disgusted at the way her resolve dissolved as if it were nothing.
“S-show me that y-you’re never going to l-leave me,” he sniffled against her neck, shoulders shaking. “I’m so alone...so...all...alone...”
Felicia rolled her eyes again, shaking her head. She used her foot to pry him off.
“I’ll do it. Shit. It’s only for a few games, right?”
Quatre sniffled, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms and trying very hard for the Pity-Me-Please look that he knew no one could resist. Not even Trowa, when he’d learned of its true power, could resist it.
Felicia wilted like a five day old flower without water, and hung her head in shame.
Quatre rose from the bed, wiping his wet hands on his pants.
“Thank you,” he whispered in appreciative gratitude, leaving her room.
He then burst into a grin, punching the air as he hurried to his room. This stupid girl thing with the team was going to be okay! He could concentrate better on his game knowing that the only girl he could tolerate was going to be there. It sure took some power and some determination, but he’d won this round! He could now rest easy, knowing that he’d made some pretty strong choices and some pretty different changes.
He chuckled evilly as he punched in the code to his room and entered, shutting the door behind him with a light click. He turned to undress when he screamed in surprise, staring at Trowa, who sat on his bed with a frown directed in his direction.
He laughed nervously, clearing his throat.
“Woops. Screamed like a girl that time,” he chuckled sheepishly, kicking off his shoes, uncaring where they lay. Then he looked at Trowa closely. “It’s past curfew...”
Trowa shrugged, never taking his eyes off him. “You’ve got something to say to me?”
Quatre straightened, a little startled at the direct question.
“Um...where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a few days, Trowa. I spent all that time being angry and confused, and I’m seriously sick of it,” he muttered, turning to throw off his sweater, dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts that he’d borrowed from William. They were baggy on him, but he hadn’t any in his size, and didn’t have the extra money to buy some of his own. That’s what happens when one gains weight, gives away all his skinny clothes, then loses weight, then having to rely on what skinny clothes one has left. He was forced to borrow from various people until Lana and Rashid could see him some extra spending money. “I can’t help but feel that things were...that things aren’t ever going to be the same.”
Trowa stared silently at him, shoulders slumped. For once, he wasn’t high. He stared at his blond lover (soon to be ex?), shifting to allow his hands to disappear within his pockets. He just felt...numb. After seeing what he had in town, hearing what he had...he knew that Quatre was planning to go through with what he’d decided. And he felt sick about it. But then on another level, he knew he couldn’t stop it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally asked, his voice cracking just slightly.
Quatre shrugged, not wanting to face him. He still had feelings for the guy. But he knew what decision to make, and was already determined that this was for the best. He just couldn’t do it anymore. “You know what it means...”
Trowa’s jaw tightened, and he stared at the floor, feeling the weight of his actions push at him. His body suddenly felt heavy, his gut empty, and his intestines wrung quite nastily. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to break up with Quatre. They’d gone through so much, had experienced so much, had...they had loved each other, damn it!
“So, everything that happened meant nothing to you?” he asked, his words a little thick as the weight of the situation weighed on him, and he really didn’t want this to be happening. But he had to admit to himself that he knew it would come sometime. This was going to happen. This was actually happening. He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees, face in hands.
“No,” Quatre said quietly, staring at his closet, swallowing hard. He couldn’t face the other teen, just hearing from his voice that Trowa was feeling bad about it. But he’d already made his decision. It was final. His gut twisted and his heart clenched, but it was for the best. He had to breath deep and evenly to let the clench slowly loosen. He busied himself with looking for his basketball things, to put it out on the desk so that he was ready by tomorrow.
“Things meant a lot to me, Trowa,” he then continued, hand pausing on a shirt he’d cut the sleeves off. “But they didn’t seem to mean anything to you. Thinking about things, it was obvious that you weren’t...that you didn’t love me as much as you said you did.”
“I did,” Trowa hissed sharply, closing his eyes. “I fucked up, all right?! I did! I admit it! I fucked up, and I’m paying for it, Quat! Just...just don’t do this! Don’t break us up because I fucked you over...things will get better. They’ll–!”
“They won’t, Trowa!” Quatre cried, turning away from the closet, clenching his fists. “Stop acting like you cared! If they did, you wouldn’t have–done what you’ve done! You wouldn’t have–you didn’t even accept me when you came back–!”
“I TOLD YOU WHY!” Trowa shouted at him, but lowered his voice immediately afterward. “I told you why I couldn’t be the same, anymore...I felt too guilty...and–and I can’t help it, Quat! I didn’t like it when you were heavy!”
“Still...loving a person means accepting their faults, damn it,” Quatre muttered, turning away from him, resting his head within the crook of his arm as he propped it against the doorframe of the closet. “It’s over, Trowa. I can’t do this anymore...I’m so sick and tired of it...waiting for you...”
“I’ll fucking wait forever for you, Quatre. Why are you doing this?! I can change, I can–I can change things! We can work through it–! We’ve always done it before!” Trowa pleaded, rising from the bed, his legs shaking.
Quatre shook his head against his arm, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see his beautiful (ex) boyfriend upset, didn’t want to see those emerald eyes that he knew were glittering with tears. He knew that if he did, he would take the decision back, and it would just not bode well. He’d already made the decision, had already forged forward with a new destination in mind, and he couldn’t let Trowa do this to him anymore. He was just so tired of it.
“Please, Quat...please...don’t do this...don’t break us up...”
“I-I’m sorry, Trowa. I’m sorry...”
“Quatre...please...look at me...please?”
“No...”
Trowa sucked in a deep breath, wiped at his eyes, then shoved his hands into his pockets as he stared sullenly at the cluttered floor. He kicked aside a pair of shoes.
“I followed you, you know. You aren’t exactly innocent in this situation!”
Quatre raised his head from his arm and looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“I saw you two. That–that Justin. That was him, wasn’t it?”
Quatre felt doused with dread and sudden guilt as he looked at the floor. “He’s my friend, Trowa.”
“More than that, from what I’d caught.” Trowa felt anger surge through his veins, but he was in control of himself. He glared at the blond, swiping a hand through his own hair to remove it from his face. “I can’t believe you did that, Quat. Made me take the fall when you did it yourself.”
“I didn’t do what you ----”
“It doesn’t fucking matter what did what, who did who! The matter of the fact was that you did it, too!” Trowa cried, throwing his arms out. “How dare you! How dare you, you fucking prick!”
“Get out of my room, Trowa! I don’t like it when you’re like this!” Quatre then declared, facing him, eyes searching for any indication of Trowa’s previous misdeeds.
Trowa dropped his arms to his sides, and stared at Quatre in silence, for a very long time. Quatre fidgeted under that stare, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, unable to meet those accusing green orbs after that unlikely event. No wonder he’d felt so damn creeped out while he’d been with Justin tonight...His mind raced, trying to pinpoint ever seeing Trowa in the crowd at all while they were out and about. And even then, he felt guilty that Trowa found out about his own misdeed..
Trowa slowly shook his head, and wiped at his eyes. “You’re fucked up, Quatre,” he muttered.
Quatre glanced at him, wary of his moods, then felt some relief and despair at the same time as Trowa turned, and walked out his room without another word. When the door closed softly behind him, Quatre sat on the floor, staring almost sightlessly at the clutter on his floor, allowing real tears to fall this time. He reached up to wipe them away, breathing heavily as he tried to keep control of his emotions.
He’d done it. He’d broken up with Trowa. After a year’s relationship, he’d broken up with his first love. The only question was, Now what?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Randy Ramos looked up from his clipboard, frowning slightly as he looked over the small cluster of hopefuls that were sitting in various areas on the court, stretching their limbs. The assistant coaches were watching as well, their eyebrows raised as they took in the small group at the early morning hour. It was just past four thirty, and try-outs began at five. And yet...it looked as if no one was really going to try out for Darken’s team this year.
A former college ball player, taken out by an injury that was easily fixed but pride kept him from playing for himself anymore, Randy Ramos was young, talented, and exuded much promise for the Academy’s basketball team. He’d taken the teams to Zone and State, but had yet to win another State title for the school. He was hoping that this year would become different.
He looked at the old team from last year–Winnie...Triton...Hiiro...Duo...wait a minute...
“Where’s Quatre?” he asked Duo, who was nearby. The braided wonder shrugged.
“It ain’t time to start, yet, man, stop bugging!” Triton called from half court, flirting with one of the two females that were trying out this year. One. Of two.
Ramos stared uneasily at the frosh, Mariemaia, and at the girl he vaguely recognized as being part of the sophomore class, some...he glanced at his clipboard...some Tonya Alain. She wasn’t good. And Mariemaia...well...she had potential, but she was a freshman...and new State rules demanded at least two girls on the team, no matter the position or situation. He frowned, blinking repeatedly as he glanced at his watch. There were at least twenty guys, all of them ranging from freshman year to senior, and he knew for sure who was going to make the team. Winnie, Triton, Hiiro, Duo, and Quatre were definite picks. But now, he needed to create a brand-new team out of what was available, and he was just plain astonished at the lack of response to the school’s most prestigious sport.
Last year, nearly forty people had tried out–and now, there was barely half of that sitting before them. Well, like Triton said, try-outs hadn’t yet started, and he was a little hopeful...though, he blew out a pent-up breath and lowered his clipboard, staring at the various hopefuls that littered his court. As the minutes passed by, a few more hopefuls poured in, but no more girls. Ramos felt a little discouraged, and tried not to let things show.
Then, five minutes before he was going to start them running for endurance, Quatre appeared within the doorway, looking entirely stressed. He paused before entering the gym fully, growling something incomprehensible to someone out of view. Ramos lifted an eyebrow as the blond disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, dragging someone behind him. He swore he heard the entire gym freeze with disbelief as they saw who the Point Guard was pulling, and he found himself surprised as well.
Felicia Passage stared at them all, rather sullenly, dressed in borrowed clothes that were of Quatre’s obvious possession. She frowned, Quatre hurrying off to change out of his slippers and into his court shoes while everyone stared at the Native American that lingered in the doorway. Ramos blinked and scanned his clipboard, seeing that her name was among the others. He blinked again.
He’d been so sure that she hadn’t signed up when he was given this particular print-out...hell. He could at least give her a chance...he didn’t know the kid, but he knew from various teachers that she was a bully and a slacker. And not too many kids enjoyed interacting with minorities that had mouths...hell. He’d give her a chance. That would at least give him some options to choose from.
He waved at her, startling everyone from their paralysis with the sudden movement.
“Get in here! We’ve got laps to do! Everyone! You all stretched and ready to go?!”
“How many?” Duo asked, frowning.
“I want five miles,” Ramos replied, immediate groans already punctuating the air. The girl in the doorway took another step in, hesitated, and frowned as Quatre hurried onto the court. He turned and gestured hurriedly at her, and she continued to hesitate as the assistant coach, Andrew, looked at his watch, and signaled for a countdown for a timed run. Then, at the set direction, the crowd of hopefuls began running, Quatre growling and snarling as he pulled at the girl’s shirt, tugging her into running.
It was obvious she didn’t want to be here–Ramos put that in consideration as he frowned, hands on his hips, the sounds of running feet echoing throughout the gym. Quatre had to continue snarling and whining to get the girl moving, and in time, she was finally moving on her own, complaining right back.
Ramos frowned as he surveyed the group overall–everyone was either tall, lurpy, overly muscular, or in some instances, just right. The timed run was only going to be one of several running exercises, as he liked to keep the kids moving, to keep up their stamina and endurance. This first day of try-outs would only drop those that weren’t willing to pull the extra mile, or the extra wind-sprint. The next day after that was going to be filled with sprints and brutal suicides, and the day after that was a day at the track for some more running. In between and all around, he’d have them work through various dribbling, shooting, offensive and defensive exercises that would pull the weak from the strong, the inexperienced to the experienced... This week was going to be filled with his evil work-out, and nobody better complain if they wanted to make the team.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Ramos crossed one more name off his list as the sophomore hopeful grew discouraged against Quatre’s more superior dribbling skills, artfully dribbling around the faster boy and making a three that a more experienced player would have blocked. He was having his more senior players pit themselves against the newer ones, and he found it easy to pick out the ones that weren’t worth dealing with, and the ones that had potential. So far, he had about nine kids on his list that he’d wanted on his team, and he was shooting for twelve even. Two extra players were always a consideration during a busy season.
It was the third day of try-outs, and already the ‘crowd’ of thirty had dwindled down to a mere eighteen. Two had already given up earlier today, and there were only three more that he was having doubts about. Mariemaia more than proved her worth, and while Ramos was reluctant to take her due to her inexperience and her grade, he was going to take her over Tonya, because Tonya was more interested in flirting with the boys than trying to impress him with her skill.
Plus, she had already met with Quatre Winner, and he’d already denounced her worth several times, prompting her to cry at one point and to try and kick him at another. He couldn’t have that sort of attitude on the court...
This other girl, Felicia, was showing considerable promise if she would just relax. The running exercises were nothing to her, and she kept up with most of the boys, showing exceeding promise in being faster than his senior players. She handled the ball very well, she was able to handle extreme pressure, she took good shots, and another good thing? She worked exceptionally well with Quatre. The only bad thing about her was her obvious reluctance in playing. She didn’t want to be there. It was obvious in her expression and her sullen attitude, but she was there, trying out, and showing promise.
But it was obvious that Ramos made his decision–after all, only three girls tried out, and he’d already eliminated one.
Now, the boys–Hiiro, Duo, Quatre, Triton, and Winnie were shoe-ins. Definitely. There were other boys that he was interested in–Derrick Converse, Brian Dolt, Houston Peoria were sophomores, and they proved their worth. Paul Minogue, a senior that transferred from New York City, was also very interesting. His style of play was fast and furious, and he connected with Quatre in a level that the blond was grateful for. Ramos was going to settle for the two girls, and the nine boys, but he’d rather for at least another girl and maybe two more boys...he was stretching it so thin with just the two girls, but they’d done well with the same number last year...and if possible, he could borrow from the Junior Varsity team, which the other assistant coach was watching over after the Varsity try-outs were finished...
Now he was looking for his last boy, and he was interested in Colin Brettany, a senior that had transferred from Seattle. As the senior moved forward to intercept one of Hiiro’s passes to Duo, Ramos nodded in approval. He had his team for the season...