Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Vitamin R---Leading Us Along ( Chapter 22 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Not all friends are there with good intentions...
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 210 | Status: Completed
Not all friends are there with good intentions...
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 210 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty Two
“Vitamin R– Leading Us Along” Chevelle
Quatre scowled, wondering how the guy got his number, then immediately thought of Felicia. “Okay.”
“I mean, you took care of my kid when his shithole mother wouldn’t. I didn’t even thank you for that. So, I just wanted to apologize what was said and done, and to thank you for watching over him.” Jake Trip sounded very different on the phone than from what he did when face to face with him.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“...He really likes you. It’s fucked up.”
“Why? Why is that ‘fucked up’?”
“Well, because you’re still the same stupid prick that I met last year, and I don’t think your actions are very positive around him. Fighting with those guys–Michael picks up on that sort of thing.”
“It’s not my fault, man,” Quatre exclaimed, sitting up in his bed. “I was getting all sorts of shit from them about him!”
“Well, of course! No teenager wants a kid at this age. I know what I did was dumb freshmen year, but I can’t take it back! I have to live with it for the rest of my life, and it isn’t as if I blame Michael for it all. He’s an innocent.”
“Well...shit. Yeah. I just thought that it was uncool of you and her to fight that way in front of him,” Quatre added, remembering that as he fiddled with his big toe.
“..Yeah. I hate it too. But it happens. I try not to fight with her when he’s around, but she causes so much trouble. We hate each other, and it’s not good for Mike, but that’s just what happens. She just flies into a rage all the time, blaming me for everything. It took two people to create a child. I don’t know why she continually makes me out to be the bad guy.”
“She’s really, what’s the word, neglectful of him, huh? I was sitting in the cafeteria earlier, and she just ignored him. I’ve never known my mother, but that must be hurtful for him when she ignores him.”
“...Yeah. She does it a lot. We have joint custody of him, but whenever she takes him, it’s her own parents that pitch in and do what’s needed. She goes to NPU and parties a lot with her stupid friends.”
“Where are your parents?”
“They...don’t speak to me much. It’s one of those things. We never got along at all. Once Mike came along, they just sort of walked away from it all. I’m not white trash, nor am I a rich boy, like you said. They were middle class and barely managing that even then. So when I moved out with Celia when she was pregnant, that was the end of it.”
“My father disowned me earlier this year,” Quatre said. “But my uncle and his wife were the ones that took me in. I never saw him very much, anyway. Probably the most I saw him were four times a year.”
“He’s the guy that runs the oil?”
“Yeah. But...I don’t consider him my father. I mean, yeah, I’m from his genes and shit, but he’s never been a father-father to me, y’know?”
“Yeah. I just never had a real good relationship with my parents. I don’t have any siblings, either, and their families never talk to them. So, basically, it’s just me. It’s not that bad, though. You can’t be sad for something that you never had in the first place.”
Quatre nodded thoughtfully. That sounded entirely right. As an awkward silence stretched on, Quatre realized that it was really quiet where Jake was, and wondered where Michael, or Mike, was. He asked curiously.
“Oh, he’s asleep. Passed out in front of fucking Finding Nemo. I hate that movie. He watches it all the time.”
“Ha! Maybe he thinks Marlin’s you.”
“I doubt that. I’m not that damn overprotective and neurotic. Frankly, I find the idea insulting.”
“Where did you get my number?”
“Well, Passage knows you, and I wanted to call and apologize for what happened. She gave it to me. Why? She wasn’t supposed to?”
“No, I kind of figured she would.”
“So–she and Hautta broke up?”
“Yeah. Last year. He’s with some other chick...”
“Who?”
“Some Cindy girl.”
“Oh, not-uh! Perfect?! That fat whore!? I knew something was up when he talked about her! Me and Haut were really good friends, but then he entered that psycho-therapy program, and he cut his ties to me because I was a ‘bad influence’.” Jake snorted on his end. “I don’t know why. I stopped partying when Mike was two and got my shit back together to keep social services from taking him. He and I don’t talk anymore.”
“How’d you guys meet, anyway?” Quatre wondered aloud, picking at the fuzzies that were trapped in his toenails from his sock.
“Um...well...what do you know?”
“I actually don’t know them very well. I just know that Leash is famous. Some kind of celebrity like that blond hotel chick. And that Hautta was some former child whore.”
“So...what do you know of her family?”
“Dunno. Just that her uncle’s rich.”
“Did she...mention a job, or anything?”
“No. She had a job?”
“Ah...well...probably not anymore.”
“What did she do? She never talks about herself, come to think of it,” Quatre realized, frowning as he adjusted the phone to his ear.
“Uh...flipped burgers.”
“Ha! Ha! Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Well, anyway, I know those two since Hautta came to Earth. He didn’t know Castok was his half-brother...you know Castok, right?”
“Yeah. Big tall guy with girly hair and muscles bigger than Everest?”
“Yeah. Well, Hautta didn’t know about that guy being his family. But he’d come to Earth because he knew Felicia. They were loved up since they were thirteen, I think, and we met on accident on the street. He tried killing me. It was intense.”
“Why?” Quatre asked, utterly intrigued.
“Well, because–it wasn’t like I knew him, and he knew me----it was just, sort of, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? I was drunk and drugged up and talked shit to the Jap that was walking down the street. But he stayed with me for awhile, until Felicia was able to get some strings pulled for him to get an Earth Visa and to get him all situated for Earth. So...we got to know each other pretty well. He’s not that bad of a guy once you get to know him. He’ll warm up to you if you’re not bothering him with some vulnerability, or something.”
“Yeah, he is. I got along well with him last year,” Quatre said, giving his own story. When he was finished, Jake was laughing lightly.
“I thought he didn’t get along with homosexuals.”
“Well, he got along with me. And at the time, I wasn’t even sure if I was, anyway. It was one of those... transition periods, you know?”
“I’m real familiar with that. I used to party from sixth grade until junior year. I smoked, drank, drugged, fucked around until a social services worker heard about Mike and started coming around. I had to clean up for him. When he was born and that year after, I just kept doing my thing. Looking back at it now, it was really selfish and stupid of me to do that. He was depending on me, and all I did was fuck around. Plus, it was this Celia thing that got me down and all that. We were together off and on since eighth grade.”
Quatre chewed at his nail, wondering if, by some odd thing, that he and Trowa would ever end up on this slide. “Did you love her?”
“What? I think I did. But it wasn’t...it wasn’t the actual thing. More like...I felt secure, like she was always going to be there. She wasn’t, of course, and there was trouble on my end, too, but it’s like...when you get so used to something being there, and it isn’t, you just feel odd and weird about it. You don’t want to let go because you don’t know what to do when you do. It’s just weird.”
Quatre found himself thinking about this. Jake and Celia had more than a year on their relationship resume, though, and therefore had more experience with things. He and Trowa had a year. In some way, those two’s relationship was the same as theirs, but then again, it wasn’t. He licked his lips, popping his toes with a heavy expression on his face.
“I understand,” he heard himself saying. “I mean, I may not have been in your situation, but...my ex and I are...were...I don’t know...like that. I mean...he’s my first real relationship and all that. Things were going fine until this summer.”
There was silence on the other end, and Quatre wondered if Jake was contemplating hanging up, since he didn’t strike Quatre as a ‘friendly’. He heard rustling sounds on the other end, and wondered if the other had even heard him. Finally, Jake returned to the phone, a little muffled, “Why? What happened over the summer?”
“What were you doing?”
“Putting him to bed. He’s out for the night.”
“Is that hard?”
“What? Putting him to bed?”
“No...having a kid.”
“...Yeah. Yeah, it’s hard. There’s so much responsibility involved. I feel so different around the kids at school and my friends because it’s...it’s...well, you have to grow up really fast. I mean, there’s all these things that you have to do–you’ve got to set yourself as a role model, because your kid’s going to look up at you. You have to make sure you’ve got money to buy him food and clothes and make sure his home’s all good...you have to make him happy and make him all better when he gets upset...I don’t think Celia understands all that. She just wants to focus in on herself. But...see...it forced me to change, because now I have to focus on redoing my senior year–making me a fifth year–and working to keep what I have. Things aren’t free. When I’m not doing school stuff, I’m putting in hours at this garage nearby. I get paid over twenty dollars an hour, and always get time and a half for overtime, but it’s never enough. There’s rent, utilities, groceries, clothing, kid things, school things–it’s just hard. There are stretches when I can’t eat just to provide for him, and make sure that he’s fed. It just sucks. Living in the city sucks.”
“That is a lot of responsibility,” Quatre murmured, chewing at his nail as he felt overwhelmed by what Jake had to go through. “And you have no help?”
“No...well, Celia helps out with her end. Or, rather, her parents do. They provide him with stuff, too, it’s just...they’re adults. They’re the ones with the high paying jobs and shit. Mike only acts the way that he does because he wants attention, stuff that I can’t give him. I have custody of him Friday through Wednesday, and Celia has him Thursday and Friday, because she has classes and her own job. Her parents have been really good for him, though, and despite their fucking annoying tendencies to make me feel like shit for what I can’t change or do, they’re pretty good with him. I only wish I could provide him with better.”
“I can’t imagine having a kid.”
A snort. “I hope not. Really, in a serious way, people should wait until they have a better job and a better way of providing for their kid, or kids. And, in another way, you shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.”
“Why?” Quatre snapped, immediately rising to a possible slanderous remark involving his homosexuality. It wasn’t unheard of for people to disagree with homosexuals having children.
“Well, because you’re a dick. And you’re much too selfish. And your kids would turn out worse than mine.”
Quatre had to laugh. “Whatever! My kids would be awesome! I’d have enough for a whole damn team. They’d have my genes, of course.”
“Like you’re any good...”
“Hey, I didn’t have the refs calling for me that one game, did I?”
“Well, that’s because they knew whose team they should be rooting for. Stanton kicks ass. We’re taking State once again this year.”
“Fuck that bullshit, man. I’m not letting you.”
“You can’t stop us. I’ve watched your team play this year–there’s a lot of fuck-ups there that should be worked on.”
“Like Wrong Way Passage?”
“What?”
Quatre explained her mistake. Jake started laughing, quietly, so he wouldn’t wake up his slumbering son.
“That sounds like something she does. She’s goofy. There’s a lot of things I wish she was able to have, too. She may not be like Hautta, but every kid deserves a chance to be a kid.”
“Why’s that? She’s the biggest kid I know.”
“...Then it’s obvious you don’t know her very well. That’s all right. She’s just probably letting people think what they want.”
“Yeah. She does.”
“Hey, is that Paul Minogue on your team? Is that him? He transferred from New York?”
“Yeah. He’s cool.”
“He’s slated to be drafted into the Minnesota ‘Wolves...at least, that’s what I heard.”
“He ain’t good enough to be in the NBA!” Quatre exclaimed, snorting at the idea.
“Well, you aren’t good enough to play, either. I’m just saying, that’s what I heard. So, you’re planning on being drafted?”
“I would like to play for North Carolina. Or Duke. I don’t think I’d do well in NBA. I love basketball, man, but I don’t think I’d ever make it there.”
“Yeah. For one thing, you’re short. For another, you’re the wrong color.”
“Hey, there’s cool white guys in there!”
“Only because of money.”
“Whatever. So, who do you guys play tomorrow?”
“Uh...Duncan Jones. We’ll rip them up. Those military guys aren’t that good. Get them thinking they’re under attack and they get all shook up. They’re trained to survive in combat situations, so if you get in their heads that they’re in one, they don’t focus on basketball–they focus on lookin’ for guys with guns and shit. I love messing with their heads.”
“You’re so fuckin’ evil.”
“Yup. Have to think ahead of the game. Think outside the box. Non-Taco Bell reference, of course.”
“We ate there tonight, before we came back here. My bowels will be destroyed by tomorrow...”
“I don’t want to hear about your fucking bowels, man! Gross!”
Quatre laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I talk all this shit with Felicia. She’s just as bad.”
“She don’t talk that way.”
“Around me she does! I get the feeling she’s a guy hiding under all that hair!”
Jake laughed. “Why don’t you go and check?”
“She’ll kick my ass! She’s superhuman!”
“Get her with those bands on.”
“But then again, I don’t want to feel her up. That’s gross.”
“So,” he heard Jake shifting around on the other end, phone knocking on something, “this gay thing of yours...you’re strictly attracted to guys?”
“Well, there hasn’t been a girl that snapped up my interest. Why? Are you getting disturbed?”
“...No. As long as you don’t...like, hit on me, or anything.”
“And if I did?”
“I’d have to kick your ass. I don’t do that.”
“You were making kissy faces at me.”
“I do that because it throws a lot of guys off their game! Everyone’s so damn homophobic! Here, you are a homo...”
“So? A lot of people don’t know that. I think they’re confused because I don’t talk with a lisp or anything...”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
When Quatre woke up the next morning, he was a little groggy and disoriented. His alarm was going off, and he lifted his head from the pillow, reaching over the shut the damn thing off. He muttered about early morning games and turned to curl back up underneath his blankets when he realized that he wasn’t under them. And that there was something bumping against his head...
He sat up in bed, realizing that his cell phone was still turned on. Groggily, he wondered if he’d merely activated it last night while he was sleeping, and realized that Jake’s private name, private number was still marked on screen. He blinked several times while lifting the phone to his ear, and heard nothing on the other end. It wasn’t dead–there were faint sounds from the other end.
“Shit,” he muttered in disbelief, wondering just how long he’d talk to the guy, and when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t remember falling asleep. “This is so gay...falling asleep together over the fucking phone...”
He then looked at the clock, and realized that he’d better get his ass moving, or he was going to miss the bus.
Yeah, like Ramos would leave him behind, but he didn’t want people up on his ass about making them late for their first game of the day. He hung up his phone, blinking in disbelief. He remembered at one point during their conversation, that Jake was asking him about Wyoming, and then from there...nothing. He’d glanced at the clock, and he remembered thinking how amazed he was that it was almost two thirty in the morning.
It made him severely uncomfortable as he hesitated in rising from his bed. Uncomfortable because he had connected so well with that person, despite their earlier friction.
What’s with me making friends with all the fuckers I get into fights with? He thought furiously, gathering his toiletries and clothes, and making a run for the bathroom for a quick shower.
He’d come back to his room, tossed his toiletries on the bed, and gathered up his game things, thankful that he’d packed them all last night. Ramos had assured him that he’d have a personalized jersey by Monday, so this was his last day in playing in that extra one.
Which reminded him, abruptly, of how he was going to kick the ass of the person threatening him. Ramos had also assured him that security was working on trying to figure out who the person was that was doing this to him. His room had been raised a few notches in security measures, and anyone that wasn’t supposed to be there was going to be recorded and matched with all the information they had on every student and faculty member stationed at Darken. He wondered what had been in the package that had been set outside his door last night, and hoped that they caught the fucker doing this to him. On his way down from the junior level, he glanced longingly at Trowa’s door, wondering if he were going to be there today. For some odd reason, he hoped that he wasn’t.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa woke up sneezing. Grimacing, he pulled his head from his pillow, and looked over at the clock. Seeing that it was nearly six thirty, he groaned into his pillow, and wondered if he should make that hour long trek to Roseville to catch Darken’s game at eight. He didn’t make last night’s, because his ride left without him, but he wanted to catch the next one out. Jared had offered him a ride, but Trowa felt a little uncomfortable about that. He did not want to engage in friendly activities with his roommate–he didn’t want to push things beyond the roommate level. But then again...he did need a ride...he’d just talk to whomever was leaving at that moment, and grabbed some toiletries and some clothes, leaving the room to go take a shower.
On his way back to the room, he ran into Sylvia, who greeted him cheerfully. She was dressed up in bell bottoms and a babydoll shirt, her hair customarily parted, and looked ready to go. Trowa immediately walked over to her.
“You’re going to the game?” he asked.
“Yeah. I figure I might as well. My mom loaned me her car,” she replied, blushing slightly as she took in the baggy jeans, white tee, and leather jacket that he wore. He was so handsome...and his cologne and that freshly clean-just-stepped-out-from-the-shower scent caused somersaults in her stomach. “You have a ride?”
“Can I catch one with you?”
“Oh, no problem. I’m just going to warm up the car, because it’s snowing a little out there. I’ll be in the lobby when you’re ready,” she gushed, reddening even more at this lovely little turn of events.
Trowa nodded and walked off to his room, annoyed at her obvious liking of him. Not that she made it secret, it was just that it made him uncomfortable whenever he had to talk and ask these people for favors. He didn’t want to lead them on, or anything.
He deposited his things on his side of the room, and picked up his wallet and shoes, Jared awakening at this moment.
“Good morning!’ Jared said cheerfully, blinking sleep from his eyes. He noticed that Trowa was dressed and ready to go. “Oh, you found a ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh...I thought...I thought I was taking you.”
“No.”
“Oh...okay...well...maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, be safe, then! I heard it was going to snow, today.”
“Yeah.”
“Be sure to pack a hat, or something. Roseville gets windy.”
Trowa frowned at him as he gathered his things and walked out the door. Sometimes, that guy was much too creepy in a sense that had him uncomfortable. Walking down the hall, he adjusted his jacket, wondering if Quatre was doing all right. He’d finally heard the rumor that someone had been threatening him over the past few weeks–poisoned brownies, threatening notes...he had to wonder if that person doing those things were the same one that gave him the video tape.
His face burned with embarrassment as he walked downstairs. To know that Quatre had viewed the tape–no matter that it was of his own willing to divulge himself in such a sensitive issue–made him embarrassed and ashamed. He thought that Quatre took it hard, as he normally did with things. Probably stressing over the various things done and who’d been happiest at what position...shit. It was enough to make him feel ill.
If Quatre had been in his place, making a video with someone, Trowa would feel utterly ill and lose all confidence in that issue. He’d hate to see Quatre all over another person, whimpering and eager in that private way he had. The very thought of it made him sick. He could only imagine that was how Quatre had felt, and reacted with his customary anger. Of course, that wasn’t expected–Trowa would have been pissed as well.
Which was why he didn’t like the thought of Quatre being with anyone else. He wanted Quatre all to himself. And he knew Quatre still had feelings for him, because it was only obvious in his actions. It had taken guts to come up and apologize to him in that way he had yesterday, and it had been obvious Quatre still wanted him.
A little more than pleased by that, he looked forward to seeing him today. He really enjoyed watching Quatre play. He put everything into his efforts on the court, and often came out fantastically incredible. He made his shots, he dribbled that ball as if he’d been born with it, and his fans enjoyed everything he did. The parents of the players and the fans of the team loved him. There was often a rabid cheer through all of them as he got the ball and made some fantastic play–Quatre didn’t make all the points, nor did he slam-dunk his way with amazing ability. He just knew how to make things work on court. It was like watching art in motion.
He walked down to the lobby, and headed over to the vending machine for a snack for the trip ahead. He had a feeling that he was going to be occupied today, especially if he was going to bum a ride off of Sylvia Noventa.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Sylvia was awfully excited that Trowa was riding with her. Along the way–the freeways bad with slow moving traffic, due to early morning activities and that the plows were lagging as they cleared the roads of snow–she made enough small talk to wrangle some things out of him. He didn’t talk much, but he was to the point and often curt. That was enough for her. At least he was talking. The ride to Roseville turned into a two hour trip, and by the time they’d gotten there, snow coated the parking lot and the school.
They paid their entry in, and walked in to find the place nearly empty, save for the die-hard fans of both teams and other teams. They took a spot high in the bleachers, against the wall, and noted that the game had already slipped past halftime.
Sylvia really didn’t care for basketball–but she’d come mainly to watch the boys and check out boys, and meet boys...tournaments were always the best meeting place for potentials. She saw that Darken was winning against Balkin Public, and checked out the guys around her. There were a few cute ones nearby, from Sageville–ooh, there was J!–and some with Roseville’s team...and on Duncan Jones–love the military guys and their stiff awkwardness–and some that were milling about. She turned her attention back on court and watched Mariamaia perform a noteworthy drive to the basket.
She was in awe of the girls, really–they were pitted against fast, athletic, strong boys that knew what they were doing on the court, and they had to keep up with them. They had to run fast, muscle their way through various obstacles, and pit themselves against the stronger male players. Every girl that played had to be in excellent shape and form, and the frosh was impressive. She hung right in there–she was good with the ball, and she rarely invoked Quatre’s rage on court. Sure, she was a freshman, but she was an awesome one with a ball in her hand and a promising future with the boys on court.
She watched as two points were made, and returned her attention to checking out the boys. Ah, so many! She loved boys! She loved their every actions, whether it was rowdy or sweet, whether they were cute or ugly. She just loved them. There was nothing better in the world and in outer space than boys. She was sure of that.
She nudged Trowa. “Wow, how many points do you think he has,” she asked, referring to Quatre as he made a three pointer from the far end of the court. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of third quarter, and the teams converged to their respective benches.
Trowa shrugged, adjusting himself on the bench. She looked away, waving at Felicia when the girl looked up and saw them. She was a little snubbed when the girl glared at her, then at Trowa. She looked downright disgusted.
Well, what did I do? She thought to herself in confusion, drawing back. What’s her problem?
Sometimes, she didn’t get the girl. Felicia opened up to her in many ways, but there were times when she was just downright uptight. Either she was afraid to completely befriend Sylvia, or she somehow knew that she had a crush on Trowa. Which wouldn’t make any sense, because it didn’t involve her. That girl’s actions left Sylvia very confused. She left the bench to walk away from Trowa, and sat next to Justin, who didn’t recognize her. Actually, she didn’t know him at all–she just knew that he was the one Quatre had messed around with–per “rumors”, of course, but she knew something had happened. It was so obvious.
“Hi,” she greeted. “My name’s Sylvia.”
“Hey.”
“What’s going on? Who’s playing next?”
“Uh, we are. Against Balkin Public.”
“I thought they were out?”
“No.”
Well, he wasn’t very friendly. He talked like Trowa.
“Okay! See you around!” she said, turning to leave. She heard Justin ask his friends who she was. She walked back to Trowa, who looked at her questioningly. “That’s Quatre’s friend.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. His name’s Justin.”
“Ah.”
“He and Quat got along really well. I’ve never met him. I mean, I’ve never talked to him.” Sylvia wondered if Trowa knew his ex had cheated on him with that boy. She decided it wasn’t her place to say. She wanted to stay in the other’s favor. But how to do so while she hit on Trowa, hoping for a chance despite his rebuffs? “Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He’s from Sageville...”
“I would never have guessed.”
Sylvia laughed at herself, realizing her mistake. The kids were dressed out in their uniforms. It was obvious where they were from. “Oh, right! Sorry, I’m blond!”
“Right.”
“So...how are you taking this thing? I mean...are you sad?” she asked, leaning her elbow on her knee as she looked at him. The buzzer rang, signaling the start of the fourth quarter. The players took to the court as Trowa shrugged, examining his hands. “You guys were together for a long time...I would feel sad. You guys still have feelings for each other, huh?”
“...”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry!” she laughed weakly. “But I like talking. And you’re not much of a talker, man.”
He grunted in reply, shoulders hunching as he slouched in his seat. He watched the game in silence, trying to ignore Sylvia’s buzzing. It was like listening to Middie, but in a G-rated way. She was just friendly while Middie was friendly for a despicable reason.
“Well, Trowa. As much fun as I’m having, I’m going to meet some boys,” she declared, rising from her seat. “Maybe you should, too...”
“Why?” Trowa asked, looking at her with a frown.
Sylvia glanced at Justin, who was laughing with his friends, then looked at him. “Because it’s obvious that he’s not coming back.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trowa asked, frowning at her as he glanced in that direction.
She merely shrugged, lips pressing together. “Sometimes, when a person’s hurt, they’ll move far and far away from them. They don’t want to go back to the person that hurt them. Sometimes, it helps when someone does other things. Maybe with time, you guys would get back together. But he’s not coming back.”
“You don’t know–!”
“I’m serious, Trowa!” she exclaimed. “I mean, look at you two, now! You’ve been broken up for over a month, now, and Quatre’s not doing a thing to get back with you! He’s sad, yes, but he’s not coming back to you.”
Trowa narrowed his eyes at her, but had to grudgingly admit that was true. It had been some time since they broke up, and while Quatre behaved the way he did toward Trowa, it was obvious that he wasn’t thinking about getting back with him. Still...
He sighed, shaking his head. “Whatever, Sylvia. He just needs time to think about things.”
“Trowa, I’m going to be blunt with you,” she said, frowning. “You need to move on. Get in some fun with someone else. You guys still have feelings for each other, but it’s obvious you aren’t going to get back together any time soon. Just...start seeing people casually. Quatre will probably do the same thing. Felicia’s trying to set him up with some guys. Maybe it’ll all help in the long run. Maybe he’ll realize what he’s missing out on and will come back. You, too. Just think about it that way, Trowa. I’ll be around if you need a ride back. Think about it.”
With that, she turned and descended the bleachers, heading into the cafeteria. Her words ran through Trowa’s head, but as they registered, his stubbornness in the situation persisted. He did want Quatre back... all he had to do was prove that he did.
But, then again...
He brought his hands together in a nervous shuffle, then leaned back in his seat. Sylvia bothered him. She was right. And it annoyed him.
“Vitamin R– Leading Us Along” Chevelle
Quatre scowled, wondering how the guy got his number, then immediately thought of Felicia. “Okay.”
“I mean, you took care of my kid when his shithole mother wouldn’t. I didn’t even thank you for that. So, I just wanted to apologize what was said and done, and to thank you for watching over him.” Jake Trip sounded very different on the phone than from what he did when face to face with him.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“...He really likes you. It’s fucked up.”
“Why? Why is that ‘fucked up’?”
“Well, because you’re still the same stupid prick that I met last year, and I don’t think your actions are very positive around him. Fighting with those guys–Michael picks up on that sort of thing.”
“It’s not my fault, man,” Quatre exclaimed, sitting up in his bed. “I was getting all sorts of shit from them about him!”
“Well, of course! No teenager wants a kid at this age. I know what I did was dumb freshmen year, but I can’t take it back! I have to live with it for the rest of my life, and it isn’t as if I blame Michael for it all. He’s an innocent.”
“Well...shit. Yeah. I just thought that it was uncool of you and her to fight that way in front of him,” Quatre added, remembering that as he fiddled with his big toe.
“..Yeah. I hate it too. But it happens. I try not to fight with her when he’s around, but she causes so much trouble. We hate each other, and it’s not good for Mike, but that’s just what happens. She just flies into a rage all the time, blaming me for everything. It took two people to create a child. I don’t know why she continually makes me out to be the bad guy.”
“She’s really, what’s the word, neglectful of him, huh? I was sitting in the cafeteria earlier, and she just ignored him. I’ve never known my mother, but that must be hurtful for him when she ignores him.”
“...Yeah. She does it a lot. We have joint custody of him, but whenever she takes him, it’s her own parents that pitch in and do what’s needed. She goes to NPU and parties a lot with her stupid friends.”
“Where are your parents?”
“They...don’t speak to me much. It’s one of those things. We never got along at all. Once Mike came along, they just sort of walked away from it all. I’m not white trash, nor am I a rich boy, like you said. They were middle class and barely managing that even then. So when I moved out with Celia when she was pregnant, that was the end of it.”
“My father disowned me earlier this year,” Quatre said. “But my uncle and his wife were the ones that took me in. I never saw him very much, anyway. Probably the most I saw him were four times a year.”
“He’s the guy that runs the oil?”
“Yeah. But...I don’t consider him my father. I mean, yeah, I’m from his genes and shit, but he’s never been a father-father to me, y’know?”
“Yeah. I just never had a real good relationship with my parents. I don’t have any siblings, either, and their families never talk to them. So, basically, it’s just me. It’s not that bad, though. You can’t be sad for something that you never had in the first place.”
Quatre nodded thoughtfully. That sounded entirely right. As an awkward silence stretched on, Quatre realized that it was really quiet where Jake was, and wondered where Michael, or Mike, was. He asked curiously.
“Oh, he’s asleep. Passed out in front of fucking Finding Nemo. I hate that movie. He watches it all the time.”
“Ha! Maybe he thinks Marlin’s you.”
“I doubt that. I’m not that damn overprotective and neurotic. Frankly, I find the idea insulting.”
“Where did you get my number?”
“Well, Passage knows you, and I wanted to call and apologize for what happened. She gave it to me. Why? She wasn’t supposed to?”
“No, I kind of figured she would.”
“So–she and Hautta broke up?”
“Yeah. Last year. He’s with some other chick...”
“Who?”
“Some Cindy girl.”
“Oh, not-uh! Perfect?! That fat whore!? I knew something was up when he talked about her! Me and Haut were really good friends, but then he entered that psycho-therapy program, and he cut his ties to me because I was a ‘bad influence’.” Jake snorted on his end. “I don’t know why. I stopped partying when Mike was two and got my shit back together to keep social services from taking him. He and I don’t talk anymore.”
“How’d you guys meet, anyway?” Quatre wondered aloud, picking at the fuzzies that were trapped in his toenails from his sock.
“Um...well...what do you know?”
“I actually don’t know them very well. I just know that Leash is famous. Some kind of celebrity like that blond hotel chick. And that Hautta was some former child whore.”
“So...what do you know of her family?”
“Dunno. Just that her uncle’s rich.”
“Did she...mention a job, or anything?”
“No. She had a job?”
“Ah...well...probably not anymore.”
“What did she do? She never talks about herself, come to think of it,” Quatre realized, frowning as he adjusted the phone to his ear.
“Uh...flipped burgers.”
“Ha! Ha! Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Well, anyway, I know those two since Hautta came to Earth. He didn’t know Castok was his half-brother...you know Castok, right?”
“Yeah. Big tall guy with girly hair and muscles bigger than Everest?”
“Yeah. Well, Hautta didn’t know about that guy being his family. But he’d come to Earth because he knew Felicia. They were loved up since they were thirteen, I think, and we met on accident on the street. He tried killing me. It was intense.”
“Why?” Quatre asked, utterly intrigued.
“Well, because–it wasn’t like I knew him, and he knew me----it was just, sort of, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? I was drunk and drugged up and talked shit to the Jap that was walking down the street. But he stayed with me for awhile, until Felicia was able to get some strings pulled for him to get an Earth Visa and to get him all situated for Earth. So...we got to know each other pretty well. He’s not that bad of a guy once you get to know him. He’ll warm up to you if you’re not bothering him with some vulnerability, or something.”
“Yeah, he is. I got along well with him last year,” Quatre said, giving his own story. When he was finished, Jake was laughing lightly.
“I thought he didn’t get along with homosexuals.”
“Well, he got along with me. And at the time, I wasn’t even sure if I was, anyway. It was one of those... transition periods, you know?”
“I’m real familiar with that. I used to party from sixth grade until junior year. I smoked, drank, drugged, fucked around until a social services worker heard about Mike and started coming around. I had to clean up for him. When he was born and that year after, I just kept doing my thing. Looking back at it now, it was really selfish and stupid of me to do that. He was depending on me, and all I did was fuck around. Plus, it was this Celia thing that got me down and all that. We were together off and on since eighth grade.”
Quatre chewed at his nail, wondering if, by some odd thing, that he and Trowa would ever end up on this slide. “Did you love her?”
“What? I think I did. But it wasn’t...it wasn’t the actual thing. More like...I felt secure, like she was always going to be there. She wasn’t, of course, and there was trouble on my end, too, but it’s like...when you get so used to something being there, and it isn’t, you just feel odd and weird about it. You don’t want to let go because you don’t know what to do when you do. It’s just weird.”
Quatre found himself thinking about this. Jake and Celia had more than a year on their relationship resume, though, and therefore had more experience with things. He and Trowa had a year. In some way, those two’s relationship was the same as theirs, but then again, it wasn’t. He licked his lips, popping his toes with a heavy expression on his face.
“I understand,” he heard himself saying. “I mean, I may not have been in your situation, but...my ex and I are...were...I don’t know...like that. I mean...he’s my first real relationship and all that. Things were going fine until this summer.”
There was silence on the other end, and Quatre wondered if Jake was contemplating hanging up, since he didn’t strike Quatre as a ‘friendly’. He heard rustling sounds on the other end, and wondered if the other had even heard him. Finally, Jake returned to the phone, a little muffled, “Why? What happened over the summer?”
“What were you doing?”
“Putting him to bed. He’s out for the night.”
“Is that hard?”
“What? Putting him to bed?”
“No...having a kid.”
“...Yeah. Yeah, it’s hard. There’s so much responsibility involved. I feel so different around the kids at school and my friends because it’s...it’s...well, you have to grow up really fast. I mean, there’s all these things that you have to do–you’ve got to set yourself as a role model, because your kid’s going to look up at you. You have to make sure you’ve got money to buy him food and clothes and make sure his home’s all good...you have to make him happy and make him all better when he gets upset...I don’t think Celia understands all that. She just wants to focus in on herself. But...see...it forced me to change, because now I have to focus on redoing my senior year–making me a fifth year–and working to keep what I have. Things aren’t free. When I’m not doing school stuff, I’m putting in hours at this garage nearby. I get paid over twenty dollars an hour, and always get time and a half for overtime, but it’s never enough. There’s rent, utilities, groceries, clothing, kid things, school things–it’s just hard. There are stretches when I can’t eat just to provide for him, and make sure that he’s fed. It just sucks. Living in the city sucks.”
“That is a lot of responsibility,” Quatre murmured, chewing at his nail as he felt overwhelmed by what Jake had to go through. “And you have no help?”
“No...well, Celia helps out with her end. Or, rather, her parents do. They provide him with stuff, too, it’s just...they’re adults. They’re the ones with the high paying jobs and shit. Mike only acts the way that he does because he wants attention, stuff that I can’t give him. I have custody of him Friday through Wednesday, and Celia has him Thursday and Friday, because she has classes and her own job. Her parents have been really good for him, though, and despite their fucking annoying tendencies to make me feel like shit for what I can’t change or do, they’re pretty good with him. I only wish I could provide him with better.”
“I can’t imagine having a kid.”
A snort. “I hope not. Really, in a serious way, people should wait until they have a better job and a better way of providing for their kid, or kids. And, in another way, you shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.”
“Why?” Quatre snapped, immediately rising to a possible slanderous remark involving his homosexuality. It wasn’t unheard of for people to disagree with homosexuals having children.
“Well, because you’re a dick. And you’re much too selfish. And your kids would turn out worse than mine.”
Quatre had to laugh. “Whatever! My kids would be awesome! I’d have enough for a whole damn team. They’d have my genes, of course.”
“Like you’re any good...”
“Hey, I didn’t have the refs calling for me that one game, did I?”
“Well, that’s because they knew whose team they should be rooting for. Stanton kicks ass. We’re taking State once again this year.”
“Fuck that bullshit, man. I’m not letting you.”
“You can’t stop us. I’ve watched your team play this year–there’s a lot of fuck-ups there that should be worked on.”
“Like Wrong Way Passage?”
“What?”
Quatre explained her mistake. Jake started laughing, quietly, so he wouldn’t wake up his slumbering son.
“That sounds like something she does. She’s goofy. There’s a lot of things I wish she was able to have, too. She may not be like Hautta, but every kid deserves a chance to be a kid.”
“Why’s that? She’s the biggest kid I know.”
“...Then it’s obvious you don’t know her very well. That’s all right. She’s just probably letting people think what they want.”
“Yeah. She does.”
“Hey, is that Paul Minogue on your team? Is that him? He transferred from New York?”
“Yeah. He’s cool.”
“He’s slated to be drafted into the Minnesota ‘Wolves...at least, that’s what I heard.”
“He ain’t good enough to be in the NBA!” Quatre exclaimed, snorting at the idea.
“Well, you aren’t good enough to play, either. I’m just saying, that’s what I heard. So, you’re planning on being drafted?”
“I would like to play for North Carolina. Or Duke. I don’t think I’d do well in NBA. I love basketball, man, but I don’t think I’d ever make it there.”
“Yeah. For one thing, you’re short. For another, you’re the wrong color.”
“Hey, there’s cool white guys in there!”
“Only because of money.”
“Whatever. So, who do you guys play tomorrow?”
“Uh...Duncan Jones. We’ll rip them up. Those military guys aren’t that good. Get them thinking they’re under attack and they get all shook up. They’re trained to survive in combat situations, so if you get in their heads that they’re in one, they don’t focus on basketball–they focus on lookin’ for guys with guns and shit. I love messing with their heads.”
“You’re so fuckin’ evil.”
“Yup. Have to think ahead of the game. Think outside the box. Non-Taco Bell reference, of course.”
“We ate there tonight, before we came back here. My bowels will be destroyed by tomorrow...”
“I don’t want to hear about your fucking bowels, man! Gross!”
Quatre laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I talk all this shit with Felicia. She’s just as bad.”
“She don’t talk that way.”
“Around me she does! I get the feeling she’s a guy hiding under all that hair!”
Jake laughed. “Why don’t you go and check?”
“She’ll kick my ass! She’s superhuman!”
“Get her with those bands on.”
“But then again, I don’t want to feel her up. That’s gross.”
“So,” he heard Jake shifting around on the other end, phone knocking on something, “this gay thing of yours...you’re strictly attracted to guys?”
“Well, there hasn’t been a girl that snapped up my interest. Why? Are you getting disturbed?”
“...No. As long as you don’t...like, hit on me, or anything.”
“And if I did?”
“I’d have to kick your ass. I don’t do that.”
“You were making kissy faces at me.”
“I do that because it throws a lot of guys off their game! Everyone’s so damn homophobic! Here, you are a homo...”
“So? A lot of people don’t know that. I think they’re confused because I don’t talk with a lisp or anything...”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
When Quatre woke up the next morning, he was a little groggy and disoriented. His alarm was going off, and he lifted his head from the pillow, reaching over the shut the damn thing off. He muttered about early morning games and turned to curl back up underneath his blankets when he realized that he wasn’t under them. And that there was something bumping against his head...
He sat up in bed, realizing that his cell phone was still turned on. Groggily, he wondered if he’d merely activated it last night while he was sleeping, and realized that Jake’s private name, private number was still marked on screen. He blinked several times while lifting the phone to his ear, and heard nothing on the other end. It wasn’t dead–there were faint sounds from the other end.
“Shit,” he muttered in disbelief, wondering just how long he’d talk to the guy, and when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t remember falling asleep. “This is so gay...falling asleep together over the fucking phone...”
He then looked at the clock, and realized that he’d better get his ass moving, or he was going to miss the bus.
Yeah, like Ramos would leave him behind, but he didn’t want people up on his ass about making them late for their first game of the day. He hung up his phone, blinking in disbelief. He remembered at one point during their conversation, that Jake was asking him about Wyoming, and then from there...nothing. He’d glanced at the clock, and he remembered thinking how amazed he was that it was almost two thirty in the morning.
It made him severely uncomfortable as he hesitated in rising from his bed. Uncomfortable because he had connected so well with that person, despite their earlier friction.
What’s with me making friends with all the fuckers I get into fights with? He thought furiously, gathering his toiletries and clothes, and making a run for the bathroom for a quick shower.
He’d come back to his room, tossed his toiletries on the bed, and gathered up his game things, thankful that he’d packed them all last night. Ramos had assured him that he’d have a personalized jersey by Monday, so this was his last day in playing in that extra one.
Which reminded him, abruptly, of how he was going to kick the ass of the person threatening him. Ramos had also assured him that security was working on trying to figure out who the person was that was doing this to him. His room had been raised a few notches in security measures, and anyone that wasn’t supposed to be there was going to be recorded and matched with all the information they had on every student and faculty member stationed at Darken. He wondered what had been in the package that had been set outside his door last night, and hoped that they caught the fucker doing this to him. On his way down from the junior level, he glanced longingly at Trowa’s door, wondering if he were going to be there today. For some odd reason, he hoped that he wasn’t.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Trowa woke up sneezing. Grimacing, he pulled his head from his pillow, and looked over at the clock. Seeing that it was nearly six thirty, he groaned into his pillow, and wondered if he should make that hour long trek to Roseville to catch Darken’s game at eight. He didn’t make last night’s, because his ride left without him, but he wanted to catch the next one out. Jared had offered him a ride, but Trowa felt a little uncomfortable about that. He did not want to engage in friendly activities with his roommate–he didn’t want to push things beyond the roommate level. But then again...he did need a ride...he’d just talk to whomever was leaving at that moment, and grabbed some toiletries and some clothes, leaving the room to go take a shower.
On his way back to the room, he ran into Sylvia, who greeted him cheerfully. She was dressed up in bell bottoms and a babydoll shirt, her hair customarily parted, and looked ready to go. Trowa immediately walked over to her.
“You’re going to the game?” he asked.
“Yeah. I figure I might as well. My mom loaned me her car,” she replied, blushing slightly as she took in the baggy jeans, white tee, and leather jacket that he wore. He was so handsome...and his cologne and that freshly clean-just-stepped-out-from-the-shower scent caused somersaults in her stomach. “You have a ride?”
“Can I catch one with you?”
“Oh, no problem. I’m just going to warm up the car, because it’s snowing a little out there. I’ll be in the lobby when you’re ready,” she gushed, reddening even more at this lovely little turn of events.
Trowa nodded and walked off to his room, annoyed at her obvious liking of him. Not that she made it secret, it was just that it made him uncomfortable whenever he had to talk and ask these people for favors. He didn’t want to lead them on, or anything.
He deposited his things on his side of the room, and picked up his wallet and shoes, Jared awakening at this moment.
“Good morning!’ Jared said cheerfully, blinking sleep from his eyes. He noticed that Trowa was dressed and ready to go. “Oh, you found a ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh...I thought...I thought I was taking you.”
“No.”
“Oh...okay...well...maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, be safe, then! I heard it was going to snow, today.”
“Yeah.”
“Be sure to pack a hat, or something. Roseville gets windy.”
Trowa frowned at him as he gathered his things and walked out the door. Sometimes, that guy was much too creepy in a sense that had him uncomfortable. Walking down the hall, he adjusted his jacket, wondering if Quatre was doing all right. He’d finally heard the rumor that someone had been threatening him over the past few weeks–poisoned brownies, threatening notes...he had to wonder if that person doing those things were the same one that gave him the video tape.
His face burned with embarrassment as he walked downstairs. To know that Quatre had viewed the tape–no matter that it was of his own willing to divulge himself in such a sensitive issue–made him embarrassed and ashamed. He thought that Quatre took it hard, as he normally did with things. Probably stressing over the various things done and who’d been happiest at what position...shit. It was enough to make him feel ill.
If Quatre had been in his place, making a video with someone, Trowa would feel utterly ill and lose all confidence in that issue. He’d hate to see Quatre all over another person, whimpering and eager in that private way he had. The very thought of it made him sick. He could only imagine that was how Quatre had felt, and reacted with his customary anger. Of course, that wasn’t expected–Trowa would have been pissed as well.
Which was why he didn’t like the thought of Quatre being with anyone else. He wanted Quatre all to himself. And he knew Quatre still had feelings for him, because it was only obvious in his actions. It had taken guts to come up and apologize to him in that way he had yesterday, and it had been obvious Quatre still wanted him.
A little more than pleased by that, he looked forward to seeing him today. He really enjoyed watching Quatre play. He put everything into his efforts on the court, and often came out fantastically incredible. He made his shots, he dribbled that ball as if he’d been born with it, and his fans enjoyed everything he did. The parents of the players and the fans of the team loved him. There was often a rabid cheer through all of them as he got the ball and made some fantastic play–Quatre didn’t make all the points, nor did he slam-dunk his way with amazing ability. He just knew how to make things work on court. It was like watching art in motion.
He walked down to the lobby, and headed over to the vending machine for a snack for the trip ahead. He had a feeling that he was going to be occupied today, especially if he was going to bum a ride off of Sylvia Noventa.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Sylvia was awfully excited that Trowa was riding with her. Along the way–the freeways bad with slow moving traffic, due to early morning activities and that the plows were lagging as they cleared the roads of snow–she made enough small talk to wrangle some things out of him. He didn’t talk much, but he was to the point and often curt. That was enough for her. At least he was talking. The ride to Roseville turned into a two hour trip, and by the time they’d gotten there, snow coated the parking lot and the school.
They paid their entry in, and walked in to find the place nearly empty, save for the die-hard fans of both teams and other teams. They took a spot high in the bleachers, against the wall, and noted that the game had already slipped past halftime.
Sylvia really didn’t care for basketball–but she’d come mainly to watch the boys and check out boys, and meet boys...tournaments were always the best meeting place for potentials. She saw that Darken was winning against Balkin Public, and checked out the guys around her. There were a few cute ones nearby, from Sageville–ooh, there was J!–and some with Roseville’s team...and on Duncan Jones–love the military guys and their stiff awkwardness–and some that were milling about. She turned her attention back on court and watched Mariamaia perform a noteworthy drive to the basket.
She was in awe of the girls, really–they were pitted against fast, athletic, strong boys that knew what they were doing on the court, and they had to keep up with them. They had to run fast, muscle their way through various obstacles, and pit themselves against the stronger male players. Every girl that played had to be in excellent shape and form, and the frosh was impressive. She hung right in there–she was good with the ball, and she rarely invoked Quatre’s rage on court. Sure, she was a freshman, but she was an awesome one with a ball in her hand and a promising future with the boys on court.
She watched as two points were made, and returned her attention to checking out the boys. Ah, so many! She loved boys! She loved their every actions, whether it was rowdy or sweet, whether they were cute or ugly. She just loved them. There was nothing better in the world and in outer space than boys. She was sure of that.
She nudged Trowa. “Wow, how many points do you think he has,” she asked, referring to Quatre as he made a three pointer from the far end of the court. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of third quarter, and the teams converged to their respective benches.
Trowa shrugged, adjusting himself on the bench. She looked away, waving at Felicia when the girl looked up and saw them. She was a little snubbed when the girl glared at her, then at Trowa. She looked downright disgusted.
Well, what did I do? She thought to herself in confusion, drawing back. What’s her problem?
Sometimes, she didn’t get the girl. Felicia opened up to her in many ways, but there were times when she was just downright uptight. Either she was afraid to completely befriend Sylvia, or she somehow knew that she had a crush on Trowa. Which wouldn’t make any sense, because it didn’t involve her. That girl’s actions left Sylvia very confused. She left the bench to walk away from Trowa, and sat next to Justin, who didn’t recognize her. Actually, she didn’t know him at all–she just knew that he was the one Quatre had messed around with–per “rumors”, of course, but she knew something had happened. It was so obvious.
“Hi,” she greeted. “My name’s Sylvia.”
“Hey.”
“What’s going on? Who’s playing next?”
“Uh, we are. Against Balkin Public.”
“I thought they were out?”
“No.”
Well, he wasn’t very friendly. He talked like Trowa.
“Okay! See you around!” she said, turning to leave. She heard Justin ask his friends who she was. She walked back to Trowa, who looked at her questioningly. “That’s Quatre’s friend.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. His name’s Justin.”
“Ah.”
“He and Quat got along really well. I’ve never met him. I mean, I’ve never talked to him.” Sylvia wondered if Trowa knew his ex had cheated on him with that boy. She decided it wasn’t her place to say. She wanted to stay in the other’s favor. But how to do so while she hit on Trowa, hoping for a chance despite his rebuffs? “Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He’s from Sageville...”
“I would never have guessed.”
Sylvia laughed at herself, realizing her mistake. The kids were dressed out in their uniforms. It was obvious where they were from. “Oh, right! Sorry, I’m blond!”
“Right.”
“So...how are you taking this thing? I mean...are you sad?” she asked, leaning her elbow on her knee as she looked at him. The buzzer rang, signaling the start of the fourth quarter. The players took to the court as Trowa shrugged, examining his hands. “You guys were together for a long time...I would feel sad. You guys still have feelings for each other, huh?”
“...”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry!” she laughed weakly. “But I like talking. And you’re not much of a talker, man.”
He grunted in reply, shoulders hunching as he slouched in his seat. He watched the game in silence, trying to ignore Sylvia’s buzzing. It was like listening to Middie, but in a G-rated way. She was just friendly while Middie was friendly for a despicable reason.
“Well, Trowa. As much fun as I’m having, I’m going to meet some boys,” she declared, rising from her seat. “Maybe you should, too...”
“Why?” Trowa asked, looking at her with a frown.
Sylvia glanced at Justin, who was laughing with his friends, then looked at him. “Because it’s obvious that he’s not coming back.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trowa asked, frowning at her as he glanced in that direction.
She merely shrugged, lips pressing together. “Sometimes, when a person’s hurt, they’ll move far and far away from them. They don’t want to go back to the person that hurt them. Sometimes, it helps when someone does other things. Maybe with time, you guys would get back together. But he’s not coming back.”
“You don’t know–!”
“I’m serious, Trowa!” she exclaimed. “I mean, look at you two, now! You’ve been broken up for over a month, now, and Quatre’s not doing a thing to get back with you! He’s sad, yes, but he’s not coming back to you.”
Trowa narrowed his eyes at her, but had to grudgingly admit that was true. It had been some time since they broke up, and while Quatre behaved the way he did toward Trowa, it was obvious that he wasn’t thinking about getting back with him. Still...
He sighed, shaking his head. “Whatever, Sylvia. He just needs time to think about things.”
“Trowa, I’m going to be blunt with you,” she said, frowning. “You need to move on. Get in some fun with someone else. You guys still have feelings for each other, but it’s obvious you aren’t going to get back together any time soon. Just...start seeing people casually. Quatre will probably do the same thing. Felicia’s trying to set him up with some guys. Maybe it’ll all help in the long run. Maybe he’ll realize what he’s missing out on and will come back. You, too. Just think about it that way, Trowa. I’ll be around if you need a ride back. Think about it.”
With that, she turned and descended the bleachers, heading into the cafeteria. Her words ran through Trowa’s head, but as they registered, his stubbornness in the situation persisted. He did want Quatre back... all he had to do was prove that he did.
But, then again...
He brought his hands together in a nervous shuffle, then leaned back in his seat. Sylvia bothered him. She was right. And it annoyed him.