Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Intoxication ( Chapter 23 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Quatre's going to make a big decision---should he? Shouldn't he? What do his hormones have to say about the matter?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 225 | Status: Completed
Quatre's going to make a big decision---should he? Shouldn't he? What do his hormones have to say about the matter?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 225 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty Three
“Intoxication” Disturbed
After the game, Quatre had seen that Trowa was sitting up on the bleachers. He hurriedly changed out of his uniform and hurried out to the gym. Seeing that Trowa was still there, looking incredibly pouty about something, he climbed up the bleachers toward him. Trowa scooted over so that he could sit down next to him, removing his game bag from his shoulders and placing it in front of him.
“You came!” he said excitedly.
“Yeah...”
“What’s up?” Quatre then asked, noting the long expression. Trowa just shrugged a shoulder, sighed, and rubbed his hands in that nervous way he had. Quatre stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged his own shoulders, turning to face the court.
He watched Sageville and Balkin Public warm up for a few minutes, then looked around to see if he knew any familiar faces around the gym. Seeing that he didn’t, he sighed, running his hands through his hair, and realized he didn’t know what he had to say to Trowa.
So he sat in silence, thinking over the conversation that he had with Jake last night. It wasn’t that it was exciting–it was just that they had plenty of things to say. In a way, they had many things in common–but Jake was far more older and mature than he was. After listening to what Jake had to go through in terms of single parenting, Quatre felt overwhelmed by the notion of having children. It wasn’t that he thought about it–just when he got to know Jake. That was too big of a thought to have while he was here in high school, doing his high school thing. And for another thing, it wasn’t as if it were going to happen soon, what with him liking guys and all. Girls...they just didn’t appeal to him in that way.
“Quatre,” he heard Trowa say, in a quiet tone that had his hair prickling at the back of his neck.
He shifted his attention from the gym to look at him questioningly. “Yeah?”
Trowa stared at him for a few moments, looked away with an uncomfortable jerk of his head, then looked back. “What...what do you feel about...about us?”
Oh, that, Quatre thought, feeling more than pressured about it.
He looked at his shoes, tapping them lightly on the bench below them. He did care for Trowa, and he did miss him, and he did feel rather different without him. But there were other things that were in the way. He didn’t think he could do anything to garner and keep Trowa’s attention from straying the way that it had. They had been separated, and they both made their own choices in things that they wouldn’t have conceived of had they not.
But things happened, and they were in the situation they were in now. Jake’s own experience with his relationship with Celia explained a lot of things to Quatre that he’d never find out on his own. Jake had admitted looking at Celia as a way of constant reliance–she was just there. He didn’t love her in a way that kept each other together–he loved her because she was just there. At least, that’s what Quatre understood.
He looked at Trowa and wondered that if he got back together with him, that they would be just another form of Jake and Celia–tolerating each other just because they were afraid of change. He didn’t want to hate Trowa the way that those two did now. He didn’t want to mess things up that way.
In his heart, he felt this was a right decision. They just had different things going. And as much as he still cared and yearned for Trowa, he just knew it wasn’t the right time.
He sighed heavily, working his jaw as he tried to think of a way to explain this to him without getting the other riled up. He knew what Trowa felt for him–he figured it was just because of guilt and remorse that Trowa done what he had, and was desperately trying to make it up to him by chasing him. Quatre felt that it wasn’t right–perhaps Trowa had to move on, find his own standing in life, before any more mistakes were made.
“Trowa...I...”
“Don’t say anything,” Trowa muttered, having seen his thoughts flit across that expressive face of his. Darkly pissed and wholly ill that Quatre did not feel the same way as he, he angrily shifted in his seat and stared out at the court.
He tried hard to ignore his rising anger, both at himself and at the other boy. Angry at himself because he’d fucked up. Angry at Quatre because the boy...just wouldn’t give in.
He felt like he was being lead on. He suddenly craved a hit, or a downer. Something to take away that dull ache that started throbbing at his chest, and pounded at his head.
Quatre swallowed, looking at him with some guilt and remorse of his own, then nodded, running his hands through his hair once more. He felt uncomfortable sitting here, next to Trowa when the boy was obviously upset, and looked for a place to go. He figured, once Trowa was done with his brooding over the finality, that he would be able to talk to him. He grabbed his bag and slowly descended the benches without looking back.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“...don’t know what that bitch is up to, but apparently I misjudged her! I fuckin’ thought she was cool an’ all, but it was apparent she’s after Quat’s ex. Like that bastard’s over him, anyway. They fuckin’ moon all over each other an’ shit,” Sylvia heard Felicia curse to someone. She stopped walking toward the concession stand, looking for the girl and her friend. She heard her voice, and heard a deep reply from some guy, but she couldn’t see them.
Her face burned red at the truth, but she was indignant that Felicia talked about her this way. If she had some beef about her, why wasn’t she confronting her? Instead of going behind her back and talking about it to someone that wasn’t even involved?! Quatre and Trowa weren’t together anymore, and Quatre wasn’t going back to Trowa. That made Trowa free to anyone that wanted to try for him. Felicia didn’t have shit to say to this...
Sylvia felt her annoyance and anger arise as she began looking for the girl, to go and set the bitch straight. Her fingers curled into fists, and she noticed that the cafeteria doors were open to the outside, allowing some of the heat to escape. She glanced out, tentatively, curling her arms over her chest at the cold blast of air. Sure enough, Felicia was smoking a cigarette and venting to some guy she didn’t recognize.
She hesitated in confronting the girl–she wasn’t stupid. Felicia wasn’t the type to be scared off by someone confronting her, and she had her share of beating up on guys. Sylvia knew how to fight, but she had done so only twice in her life. She shook with the quivering knowledge that something unpleasant was going to happen between them. Sylvia may be the type to be uncertain about things, but that didn’t mean people like Felicia could bad mouth her! If the bitch had something to say, she may as well as say it to her face.
She stepped outside, noting that the guy Felicia was talking to wasn’t even a player–just some tall, muscular dude in baggy jeans and a Nike jacket.
“Felicia?” she asked, watching as the girl turned and looked at her, eyebrow raising. The guy turned and looked at her as well.
“This the one?” he asked.
Felicia snorted as she dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath her shoe. She turned to Sylvia, face stony.
“Did you hear what I said?” she demanded.
“Yes, I did,” Sylvia replied calmly. “And what I do? Isn’t any of your business. I’ll have you know that you aren’t even part of their problem. You only add to it. You need to butt out of their business and let them handle their own.”
“You shouldn’t come up to me and talk shit that way, ho-bag,” Felicia growled, eyebrows furrowing.
“And if you’re going to talk shit about someone, do it to their fucking face,” Sylvia shot back. She was trembling inside, but trying to look tough.
“I usually do. But now that I have to be good, I can’t exactly run up to your stupid white face an’ get up on your ass about Barton.”
“You’re not his mother, Felicia. If someone’s going to go after him, then what the fuck’s your problem?”
“My problem with this situation is that you’re fuckin’ Quat over. You get all friendly with him an’ shit, then turn around as soon as they get all whacked out over some trouble, an’ steal off with his man!” Felicia snarled.
“Quatre and Trowa broke up!” Sylvia enunciated each word carefully and loudly, so that Felicia would have no excuse in not hearing it. “What happens with them afterward is their business. Not yours!”
“Still, it’s–!”
“It’s not your business!”
“It’s my fuckin’ business when my friend is gonna get hurt!” Felicia snapped at her, stepping close. The guy was entirely amused at the whole thing, and continued to smoke his cigarette as he watched the two girls.
“How is he going to get hurt, Felicia?!” Sylvia exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “They broke up! Helloo!”
“I know they broke up, bitch! But the fact is, you used him to get close to Trowa!”
“I DID NOT!” Sylvia yelped. “I did not use him, Felicia. I would never have–!”
“Fucking lying bitch! You did too! You got all friendly with him an’ everything, then as soon as his back’s turned, you’re all up on his man! You fuckin’ know they still got a thing for each other, and you fuckin’ go in and think you can hit it while the wounds are still fresh!”
“This is really stupid,” Sylvia told her, glaring at her. “You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t of your concern.”
“Hey, I watch over my friends! And if one’s getting hurt, then I’m gonna do what I fuckin’ can to help him out!” Felicia snarled. “And I should have figured what you were trying to do! It was only fuckin’ obvious!”
“I didn’t try anything toward him, or with him, or about him until after they’d broken up, and EVEN THEN, I waited until now, you ho!” Sylvia spat, growing enraged by this pointless fight.
“Oh, yeah, I’m real sure you did. Always fawning all over him an’ shit!”
“It isn’t like Quatre’s going to notice! Him and that Justin guy are all over each other, still!”
“They ain’t doing shit!” Felicia exclaimed loudly. “You fuckin’ know that, bitch! You know that!”
“I know they messed around, and Quatre keeps lying to Trowa about it!”
“Trowa fucked Quatre over a million times more than Quatre did to him,” Felicia snarled at her. “What Quat did was nothing compared to what Trowa did!”
“Still, he’s at fault for cheating on Trowa, too!”
“He may have cheated on Barton, but that fucker deserved it! He’s always fucking Quat over!”
“YOU SAID–!”
“No, I didn’t–!”
“You lying sack of shit–!”
“Don’t you be calling me a ‘liar’, ho!”
“You–!”
“Ahem.”
Both girls pulled away from each other, looking at a police officer that was watching them questioningly from the open doorway. Felicia shoved Sylvia away from her, and stomped back inside. Sylvia caught herself, inhaling deeply as she realized that she managed to win this round. The guy was laughing in amusement, finishing his cigarette as the police officer eyed him suspiciously, looking ready to beat him down and search him for anything concealed within his baggy clothes.
Sylvia realized that it was really, really cold outside, and hurried inside. She looked around for Felicia, and didn’t see any sign of her. Sighing, somewhat relieved that things didn’t progress from that argument, she thanked her lively courage that she was able to confront the girl about these things, without looking too wimpy about it. She hurried into the gym, then hurried back out. She really needed a jacket or sweater, and she had one in the car. She left the cafeteria to go and find it, planning out a verbal attack against the other girl in case the need arose once more.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They didn’t win the tourney–they had to play Duncan Jones later that day, and received third. Duncan Jones and Stanton had faced off, with Stanton emerging as the winner.
Quatre had been troubled the entire time, his thoughts heavy on Trowa. He knew he was doing the right thing, but why the hell did it feel so wrong?!
He got to talk with Jake again–the guy was definitely more friendly now that they got an idea of who the other person was, and Michael followed Quatre around as if he were his next big hero.
But his mind wasn’t on those things–they were on Trowa. He just felt so...down about everything.
So when Felicia suggested that they hit a party later on that night, he agreed simply to get his mind off things.
They’d left school grounds after curfew–Felicia had paid off the guards and worked her mysterious magic with the room security measures–and caught a bus to a parking lot just outside of Marysville, where Felicia had her car parked.
“I was talking to Sylvia earlier,” she began, starting the Nissian Maxima, and letting it warm up. It was still snowing, and both were dressed warmly. “She really pissed me off.”
“Why?” Quatre asked, teeth chattering noisily.
“She was just–! And it was all–! And she was like–! Well, she was just being dumb,” she finished lamely.
Quatre gave a bark of laughter. “Well, that explains it all!”
“No, I’m just saying–well, did you see that she brought Trowa?”
“No.”
“Well, she did. Trowa rode over with her.”
Quatre studied the frost that had blanketed the windshield. He examined himself, trying to feel out what he felt about that. Really, in some odd way, he was relieved–maybe Sylvia could distract Trowa from continuing his pursuit of him. Maybe Sylvia could provide what he could not. He shrugged.
“That’s it?” Felicia asked, raising an eyebrow as she frowned at him.
“Yeah...if...I don’t know. We still have feelings for each other, but it’s like...well...it isn’t the right time to get back together, you know? Hey–you gave that Trip guy my number last night, didn’t you?”
“Hey, he called me, askin’ if I knew, and I gave it to him. Why? Did he call you?”
“Yeah. We talked for, like, a hella long time,” Quatre chuckled. “I think I fell asleep while talking to him. He did too.”
“LOVE! It’s LOVE!”
“No, it isn’t. It’s just an understanding. Of sorts.” Quatre shivered violently. The car was starting to heat up, but it was still cold. “He said a lot of things about his relationship that had me thinking....I think I’m doing the right thing, Felicia. Not getting back with Trowa. There’s so much shit that I feel insecure about, now. So much shit. And...I still...I still like him and all? It’s just...things are too raw right now to work through. I think, that if I did get back with him...it’ll just fuck things up in the end. We’re still too mad at each other. We’ll be blaming each other all the time.”
Felicia stared at him in silent amazement, listening to the voice of youth.
Ah, he’s growing up so fast! She thought with an amused smile, which she quickly hid as she adjusted her seat forward, and turned on the windshield wipers to start chipping away at the defrosting snow crystals on the windshield.
As the silence stretched, and the windshield was clear enough for her to see out of, she reached over to pat his shoulder. “That’s cool, man. Real cool. Yer gettin’ it.”
“Yeah...I guess so,” Quatre said on a tired sigh, shrugging. “It just sucks, though. Just...sucks...”
“I understand. Hey, that’s cool. Things will look better once the both of you relax a little more, I suppose,” Felicia said on a small chuckle. “I guess that bitch did know what she was doing...but I sure as hell ain’t apologizing. Fuck that shit.”
“You’re so bad.”
“And I know this, sucka! Let’s go out and have some fun. Maybe you’ll get laid.”
“HA! I don’t think so!”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked up at the knock on his door, and left his desk to answer it. His roommate was away on family leave, so he had the room to himself. Hiiro walked in after he answered it, glancing around curiously.
“What’s up?” Duo asked him, returning to his desk.
“Nothing...just...bored.”
“After curfew?”
“...Yeah. Where’s your roommate?”
“Oh, someone in his family got in a car accident Saturday, so he went out of state to make sure they were okay,” Duo explained, sitting backwards in his chair. He was tired as hell, but he didn’t feel sleepy enough to go to bed, yet. “What’s going on with you?”
Hiiro shrugged, slowly sitting on the bed. “Nothing much, really. Just...I was just thinking over...a lot of things, and...I don’t know, they were just bothering me.”
“Like what? Relena? Dude, she’s going out with that senior on the wrestling team. What’s his name? Dave?”
“Donald.”
“Ah, Donald,” Duo drew out, then rolled his eyes. “So? What, is that bothering you? You said you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.”
“I don’t. I mean, I don’t care. I could care less. It’s just that I talk with him a lot. He’s cool and all. Just... it just surprised me. It’s kind of weird seeing them together when I’ve been with her for a long time. You know? So...it bothers me that way, but I don’t want her back.”
Duo nodded seriously, turning one corner of his mouth downwards. “Then...what’s the problem? Something must be bothering you if you’re in my room after curfew. The last time you did this, you and Rel thought she was pregnant.”
“Yeah,” Hiiro murmured, running a hand through his dark hair. Yawning, he looked over at his desk, and made a simple gesture. “Is that the study guide for Trig?”
“Yeah. I’m almost finished. Wanna copy my answers?” Duo asked, grinning at him.
“No. If I did, I be getting everything wrong.”
“Ooh, so little confidence,” Duo chuckled, turning around to adjust his various papers and pens, setting them neatly to one corner of his desk. He then turned back around to face Hiiro, and found him staring at him. “What? Do I got something in my hair?”
“No. Just...you really sucked today, at ball,” Hiiro said, frowning.
“HEY! The hell! I was running my ass off over there!” Duo exclaimed. “I racked up over a hundred points this entire tournament!”
“Still, you could have done better. Ramos was right–our team’s really slacking this year.”
“I think it’s just our coach,” Duo muttered, fiddling with the end of his braid. “He’s not really...I don’t know. There’s just something lacking in the way he tries to control things, you know? Like he’s afraid of pushing too hard. Or something.”
“Or something,” Hiiro agreed, adjusting himself on the bed, hands in his pockets.
“He’s like, really a pushover if you jump on his ass for something. He’s too afraid of striking back, like some other coaches are. Like Stanton’s, man. That old guy was all over the court. If he could, he would have held his player’s hands and did it for them. Ramos is the type that let’s Winner do what he wants and take credit for it only cuz he’s like, the coach in name only.”
“Winner really calmed down this year.”
“Dude, he got laid. I’m telling you, people calm the fuck down when they’re gettin’ it,” Duo muttered.
“What do you think about that?”
“What?” Duo asked, looking up from a split end he was demolishing.
Hiiro shrugged a shoulder. “You know. Homosexuals.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation before?”
“...Yeah. I don’t remember your answer.”
Duo sighed, looking up at the ceiling in contemplation. He knew the whole conversation they’d had from start to beginning that day. “I basically said that it was okay, as long as they ain’t trying to hit on me.”
“Then...what if...” Duo heard Hiiro take a deep breath, and he tried not to look over, in case the other guy was yawning. He knew he wouldn’t stop himself from repeating the action if he was. “What if someone close to you had feelings for you, but he was a guy?”
“Who?!” Duo demanded, looking over sharply, ready to kick some ass.
“Just...some guy. I’m not going to say, because you’ll probably hate him,” Hiiro said, frowning at his reaction.
“That’s just...that’s–ew. I mean...is this person someone I knew all my fuckin’ life? Is he bi?”
“No...he’s not bi. He’s...confused. He...has feelings for you, but...he doesn’t know what to do with them.”
“And he told you this shit?! Who the fuck is it? So I can avoid him!” Duo snapped, humiliated at the thought of one of his guy friends liking him in that way.
“That’s why he doesn’t want to tell you, Duo!” Hiiro snapped. “Because he thinks of you as a valuable friend, and he doesn’t want to lose what you two have!”
“Then why you telling me this shit?” Duo demanded, angrily throwing his braid aside. “Some queer has a crush on me, and thinks all sorts of fag-shit about me, and I wanna know who this bastard is. So I can kick his ass and remind him to never like me that way again! I like girls! I ain’t no Goddamned queer!”
“He can’t help it!” Hiiro snarled, rising from the bed. “And it’s with that sort of attitude that he feels fucking shitty about himself. He’s disgusted with himself already. He’s never felt this way before, with anybody!”
“He has to be one of your friends, huh?” Duo asked, cracking his knuckles. He shivered violently at the thought of either Brad, or Milton, or Sam looking at him the same way he’d seen Trowa look at Quatre. It was just...disgusting. “I’ll fuckin’ draw him out. Lead him on. Then when I find out which one he is, I’m going to fuckin’ put him in the damn hospital for thinking that shit about me. Queers are wrong, Hiiro. I mean, I like them? I just don’t like the thought of them liking me in that way!”
Hiiro stared at him for several moments, a deep silence descending on them. Duo looked up from his knuckles, frowning at the Japanese, then blinked when Hiiro snorted, almost in a derisive way.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “I see. Now that I know what you think...will you be beating me up now, or later?”
The silence grew thick and heavy, and Duo swore that his heart had just stopped thumping away. He felt paralyzed and unfeeling as he stared at Hiiro in silence, unsure if he’d heard right.
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
Did he just...?!
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
He didn’t–!!
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
He didn’t–!
Hiiro frowned at him, narrowing his eyes. “You talk a lot of shit that you don’t back up, Maxwell.”
He made his way to the door, gave Duo one last stare, then slammed the door shut loudly as he left.
Duo stared at the door in the same numbed silence, unable to even function right now. Hiiro had just confessed, in a way, that he liked him. And...which was...Duo had always...and it was...
Did he hear right?! Did he just hear what he thought Hiiro had said?!
Or...or was this some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for something he didn’t know he’d done?! He drew in a deep breath, head ringing and banging with his own bells of disbelief and chaos after hearing that simple phase...and those before that.
Disgusted...he felt disgusted about himself for feeling that way about him. Him!
And Duo had been mooning secretly over Hiiro for the longest time! Admiration had just changed into something else, and–and he’d always dreamed of this moment! He’d had it planned out, but he hadn’t expected this–this–disbelief that it actually happened! He was still numb, but was slowly defrosting to the notion that Hiiro liked him.
Liked him! How–? When–? But–?
Duo’s heart was racing furiously, in a way that had him nearly leaping from his chair, pacing with agitated energy. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering what the hell prompted this confession! What had prompted Hiiro to like him?! What–? What–? WHAT?!
He started toward the door, to race after him, but he felt that it wasn’t the right time, yet. He was still in entire disbelief that Hiiro had confessed to him. He couldn’t rightly think, couldn’t rightly function. Was their friendship going to change, now? Was things going to change between them?! What would the others think of them? What, what, what?!
His mind was racing too much for him to entirely focus on. He ran his hands over his braid, then clutched it tightly. His eyes were wide and wild, and his heart was thumping furiously within his chest. He paced the floor in an agitated manner, then sank down at the edge of his bed.
“Oh, God,” he groaned into his hands, feeling them shake against his hands. “Oh, God, please forgive me. I like him so much. I can’t believe this is happening to me! Oh, Lord, what should I do? This can’t be wrong. This can’t be wrong!”
He knew he wasn’t going to receive a reply, or anything as comforting. He knew he had to rely only on himself for his next action.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The party wasn’t anything that exciting. Just a gathering of college and high school kids, same as it was over the summer. Quatre had lost Felicia a long time ago, and was sitting by himself on a leather sectional, nursing a beer, and trying not to get too drunk. It had been awhile since he drank, and it had immediately hit his head. He was thinking about his relationship woes with Trowa, and didn’t want to participate in the activities that were taking place. Somewhere, someone was having a chugging contest with a couple of well known football players for NPU, and somewhere upstairs, a couple were fighting loudly, as if their entire life depended on their volume.
Really, now that he thought about it, parties weren’t all that special–it was just a convenient place to come to to get really drunk and interact with others that wanted to do the same thing. He didn’t know anybody here, and Felicia had ditched him practically since they stepped through the front door.
He was contemplating getting up to go look for her when someone walked through the kitchen hall, and gave a startled yell of surprise.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were here!” Triton cried, obviously drunk.
“Ew,” Quatre muttered as the boy stumbled over to him.
“We just pulled up,” Triton said, flopping on the couch, hanging his head in his hands. “Me and...and...some guys. I forget their names.”
“You’re wasted. And what the hell?! I thought this city held over thirty million people! Why the fuck did you chose this fuckin’ party to come to?!” Quatre asked, wanting to kick him. Only because he knew that if Triton persisted, he wasn’t going to refuse a quick trip to one of the rooms. He glared at the beer can in his hand, and hurled it across the room, snarling over this ill-fated trip.
“Dude, that was a perfectly good can of beer you wasted,” Triton muttered, curling up on the couch. “I’m so fucking drunk...I’m going to lay right here for awhile, all right? Make sure no one tries to rape me.”
“Like they would want you!” Quatre muttered, noting that his fingernails looked a little long. He began chewing on them to trim them down.
“Everyone wants me...I’m Triton...Triton Bloom...” the senior mumbled, as if he were some famous stud-god, drifting off to sleep.
Quatre snorted, picked up a throw pillow, and tossed it at him. He stared out at the empty living room for awhile when a few other guys walked in, all of them in the same state as Triton. He recognized one of them as Stan, the guy with the overbite that had asked him about Felicia and had given Triton his phone number over the summer.
He wondered if Stan got his ass kicked yet. Quatre was still sore that Triton had his phone number. No matter the fact that Triton never called him.
“Hey, what’s up?” Stan asked, recognizing him. “Hey, is that girl here?”
“What girl?” Quatre snapped.
“Uh...uh...uh...uh...”
“NO! She isn’t!”
“Fuck...what’s her name?...”
“Who?” one of the other guys asked, sitting at Triton’s feet, and belching loudly. He reached over and shoved at Triton’s legs. “Look at this sad motherfucker! Passed out all ready!”
“Hey! Who’s got some markers?!” another guy asked excitedly. “Let’s fuck up his face!”
“Dude! I saw some in the kitchen!”
Quatre frowned as Stan plopped down next to him, and began breathing alcohol thickened breath in his face. “Hey, you know that girl you were with? She goes to your school, and you were always with her?”
“God, you fuckin’ reek...”
“No, listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! I want her, man. I want her real bad. Is she a virgin?”
“GET OUT OF MY FACE!”
“C’mon, man! Hook me up! I want her little ass! Get her to come over here! I want to talk to her!”
“NO!”
“C’mon! Hey, Triton....Triton! Hey, Triton!”
“Dude, the fucker’s passed out. He ain’t answering you!” the guy shouted from the other end of the couch, as if they were all hard of hearing. Quatre moved to get up and get out of there when Stan grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down.
Alcohol had a funny effect on a person–muscles didn’t always do what they were supposed to. After a pitiful struggle, Quatre found himself staring sullenly at the floor while Stan tried to persuade him to call Felicia over to him, so that the guy could talk to her.
The guy that ran into the kitchen to get markers had come back, and the others snatched their preferred colors from the options given to them. But just as they were going to start marking on Triton’s skin, the senior flew up from the couch, and made it to the doorway of some adjoining hall when he bent over and vomited.
Amidst all the cries of both cheer and disappointment, Quatre got up from the couch, and stumbled off to find the girl. There were various males and females wandering about, and he snagged another beer from an ice chest set in the middle of the foyer, and called for Felicia. He wandered all around the house, from the first level to the second. He even searched outside. He had no idea where the girl was, so he took out his cellphone and dialed her number.
“Yeah?!”
“I’m ready to go!” he grumbled, opening his can of beer. “It’s past twelve thirty! I’m tired...”
“Oh, okay! I’ll meet you there!”
“Wha–?! Where the fuck are you?!”
“I’m at Anthony’s house! A couple of blocks away!”
“You LEFT me HERE?! THE FUCK!”
“Hey, I couldn’t find you! I’ll be right there!”
“You fucking whore!!”
But she didn’t hear that, having hung up after her last words. Quatre hung up his phone, grumbled about being ditched, and wandered about. He had to use the bathroom, so he ventured toward the closest one, and saw a girl puking over the toilet, so he went to go look for one upstairs. He found one in the master bedroom–which looked like a basic parental unit setting, so he had to assume that whoever was throwing the party as underage, or something.
He used the bathroom, and was washing his hands when he heard the door open and close. He peered out the bathroom to see Triton ambling over, grinning a storm. Quatre eyed him undecidedly.
“There you are. Hey, how’d you get here, anyway?” he asked, blinking at him curiously.
“With Felicia...”
“Wrong Way Passage? I didn’t see her here.”
“She’s at some guy’s house! Some Anthony!”
“I don’t know him. Where’s that?”
“She said something about being two blocks away. Why?”
“Just wondering. I didn’t know you partied,” Triton said, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought Trowa disapproved of that, or something.”
“You’re real coherent for some drunken bastard that threw up in the living room!”
Triton laughed, unfolding his arms. “Hey, when I puke, things are great. I feel good enough to drive a car.”
“You shouldn’t. Fucks like you are the ones killing innocent people.”
“What are you? MADD?” Triton laughed at his own dumb joke.
Quatre rolled his eyes. He dried his hands on a pretty green towel that reminded him of Trowa’s eyes. He hesitated in letting go of it as he turned to the other boy. He frowned at him, noting the way Triton was looking at him. He felt uncomfortable and definitely horny, and cursed the stupid thinking in which he thought things were going to be fine if he just ‘drank a little’.
“Hey...come here...”
“No,” he replied, not wanting to move.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“You scared of me?”
“...No. It’s just...I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
Triton just smiled at him, a lazy sort of smile that had Quatre frowning with uncomfortable embarrassment. He picked at his nails in unease, but found himself thinking, What If?
“You smell,” he finally decided. “You were puking all over the place.”
“Hey, I brushed my teeth. Wanna smell? They even have Listerine in this dump. I used that, too.”
“...So?”
“Look,” Triton murmured, breathing minty-fresh breath against Quatre’s cheek. The blond found himself blushing at the contact, admitting that he didn’t smell bad, and his hormones, damn them, were yowling in demand for more. Triton pulled away, giving an amused chuckle. “Why are you turning all red?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. You know what? I think you should take a shower.”
Quatre blinked, looking at the shower and tub, then looked at him. “What? Why?”
“Just do it. Then come out here.” Triton grinned at him, then, in a way that made Quatre’s stomach curl. He watched as the senior closed the bathroom door, and Quatre was left standing in the middle of the bathroom, fretting over this. He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling something excited and sick. Hell, he’d been thinking about it. He’d even consider that this was the best way to relieve tension of the hormone sense with the guy. And now that the offer was extended...
Should he take it, and be agonized by regret later on? What would Trowa do if he found out that he’d caved to the senior’s advances? Would Quatre hate himself later on?
Damn it, if only he hadn’t drank what he had, and his common sense would be working fine. He took a deep breath, the another, and another, drawing his shoulders up and tensing them. He felt himself quivering with unease. But he really hated feeling restless due to horniness all the time...and sex was sex, right? And it wasn’t as if he and Triton had feelings for each other...it was just...sex. Consensual sex. If there was sex involved.
He took another deep breath, and felt his hand tremble as he brought up his cellphone, and redialed Felicia’s number. Then, he turned around, and turned on the water. When she answered, he assured her to take her time. He was going to be busy.
“Intoxication” Disturbed
After the game, Quatre had seen that Trowa was sitting up on the bleachers. He hurriedly changed out of his uniform and hurried out to the gym. Seeing that Trowa was still there, looking incredibly pouty about something, he climbed up the bleachers toward him. Trowa scooted over so that he could sit down next to him, removing his game bag from his shoulders and placing it in front of him.
“You came!” he said excitedly.
“Yeah...”
“What’s up?” Quatre then asked, noting the long expression. Trowa just shrugged a shoulder, sighed, and rubbed his hands in that nervous way he had. Quatre stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged his own shoulders, turning to face the court.
He watched Sageville and Balkin Public warm up for a few minutes, then looked around to see if he knew any familiar faces around the gym. Seeing that he didn’t, he sighed, running his hands through his hair, and realized he didn’t know what he had to say to Trowa.
So he sat in silence, thinking over the conversation that he had with Jake last night. It wasn’t that it was exciting–it was just that they had plenty of things to say. In a way, they had many things in common–but Jake was far more older and mature than he was. After listening to what Jake had to go through in terms of single parenting, Quatre felt overwhelmed by the notion of having children. It wasn’t that he thought about it–just when he got to know Jake. That was too big of a thought to have while he was here in high school, doing his high school thing. And for another thing, it wasn’t as if it were going to happen soon, what with him liking guys and all. Girls...they just didn’t appeal to him in that way.
“Quatre,” he heard Trowa say, in a quiet tone that had his hair prickling at the back of his neck.
He shifted his attention from the gym to look at him questioningly. “Yeah?”
Trowa stared at him for a few moments, looked away with an uncomfortable jerk of his head, then looked back. “What...what do you feel about...about us?”
Oh, that, Quatre thought, feeling more than pressured about it.
He looked at his shoes, tapping them lightly on the bench below them. He did care for Trowa, and he did miss him, and he did feel rather different without him. But there were other things that were in the way. He didn’t think he could do anything to garner and keep Trowa’s attention from straying the way that it had. They had been separated, and they both made their own choices in things that they wouldn’t have conceived of had they not.
But things happened, and they were in the situation they were in now. Jake’s own experience with his relationship with Celia explained a lot of things to Quatre that he’d never find out on his own. Jake had admitted looking at Celia as a way of constant reliance–she was just there. He didn’t love her in a way that kept each other together–he loved her because she was just there. At least, that’s what Quatre understood.
He looked at Trowa and wondered that if he got back together with him, that they would be just another form of Jake and Celia–tolerating each other just because they were afraid of change. He didn’t want to hate Trowa the way that those two did now. He didn’t want to mess things up that way.
In his heart, he felt this was a right decision. They just had different things going. And as much as he still cared and yearned for Trowa, he just knew it wasn’t the right time.
He sighed heavily, working his jaw as he tried to think of a way to explain this to him without getting the other riled up. He knew what Trowa felt for him–he figured it was just because of guilt and remorse that Trowa done what he had, and was desperately trying to make it up to him by chasing him. Quatre felt that it wasn’t right–perhaps Trowa had to move on, find his own standing in life, before any more mistakes were made.
“Trowa...I...”
“Don’t say anything,” Trowa muttered, having seen his thoughts flit across that expressive face of his. Darkly pissed and wholly ill that Quatre did not feel the same way as he, he angrily shifted in his seat and stared out at the court.
He tried hard to ignore his rising anger, both at himself and at the other boy. Angry at himself because he’d fucked up. Angry at Quatre because the boy...just wouldn’t give in.
He felt like he was being lead on. He suddenly craved a hit, or a downer. Something to take away that dull ache that started throbbing at his chest, and pounded at his head.
Quatre swallowed, looking at him with some guilt and remorse of his own, then nodded, running his hands through his hair once more. He felt uncomfortable sitting here, next to Trowa when the boy was obviously upset, and looked for a place to go. He figured, once Trowa was done with his brooding over the finality, that he would be able to talk to him. He grabbed his bag and slowly descended the benches without looking back.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“...don’t know what that bitch is up to, but apparently I misjudged her! I fuckin’ thought she was cool an’ all, but it was apparent she’s after Quat’s ex. Like that bastard’s over him, anyway. They fuckin’ moon all over each other an’ shit,” Sylvia heard Felicia curse to someone. She stopped walking toward the concession stand, looking for the girl and her friend. She heard her voice, and heard a deep reply from some guy, but she couldn’t see them.
Her face burned red at the truth, but she was indignant that Felicia talked about her this way. If she had some beef about her, why wasn’t she confronting her? Instead of going behind her back and talking about it to someone that wasn’t even involved?! Quatre and Trowa weren’t together anymore, and Quatre wasn’t going back to Trowa. That made Trowa free to anyone that wanted to try for him. Felicia didn’t have shit to say to this...
Sylvia felt her annoyance and anger arise as she began looking for the girl, to go and set the bitch straight. Her fingers curled into fists, and she noticed that the cafeteria doors were open to the outside, allowing some of the heat to escape. She glanced out, tentatively, curling her arms over her chest at the cold blast of air. Sure enough, Felicia was smoking a cigarette and venting to some guy she didn’t recognize.
She hesitated in confronting the girl–she wasn’t stupid. Felicia wasn’t the type to be scared off by someone confronting her, and she had her share of beating up on guys. Sylvia knew how to fight, but she had done so only twice in her life. She shook with the quivering knowledge that something unpleasant was going to happen between them. Sylvia may be the type to be uncertain about things, but that didn’t mean people like Felicia could bad mouth her! If the bitch had something to say, she may as well as say it to her face.
She stepped outside, noting that the guy Felicia was talking to wasn’t even a player–just some tall, muscular dude in baggy jeans and a Nike jacket.
“Felicia?” she asked, watching as the girl turned and looked at her, eyebrow raising. The guy turned and looked at her as well.
“This the one?” he asked.
Felicia snorted as she dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath her shoe. She turned to Sylvia, face stony.
“Did you hear what I said?” she demanded.
“Yes, I did,” Sylvia replied calmly. “And what I do? Isn’t any of your business. I’ll have you know that you aren’t even part of their problem. You only add to it. You need to butt out of their business and let them handle their own.”
“You shouldn’t come up to me and talk shit that way, ho-bag,” Felicia growled, eyebrows furrowing.
“And if you’re going to talk shit about someone, do it to their fucking face,” Sylvia shot back. She was trembling inside, but trying to look tough.
“I usually do. But now that I have to be good, I can’t exactly run up to your stupid white face an’ get up on your ass about Barton.”
“You’re not his mother, Felicia. If someone’s going to go after him, then what the fuck’s your problem?”
“My problem with this situation is that you’re fuckin’ Quat over. You get all friendly with him an’ shit, then turn around as soon as they get all whacked out over some trouble, an’ steal off with his man!” Felicia snarled.
“Quatre and Trowa broke up!” Sylvia enunciated each word carefully and loudly, so that Felicia would have no excuse in not hearing it. “What happens with them afterward is their business. Not yours!”
“Still, it’s–!”
“It’s not your business!”
“It’s my fuckin’ business when my friend is gonna get hurt!” Felicia snapped at her, stepping close. The guy was entirely amused at the whole thing, and continued to smoke his cigarette as he watched the two girls.
“How is he going to get hurt, Felicia?!” Sylvia exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “They broke up! Helloo!”
“I know they broke up, bitch! But the fact is, you used him to get close to Trowa!”
“I DID NOT!” Sylvia yelped. “I did not use him, Felicia. I would never have–!”
“Fucking lying bitch! You did too! You got all friendly with him an’ everything, then as soon as his back’s turned, you’re all up on his man! You fuckin’ know they still got a thing for each other, and you fuckin’ go in and think you can hit it while the wounds are still fresh!”
“This is really stupid,” Sylvia told her, glaring at her. “You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t of your concern.”
“Hey, I watch over my friends! And if one’s getting hurt, then I’m gonna do what I fuckin’ can to help him out!” Felicia snarled. “And I should have figured what you were trying to do! It was only fuckin’ obvious!”
“I didn’t try anything toward him, or with him, or about him until after they’d broken up, and EVEN THEN, I waited until now, you ho!” Sylvia spat, growing enraged by this pointless fight.
“Oh, yeah, I’m real sure you did. Always fawning all over him an’ shit!”
“It isn’t like Quatre’s going to notice! Him and that Justin guy are all over each other, still!”
“They ain’t doing shit!” Felicia exclaimed loudly. “You fuckin’ know that, bitch! You know that!”
“I know they messed around, and Quatre keeps lying to Trowa about it!”
“Trowa fucked Quatre over a million times more than Quatre did to him,” Felicia snarled at her. “What Quat did was nothing compared to what Trowa did!”
“Still, he’s at fault for cheating on Trowa, too!”
“He may have cheated on Barton, but that fucker deserved it! He’s always fucking Quat over!”
“YOU SAID–!”
“No, I didn’t–!”
“You lying sack of shit–!”
“Don’t you be calling me a ‘liar’, ho!”
“You–!”
“Ahem.”
Both girls pulled away from each other, looking at a police officer that was watching them questioningly from the open doorway. Felicia shoved Sylvia away from her, and stomped back inside. Sylvia caught herself, inhaling deeply as she realized that she managed to win this round. The guy was laughing in amusement, finishing his cigarette as the police officer eyed him suspiciously, looking ready to beat him down and search him for anything concealed within his baggy clothes.
Sylvia realized that it was really, really cold outside, and hurried inside. She looked around for Felicia, and didn’t see any sign of her. Sighing, somewhat relieved that things didn’t progress from that argument, she thanked her lively courage that she was able to confront the girl about these things, without looking too wimpy about it. She hurried into the gym, then hurried back out. She really needed a jacket or sweater, and she had one in the car. She left the cafeteria to go and find it, planning out a verbal attack against the other girl in case the need arose once more.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They didn’t win the tourney–they had to play Duncan Jones later that day, and received third. Duncan Jones and Stanton had faced off, with Stanton emerging as the winner.
Quatre had been troubled the entire time, his thoughts heavy on Trowa. He knew he was doing the right thing, but why the hell did it feel so wrong?!
He got to talk with Jake again–the guy was definitely more friendly now that they got an idea of who the other person was, and Michael followed Quatre around as if he were his next big hero.
But his mind wasn’t on those things–they were on Trowa. He just felt so...down about everything.
So when Felicia suggested that they hit a party later on that night, he agreed simply to get his mind off things.
They’d left school grounds after curfew–Felicia had paid off the guards and worked her mysterious magic with the room security measures–and caught a bus to a parking lot just outside of Marysville, where Felicia had her car parked.
“I was talking to Sylvia earlier,” she began, starting the Nissian Maxima, and letting it warm up. It was still snowing, and both were dressed warmly. “She really pissed me off.”
“Why?” Quatre asked, teeth chattering noisily.
“She was just–! And it was all–! And she was like–! Well, she was just being dumb,” she finished lamely.
Quatre gave a bark of laughter. “Well, that explains it all!”
“No, I’m just saying–well, did you see that she brought Trowa?”
“No.”
“Well, she did. Trowa rode over with her.”
Quatre studied the frost that had blanketed the windshield. He examined himself, trying to feel out what he felt about that. Really, in some odd way, he was relieved–maybe Sylvia could distract Trowa from continuing his pursuit of him. Maybe Sylvia could provide what he could not. He shrugged.
“That’s it?” Felicia asked, raising an eyebrow as she frowned at him.
“Yeah...if...I don’t know. We still have feelings for each other, but it’s like...well...it isn’t the right time to get back together, you know? Hey–you gave that Trip guy my number last night, didn’t you?”
“Hey, he called me, askin’ if I knew, and I gave it to him. Why? Did he call you?”
“Yeah. We talked for, like, a hella long time,” Quatre chuckled. “I think I fell asleep while talking to him. He did too.”
“LOVE! It’s LOVE!”
“No, it isn’t. It’s just an understanding. Of sorts.” Quatre shivered violently. The car was starting to heat up, but it was still cold. “He said a lot of things about his relationship that had me thinking....I think I’m doing the right thing, Felicia. Not getting back with Trowa. There’s so much shit that I feel insecure about, now. So much shit. And...I still...I still like him and all? It’s just...things are too raw right now to work through. I think, that if I did get back with him...it’ll just fuck things up in the end. We’re still too mad at each other. We’ll be blaming each other all the time.”
Felicia stared at him in silent amazement, listening to the voice of youth.
Ah, he’s growing up so fast! She thought with an amused smile, which she quickly hid as she adjusted her seat forward, and turned on the windshield wipers to start chipping away at the defrosting snow crystals on the windshield.
As the silence stretched, and the windshield was clear enough for her to see out of, she reached over to pat his shoulder. “That’s cool, man. Real cool. Yer gettin’ it.”
“Yeah...I guess so,” Quatre said on a tired sigh, shrugging. “It just sucks, though. Just...sucks...”
“I understand. Hey, that’s cool. Things will look better once the both of you relax a little more, I suppose,” Felicia said on a small chuckle. “I guess that bitch did know what she was doing...but I sure as hell ain’t apologizing. Fuck that shit.”
“You’re so bad.”
“And I know this, sucka! Let’s go out and have some fun. Maybe you’ll get laid.”
“HA! I don’t think so!”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked up at the knock on his door, and left his desk to answer it. His roommate was away on family leave, so he had the room to himself. Hiiro walked in after he answered it, glancing around curiously.
“What’s up?” Duo asked him, returning to his desk.
“Nothing...just...bored.”
“After curfew?”
“...Yeah. Where’s your roommate?”
“Oh, someone in his family got in a car accident Saturday, so he went out of state to make sure they were okay,” Duo explained, sitting backwards in his chair. He was tired as hell, but he didn’t feel sleepy enough to go to bed, yet. “What’s going on with you?”
Hiiro shrugged, slowly sitting on the bed. “Nothing much, really. Just...I was just thinking over...a lot of things, and...I don’t know, they were just bothering me.”
“Like what? Relena? Dude, she’s going out with that senior on the wrestling team. What’s his name? Dave?”
“Donald.”
“Ah, Donald,” Duo drew out, then rolled his eyes. “So? What, is that bothering you? You said you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.”
“I don’t. I mean, I don’t care. I could care less. It’s just that I talk with him a lot. He’s cool and all. Just... it just surprised me. It’s kind of weird seeing them together when I’ve been with her for a long time. You know? So...it bothers me that way, but I don’t want her back.”
Duo nodded seriously, turning one corner of his mouth downwards. “Then...what’s the problem? Something must be bothering you if you’re in my room after curfew. The last time you did this, you and Rel thought she was pregnant.”
“Yeah,” Hiiro murmured, running a hand through his dark hair. Yawning, he looked over at his desk, and made a simple gesture. “Is that the study guide for Trig?”
“Yeah. I’m almost finished. Wanna copy my answers?” Duo asked, grinning at him.
“No. If I did, I be getting everything wrong.”
“Ooh, so little confidence,” Duo chuckled, turning around to adjust his various papers and pens, setting them neatly to one corner of his desk. He then turned back around to face Hiiro, and found him staring at him. “What? Do I got something in my hair?”
“No. Just...you really sucked today, at ball,” Hiiro said, frowning.
“HEY! The hell! I was running my ass off over there!” Duo exclaimed. “I racked up over a hundred points this entire tournament!”
“Still, you could have done better. Ramos was right–our team’s really slacking this year.”
“I think it’s just our coach,” Duo muttered, fiddling with the end of his braid. “He’s not really...I don’t know. There’s just something lacking in the way he tries to control things, you know? Like he’s afraid of pushing too hard. Or something.”
“Or something,” Hiiro agreed, adjusting himself on the bed, hands in his pockets.
“He’s like, really a pushover if you jump on his ass for something. He’s too afraid of striking back, like some other coaches are. Like Stanton’s, man. That old guy was all over the court. If he could, he would have held his player’s hands and did it for them. Ramos is the type that let’s Winner do what he wants and take credit for it only cuz he’s like, the coach in name only.”
“Winner really calmed down this year.”
“Dude, he got laid. I’m telling you, people calm the fuck down when they’re gettin’ it,” Duo muttered.
“What do you think about that?”
“What?” Duo asked, looking up from a split end he was demolishing.
Hiiro shrugged a shoulder. “You know. Homosexuals.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation before?”
“...Yeah. I don’t remember your answer.”
Duo sighed, looking up at the ceiling in contemplation. He knew the whole conversation they’d had from start to beginning that day. “I basically said that it was okay, as long as they ain’t trying to hit on me.”
“Then...what if...” Duo heard Hiiro take a deep breath, and he tried not to look over, in case the other guy was yawning. He knew he wouldn’t stop himself from repeating the action if he was. “What if someone close to you had feelings for you, but he was a guy?”
“Who?!” Duo demanded, looking over sharply, ready to kick some ass.
“Just...some guy. I’m not going to say, because you’ll probably hate him,” Hiiro said, frowning at his reaction.
“That’s just...that’s–ew. I mean...is this person someone I knew all my fuckin’ life? Is he bi?”
“No...he’s not bi. He’s...confused. He...has feelings for you, but...he doesn’t know what to do with them.”
“And he told you this shit?! Who the fuck is it? So I can avoid him!” Duo snapped, humiliated at the thought of one of his guy friends liking him in that way.
“That’s why he doesn’t want to tell you, Duo!” Hiiro snapped. “Because he thinks of you as a valuable friend, and he doesn’t want to lose what you two have!”
“Then why you telling me this shit?” Duo demanded, angrily throwing his braid aside. “Some queer has a crush on me, and thinks all sorts of fag-shit about me, and I wanna know who this bastard is. So I can kick his ass and remind him to never like me that way again! I like girls! I ain’t no Goddamned queer!”
“He can’t help it!” Hiiro snarled, rising from the bed. “And it’s with that sort of attitude that he feels fucking shitty about himself. He’s disgusted with himself already. He’s never felt this way before, with anybody!”
“He has to be one of your friends, huh?” Duo asked, cracking his knuckles. He shivered violently at the thought of either Brad, or Milton, or Sam looking at him the same way he’d seen Trowa look at Quatre. It was just...disgusting. “I’ll fuckin’ draw him out. Lead him on. Then when I find out which one he is, I’m going to fuckin’ put him in the damn hospital for thinking that shit about me. Queers are wrong, Hiiro. I mean, I like them? I just don’t like the thought of them liking me in that way!”
Hiiro stared at him for several moments, a deep silence descending on them. Duo looked up from his knuckles, frowning at the Japanese, then blinked when Hiiro snorted, almost in a derisive way.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “I see. Now that I know what you think...will you be beating me up now, or later?”
The silence grew thick and heavy, and Duo swore that his heart had just stopped thumping away. He felt paralyzed and unfeeling as he stared at Hiiro in silence, unsure if he’d heard right.
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
Did he just...?!
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
He didn’t–!!
...will you be beating me up now, or later?
He didn’t–!
Hiiro frowned at him, narrowing his eyes. “You talk a lot of shit that you don’t back up, Maxwell.”
He made his way to the door, gave Duo one last stare, then slammed the door shut loudly as he left.
Duo stared at the door in the same numbed silence, unable to even function right now. Hiiro had just confessed, in a way, that he liked him. And...which was...Duo had always...and it was...
Did he hear right?! Did he just hear what he thought Hiiro had said?!
Or...or was this some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for something he didn’t know he’d done?! He drew in a deep breath, head ringing and banging with his own bells of disbelief and chaos after hearing that simple phase...and those before that.
Disgusted...he felt disgusted about himself for feeling that way about him. Him!
And Duo had been mooning secretly over Hiiro for the longest time! Admiration had just changed into something else, and–and he’d always dreamed of this moment! He’d had it planned out, but he hadn’t expected this–this–disbelief that it actually happened! He was still numb, but was slowly defrosting to the notion that Hiiro liked him.
Liked him! How–? When–? But–?
Duo’s heart was racing furiously, in a way that had him nearly leaping from his chair, pacing with agitated energy. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering what the hell prompted this confession! What had prompted Hiiro to like him?! What–? What–? WHAT?!
He started toward the door, to race after him, but he felt that it wasn’t the right time, yet. He was still in entire disbelief that Hiiro had confessed to him. He couldn’t rightly think, couldn’t rightly function. Was their friendship going to change, now? Was things going to change between them?! What would the others think of them? What, what, what?!
His mind was racing too much for him to entirely focus on. He ran his hands over his braid, then clutched it tightly. His eyes were wide and wild, and his heart was thumping furiously within his chest. He paced the floor in an agitated manner, then sank down at the edge of his bed.
“Oh, God,” he groaned into his hands, feeling them shake against his hands. “Oh, God, please forgive me. I like him so much. I can’t believe this is happening to me! Oh, Lord, what should I do? This can’t be wrong. This can’t be wrong!”
He knew he wasn’t going to receive a reply, or anything as comforting. He knew he had to rely only on himself for his next action.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The party wasn’t anything that exciting. Just a gathering of college and high school kids, same as it was over the summer. Quatre had lost Felicia a long time ago, and was sitting by himself on a leather sectional, nursing a beer, and trying not to get too drunk. It had been awhile since he drank, and it had immediately hit his head. He was thinking about his relationship woes with Trowa, and didn’t want to participate in the activities that were taking place. Somewhere, someone was having a chugging contest with a couple of well known football players for NPU, and somewhere upstairs, a couple were fighting loudly, as if their entire life depended on their volume.
Really, now that he thought about it, parties weren’t all that special–it was just a convenient place to come to to get really drunk and interact with others that wanted to do the same thing. He didn’t know anybody here, and Felicia had ditched him practically since they stepped through the front door.
He was contemplating getting up to go look for her when someone walked through the kitchen hall, and gave a startled yell of surprise.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were here!” Triton cried, obviously drunk.
“Ew,” Quatre muttered as the boy stumbled over to him.
“We just pulled up,” Triton said, flopping on the couch, hanging his head in his hands. “Me and...and...some guys. I forget their names.”
“You’re wasted. And what the hell?! I thought this city held over thirty million people! Why the fuck did you chose this fuckin’ party to come to?!” Quatre asked, wanting to kick him. Only because he knew that if Triton persisted, he wasn’t going to refuse a quick trip to one of the rooms. He glared at the beer can in his hand, and hurled it across the room, snarling over this ill-fated trip.
“Dude, that was a perfectly good can of beer you wasted,” Triton muttered, curling up on the couch. “I’m so fucking drunk...I’m going to lay right here for awhile, all right? Make sure no one tries to rape me.”
“Like they would want you!” Quatre muttered, noting that his fingernails looked a little long. He began chewing on them to trim them down.
“Everyone wants me...I’m Triton...Triton Bloom...” the senior mumbled, as if he were some famous stud-god, drifting off to sleep.
Quatre snorted, picked up a throw pillow, and tossed it at him. He stared out at the empty living room for awhile when a few other guys walked in, all of them in the same state as Triton. He recognized one of them as Stan, the guy with the overbite that had asked him about Felicia and had given Triton his phone number over the summer.
He wondered if Stan got his ass kicked yet. Quatre was still sore that Triton had his phone number. No matter the fact that Triton never called him.
“Hey, what’s up?” Stan asked, recognizing him. “Hey, is that girl here?”
“What girl?” Quatre snapped.
“Uh...uh...uh...uh...”
“NO! She isn’t!”
“Fuck...what’s her name?...”
“Who?” one of the other guys asked, sitting at Triton’s feet, and belching loudly. He reached over and shoved at Triton’s legs. “Look at this sad motherfucker! Passed out all ready!”
“Hey! Who’s got some markers?!” another guy asked excitedly. “Let’s fuck up his face!”
“Dude! I saw some in the kitchen!”
Quatre frowned as Stan plopped down next to him, and began breathing alcohol thickened breath in his face. “Hey, you know that girl you were with? She goes to your school, and you were always with her?”
“God, you fuckin’ reek...”
“No, listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! I want her, man. I want her real bad. Is she a virgin?”
“GET OUT OF MY FACE!”
“C’mon, man! Hook me up! I want her little ass! Get her to come over here! I want to talk to her!”
“NO!”
“C’mon! Hey, Triton....Triton! Hey, Triton!”
“Dude, the fucker’s passed out. He ain’t answering you!” the guy shouted from the other end of the couch, as if they were all hard of hearing. Quatre moved to get up and get out of there when Stan grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down.
Alcohol had a funny effect on a person–muscles didn’t always do what they were supposed to. After a pitiful struggle, Quatre found himself staring sullenly at the floor while Stan tried to persuade him to call Felicia over to him, so that the guy could talk to her.
The guy that ran into the kitchen to get markers had come back, and the others snatched their preferred colors from the options given to them. But just as they were going to start marking on Triton’s skin, the senior flew up from the couch, and made it to the doorway of some adjoining hall when he bent over and vomited.
Amidst all the cries of both cheer and disappointment, Quatre got up from the couch, and stumbled off to find the girl. There were various males and females wandering about, and he snagged another beer from an ice chest set in the middle of the foyer, and called for Felicia. He wandered all around the house, from the first level to the second. He even searched outside. He had no idea where the girl was, so he took out his cellphone and dialed her number.
“Yeah?!”
“I’m ready to go!” he grumbled, opening his can of beer. “It’s past twelve thirty! I’m tired...”
“Oh, okay! I’ll meet you there!”
“Wha–?! Where the fuck are you?!”
“I’m at Anthony’s house! A couple of blocks away!”
“You LEFT me HERE?! THE FUCK!”
“Hey, I couldn’t find you! I’ll be right there!”
“You fucking whore!!”
But she didn’t hear that, having hung up after her last words. Quatre hung up his phone, grumbled about being ditched, and wandered about. He had to use the bathroom, so he ventured toward the closest one, and saw a girl puking over the toilet, so he went to go look for one upstairs. He found one in the master bedroom–which looked like a basic parental unit setting, so he had to assume that whoever was throwing the party as underage, or something.
He used the bathroom, and was washing his hands when he heard the door open and close. He peered out the bathroom to see Triton ambling over, grinning a storm. Quatre eyed him undecidedly.
“There you are. Hey, how’d you get here, anyway?” he asked, blinking at him curiously.
“With Felicia...”
“Wrong Way Passage? I didn’t see her here.”
“She’s at some guy’s house! Some Anthony!”
“I don’t know him. Where’s that?”
“She said something about being two blocks away. Why?”
“Just wondering. I didn’t know you partied,” Triton said, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought Trowa disapproved of that, or something.”
“You’re real coherent for some drunken bastard that threw up in the living room!”
Triton laughed, unfolding his arms. “Hey, when I puke, things are great. I feel good enough to drive a car.”
“You shouldn’t. Fucks like you are the ones killing innocent people.”
“What are you? MADD?” Triton laughed at his own dumb joke.
Quatre rolled his eyes. He dried his hands on a pretty green towel that reminded him of Trowa’s eyes. He hesitated in letting go of it as he turned to the other boy. He frowned at him, noting the way Triton was looking at him. He felt uncomfortable and definitely horny, and cursed the stupid thinking in which he thought things were going to be fine if he just ‘drank a little’.
“Hey...come here...”
“No,” he replied, not wanting to move.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“You scared of me?”
“...No. It’s just...I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
Triton just smiled at him, a lazy sort of smile that had Quatre frowning with uncomfortable embarrassment. He picked at his nails in unease, but found himself thinking, What If?
“You smell,” he finally decided. “You were puking all over the place.”
“Hey, I brushed my teeth. Wanna smell? They even have Listerine in this dump. I used that, too.”
“...So?”
“Look,” Triton murmured, breathing minty-fresh breath against Quatre’s cheek. The blond found himself blushing at the contact, admitting that he didn’t smell bad, and his hormones, damn them, were yowling in demand for more. Triton pulled away, giving an amused chuckle. “Why are you turning all red?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. You know what? I think you should take a shower.”
Quatre blinked, looking at the shower and tub, then looked at him. “What? Why?”
“Just do it. Then come out here.” Triton grinned at him, then, in a way that made Quatre’s stomach curl. He watched as the senior closed the bathroom door, and Quatre was left standing in the middle of the bathroom, fretting over this. He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling something excited and sick. Hell, he’d been thinking about it. He’d even consider that this was the best way to relieve tension of the hormone sense with the guy. And now that the offer was extended...
Should he take it, and be agonized by regret later on? What would Trowa do if he found out that he’d caved to the senior’s advances? Would Quatre hate himself later on?
Damn it, if only he hadn’t drank what he had, and his common sense would be working fine. He took a deep breath, the another, and another, drawing his shoulders up and tensing them. He felt himself quivering with unease. But he really hated feeling restless due to horniness all the time...and sex was sex, right? And it wasn’t as if he and Triton had feelings for each other...it was just...sex. Consensual sex. If there was sex involved.
He took another deep breath, and felt his hand tremble as he brought up his cellphone, and redialed Felicia’s number. Then, he turned around, and turned on the water. When she answered, he assured her to take her time. He was going to be busy.