Chapter 4 (And they all fall down…)
Breakfast, zucchini pancakes and Belgian waffles topped with whipped cream and freshly imported Canadian maple syrup, a feast for kings, not the silent crew that bordered the ornate dining room table, still faintly smelling of tequila and lemons. Feeling as though he had seriously missed the punch line of the joke of the century, he cleared his throat and eyed the downcast faces of his fellow pilots. Stifling a chuckle, he mused at the eerie silence that swept the house, from top to bottom, odd it was, even his little Arabian dear scarcely looked his way. He knew he wasn’t guilty of anything, but somehow, felt he was at the center of something of which he would soon enough find out. Heero appeared hung over, as did Duo, most likely the results of a nightly erotic escapade the two would partake in at certain occasions, Wufei was quiet as usual, but strangely pre-occupied and almost happy, and then Quatre, who’s normal chipper demeanor had been ripped off, and left a frightened shell, he even physically looked pale and afraid, what feared Trowa the most, the blonde looked afraid of him. Normally, bizarre behavior never bothered him, that day however, it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch or a fly buzzing around that couldn’t be squished. Trowa hardly made it through breakfast without blowing up with the insane thick tension that lingered in the room, so thick it couldn’t be sliced with a butter knife. He stirred uncomfortably and played with his food, not liking the fact that every one else was doing the same, they had a reason, he didn’t, and he wanted to know, especially since it involved Quatre. The little beam of sunshine had been hidden by a cloud and had the audacity to ask him why he was fidgeting. He wanted to snap, he wanted to ask him why he himself wasn’t eating, and he wanted to know what he was missing, he had shrugged his shoulders to the little blond to appease his curiosity a little.
Folding his napkin beside his plate, he stood up and thanked Wufei for the wonderfully cooked breakfast, but he was full and couldn’t eat another bite although his plate had hardly been touched, as he looked down to his brooding lover and attempted to make sense out of the whole dysfunctional morning. The Chinese grinned, yes he grinned at the compliment not caring whether the plate was nearly full. Quatre, following suit, stood up, graciously thanked Wufei, and left with Trowa to clean their dishes. After putting his plate in the dishwasher, he leaned gracefully against the wall beside it, waiting for Quatre to come in, and he did, slowly, nervously, head bowed, and eyes to the floor. It pained him to see the blond so withdrawn and frightened, he took the plate from him and put it in the dishwasher, keeping his glance on the retreating Arab all the while. “Quatre wait. What’s wrong?” he spoke softly, using long paces to close the distance between the two, not wanting to frighten the boy away. He placed a loving hand to his cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “You aren’t yourself. I don’t know what has happened but you are worrying me.” Quatre remained speechless and covered Trowa’s hand with his own, attempting to keep from crying, biting his lower lip to keep from trembling. The emerald-eyed pilot saw his discomfort and wrapped his lean arms around the slender shoulders in hopes it would calm him, yet the smaller youth began to sob quietly in his embrace. “I… I don’t deserve you Trowa” came a muffled voice coming from his chest, in which Quatre buried his face. He smoothed the stray strands of blond hair that tickled his chin, “How about we discuss this somewhere more private” he suggested as he could hear the chairs in the dining room scrape the floor as the others had finished their meals. He nodded into his chest, and never leaving the protective embrace he was held in as they ventured to the room they shared.
Sitting Quatre on the edge of the bed, he kneeled down in front of the broken boy, who was nearly quivering trying to keep his tears back. Lifting a hand to brush a fugitive tear from his face, he leaned forward and planted a feather light kiss upon Quatre’s brow, to console him in whatever that was eating his brightness away. “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?” The blond avoided the scanning eyes, keeping his chin low; he searched for words that have been kept lodged in his throat. ‘How can I explain this, he has the right to know’ he battled with himself. His chest puffed out as he inhaled a large breath, also taking in as much courage as he could possibly muster in a situation like this.
“Yesterday”, he began quietly, “Heero and Duo had a rather large fight while we were out.” Trowa’s shoulders slumped, he couldn’t care less what the others were up to, and he really didn’t want Quatre getting this worked up over something that wasn’t even their business, he opened his mouth but the blonde held up a hand to stop him. “Please don’t interrupt. I know it’s none of our concern, but I have to tell this from the beginning so please don’t interrupt me.” He took in another deep breath and composed himself. “They got into a pretty bad one from what I could tell. They are both pretty shaken up by it, but that’s not a big surprise since it has happened before right? Well, this time, it’s different. It seems as though Wufei has brought himself into the picture and is trying to move in on Duo, who doesn’t seem to mind the idea of being with him, leaving Heero very upset. He was so upset that he was drinking himself stupid, and we didn’t notice him when we got home. That’s just about the point where I come in. You fell asleep pretty quickly, and I heard Wufei and Duo come in, nothing happened really. Wufei brought Duo into his room and was really quiet about it, and left to take a shower. I think they didn’t do anything, but that’s not the point of all this. After he went to bed, I had a hard time sleeping, for a good twenty minutes I was laying here until I heard a noise but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I know I should have woken you but I figured I could handle it. I’m a gundam pilot right? But anyways, I checked all the rooms, even the one that Heero uses when he fights with Duo, but no one was around to make any noise until I noticed Heero sitting at the dining room table with a bottle of tequila and looking terribly out of sorts. It’s strange, I don’t remember what happened between then and him pinning me against the wall, spitting about some nonsense about us, I mean him and I, being together like we once were when you… when I… when I nearly killed you and thought you were dead. He had some crazy notion that you were never in the picture, and that I was always supposed to be with him. He was rough at first, but was really gentle with me, like if it were hardly him doing it to me. I… I… I don’t know how to say it but, Trowa, I, he, we, the floor,” Quatre began to trail, his voice giving out being replaced by quick gasps of air fueled by unabashed tears pooling on his knees and everywhere else they happened to fall. Trowa sat there, cold, not knowing exactly how to feel, anger? No he couldn’t place anger, hurt and betrayed flew around, mixed with a little willing for some whoop ass, and most of all, curiosity, why Quatre was afraid of him this morning.
“I think what makes this worse Trowa, I… I… I think I enjoyed it. I mean I haven’t been with him in a long time, and it felt good, but I didn’t like it, it was wrong.” He felt like a child who just stole candies from the store, but more than that, the child that was just caught by his parents, he curled up his legs under his chin as he scooted further onto the bed away from the other adolescent who sat unmoving, safe for his eyes that constantly moved from one object to another in the over decorated room. The blond sat and waited for any reaction from the other pilot, but he remained stoically sitting there on the floor, keeping himself emotionally distant. “Well… say something. Anything! Please Trowa don’t shut me out. I had to tell you” he pleaded. The taller pilot’s lips moved into an uneasy smirk. “I don’t blame you” he said unusually clear, “he used you, the emotional person you are, he knew you would want him, and he wanted to replace me. He was just compensating for his inadequacies for keeping a stable relationship. If you ask me, he has problems, and now he just gave himself another. Yuy’s going to regret the day he was fucking born.” Leaving a bewildered Quatre on the bed, he stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him in the process. “Trowa, you never swear… You must be mad” he said to the now closed door.
Padding his way throughout the moderate sized house, searching for his soon-to-be victim, he imagined the various horrible things the Japanese did that night to his beloved, cursing himself all the while for even thinking of them. Rage began to blind his path; he walked directly by the smug looking wing pilot who was holding a half empty glass of water and bottle of painkillers in the bathroom, and watching the figurative steam blow out of his ears. He couldn’t resist commenting, considering he was feeling out of sorts, perhaps still a little alcohol resided in his system. “Trowa, panties in a bunch?” He stopped short, like a bull in the ring, sizing up the matador, trampled into the undersized bathroom and took Heero by the throat shoving him into the ceramic tiled wall with a crunch. “Did that hurt? Maybe I didn’t do it hard enough”, and thrust the Japanese into the wall with much more force than he had initially intended. The ceramic cracked under head and made a small cut Heero’s scalp, leaving blood smeared on the wall.
“Hey relax, it was a joke.” “Does it look like I’m kidding?”, grabbing him by the shirt hoisting him up to eye level. “You tell me what happened last night. I heard it from Quatre and everyone has right to a fair trial.” Heero, unwavering, and feeling oddly unlike himself, drew his lips into a cocky smile, “I fucked him last night, and he liked it.” Trowa cringed, releasing Heero to his feet, stood for a second raising his eyebrow, as if interested. The shorter pilot straightened himself, rubbing the cut on the back of his head with the tip of his finger. “Wrong answer shit head”, he slammed the unsuspecting youth into the wall again, pinning him underneath, bringing a swift knee kick to the abdomen. “Now, tell me again. What happened last night?” Heero coughed, the wind knocked out of his lungs, looked up at Trowa and smiled menacingly. “Are you stupid or just plain dumb? I fucked Quatre, and he liked it, in fact he begged me to do it, he didn’t even fight. Do you want a diagram?” He could hardly contain himself, his fist curled into a ball at his side, readying to strike down on the pathetically grinning face, “Wrong answer again”, grabbing Heero by the shirt, he brought the fist up, about to make an example of those that tread on private property, when Quatre ran in and held his arm back.
“Trowa don’t. He’s not worth it.” He threw the little Arab off his arm and snapped. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Quatre? He raped you and you just want to let him go unpunished? Or what he was saying is true? Did you beg him?” Feeling like he was just slapped in the face, he released his hold of Heero’s shirt and turned to Quatre, waiting for an answer. “No… Yes… I don’t know, I told you Trowa, I enjoyed it but I didn’t like it. Don’t make this my fault.” Heero’s lips turned up, strode to Quatre’s side, flinging an arm over his shoulder possessively. He whimpered inaudibly, eyes pleading to Trowa, as Heero began kissing his throat up to his chin and along his jaw to suckle at his earlobes. Trowa turned his head in disgust, feeling betrayed, not sure what to think. Heero continued to taunt the emotionally shaken Latino, “just like last night, he never fought me, not once did he tell me to stop”, grabbing Quatre by the waist, rubbing his groin against his own, “just like that” he repeated as his mouth took Quatre’s passionately. The blond, gone numb, attempted to fight back, but his body was being uncooperative again, his eyes searching Trowa’s, to get his attention, and pleading to not allow Heero to continue. By some small chance, his glances did reach Trowa’s and the Japanese hit the floor in a loud thud faster than the blink of an eye. Visibly shaken, he kicked him fiercely in the chest, abdomen, groin, wherever his blind kicks could land until he was physically satisfied, Quatre of course, intervening when blood began to seep onto the floor from his mouth. The blond wrapped his arms around the Trowa’s waist and pulled him out of the bathroom to leave the crumpled lump of a human on the floor. Looking down at his little lover, he smiled affectionately, “Sorry about that, are you hurt?” He shook his head in response cuddling into his side tighter. “So Wufei’s into Duo eh?” he said with a chuckle, changing the essence of the situation. “He’s going to have his hands full.”