By The 41st Maguanac aka Galatea
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are my property and I make no money from this writing. Besides, I'm about to become a poor University student, and as a result have NO money.
Author's Note: Due to the recent changes on Fanfiction.net, I have unfortunately had to remove the lemon element from this story. This is the edited version for all those who complained about the NC-17 ratings on ffnet.
However, the story is available in all it's glory on my website:
http://www.angelfire.com/anime4/chez_galatea
***
The young barwoman eyed the blond-haired boy sitting at her bar with a vague interest. He had been sitting there for well over an hour now, silent in his reverie. His long blond bangs were splayed haphazardly across his forehead, a soft and uncharacteristic frown upon his brow. She had no idea what he was really thinking about, but every so often his mouth gently formed a few syllables, before returning to neutrality once more.
She idly polished the edge of a glass in her hand before tucking it back on to the shelf again. It was Friday night, and the bar was absolutely bustling with people. However, it appeared that the young man staring so fervently at his tequila shot was completely unaware as to the events going on around him, as though both blind and deaf to any universe but his own.
Lorna took a few paces towards him, and smiled down at him patiently. "Ya know, I'd be outta business if all my customers stared at their drinks instead of drinking them," she said, making an attempt at conversation.
The young man looked up at her through a pair of tired cerulean blue eyes, taking a few seconds for his mind to even register that he was being spoken to. "I'm sorry?" he asked.
Lorna leant against the bar. "My my, you look kinda young to be lookin' so blue there. What's your trouble?"
The young man shook his head. "I wouldn't want to bother you with my problems."
Pulling up a barstool, Lorna seated herself down next to him. "Listen kid, I'm a barmaid. I have to listen to problems all the time, whether I like it or not." The young man went back to staring at the faintly yellow liquid in his glass. "Not a big drinker, huh?"
He looked up at her again, slightly glazed eyes focussing lazily on her, as though too tired to even care. "No, I don't usually drink."
"C'mon kid, tell me what's on your mind," she encouraged as the blond-haired youth sniffed tentatively at his tequila.
"I'm in love with someone," he stated. He then went back into his silent reverie again, as though this was explanation enough.
"Oh really?" Lorna asked with a smile, "Well, that's good isn't it? I remember what it was like to be young and in love."
The pair of melancholy eyes locked on to hers, and she fell silent. "He doesn't love me," the youth explained. "But… I can't stop loving him…"
//Him?… Oh…// thought Lorna, wondering why she'd been at all surprised. She got all kinds of people in her bar. "How do you know he doesn't feel the same way?" she asked hopefully, "Have you asked?"
"It's a long story," was her only reply. The youth took a swig of his tequila, downing most of the glass. He pulled a face and winced. "Ugh…"
"You don't like it? I can get you something non-alcoholic if you like. I think we have some…"
Angry blue eyes glared up at her, and once again, the words she had been about to say were stolen from her mind. "Give me another," he demanded icily.
Despite her doubts, Lorna refilled the glass, and once again the youth downed the whole thing in one go. He pulled a face, but seemed more used to the sensation of burning in his throat the second time. "Don't you have anything stronger??" he asked angrily, "I don't even wanna remember who I am!!"
"Well, we have vodka, but I really don't think…"
The young blond man stood up and delved into the pocket of his light brown khakis for a moment, before banging his hand down on the bar top, depositing a bunch of bank notes in front of her. "Fill the fucking glass."
Lorna blinked, not expecting such coarse language from an otherwise well presented young man. She got out the bottle of vodka, and filled the glass halfway… before a glare caused her to finish filling it to the brim.
The youth gulped down half the shot and sighed. "So," Lorna started, "You wanna tell me what happened?"
***
"C'mon Trowa! Hurry up!"
Trowa rolled his eyes good naturedly as the exuberant blond ran a good few metres ahead of him and up the ridge. "Quatre! You don't even know where you're going!" he called with a laugh.
Quatre reached the top of the ridge and turned back to grin at his brown-haired companion. "I can hear it!!" he called back. He watched patiently as Trowa ascended the ridge to stand beside him, the warm autumn breeze gently pulling the golden leaves off the trees and showering them down on them both.
Trowa shifted the bag on his back, and gently pulled some of the overgrown foliage out of the way, taking Quatre's hand to lead him safely across the jumble of roots. He followed suit, until they were standing beneath the boughs of a large, old willow tree. He walked to one side of the tree, his hand resting on some of the hanging branches.
"Ready?" he asked, green eyes sparkling happily.
Quatre nodded silently, and walked over to Trowa's side, unable to suppress a grin of anticipation. Trowa pulled back the branches, allowing sight from beneath the tree, and out into the valley beneath.
A thousand times over, Quatre had speculated about how beautiful the Earth was, but nothing could have prepared him for the majesty of the sight before him now. After a soft patch of brightly green grass, the ground fell away beneath them in a sharp slope. A small river emerged from the valley wall beside them, gushing its contents down the steep descent and into the fathomless depths beneath them.
"It's so beautiful!" enthused Quatre, his blue eyes shining with happiness as he surveyed the patchwork of green beneath him. "Hey look! There's the circus tent!"
Sure enough, several miles away in the distance, the red and yellow stripes of the big top could be seen, nestled among the woodland treetops.
"Do you like it?" Trowa asked tentatively, his eyes resting on the small blond he had the fortune to be standing beside.
"Yes Trowa! Yes, it's, it's… wonderful. Thank you so much for letting me see this." Quatre turned back to his friend and ally, a smile gracing his face in an angelic and adorable way. Trowa couldn't help but smile back infectiously.
Trowa put his arm around Quatre's shoulders, enjoying the warmth of him through his thin shirt, wondering for a moment if Quatre might be getting too cold… but he didn't seem to notice, too enthralled by the vision of Eden surrounding them.
Quatre looked up into the kind pair of jade eyes gazing down at him, the love he felt for Trowa rising from somewhere deep inside him. It made his chest feel tight, a lump forming in his throat. He wondered for a moment if when he closed his eyes he might just float away on the breeze.
He had asked himself for so long whether Trowa could… maybe one day feel the same… but it seemed so impossible. Trowa had never shown him any signs other than friendship. There seemed something different about Trowa today… as though he had discovered an incredible secret which he didn't want anyone to know.
//And how I'd like to unlock those secrets…// Quatre thought to himself. //How much I'd like to know what goes on in your head, Trowa. I wish you'd let me in.//
Ever so slowly, as though entirely detached from his body, Quatre turned to face Trowa a little more, his other hand resting lightly on Trowa's chest, feeling his heart beat through his dark green shirt.
Trowa looked down fondly at the angel in his arms. He had never felt so close to anyone in his life. Not his sister, not Heero, or Duo. No one. At first he had felt so exposed by the idea of having someone to share his thoughts with, but the more he spoke to Quatre, the less exposed he felt, as though he was somehow filling in the cracks. When he was with Quatre, it seemed that every fault in the edifice of his hard outer shell was being filled with love, and he felt safe in this knowledge. Nothing could change the way he felt.
Nothing.
Trowa was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely noticed as Quatre slid his hand behind the jade-eyed pilot's neck, leaning his head back ever so slightly to brush a feathery kiss over Trowa's warm, soft lips. Trowa only even realised that he had closed his eyes when he suddenly opened them, and nearly fell over backwards, as though his hand had just been plunged into an electric socket.
"Tr-Trowa, are you all right?" a voice of kind concern was saying to him. He couldn't hear it though. He couldn't hear anything, except a voice screaming in his head.
Quatre felt his entire body fill with cold panic as he looked down at Trowa, who was leaning on one hand sitting on a log that had been behind him.
"What are you… what did you…?" Trowa stuttered violently, too scared to move, and yet too scared to stay where he was.
"Trowa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I…" Quatre felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes, and gulped to try and swallow the desperation. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand there, watching those kind green eyes almost glare back at him. //What have you done??// his mind was yelling at him, //What the Hell have you DONE?//
"You kissed me…" was all Trowa could say, his hand rising to touch his lips, "Why? Why did you DO that, Quatre??" his voice bordered on anger as he pulled himself to his feet, though he knew not where he was planning to go. He just had to get away.
"Please Trowa, don't hate me, I'm sorry," cried Quatre, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks, "I just… I felt… please don't hate me!" //Oh Allah, oh Allah, sweet Allah, please no…//
"WHY did you DO that?!" Trowa was practically yelling now, a cold fear spreading through him. He felt that the walls that he had spent so many years fixing and repairing were about to come down on him. He couldn't do that… he couldn't let that happen, he wasn't READY to let that happen. "What were you thinking? Why did…?" Trowa ran out of words, his head beginning to spin with the sudden intake of information.
"Trowa, please! I… I love you, I don't expect you to feel the same, I just… I wanted to…" //I wanted to tell you…//
"How could you just…? I mean, we were…" Trowa froze, his eyes growing cold and small. "I have to go now," he finally said. "I have to go." He felt Quatre grab for his wrist, the desperate pleas that followed, but he couldn't hear them anymore. He shook his wrist free violently, not running away, but strolling quickly. The anguished cries coming from behind him didn't slow him down. In fact, they almost speeded his flight, and it was not until he couldn't hear them any more that he liberally allowed himself the luxury of a few tears.
Quatre watched him go, calling his name, but not daring to follow. He didn't know if he could look into those eyes again. He couldn't take the pain of seeing that expression of disgust, that feeling of betrayal.
//I betrayed him,// was all he could think. //He was my friend, and I… I took advantage of that…// Unable to support his own weight any longer, he dropped to his knees on the soft ground, burying his face in his arms.
//It's all over. And it's all my fault.//
***
"That's really tough kid," replied Lorna sadly, watching as the young blond downed another shot of vodka, as she became increasingly concerned about how much he'd drunk already. "You oughta go easy on that stuff."
"S'okay," he replied, slurring slightly.
"Oh really? Say your name for me."
"My name… isz Quatre 'Berberberbera Win /hic/ Winner. Whassyours?"
Lorna shook her head despairingly. "Yup, you've definitely had enough of this stuff. I'd better put this bottle away before I'm calling the ambulance men to scrape you off my floor."
"Nonononononono," whined Quatre, hugging the bottle to him like a child and beginning to sob pathetically. "My alkyhole loves me. And I love my /hic/ alkyhole."
Lorna gently prized the bottle out of Quatre's embrace and tucked it under the counter. "You need some help getting home?"
"S'early yet," commented Quatre through his tears. "I wassa stay a liddle long /hic/ longer."
As much as she worried about the kid, Lorna didn't want to upset him when he was obviously so depressed, and she certainly didn't want to send him home if there was anything there he could use to hurt himself. "Fine," she replied, "Sit right there and just relax. The alcohol will make you sleepy soon enough. Hell, dance on the table if you want to, just try and keep your chin up, okay?"
Quatre nodded. "Maybe I… /hic/… maybe I will…" The smooth bar surface suddenly looked very inviting as a dance-floor, Quatre was thinking as he stood up, nearly falling over, and stepped up on to his stool…
***
"You heartless BASTARD!"
Duo stood staring at Trowa from behind his dark and angry cobalt eyes, an expression of anger and disgust on his usually happy features. "You're a heartless bastard, Trowa Barton," he repeated. "How could you just leave him like that?"
"I don't know," replied Trowa. His voice was almost completely muffled from having his head buried in his arms as he lay sprawled across his little bed in the circus caravan.
"For once I agree with the braided onna," commented Wufei, who was sitting quietly in the corner, his arms folded. "You should not have left him there when he was feeling vulnerable."
"Well, I didn't know what ELSE to do," said Trowa, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair irritably. "And if you don't MIND, I could do without all of you ganging up on me. I was surprised. I panicked."
Duo exhaled sharply, showing his obvious disapproval of the entire situation, and confirming Trowa's beliefs that he was no more fooling his associates than he was fooling himself.
"I mean, the guy bares his soul to you, tells you that he loves you, and what do you do? What do you do in the moment he's feeling the weakest?" Trowa covered his face with his hands as Duo talked, "I'll tell you what you do, you explain to him what you're feeling! What you DON'T do is make some petty excuse and get out of there faster than if your shoes have spontaneously combusted! And what's worse…"
"That'll do, Duo," came the calm voice of Heero Yuy, who had been listening to these goings on from behind his laptop.
"But Hee-chan!"
A glare from Heero was enough to coax his braided koi into silence. Trowa looked to him for support, "You agree with me, right Heero?"
"No," commented Heero, going back to his laptop, "But I don't think dwelling on what happened is in any way productive, and it must be noted that Quatre isn't here. It's getting late, and if he doesn't come back soon, someone is going to have to go and find him." Heero took this moment to glare meaningfully at Trowa.
Trowa sighed and nodded. "You're right, I should go. I've got to sort this out somehow." He stood up and headed straight out of the door. He had only travelled a few paces from the caravan before a hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see that Duo had followed him out. He rolled his eyes, "What is it, Duo? Anymore words of encouragement?" he asked sarcastically.
Duo shook his head. "I still hold my opinion that you are a moron. However, you can't just go charging out into the night like this. Do you even know where you're going to look for him?"
Trowa frowned and looked out into the thick woodland around them. He had no idea where he was going. He had a mission objective, and that was to find Quatre. He didn't care where he had to go, or how long it took. "No… not really," he admitted.
"I thought as much," said Duo thoughtfully, "Well, it was just a thought I had, but if Quatre's depressed, there's only one place he's likely to have gone."
Trowa stared back at him blankly. "Where?"
"Well, if Quatre's anything like me…"
"God forbid."
"Hey! Do you want my help or not?"
Trowa begrudgingly nodded his head. Duo continued, "If Quatre's anything like me, he'll have gone to the only place where he can be guaranteed to forget his worries for a few hours. It's where I always go when Hee-chan and I have an argument."
"This being?"
"Where's the nearest bar?"
Trowa shook his head, "Quatre doesn't drink."
Duo rolled his eyes, "Trowa, these aren't usual circumstances! If he was really as upset as you've been telling us, I promise you that a bar is where he'll go… Unless you've got any better ideas?"
***
Lorna was far from happy about the idea of the attractive young man dancing on her bar. It wasn't like people hadn't done it before, but they were usually not as blind drunk as the blond she was faced with now. She was terrified that he'd fall off and hurt himself, but the moment she tried to help him down, not only did he shrug her off, but she received a chorus of 'boos' from the rest of the patrons.
"Let's see him dance!" yelled one of the robust men sitting at a table in the corner, holding his drink in the hair. No sooner had the words been spoken, half the bar occupants had leapt from their seats and were now standing beside the bar, looking up at the lithe figure standing atop it.
"Seems like you've got an audience," she murmured from behind him, her brow furrowed in worry.
"Stick a reccerd on then, and I'll /hic/ I'll dance. I like dancin'."
"Anything particular?" she asked him hesitantly, worried what the answer would be.
"I kinda like that pretty birdie song… by that royal guy… with the hair…" muttered Quatre incoherently. "Maybe I'm just like my mother…"
It took a few moments before Lorna could gather what he was on about, before she realised that he was describing 'When Doves Cry' by Prince. Against her own better judgement, she found the record and put it into the player. "Be careful," she said to him as the music kicked in… though she wasn't sure if he heard her.
~ Dig if u will the picture
Of u and I engaged in a kiss ~
"C'mon pretty boy! Dance!" called the onlookers excitedly, as Quatre swayed his hips in gentle synchronisation with the music. It didn't take him long to let the music seep into his veins, and soon he was aware of nothing but the driving rhythm…
***
Here it was, just as Duo had said it would be. It was a relatively small establishment in the nearest town. It hadn't taken him long to reach in the jeep, but as far as he was concerned, even 15 minutes was way too long.
//Quatre must have walked all the way here earlier…// he thought, his body almost aching with guilt. //I've got to find him, I've just GOT to.//
There was quite a rowdy show going on by the sounds of things, as he walked up to the door. He peered in through the misted glass to see that some poor drunk had climbed up on the bar and was now giving his all to one of his favourite songs. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Trowa pushed the doors open and walked into the thunderous noise of the crowded bar.
~ The sweat of your body covers me
Can u my darling
Can u picture this? ~
Trowa couldn't see very well over the sea of heads between himself and the bar. He did his best to push through the heaving crowd of people to find the bartender. According to Duo she was a pretty middle aged woman called Lorna. With a final push and some irritated shouts, Trowa arrived at the front of the mass of people, his eyes alighting on the woman he believed to be Lorna.
However, her eyes were locked upon the young man dancing on her bar top, to whom Trowa had heeded no attention.
Until now.
~ Dream if u can a courtyard
An ocean of violets in bloom
Animals strike curious poses
They feel the heat
The heat between me and u ~Quatre was blissfully unaware of the presence of the object of his affection. The only thing he was aware of was the incredible burning sensation travelling up and down his every nerve. He thrived on it, letting it drive him to new levels of consciousness, far above the mass of people below him.
The heat was so intense that he began to sweat profusely beneath his light cotton shirt. His inhibitions far out of reach, he un-tucked the base of it, too keen to be rid of it to bother with the trifling buttons down the front. He loosened the collar and pulled the shirt off over his head, enjoying the friction it created with his already over-sensitised skin.
He dropped it to the floor behind the bar, running his hands across his naked chest, his eyes closed, his mind truly believing at times that these weren't his own hands. These were Trowa's hands that caressed him so tenderly, Trowa's hands that longed to cover every inch of his body…
~ How can u just leave me standing
Alone in a world that's so cold?Maybe I'm just 2 demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father, 2 bold
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry ~Trowa had never seen anything like this. This wasn't in any of the manuals he'd studied, this wasn't in his training. As a result, he had no idea how to deal with the sudden flood of desire which coursed throughout him.
He had just never even looked at Quatre this way before. He saw him as his friend, his ally. He saw him as that friendly face which was always smiling at him, even when he wanted to be alone. Now he was a beautiful, gyrating Adonis, his head slightly tilted back, lips slightly parted. There was nothing Trowa wanted more at that moment than to delve into that mouth and see what treasures he could discover.
From the moment Quatre gripped his shirt to the moment he dropped it to the floor, Trowa was almost certain that he didn't breathe. An uncomfortable heat and tightening in his groin caused him to pull himself on to a vacant bar stool, never for a split second taking his eyes off the ethereal vision before him.
//How can I be thinking this?// he thought, as images of a thousand passionate nights with Quatre danced through his rampant mind. He wanted those to be his own hands on that burning and slicked skin. He wanted to run his fingers through those blond locks, and God help him, he wanted to be the one making Quatre scream his surrender in the sweaty eternity of the night… //I want him,// was all he could think, //Oh God, I want him… I never even realised it, but there's no way I exist without him…//
~ Touch if u will my stomach
Feel how it trembles inside
You've got the butterflies all tied up
Don't make me chase u
Even doves have pride ~
Quatre danced as though balanced on the very wings of the birds he was singing about. He was singing? Yes, he was. The words were pouring softly from his mouth as he remembered the tune. He remembered why he loved this song so much. It described in so many ways how he felt about Trowa, how he longed to be soaked in his sweat as he thrust inside him. The number of times he had awoken himself in the night, so convinced that he could feel Trowa's breath on the back of his neck…
But it was never going to happen. He was never going to have him, and somehow he had to come to terms with this. The revelation of this was enough to send a couple of rogue tears rolling effortlessly down his cheeks. They felt almost cold against his already sweltering body, and he rested his hand on the waistband of his trousers, preparing to rid himself of these too. If he was to be vulnerable now, he didn't care. He wanted the whole world to see it. He wanted there to be a sign for him, like some freak-show at the circus: 'Come and see the fool who fell in love. Come and see him dance away his sorrows…'
~ How can u just leave me standing
Alone in a world that's so cold? (A world that's so cold)
Maybe I'm just 2 demanding (Maybe, maybe I'm like my father)
Maybe I'm just like my father 2 bold (Ya know he's 2 bold)
Maybe you're just like my mother (Maybe you're just like my mother)
She's never satisfied (She's never, never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other (Why do we scream, why)
This is what it sounds like ~
//Quatre, I never knew. Please forgive me. I can't bear this…//
~ When doves cry
When doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry)
When doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry) ~//I can't bear to see you this way… can't you see? Can you hear me at all? This is my fault. I loved you all the time, and I never knew. Can you forgive me? Can you love me after everything I've done? The number of times I've pushed you away…// Trowa watched as crystalline tears began to streak the cheeks of the fallen angel gyrating before him.
//Don't cry my angel. Don't cry for me, I don't deserve your tears.// Trowa felt as though his heart was being pulled agonisingly slowly from his chest. He watched the soft tears as they fell from the gently closed aquamarine eyes. //Hate me, kill me, scream at me, but don't cry for me…//
~ Don't Cry (Don't Cry) ~
//Don't cry. Please don't cry.//
The crowd seemed so ignorant of Quatre's sorrow that it made Trowa boil with anger. They laughed at him. Taunted him. He couldn't stand here and watch this. He couldn't let Quatre stand here and reveal to these disgusting men how vulnerable he was. He wouldn't allow it. He would protect him. His angel would not shed his wings for these barbarians.
~ When Doves cry (Doves cry, doves cry, doves cry)
Don't cry
Darling, don't cry ~A man near the front of the crowd had the gall to reach out and try to grab Quatre's leg, and something inside Trowa met an edge. He was consumed with anger, and flung himself out of his seat, his fist delving into the midst of that smiling, mocking face.
There was blood on his hands, but he didn't care. The bright crimson liquid and angry faces of the crowd were not going to stop him now. He wrapped his arms around the waist of the injured dove on the bar top, and pulled him over his shoulder from where he stood. There were people yelling at him, and through it all he could see the face of the panicked barmaid as she yelled at him to leave his precious cargo where he stood… but he couldn't. He would not look back.
~ Don't cry
Don't cry ~
Somewhere through his drunken euphoria, Quatre could feel a pair of gentle arms as they clasped him about the waist, and soon everything had gone topsy-turvy. The ceiling was the floor, and the floor was the ceiling. A cacophony of sound and colours surrounded him on all sides, trying to make sense of itself through his blurred senses.
He wasn't afraid though. He felt peaceful and half asleep as though in a doze as he was whisked through the crowd of faceless people. He wondered for a moment if maybe an angel had come to take him away from the madness. Indeed, as he was pulled through the door, he felt as though he was floating up into the clouds, the oxygen gently fleeing his body and into the quiet night air.
~ Don't, don't cry ~
"Don't you dare leave me, Quatre, don't even think it," said Trowa as he walked through the lightly frosted grass towards his car. "Quatre? Quatre, did you hear me?"
No answer.
"Quatre? Speak to me, Quatre!" //NO!//
Trowa ran the last few steps to the softer foliage beside the jeep, and slipped Quatre off his shoulders as gently as possible. "Don't do this to me Quatre, I've come to far and I've surrendered too much to lose you now…" Trowa wasn't even sure if Quatre could hear him wherever his consciousness was at that moment, but he didn't know what else to say.
He was still shirtless, and Trowa frantically pulled off his long coat and wrapped it around Quatre like a blanket. He leant down, listening for the welcoming sound of breathing, only to find none. A desperate tear rolled down his cheek, and he quickly parted Quatre's lips with one hand.
//This isn't the way I wanted our first real kiss to be…// he thought as he lowered his lips to those of his angel, gently breathing oxygen into his lungs.
He listened again.
Still nothing.
"Please Quatre, please, please, please, please…" he murmured over and over again as he lowered his lips again, inhaling deeply and once again filling Quatre's torso with much needed oxygen.
There was a cough. Trowa pulled back to allow Quatre to sit up, hacking repeatedly and gasping to get air to his every cell as quickly as possible. He noticed that more tears were flowing down his own cheeks, feeling warm against his cool flesh.
Quatre stared at him for a moment, a flicker of recognition appearing for a moment before vanishing into the glazed sapphire depths of his eyes once more. "I… I…" he murmured, his head nodding forward as sleep threatened to grab him once again.
Fortunately, Trowa's arms did instead, lightly shaking him. "You have to stay awake with me, Quatre. Stay with me. Stay awake. I've got to get you home…"
***
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