Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing
Read
away, please review and pleaseplease like it. Damn, I'm so sad, this
is crap!
Warnings: 3x4, medium swearing, violence in this chapter,
1x2 next chapter
This Pain
-
CHAPTER ONE – Something Like That
A few gilded clouds still scudded across the sky, but daylight was fading fast. A towering, austere building embraced Trowa's shadow as he faded into the school's brick walls like a chameleon. Moving with sinuous ease, he flicked open his lighter and set the tip of a thin, black cigarette alight. Scanning the tarnished school grounds apathetically, he took a deep drag of his cancer stick. He closed his eyes, opening them just long enough to watch his exhale whorl and blend with the chilled air.
Jerking the lapels of his black jacket up, he glissaded down the bricks until he was slumped over in front of administration's double doors. Buckland State High never gave a shit if he shacked up for the night, and neither did his dad. The last of his ciggy baked out and Trowa stubbed it out on the concrete, puffing the ashes off his chest. After languidly folding his arms behind his head, Trowa had just started sinking into a light doze.
A strident shriek ripped him from his reverie. His eyes shot open and he bolted upright, instantly alert and scanning the campus for the source of that sound.
"No! Don't touch me! I don't want you, Daniel," a boy's voice grated harshly.
Trowa whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes. Daniel, one of Alex's bastard crew – by far more volatile than the rest, was forcing himself on some kid again. In a flash, Trowa was on his feet; cold, sweet anger whispering up his spine. He padded silently across the crude gravel. That douche, Daniel was the reason why most of Buckland's outfits had formed. If Heero had killed him that day, maybe laughter would still exist.
Advancing swiftly, Trowa saw the boy lose his footing and fall. Daniel clambered on top, a lustful leer glued to his face.
The kid thrashed about dementedly. "Stop, stop! Get off me, you dirty, gross"
A fierce crack split the air when Daniel slapped his victim, hard. The kid uttered a choked cry as his head was cranked to the side.
A smooth, deadly mask settled over Trowa's features, and he picked up the pace.
"Shut up! I tried being nice to you," Daniel snarled, clamping both of the boy's wrists above his head as he straddled him.
The kid's voice was trembling. "Stop it! You weren't nice, you were subtle! Please, Daniel g-get off me!"
Trowa's blood pounded icily between his ears. It would be easy to take Daniel; he was nothing but steroids and fat. Trowa circled around the pair with unnatural stealth, coming up behind the unsuspecting slob. Daniel slashed open the kid's shirt and slithered a hand down his bare abdomen.
"D-Daniel! Stop!" The boy screamed, his pitch bordering on hysteria.
Trowa's lip curled in disgust. By the time Daniel had sensed Trowa's presence behind him, it was far too late. Trowa's hand tightened like a vice around Daniel's bulging neck. Before the slow bastard had even begun frenetically squirming to his feet, Trowa had violently flung him backwards. He turned to watch him bounce and roll like a rubber ball.
Feeling a pair of eyes ogle the back of his head, Trowa inched around uneasily. Suddenly liberated, the slender blonde, who wasn't really a kid at all, had sat up and was gazing at him alluringly. He was lithe in build, sensuous, but innocent-looking. Pure platinum framed a beautifully-shaped face and brushed the tops of his shimmering, aqua blue eyes. His perfect mouth parted soundlessly.
'Save it,' Trowa thought and pivoted around. A surge of contempt swamped him when he caught sight of Daniel's pallid, blubbering face. Blood bubbled from every lesion on Daniel's flesh and he looked like he'd contracted the Bubonic plague. The whites of his eyes stood out like beacons in the darkness.
"Sh-shit, what are you, Barton? Y-you can have him." Daniel spouted in horror, scrabbling backwards across the clumped dirt. "I-I didn't know he was your territory! I'm sorry man!"
Trowa regarded him indifferently. "Go home."
Daniel didn't need to be told twice. Shuddering violently, he hauled himself to his feet and staggered off into the night. Trowa slipped his hands into his pockets, ducked beneath the veil of his bangs and began gliding back towards administration. He didn't expect, or need thanks.
-
Too shocked to move, Quatre watched as his saviour straightened, mesmerized by the boy's streamlined form and rippling muscles. 'Hot', was the only coherent thought he managed to form in an entire minute, but then he realized his luminary was walking away.
"W-Wait!" Quatre yapped as the boy's back melted into the night. "Wait, Trowa" A cold blast of air hit Quatre square in the chest and snatched the last button off his shirt. With a startled yelp, he clutched the material and yanked it across his chest, shivering from the cold.
"Trowa…" he sighed the name like a sweet caress. If Trowa hadn't been there, Quatre probably would have been raped out of his mind. He hadn't realized Daniel would take it that far, hadn't thought the Senior would wait for him hours after orchestra practice.
That foul, sour mix of sweat and cheap cologne wafted up Quatre's nostrils, suffocating him.
All of a sudden, the floodgates on Quatre's emotions burst open and he slapped a hand across his mouth, hugging his knees to his chest. For months, Quatre had loathed coming to school. Everyday, he'd had to swallow Daniel's torment, his fondling hands, his own dignity, and everyday he'd had to feign he didn't care. Quatre dashed away hot tears, quavering slightly.
"I won't cry," he croaked weakly.
He hadn't cried when his millionaire parents had been reduced to paupers, or when he'd attended a school where every lesson was a threat to his existence. Duo looked after him, kept Alex's crew off his back, but Quatre couldn't stand it anymore. Couldn't stand playing the winsome prey. Biting his lip savagely enough to draw blood, Quatre blinked back tears. He rose to his feet, favouring the side he'd crushed when he'd tripped over a bit of curb. He'd just been rescued again. By Trowa Barton no less, a boy who was rumoured to use the school grounds as a safety gambit from whatever it was that lived at home.
Quatre sighed and gingerly broke into a light jog. Without warning, a jagged pain slammed up his right leg and crippled him where he stood. Eliciting a hopeless cry of despair, Quatre crumpled in a messy heap and moaned as the pain resonated in short, angry bursts up and down his leg. 'Oh Allah, what if I can't walk?' Quatre groaned. Crawling to one of the rarely lit lamps, he propped his back against it, his face puckered in a disgruntled frown. Staying at school overnight wasn't an option; Alex might jump him first thing in the morning.
Quatre clung to the lamp column, pulled himself to his feet and tried a test step. And failed. Hot, nauseating pain burst up his leg and left Quatre doubled over and gasping for air. He cursed and raked a hand through his floppy bangs.
What could he do? Hopping home seemed to be the only recourse. But how long would that take on one leg?
Armed with tenacity and very little hope, Quatre began springing across the dirt. Soon, sweat was dripping off his chin and his knee was throbbing so intensely he thought he might pass out. Spying a lone tree in the school lot, Quatre hopped over to it and leaned against it to take a breath. When he looked around, delightful splotches of colour were capering across his vision and the whole world was sliding slowly to the right.
Strong, lightning-fast hands caught Quatre before he hit the ground. His lips parted in an inaudible sigh when those beautiful, exotic features materialized over him. Was he dreaming? He had to be. A sweeping, glistening arc veiled one side of the boy's sculpt face, leaving the left pool of liquid green exposed and startling.
"T-Trowa…?" Quatre whispered.
-
'Stop looking at me like that,' Trowa thought uncomfortably and shifted the blonde in his arms for the third time in five minutes. It was unnerving, having someone gaze up at you with such pure trust and adoration. The boy's lips had settled into a soft, natural pout that Trowa couldn't take his eyes off. A fact that made him feel even more awkward.
Glancing fleetingly at the cherub, he slid to a stop. Number 23 was simple, elegant; there were no fist holes or graffiti. "Your house?" He suggested.
"Mm, but I – oh no! – I lost my key!" He flailed frantically, almost flinging himself out of Trowa's arms.
Trowa cursed internally, fighting not to lose his wriggling bundle. "Stop it," he barked coolly.
The small angel froze; hurt flaring in those bottomless blue eyes. "I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to cause you so much trouble."
Confusion clouded Trowa's face. "Can you stand?" he asked tersely.
The blonde nodded like a whipped puppy. "Yes, I think I can…"
For an instant, Trowa hesitated to relinquish his delicate burden. 'What if he faints again?'
"I won't break, Trowa."
Trowa looked up sharply. A small smile brushed the blonde's lips. His shining orbs dropped bashfully when their eyes met, but Trowa's pulse was already racing. He watched the boy's long, lustrous lashes sweep his soft pink cheeks, losing sense of time.
"Trowa?"
Trowa vacillated, and then hid his face as his cheeks flushed with heat. Without a word, he carefully lowered the blonde's legs to the pavement. He still burned with embarrassment, so he quickly began rummaging through his trouser pockets for a lock pick. After several minutes of useless meandering, Trowa was finally able to clear his mind enough to actually search for something he could use to pick the boy's front door with.
"I-I think I'm going to faint..."
Trowa raised his head, "huh?" He asked, distracted.
The guy swayed tipsily. Trowa grasped the blonde under the arms at the same instant he teetered forward and melted against Trowa's body. Trowa froze, breath hitching. He clasped the boy's slim shoulders to push him back, but the transit caused one slender thigh to slip aptly between his. A hiss escaped his throat as quicksilver pleasure raced through his body.
"Wake up," he growled at the blonde, lust deepening his voice. He closed his eyes as the blonde shifted against him. "Wake up," he tried again.
Unwilling to wait any longer, Trowa whisked the boy into his arms, coiled his momentum, and then kicked the door in. He tore through the house, swung into a random bedroom, and tenderly lowered his exquisite cargo onto the bed, retreating as swiftly as he had come.
Once he was back on the street of the destitute, Trowa jammed his hands into his pockets and seethed all the way back to the school grounds. Why did he suddenly burn for someone so innocent… so vulnerable? Trowa's breath whistled out between grit teeth as he summoned the image of that angelic face and slender physique. He let his eyes roam over the smooth, creamy flesh, but when his mind added him to the fantasy, Trowa swiftly banished it.
He didn't want him. He didn't.
Trowa stopped walking and glanced back at the house. But God, if his body was thrumming this wonderfully from that brief taste, what would it feel like to be inside him?
-
The next day
Light filtered in through Quatre's shuttered windows, testifying that dawn had indeed elapsed and Quatre still slumbered on peacefully. Watching the lightly snoring cherub, Duo rubbed his chin somberly. Quatre was never tardy, and he never slept in his nasty Buckland trousers.
"Poor Quat…" he mourned to himself, "wonder what's keeping him."
Blissfully sensing nothing amiss, Duo pounced playfully onto Quatre's bed, clamped a hand down on each of his quarry's shoulders and roared into his face, "WAKEY, WAKEY, RISE AND"
Quatre shot upright, "Gaa!" he gurgled, smacking heads with Duo the same time as Duo shrieked and fell off the bed.
Heart pounding in his throat, Quatre's eyes popped open. Terror churned deep within his belly as he swiftly scoured the alien walls. Where was he? How had he gotten here? As recognition dawned, the panic clotting his brain dissolved. Mystified, Quatre's brow furrowed. 'Why did I sleep in my parent's room?' He wondered.
Duo peeked meekly over the side of the bed. When Quatre caught sight of him, he almost jumped a foot in the air. "D-Duo!" He breathed, almost blacking out from relief. "It's you…"
Cocking a dainty eyebrow, Duo bounded lithely to his feet. "Course it's me," he uttered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "I'm here for your early-morning wake-up-call, mister. You're way late for class, by the way." He effeminately flipped his braid over his shoulder and began busying himself positioning a flash-card in front of Quatre's whacked ensemble of dolls. "Anyway," he jived, "I nicked these word-a-day flashies from English, so I figured the least I could do was bring you some. Oh, and no offence, but you really need a shower…" Duo trailed off as soft, heartbroken sobs permeated the room.
Quatre covered his face with his hands, trembling.
"H-hey…" Duo scrambled across the double-bed, his mind racing. "Q-man…" he stuttered, "what's up, what happened to you?" When the bub didn't reply, Duo caught his bottom lip between his teeth in worry.
He drew Quatre's algid form into an embrace. "Quatre…?" Duo pressed; more troubled than he wanted to admit when Quatre leaned into him, needing the caress.
"Duo, I'm so sorry…" his voice was a cracked whisper.
"Quat…"
Quatre's head snapped up, missing Duo's chin by an inch. His eyes flicked to the left of him as he desperately tried to escape the suddenly intense grip on his arms. "I-it's nothing, Duo," Quatre giggled hysterically. "Just… last night – that's all. You know Daniel? Yeah, you know Daniel. He waited for me last night, after orchestra, and he tried to rape me. It's silly, really…"
Duo expelled his breath in a soft snarl.
"…didn't even touch me, 'cause I was rescued before he got into my pants. I suppose you think I'm just being bothersome"
Duo's hands cinched down on Quatre's arms like a twin vice. He felt his nails pierce flesh, but he didn't care. Red swam before his vision. "Don't ever say that again," he hissed through clenched teeth.
When Duo looked into his friend's eyes and saw nothing but fear, his heart lurched guiltily, and he let go.
"I-I'm sorry…" Quatre muttered timidly. "Please – I shouldn't have told you – forget what I said.
"Shit. Quat…" Duo surged forward pleadingly, but the blonde recoiled against the headboard. "Please, I'm sorry Q-man, I'm not angry at you… I just…" Duo strove to marshal his raging thoughts. There would be time to murder Daniel later.
"I'm just sick of them – Daniel, Adam, Michael, whatever, always trying to rape us of everything we are."
"Duo…" Quatre spoke soothingly.
"You know I can't leave?" Duo continued cheerfully. "If I drop out of school, the Government will put me in Larude, where I'll probably get ass-raped ten times a day cause I'm such a girly-man."
Duo put his face in his hands.
"I hate this place, Quat," he muttered, his chest heaving. "I hate Buckland, but I can't leave. If I go, so does everyone behind me, and then so do all the little twelve-year-old's behind them. But fuck, Quatre, I can't stand being here anymore."
Quatre wrapped his arms around Duo. "Duo," he spoke softly. "You shouldn't be so sad… there are good people here – it's just…" he hesitated, "that the assholes among us, control us now.
Duo chuckled.
"And you know what?"
When Duo pulled back a little, his eyes held the controlled amusement of an elder brother. He tilted an eyebrow and quirked his lips, "What?"
"The guy who ran Daniel off and saved me – his name's Trowa. Duo, I… I think I love him."
Duo stiffened. Quatre started when Duo clutched his shoulders in a grip that hurt. "Trowa?" Duo rasped intently, pinning him with his eyes. "Trowa Barton?" 'No… not him.'
"Y-yes," Quatre stammered shakily. "Why, Duo? Is that bad?
Duo squeezed his eyes shut. It hurt all the more because he'd seen true rapture flare in Quatre's eyes as he'd made the hopeful proclaimation. Fuck, this was a fucked up world. What kind of place didn't let people love each other? Grinding Quatre's bones in his hands, he muttered dejectedly, "No, you can't. You can't love him, Quat."
Denial flashed. "What?"
"I said you can't love him!" Duo growled. A knife between the ribs would have hurt less.
Quatre's lower lip quivered. "B-but you love Heer"
"No," Duo cut him off darkly. "Don't say that, Quatre, please. I never loved him; he was just a phase – like Trowa is to you now. You can't love Trowa, it's…" Duo's voice cracked, "it's just not legit, okay?" Tears filmed across his eyes, but he furiously dashed them aside.
"Okay, Quat?" He commanded, ignoring the stinging behind his eyes.
The colour in Quatre's voice had died when he spoke next. "Buckland even has rules for love, huh?"
"Something like that."
Quatre took Duo in his arms. Resting his cheek against Duo's hair, he turned his head and planted a kiss on the crest of Duo's hair. "It's so unfair."
"Yeah." Duo smiled humourlessly. "This pain, Quat," he muttered, "It's not going to stop. Not until we leave this place."
A loud, queer, gurgling sound filled the room. Shocked, Quatre pulled back, glancing around the room.
His questing eyes finally halted on Duo.
Duo blushed sheepishly, "or I get some chow, eh-heh…"
Quatre clubbed him on the head. "You're such a drama-queen. I hate you, Duo I thought you were going to commit suicide or something."
"Aw, but I was contemplating suicide, I swear…" Duo whined as Quatre continued smacking him on the head.
"Whatever Duo, I'm never trusting you again. Pain, my ass."
-
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE
Next chapter: Duo and Heero spar 1x2, Quatre ignores and hurts 3x4, Alex's crew steps in and rumbles happen
