A/N: No, this is not an update for any of my WIPs. This is, in fact, a new story. I apologize for not updating my current projects. To be honest, every time I start to update any of them I find myself just staring at the screen: I feel so disconnected from the characters and stories. I'm not abandoning them, but I'm taking some very solid advice to write what I am inspired to write at the moment. I will return to those fics, sooner rather than later, but I just need to get back into the flow of writing again.
A/N #2: This is an epic fic, in that it spans 13 years. It is split into 6 parts, each with multiple chapters. Each part will feature a different character POV and will run in roughly chronological order (Parts 3 and 4 are concurrent-ish).
A/N #3: Chapel Hill=Carolina=University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill
Warnings: AU, Angst, language, yaoi, lots of pairings (1x2, 2x3, 2x4, 2x5, 1x5, 2xH, 3x4, 1x3, 3xRalph) melodrama - probably I should add this warning to everything I write...
Special thanks to my beta Artemis Fenir.
This Time
Prologue
Summer 2001
"You don't want to go?"
Trowa knew there was no way to get out of this without Catharine growing suspicious. Her tone of voice already indicated that she thought he was being an idiot. Maybe he could run with that.
"No. I'd rather stay here."
"Trowa you're saying that you would pass up the chance to spend the summer backpacking through Europe - all expenses paid - and would rather spend the summer with me in the Hamptons, a place that you have hated for the last six years?"
He tried to think of a plausible excuse for why he wanted to go the Hamptons instead. The truth would never do - if Catharine knew the real reason why Trowa had decided to turn down their aunt and uncle's generous high school graduation present to him, Catharine would ship him off to Europe whether he wanted to go or not.
"It's really nice of Aunt Jim and Sarah to do this, but I just think I would get more out of it if I went in a few years, when my French is better. Not to mention that you got me the job at the country club - it would be irresponsible to just turn my back on that. Plus if I earn enough this summer I might be able to spend next summer doing an internship."
Catharine's cool gaze regarded him warily. She clearly wasn't buying it.
"I don't want to go by myself," he said in a last ditch effort, his voice as miserable as he could make it. It wasn't even much of a lie - Trowa had always been independent, yes, and the thought of spending the summer in Europe didn't intimidate him at all. But the thought of spending it alone when he had the chance to spend it instead with the boy of his dreams filled him with depression.
"Oh, Trowa," Catharine folded him into her arms and Trowa heaved a sigh of relief and even hugged her back. "Okay, I understand. I'll talk to Jim and Sarah - I'm sure they will understand. Maybe you can go in a year or two with some of your future college friends?" She pulled back and smiled at him and he nodded.
She released him and ruffled his hair.
"Okay then. We're going to drive out tomorrow to open up the house, but the Winners won't arrive for another two weeks. You've got some packing to do."
Trowa waited until she left his room before lunging for the computer. He waited through the interminable AOL dial-up process before finally gaining access to his email.
Quatre,
I'm sorry I didn't email you back sooner. Finals were crazy and I still didn't know what my summer plans were until this morning. I'll be staying at the house - I've got a job at the country club so I'll be working a lot but I'll be there with you.
And yes, of course I still think about you kissing me under the mistletoe at Christmas. I will never forget it.
See you in two weeks,
Trowa
He knew it was sappy and he knew that he was being an idiot to think that Quatre could ever feel the same way about him as Trowa felt, but he couldn't help it. Quatre Winner was the golden boy: the heir to the Winner fortune, handsome, smart and funny with a sense of loyalty and kindness that was daunting. Quatre was perfect and it still amazed Trowa that he had any interest in someone like him - Trowa didn't have money or a bright future mapped out. He wasn't outgoing and he had almost nothing in common with Quatre.
They had first met six years ago when Trowa moved in with his sister. Catharine was the live-in private chef for the Winner family. She spent most of her time at their massive Upper West Side apartment, but when the Winner family relocated to the Hamptons during the summer she traveled there as well. It had been the summer Trowa turned thirteen that he first met Quatre, home from his Swiss boarding school for the summer vacation, and Trowa had fallen hard. Quatre had smiled at him and focused his golden attention on Trowa at a time when Trowa thought the world had abandoned him. Over the years their friendship had grown and deepened. The summer Trowa turned sixteen Quatre had flirted with him, daring Trowa to hope that his feelings might be returned, and this past Christmas Quatre had actually kissed him.
It defied logic - there was no way Quatre should be interested in him, but if Quatre wanted to spend the summer with him, Trowa felt absolutely no desire to point out his hundreds of flaws. If by some strange twist of fate Quatre Winner wanted to be with Trowa Barton, Trowa wasn't going to question it.
-o-
His job at the country club was both worse and better than he had feared it would be. He was supposed to work as a busboy, but the golf course superintendent saw him walk into the restaurant and "promoted" him to a caddy. Lugging around the bags of clubs was hard work, and offering praise and support to the rich golfers who rarely earned it was tiresome, but the pay was significantly better and the tips were amazing.
As a result, Trowa came home exhausted every day, tanned and sweaty, his pockets full of twenty, fifty and hundred dollar bills.
Trowa had never liked the Hamptons - the only good thing about the huge estate was Quatre, and he hardly ever spent the entire summer at the house. The rest of his family - father, stepmother and twelve sisters - made Trowa feel like an outsider and a peasant. His sister also had to work harder in the summers, overseeing parties almost every weekend and forced to deal with the combined appetites of all of the Winners - every one of whom were picky eaters.
But at least Trowa's room, situated at the far end of the servant's wing of the estate, had a good view of the water and, unlike in New York, he had a private bathroom.
When Trowa got home from work in the evenings he stripped out of his clothes as soon as he got to his room and spent at least twenty minutes in the shower, luxuriating in the water pressure.
The second Saturday in the Hamptons Trowa was home by eight and eager to get out of his sweaty clothes and into the shower.
He had taken off his shirt and had his shorts halfway down his legs before he realized there was someone in his bedroom.
"Quatre?"
The blond boy reclined on Trowa's bed, Trowa's copy of The Federalist Papers in his hands, eyes wide and mouth open.
He quickly recovered and sat up with a smile.
"I'm home early. I'm assuming you're happy to see me?" There was a warm, teasing quality to his voice that simultaneously embarrassed Trowa and made him smile.
Trowa awkwardly pulled his shorts back up and fastened them.
"Of course I'm happy to see you."
Quatre's smile grew broader and he rose from the bed, crossing the room to stand achingly close to Trowa.
"You're so tan," he remarked, eyes traveling over Trowa's bare torso.
He knew it was vain, but the tan lines he had developed after the first two days on his job - courtesy of the short sleeved polo shirts he had to wear had made him spend most of his free time during the days on the beach, shirtless and reading, praying that Quatre still found him attractive. He was thrilled to see the way Quatre looked at him now.
"I've missed you," Trowa had to confess.
Quatre's eyes met his.
"Me too," he said. "All through final exams I kept thinking about you. Thinking about our kiss. Thinking about seeing you again."
"Don't tell me that thinking about me distracted you from acing your tests."
"No, but it sure did keep me up at night!"
Quatre closed the space between them and kissed him.
It was just like before - Quatre's lips were so soft and almost tentative, it was as though at any moment he might vanish and Trowa wanted to wrap his arms around the shorter boy and pull him closer.
The smell of Quatre's aftershave and the feel of his fine blonde hair between Trowa's fingers made him suddenly and acutely aware of the fact that he smelled like sweat and his own hair was plastered to his scalp from wearing a hat all day.
He pulled away.
"I should shower - I'm disgusting."
Quatre's nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air.
"You do stink," he agreed with a smile. "But I don't really mind."
He kissed Trowa again and ran his cool, pale hands over Trowa's torso.
Quatre started to guide them back towards the bed and Trowa pulled away.
"I need to shower," he repeated. "I don't want to be with you when I'm like this."
Quatre pouted but allowed Trowa to step away.
"Meet me by the beach later?" Trowa suggested.
Quatre smiled.
"I'll bring the marshmallows." He looked over Trowa's body one last time, winked, and then left.
As soon as the door closed behind him Trowa fell back on his bed.
What the hell had that been?
Quatre, he knew from experience, was impulsive and liked to get his way, but he was also shy, almost painfully so. Just now he had practically jumped Trowa, and that kind of behavior was almost the opposite of Quatre's normal mannerisms.
Trowa was flattered, and it wasn't as if he hadn't dreamed of exactly that scenario for months now - but it unsettled him all the same. Something was clearly wrong.
-o-
It was midnight before Quatre joined Trowa on the beach.
Trowa already had a decent sized fire going and had stolen a few bamboo skewers from the kitchen supplies for their late night rendezvous.
Quatre presented the bag of marshmallows with a triumphant grin and Trowa accepted them with a smirk.
He thought it was adorable that Quatre believed he was able to take take them, undetected by Catharine. She had known about this ritual from the beginning and had even switched over to gluten-free marshmallows when Quatre decided to be a vegetarian the summer he turned sixteen, a phase that had thankfully passed because Trowa hated the gluten-free marshmallows with a passion.
Trowa skewered two marshmallows and passed one to Quatre.
The blonde boy accepted it and sat down in the sand beside Trowa, close enough that their shoulders bumped together.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
His question startled Quatre.
"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."
"Quatre, I've known you for six years. What just happened in my room... that's not you."
Quatre turned towards him.
"What do you mean that wasn't me? Are you... are you trying to end this?"
There was a strange quality to Quatre's voice and Trowa actually felt his heart seize up for a moment.
Did Quatre want to end this? Was he trying to push Trowa to be the one to say it?
"End what?" Trowa asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "This isn't even anything, is it? Just one kiss and a few emails."
"And years of flirting," Quatre protested.
"Well, that too," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean -"
"I like you, Trowa. I like you a lot. Maybe this isn't something yet, but I want it to be."
"Then tell me what's wrong. We're still friends, right?"
Quatre nodded and glumly picked at his now charred marshmallow.
"During exam week my roommate... he was fooling around with the gardener and... and he was caught I guess and the school told his father. He disowned him - for being gay. He completely cut him off and his entire life - I mean, what is he going to do now? How is he going to go to college? What is he -"
"Quatre."
He turned and Trowa could actually see tears in his eyes. Now he understood what was wrong.
"Your father loves you and he wants you to be happy. He wouldn't do that to you."
Quatre opened his mouth, ready to protest.
"But," Trowa cut him off, "he doesn't have to know. About you or this or anything. Whatever you want - I just want to be with you."
Quatre swallowed hard and nodded.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I was nervous and scared and -"
"And turned on by how hot I am, I know. It's okay."
Quatre laughed and they sat in contented silence, feasting on the marshmallows.
"I do want you, though," Quatre said an hour later when they put out the fire and started back towards the house. "I just... well, maybe I got a bit ahead of myself."
Trowa nodded and ducked forward to kiss Quatre before they got too close to the house.
"Good. Because I want you too."
-o-
The end of summer was almost in sight, and Trowa started to dread each new day, knowing that August would arrive all too soon.
June had passed in a golden haze of sun, work and Quatre. Trowa spent every free moment with Quatre and fell more in love with him every day.
They walked the beach together almost every night. They spent Trowa's days off of work sailing or holed up in Trowa's room when it rained.
Their physical relationship progressed slowly, and Trowa waited for Quatre to take the next step in everything they did.
He waited for Quatre to shift their kissing from vertical to horizontal. He waited for Quatre's hands to wander down below his waist before he did the same. He waited for Quatre to pounce on him one afternoon while they were sailing, both still fully clothed, and let Quatre set the pace as they moved against each other, the friction of their clothing and their bodies bringing both boys to the first shared orgasm. He waited for Quatre to join him in the outdoor shower one afternoon after they had been swimming and let Quatre strip him naked before he did the same. He waited until Quatre snuck into his room one night with a bottle of lotion and a nervous, determined expression on his face before he allowed himself to touch Quatre, to bring him to the moment when his entire face froze and a look of wonder passed through his eyes.
Trowa spent his entire summer waiting. Waiting to get off work so he could see Quatre. Waiting for Quatre to grow bold enough to move their relationship forward. Waiting for the summer to end, waiting for Quatre to leave him.
By the time the July 4th weekend rolled around Trowa decided that he had to do something.
-o-
"Come with me," Quatre insisted. "It will be fun."
Trowa doubted that spending the weekend with Quatre's trust-fund childhood friends would be anything close to fun and he didn't bother to hide his opinion of them or the prospects for a weekend spent with that crowd.
"I have nothing in common with any of them."
"You have me in common," Quatre pointed out. "I like you - they will too."
"Quatre, you want to jump my bones. Unless you're telling me that all of your friends are gay and this is some kind of Upper West Side orgy, they aren't going to like me."
"If it was an Upper West Side orgy we would not be going," Quatre assured him. "I'm not sharing you with anyone."
The note of possessiveness in Quatre's voice simultaneously thrilled and irritated Trowa, and he immediately berated himself for being an idiot. He should be happy that Quatre was possessive and he should be happy that Quatre considered him to be his.
"Come on," Quatre wheedled. "A weekend without parents - or sisters... a weekend in the city, away from the Hamptons. I know how much you hate it here..."
That much was the truth, but however much Trowa hated the Hamptons he was positive he would hate a weekend in the city, with Quatre's friends, even more.
"I can't. I have to work."
Quatre rolled his eyes in irritation.
"Call in sick."
Trowa had to laugh.
"I can't call in sick on July 4th! They'll know I'm lying."
"So? It's one weekend and -"
"And I promised I would work. I'm covering for two other guys who have families."
"Trowa, this might be one of our only chances to spend time together. Alone."
"Quatre, we won't be alone - we'll be with fifty of your friends."
"Trowa -"
"Quatre, why not just stay here with me? We can take the boat out and watch the fireworks together... we can spend the night on the boat, at the marina even. Just the two of us."
Quatre looked on the verge of capitulating.
"I don't belong with them," Trowa had to add. "I'm not like them."
"But I am," Quatre pointed out, and Trowa realized he had said the wrong thing. "I do belong with them and I'm one of them - so what does that say about us?"
"I -"
"I'm serious, Trowa. If you don't think you belong with them - do you really think we belong together? Is that why you always hesitate? Is that why I'm always the one pushing us forward?"
"No. That's not it at all."
"Then what is it? Why does it feel like I'm in this and just dragging you along with me?"
Trowa suddenly realized that he had been a moron this entire time.
"I'm in this too," he protested. He struggled to find the words to explain how he felt.
"Really?"
"Yes -Quatre, I want you. I want this!"
Quatre sighed and Trowa could see just how hurt the blonde boy was.
"Trowa, you've liked me for years, haven't you?"
He nodded, unsure where this was going.
"Then why didn't you ever kiss me? Why did you wait for me to kiss you last Christmas?"
Trowa felt dread settle into his stomach.
"Why?" Quatre repeated when Trowa remained silent.
"Because I was afraid," Trowa finally admitted. "I was afraid of what would happen if I was wrong - if you didn't really like me or if you didn't want me to kiss you. I had to wait for you."
It was Quatre's turn to be silent.
"What did you think would happen, Trowa? If you kissed me and I didn't kiss back? What did you have to be afraid of?"
"I didn't want Catharine to lose her job."
Quatre stared at him, his eyes wide and hurt.
It was the truth, and Trowa knew that Quatre had wanted to hear the truth - but Quatre hadn't wanted that to be the truth.
Quatre left him and the next day Trowa found out that he had gone to the city to spend time with his friends.
It was a miserable weekend for Trowa. The rich assholes at the golf course were inevitably rich drunk assholes that weekend who were too drunk to play well and took it out on the course, their clubs and Trowa. His tips were poor and the weather was intolerable - stale, humid heat that settled over everything without even a breeze.
He spent the evening of July 4th in his room, reading, until Catharine found him and made him come watch the fireworks with the rest of the Winner staff.
They had built a fire and were roasting carnivore s'mores - one of Catharine's childhood inventions, it involved filling a mushroom cap with cream cheese and then wrapping it with bacon.
Trowa reluctantly joined the crowd and petulantly accepted a freshly roasted s'more and ate it, wishing it wasn't so damned delicious.
"What's up, little bro?" Catharine sat down beside him.
"Nothing. I hate the Hamptons. I hate this weather."
Catharine arched an eyebrow at him.
"Really? Because you've seemed so happy this summer. I mean - I only get to see you at a distance and even then for about five seconds, but the few times I have seen you, you were smiling."
Trowa felt guilty for not spending time with Catharine. He hung his head.
"I'm sorry, Cathy."
"Cathy? Ohh... this is serious. You only call me Cathy when you really need my help."
"I don't need your help - I'm just sorry. I haven't spent any time with you this summer and I'm a bad brother."
Catharine ruffled his hair.
"Sure, but you're my bad brother. How are you doing with your summer reading?"
Trowa made a face, feeling even more guilty.
"Not good. I've read a few books for my fall classes but..." he trailed off. He couldn't say he had been too busy, because he could have made the time. Just like he could have made the time to spend with Catharine.
She nodded.
"So you've ditched your sister, you're falling behind on your summer reading, you're spending July 4th alone and miserable... are you sure secretly dating Quatre Winner is worth it?"
Trowa glared at her.
"How long have you known?"
"Please, Trowa! I knew something was up when you didn't want to go to Europe, but I hoped I was wrong. Then Marie saw you two fooling around in the outdoor shower a few weeks ago and couldn't resist telling me."
Trowa felt his face flush.
"She told everyone, didn't she. Everyone's known, this whole time."
"Everyone except his family. Your family has known this whole time, yes."
"Cathy - I really like him."
"Trowa, you've been in love with him since - I'm guessing - the day you first saw him. I know you really like him. But does he really like you?"
Trowa nodded. Hadn't their fight shown Trowa just how much Quatre cared for him?
"Does he want what's best for you?"
Trowa frowned at that question.
"Yes - why wouldn't he?"
Catharine sighed.
"Oh, I don't know, because he's keeping this a secret and making you miserable."
"He isn't making me miserable. I made myself miserable."
"Really? And how did you manage that?"
"He wanted me to go to the city with him and I didn't want to go. I don't... I don't fit in with those people."
"Trowa -"
"I'm not saying that they're better than me. They aren't. But they're different. I already don't have much in common with anyone else my age - I've got nothing in common with those people."
"I should give you some speech and judging people before you know them... but seeing as how I do know the crowd he spends his time with I have to agree with you. You would have been miserable. Not to mention grounded since you would have had to sneak out - I never would have let you go to that party."
"I could have lied," Trowa protested. "I could have told you there was some exhibit at the Natural History Museum and you would have let me go - don't try to deny it. Besides, I'm eighteen. You can't ground me anymore."
"Oh, can't I?" The tone of her voice dared Trowa to tempt her.
Trowa sighed.
"When I'm with him, nothing else matters. It just feels so right."
"But Trowa, everything else does matter. There is more to life than being in love. This summer is going to end - you are going to go off to Chapel Hill and he's going off to wherever -"
"Princeton," Trowa supplied.
"Princeton," Catharine repeated. "North Carolina and New Jersey are not that close. Especially not if you're in a secret relationship. Trowa - what happens when his father finds out? And he will - you know he will. Do you think he will ever see you as anything more than Quatre's secret boyfriend?"
Trowa felt his chest constrict at Catharine's words. She was right.
"So you just want me to break up with him? Walk away from someone who lo - who I love?"
"Honestly, yes. I think that in the end that would be for the best. But since you're my stubborn little brother there's no way you will do that. So instead I'm asking you to really think about what you want. Think about the future. Think about what you and Quatre could have and think about what you want to have. Because I'm willing to bet it isn't this."
-o-
It was the middle of the week before Quatre came back from the city. Trowa saw the car drop him off at the house one night just at sunset. Quatre looked awful - pale and wrinkled with dark circles under his eyes that Trowa could see even at a distance.
He waited for Quatre on the beach that night until dawn, but he never came.
Work that day was a special trial for Trowa. Michael Andrews requested him as a caddy for the fifth time that summer and Trowa was forced to endure hours of poor golf and lecherous comments from the middle-aged hedge fund manager. Trowa remained polite, but it was an effort - especially when Andrews gave him only five dollars at the end of a four hour session. Andrews assured Trowa that he would get his full "reward" if he met him later.
Trowa took the five dollar bill and went straight to his supervisor to request that he never be placed with Andrews again. His request was denied - Andrews was a long-standing club member and if he wanted Trowa as a caddy, that's exactly who would caddy for him.
He spent the rest of the day in an angry, exhausted haze. It wasn't the first time a golfer had made advances to him that summer - but Andrews treated Trowa as though he could simply buy him and that went beyond annoying. It was exactly the attitude that Trowa hated about these people - they could buy anything they wanted and they somehow believed that everyone around them wanted to be purchased.
By the time he got home that night Trowa was contemplating getting into the shower and just sleeping there.
Quatre was sitting on his bed again.
He looked just as awful as he had the day before, and up close Trowa could see that even his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.
Trowa had no idea what to say to him - he wanted to ask where he had been, if he was okay - he wanted to apologize, he wanted to argue.
But in the end he just kissed him. He tried to channel his anger and his love into the kiss. He wanted Quatre to understand because Trowa didn't think he could put everything into words.
Quatre kissed him back, tentatively at first, and then with passion.
Soon they were naked and moving against each other, straining for release and forgiveness. Trowa swallowed Quatre's moans of pleasure and his final gasp when he reached orgasm and then he let himself follow Quatre.
They lay together in the bed for some time after that, silent, lost in all the words they needed to say.
"I love you," Trowa finally said. "I always have. And I've been afraid. I'm not like you - I'm not part of your world and I don't want to drag you out of it. You have a great life ahead of you. You have family and a future and friends -"
"Friends?" Quatre snorted derisively. "I had a friend - one friend. My roommate at school. And just look at what I - look at what happened to him. He was my only friend, aside from you. Those people - they aren't my friends. You were right not to come to the city. You aren't like them." Quatre turned over so that he was looking directly at Trowa. "That's why I love you. That's why I want to be with you."
"Tell me what happened this weekend."
Quatre smiled sadly.
"I wish I could. I don't remember much - I've never had so much to drink in my life. I don't think the LSD helped my memory much either," he added ruefully.
Trowa felt a stab of guilt.
"I should have gone with you. I should -"
Quatre kissed him and then shook his head.
"No. Those bad choices were all mine." He sighed. "We used to drink in school, and last semester my roommate and I smoked pot for the first time - neither of us liked it and he never wanted to try anything else. But I... I don't know. I just needed something - I needed to see how shitty life was without you."
"Don't do it again," Trowa pleaded.
"Don't let me?"
Trowa nodded.
Quatre sighed again and curled up against Trowa's chest.
"It's almost August. What are we going to do?"
Trowa ran his fingers over Quatre's arm.
"I can take the train up to see you," Trowa suggested. "We can still email - we can talk on the phone. We can make this work."
"You really think so?"
Trowa nodded and kissed Quatre's shoulder.
"You could always transfer."
Quatre shook his head.
"My father would kill me. He's wanted me to go to Princeton since I turned two. You could transfer."
Trowa laughed.
"Yeah - I can cover that tuition no problem."
"You're already paying out of state at Carolina."
"No, I'm on a full scholarship," Trowa corrected.
"I always forget how smart you are."
Quatre rolled over and smiled.
"It's just that you're so ridiculously good looking - it doesn't seem fair that you get to be both."
"Life's not fair," Trowa told him.
-o-
July passed even quicker than June.
Trowa started taking his books with him to work, reading between holes and whenever he had a break. He also started waking up early enough to have breakfast with Catharine and he realized that he was going to miss seeing her smile at him everyday.
But his nights and days off were still spent with Quatre. Trowa tried to enjoy every minute of their time together. He desperately wanted to believe that they could make a long distance relationship work, but his fear that Quatre would start college and forget about him made him desperate.
He didn't want Quatre to ever look like he had after the 4th again. He even thought about trying to track down Quatre's old school roommate - maybe if Quatre knew he was okay he would feel more confident about the future.
But it seemed as though every day Quatre grew just a little more distant - he still smiled at Trowa and still responded to his every touch with enthusiasm and vocal delight, but there was a look in his blue eyes that made Trowa wonder just what he was thinking.
He wasn't used to Quatre being pensive or sad - and he was both now.
It was the first night of August when Trowa finally decided to confront him about it.
They were sitting on the beach, both wearing sweaters against the late night chill, and Quatre was between Trowa's legs, resting his head and against Trowa's chest.
"I'm your friend first, Quatre," Trowa said into the still night. He had spent the last two days trying to figure out what to say, and he felt that he finally had the right words.
"I love you and I want you to be happy - and you're not. I don't know what's wrong and I don't even know how to ask."
Quatre sighed. Trowa had heard too many of his sighs lately.
"I'm just thinking about the future," Quatre finally said, his voice so low Trowa had to strain to hear him.
"I'm thinking about college and grad school and working for the company and my whole life. I'm thinking about this future that stretches out forever and I'm never going to be happy."
Trowa could hear the raw emotion in Quatre's voice and it unsettled him.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing," Quatre said bitterly. "You're perfect, Trowa. You're amazing and - perfect. If I was anyone else I could spend the rest of my life with you and be happy, but I'm not anyone else. I'm me. And -"
"Quatre, I mean it. I'm your friend first. If being with me isn't what you want, we don't -"
"No, Trowa. That's not what I'm saying. I want to be with you. You make me happy."
Trowa allowed himself to feel relief at those words.
Quatre sighed again.
"I don't know how to explain it. Don't you ever feel like you don't belong in your own skin? Don't you ever wish you could just wake up one morning and leave - leave everything behind?"
"No," Trowa said honestly.
"I couldn't do that to you or Catharine or -"
"Trowa. How are you possibly this good?"
"I'm not," Trowa protested. "I just -"
Quatre turned around and kissed him.
"I love you, but it's cold and I'm hungry. Let's go back to the house."
Trowa rose from the sand and helped Quatre stand up. He walked beside him, more unsure now than he had been before.
"Catharine just bought papaya today," Trowa volunteered. He knew it was Quatre's favorite fruit, but the blonde man only shrugged.
"Sure."
Trowa led them towards the kitchen and rooted around in the walk-in ice box until he found one of the papaya.
He washed it and started to slice it, trying to figure out what Quatre needed.
Trowa felt Quatre's hands slide up the inside of his shirt and he turned around.
"I thought you were hungry?"
Quatre smirked up at him.
"Oh, I'm definitely hungry. And I know exactly what I want to put in my mouth."
The blond man pulled Trowa's shirt up and over his head before running his hands over Trowa's chest.
He looked down and marveled at the contrast in their skin tones - Quatre was so pale, his hands appeared delicate against the darkness of Trowa's tan.
Quatre's hands drifted towards the fly on Trowa's shorts and he stopped him.
"We can't do this here, in the kitchen."
"I've got condoms in my room," Quatre said.
Trowa swallowed hard as a sudden and vivid mental image of he and Quatre together like that filled his mind.
"Are you sure that's what you want?" He managed to ask.
"Are you?" Quatre taunted and Trowa kissed him.
He hoped he managed to convey to Quatre just how much that was what he wanted.
When the blonde man pulled away there was a dazed expression on his face and Trowa couldn't help but smirk at that. Yes, Quatre knew how much he wanted it.
"Come on."
Quatre grabbed his hand and Trowa abandoned the fruit on the kitchen counter before allowing himself to be dragged from the room.
He rarely visited this side of the house - when they were younger Quatre had had a video game system in his room that they played. But his father had thrown that out years ago when he suspected Quatre of being too "soft" and instead sent him to a sports summer academy for the rest of the vacation.
Trowa followed Quatre up the stairs, both as silent as possible, and into the dark room at the end of the hallway.
As soon as the door closed behind them Quatre pounced, shoving Trowa's shorts down his narrow hips without bothering to open the fly. Then Quatre knelt in front of him and slowly pulled down his boxers.
"Quatre "
"Shh. You don't want to wake up my sisters."
And then Quatre was doing things that made Trowa clench his fists and close his eyes. He had to lean back on the door for support.
"Oh God - Quatre, stop. Stop!" He finally pushed Quatre away and had to shudder as the chill night air hit his exposed flesh.
"What?" Quatre asked with a devilish grin.
Trowa knelt down and kissed him again.
"I love you," he said. "Even though you torture me."
Quatre kissed him back.
"I think you love me because I torture you."
Trowa nodded and started to remove Quatre's clothes, taking his time and caressing the other man's skin.
Once he had the other man naked he repaid Quatre's attentions with torture of his own and soon had Quatre gasping and moaning under him.
"Shh," Trowa said when he pulled away for air. "You don't want to wake your sisters."
Quatre started to laugh but the laugh almost immediately turned into a deep, guttural groan as Trowa brought him to orgasm.
The blonde boy glared at him once he had recovered.
"I didn't want it to be like that. I wanted you inside me when I came."
Trowa brushed his bangs out of his eyes.
"Who says you won't?" He leaned down and kissed Quatre. "You're eighteen. You get hard every five seconds."
To demonstrate his point he started to caress Quatre again, and sure enough Quatre was soon thrusting against him.
"And you think I like to torture you," the blonde muttered before shoving Trowa away. "On the bed - I'm not getting carpet burn, even for you."
Trowa grinned and followed him up onto the bed.
Quatre fished around inside one of the nightstands beside the bed before depositing a small tube of lubricant and a condom in Trowa's hand.
"You're sure about this?" Trowa had to ask again.
To answer him Quatre took the condom back and ripped open the package. He held Trowa's gaze as he slowly rolled the condom onto Trowa's erection.
"Okay," Trowa agreed. He used the lubricant to prepare Quatre, drawing on the information he had gleaned from the internet and years of watching porn. He hoped he was doing this right. The sounds Quatre was making didn't seem to be protests, and that was encouraging.
Trowa slowly entered the other man and had to hold his breath. It was one of the most incredible things he had ever felt. He was so tight and hot and -
"Start moving," Quatre begged.
"I'm sorry," Trowa leaned forward to kiss him again. "It just feels so good. I don't think I'm going to last very long."
"Good, I'm not either."
Trowa tried moving and both boys groaned at the sensation.
"We're doing this every night for the rest of the summer," Quatre gasped.
Trowa watched the blonde reach down and start to touch himself.
"Why just at night?" Trowa asked. "What about the mornings? The afternoons? We could - oh Jesus Christ, Quatre, I'm so close. I can't -"
Quatre lifted his hips to meet Trowa and the action made both groan loudly. Trowa came with what felt like explosive force and he felt the hot spill of Quatre's orgasm between them.
It took a moment for Trowa to recover enough to pull out. He gingerly pulled off the condom and then realized he had no idea what to do with it.
"Flush it," Quatre tiredly instructed him.
When Trowa came back to the bed Quatre had stretched out, his eyes closed and a smile on his face.
"I should go," Trowa said and started to hunt for his clothes.
"No," Quatre sat up. "Stay."
Trowa gave him a look.
"I can't. You know I can't."
"You're the one who said you wanted to have sex in the morning. We can't do that if -"
A knock sounded at the door.
"Quatre?"
It was unmistakably Quatre's father.
"Yes?" Quatre looked nervous and his voice was barely steady.
"Are you alright? We heard something. It sounded -"
"I'm fine! Just ran into the nightstand and -"
"Quatre, were you drinking again? We talked about this and -"
The door started to open and Trowa looked around the room, desperate to find somewhere he could hide.
But light spilled into the room and illuminated him, naked, standing in front of Quatre's bed.
There was silence for a full minute.
"What did you do to my son?" Zaid Winner had always scared Trowa, but in that moment he was terrified of the taller, larger man.
"Nothing," Quatre answered for him. "He didn't -"
"You bastard!" Zaid advanced into the room. He punched Trowa in the stomach, a hard, solid hit that doubled him over in pain.
Trowa hadn't been punched in years - not since elementary school - and the pain was intense.
"I will kill you! You defiled my son! You filthy -"
Trowa rolled away when Zaid tried to kick him and got back up to his feet. He fled the room, but Zaid chased him down the hall.
"Come back here you disgusting coward!"
Trowa turned to see Zaid's face twisted with rage. Quatre was running down the hallway after him, still naked, a look of fear on his pale face.
Trowa took another step backwards but there was nothing under his feet - he had reached the staircase.
He tried to grab the railing but missed and fell backwards, head first, down the staircase.
-o-
TBC