The Ventriloquist (Part Seven)
It was with giddy delight that Quatre opened up his package, the very first package he'd received since he'd moved. The padded envelope felt good as he held it in his hands despite the many visible signs of abuse it had been through during its long journey. The smudge of ink and tracks of dirt never looked so lovely, having come from civilized society. Quatre dearly missed the loud city he left behind.
"Finally!" he said with gusto very early in the morning. It never occurred to him that he must have been disturbing Trowa. Noam reminded him of that possibility by shoving at his legs.
"Ok, ok," Quatre said when his pal nudged him none too gently. With the amount of weight Quatre had lost since he'd moved, the near gigantic creature managed to make him trip and fall. The only body part that broke his fall was his bony behind severely lacking in the meat department.
"Ow!" he yelped, feeling the searing pain brought about by the fall. Walking from his place to the main town just to buy groceries was giving him too much of a workout. He was loosing weight far too quickly, turning him into an even more defenseless creature than his current companion.
Noam barked in alarm before approaching him. Not long after, Quatre found his face slathered in dog drool. Thankfully, his package remained unharmed.
"Aww, it's alright buddy," Quatre consoled his friend although the fact that his face was being bathed in bacteria was starting to disgust him. "I'm fine. I'm fine. You could stop now," he continued, trying valiantly to move Noam's head toward a different direction.
After he'd successfully ran to the bathroom for a quick wash of his face, Quatre headed back to the living room to examine his precious package. Now that he was able to inspect it properly, he realized that it had come from his manager. It was about time. He was wondering if the guy forgot about him. It had been weeks since he'd talked to the man.
"Let's see what's in here, huh," Quatre suggested. Noam looked very much intent on finding out what was in it.
Taking a deep breath, he ripped the padded envelope open before flipping it over so that the contents would spill on his open hand. The first item to hit his palm was a cell phone followed by a short note. The note was short and simple, an instruction from his manager to call his father as soon as he opened the package. There were also some scribbles he couldn't understand, something about the difficulty of getting coverage in his area. Quatre turned the note over several times to find that it was the only message. Disappointed that his living arrangements were still somewhat of a mess, Quatre clutched the cell phone in his hand. It seemed that he was going to be stuck there for quite a while. Add that to the fact that his father wanted him to call. That alone was an already a bad sign.
Sighing, Quatre reasoned to himself that the place he was living in wasn't so bad. His landlord was accommodating enough that he didn't find himself completely bored most of the time. The only few stations available on TV were not very entertaining, so he'd taken to conversing with Trowa every time he could. The other man was always silent, but at least he nodded every now and then. There were even a few times when Trowa had given him opinions on the book he was reading, which happened to be Quatre's writing. His landlord seemed engrossed in it because it was third time Trowa had read through it.
All in all, things weren't really that bad. Except... Quatre noted the few times when he'd acted strangely around Trowa. Noam had managed to stop him from making a fool of himself several times already. There were certain instances when he acted far too familiar with the other, teasing him even. The thought alone embarrassed him, but he could not figure out the reason why he felt none of the shame when he was in the act of flirting with Trowa. The only conclusion he could come up with was that he was subconsciously drawn to the other man so that whatever repressed feelings he had within him were forcefully pulled out when he had the least control over it. Perhaps that was it, or perhaps he was drawing conclusions based on an article he'd once read in a random teen magazine. He shuddered at the thought. Sooner or later, he was going to start recalling several trashy and rather colorful articles about flirting which was really not his thing.
Shuddering at the thought of using the magazine as a guidebook to the rest of his dating life, Quatre flipped open his new cell phone and did what he was told. Several numbers later, his father's strong voice was heard.
"Father," Quatre said formally. After having left home a few years ago, Quatre had taken to calling him father rather than daddy. There was just something about leaving home that compelled him to treat their relationship more formally. After all, formality was the best defense when all the two of them had been doing for the past decade was argue.
"Quatre, you moved without telling me," his father answered just as formally, although the question was meant to display a father's concern regarding his son's well-being.
"I don't have to tell you everything I do," Quatre said. He was a bit annoyed that he was still being treated like a child. It never occurred to him that his father might have just been a little worried. After years of being forced into things he did not want and failing every one of his father's expectations, Quatre was immune to any and all parental affections.
His father sighed in response, sounding defeated before the real argument had even started. Quatre was surprised that his defeat didn't even take five minutes. Usually, they went at it for hours. It would start off as an accusation against his character, for being such a softie who couldn't defend himself, then it would be about his dog who he fed more than himself, then, his choice of profession, and then a variety of things that had to do with every aspect of his life.
"Giving up already?" Quatre asked, slightly disappointed that they had not followed routine. His father was supposed to be mad and he was supposed to blow up two minutes later.
"Son, you are still my child no matter how insolent you are."
Rolling his eyes, Quatre figured that it had to come eventually. He could already imagine what would follow. His father was surely going to talk about his abandonment of the family business. Quatre started to count to ten.
One, two, three...
"Son, are you gay?"
Quatre immediately chocked on his own saliva. Out of all the things his father would ask, his preference of partners was the last thing Quatre expected. He hacked several times, trying to consolidate the fact that the question was asked and that it was his father asking.
"Excuse me?" Quatre said after almost dropping his newest possession. He feared for the phone's safety more than anything. It was his only connection to the outside world.
"Son, I have to know," his father asked gravely, sounding as if it was the most important question in the world.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Quatre said, his voice rising in volume with every word that came out of his mouth. He could feel the rush of blood to his face. Noam didn't seem to pay attention to their conversation because he continued to lie next to his feet, looking far too bored to even understand what was going on.
"Quatre, I think I've known since you were four," his father said. Quatre could only hope that it wasn't a trick of some sort. "Son, you've always preferred pastel colors. Besides, you always picked the pink cotton candy at the amusement parks rather than the blue ones."
"I was a kid! Pink is a bright, eye-catching color to any child!" Quatre defended himself. To think that his father had thought about his preferences all along - It was embarrassing to some degree. "Don't tell me you wanted me to call just to ask that question."
"I did."
Quatre rubbed the palm of his hand against his face, mortified that he was being asked such a personal question. Then again, he supposed it would come sooner or later.
"But why?" Quatre asked out of curiosity.
"Son, you didn't answer my question," his father said. The way he was insisting on it sounded like Quatre's sexuality was a major issue in that had to do with the course of the older man's life. "Son, you're my only child. You have to understand that I'm interested in your propagation of our blood line."
"You should talk. You only made one kid!" Quatre replied with vehemence. He was stressed, he was lonely, and he was in the middle of nowhere. The least his father could do was make him feel better.
"So, are you homosexual or not?"
Fearing that the questioning would never end, Quatre gave in.
"I'm not sure," was his answer.
"Not sure? Could you find someone so you we could validate that right now?"
"What? You want me to jump the first warm body I come across?" Quatre asked incredulously. Really, what was it about his father? Was it old age that caused the sudden quirk?
"Why not?"
Quatre looked around the room, just to amuse himself and felt the heat radiating off his buddy who was leaning against his foot. As much as he wanted to find out, he was very sure that he was not into bestiality. As if sensing his thoughts, Noam immediately ran for cover.
"Hey! I'm not a pervert," Quatre admonished Noam. He was irked that his best friend was teasing him. He just knew it. The big lug seemed like he was enjoying riling Quatre.
"So son, was it a man or a woman you molested?" his father's voice came from the other end of the line.
"Father," Quatre warned. "I am not doing this just to satisfy your curiosity. Besides, there is no other warm body in here aside from Noam."
As soon as he said it, Quatre was immediately graced with the presence of his landlord who seemed to pop out of nowhere. Quatre jumped in his seat, scrambling to the other end of the couch. Trowa didn't seem to notice his distress as he positioned himself on the unoccupied end of the couch before picking up his book to read.
"Trowa, you could at least make some noise once in a while. You're really going to give me a heart attack one of these days," Quatre said, forgetting to take the phone out of his ears. As a result of his mistake, his father heard every word he said.
"I'm assuming Trowa is a he," the older man queried from the other end of the line. "Do you find him attractive?"
"What?" Quatre said, immediately covering the lower end of his phone, hoping that Trowa did not hear any of it. His father had almost hit close of home. After all, Quatre had more than once flirted with the strange man, not out of his own volition of course. But still, it didn't take away from the fact that he actually made a move on Trowa.
Was Trowa attractive? That was the first question that came to mind. Of course he was attractive. He had the prettiest eyes even if they were dull and lifeless. His hair was unique in a mysterious and eerie sort of way. His stature was tall and elegant. His movements were refined, reminiscent of the aristocrats of long ago. His voice was like ice and fire with the way it seemed to slice the air with its strange mix of formality and concern. Trowa was as attractive as they got. Now the next question was if Trowa was attractive to him rather than merely attractive in general.
"Quatre?" his father said as he took his time to assess his findings. "I'm assuming that the lack of answer means that you find him attractive and are speechless enough not to describe him. That's all I wanted to know, son."
With that, the line was disconnected. Nevertheless, Quatre continued to hold his cell phone close to him while staring at Trowa. For some reason, within the time he assessed Trowa's attractiveness, he found himself caught in a trance once again. Without even thinking, his body moved toward Trowa as if his muscles wanted to touch the other person on the couch. Unfocused eyes glazed over as he moved his head closer and closer to Trowa's own. His landlord didn't seem to notice it or perhaps didn't seem to care. He didn't move, not until Quatre was within inches from his face.
"I told you to stop hounding me," Trowa said in the coldest tone of voice Quatre had ever heard. Still, his body refused his command to back away. "You won't like the consequences of your invitation," he continued.
"Oh?" Quatre asked curiously, although he was sure that it was not the question he was intending. In fact, he wasn't even intending to get that close to Trowa. His body was moving on its own accord.
"Continue to tempt me further and I will not hesitate," Trowa said, not specifying what it was he was threatening to do. Quatre was afraid of what that might mean, but his body continued to move. He didn't even notice Noam start to growl in Trowa's direction.
With a gracefulness he didn't remember himself having, Quatre lifted a finger, running it through Trowa's sharp jaw. The icy coolness of the other's skin bit at his own, reminding him of the many ways that Trowa was cold. Unsatisfied fingers then ghosted over his landlord's lips, as if prepping it for a sultry kiss meant to melt the ice that seems forever present in the other.
However, before Quatre had successfully connected his lips with the other, a very loud crash resounded from somewhere behind him. The crash seemed to be the trigger that broke him out of his trance. Quatre looked behind him to find his savior with a wary look on her face. Old lady Catherine had a rock held in her hand although it was obvious that she'd already thrown one, breaking a window in the process. Quatre supposed that she was planning to throw it toward his head if he didn't snap out of it.
It was only then that he noticed that Noam was barking in frenzied abandon and pulling him away from where Trowa sat. Surprised and unable to comprehend what had just happened, Quatre turned to Trowa intending to ask if he knew what was going on. Only, when he managed to turn around completely, he discovered that Trowa was gone once again. With the speed with which he left, Quatre thought that he might have simply been dreaming all of it. His cell phone was still held in his hand. The dull tone coming from the device reminded him that he had failed to finish his conversation with his father.
"Quatre, get out of there," the old lady instructed him.
"Out of here as in this couch of out of here as in this house?" Quatre clarified while he tried to calm Noam down. With the way everyone was acting, it seemed like he was in danger. He saw no reason for danger. If it was Trowa they feared, he wasn't even there. The strange man may have been cold, but he was surely a good person. Quatre contemplated the matter. It was a possibility that they were merely trying to stop him from shamelessly flirting. However, the idea was abandoned when the old lady answered in earnest.
"The house child, the house!" old lady Catherine said with fright. "It has become clear to me that the creature alone cannot protect you," she said, referring to Noam. "You have to leave there at once."
Concerned about the possible reasons for the old woman's request, Quatre complied, taking nothing with him and immediately leaving through the front door. He felt somewhat guilty for leaving Trowa behind but was unable to think further on it when he was dragged out into town. The old lady was amazingly strong as she tugged on his bony arm, managing to make him trip a few times. Noam was close to follow although he remained quiet this time.
"Umm, could you tell me what's going on?" Quatre asked when he saw the town center looming close by. "I'd really like to know why I'm getting this creepy feeling. Is there something I should know?"
"Many young lads have rented that place over the years," Catherine explained. "None of them ever came out alive."
"What?" Quatre asked with alarm. He could feel his eyes widening. He suddenly felt a chill work its way up his spine. To hear something that frightening when he was living in the house... The old lady should have told him earlier. There was no telling what could have happened to him if she didn't tell him.
"That house is where many young men met their untimely deaths. That day it rained, you managed to stay alive. I'd thought that it was because of the creature that guarded you. I've only realized now that it's something else."
"And you never told me any of this, why?" Quatre said, stopping abruptly. That forced the older woman to let go of his arm. "I could have been killed and no one warned me?" he continued, very angry that he was not informed earlier. Only imagining the possibilities of what could have been scared him more than he cared to admit. He was sure the slight shaking of his form showed.
"You are alive and well. That is all that matters."
"Wait, Trowa's still in there! We have to go back for him," Quatre remembered all of a sudden. "We can't leave him."
When Noam howled in protest, Quatre turned worried eyes to his buddy.
"I know you don't like him, but I have to make sure he's alright," Quatre reasoned out to his still howling companion. It frustrated Quatre that Noam was acting strange, like he too was afraid.
"Fool!" Catherine interrupted all of a sudden. "Did it ever occur to you that Trowa might have been the cause of all these tragedies?" she said, once again pulling on his arm. "Forget about him unless you also want to meet your untimely death."
Scared for his safety but still worried about Trowa, Quatre could do nothing but follow the old lady into town. Perhaps she would be more willing to give him answers later.
