Back to One
~ Act Thirteen
It was now or never. He had to come clean before they outed him to his parents and, possibly, the entirety of the web. He didn't know, not until now, not until he was cornered against a wall with nowhere to go. Ideally, he would have wanted to reveal this new discovery to his own family in his own terms and in his own time, but there was no time for that. There was no strategizing now, not with his father, his friends or even the company shareholders. He was surrounded by conservatives, he realized, and the dread that plagued him at the slightest thought of the possibility years ago was now coming back to him in full force.
Trowa hadn't told him he was married because maybe he should have known. Their lives were not exactly private and his pictures with the man he called his life partner were presumably plastered all over the net. It was stupidity on his part, just straight up stupidity. In spite of that, the question of Trowa's motivation was not the most urgent matter he had to deal with. His mother was currently in front of him, staring at him with the same shade of eyes he stared back at her with. She was worried. It was easy to tell. Perhaps she could just as easily read the anxiety off him.
"Quatre," she started and that worried him. She called him all different sorts of endearments ranging from 'darling' to 'honey'. Her demeanor was just as serious as his.
"Mom," he said in reply and that was it. Nothing would come out of his mouth. He didn't know where to start. Should he have started with the possibly criminal details of how he might have discovered or the sordid new details of how he had definitely confirmed? It was difficult when his heartbeats were thumping loudly against his chest causing a deafening sound in his ears.
"Sweetheart." She lightened up and Quatre thought that was the opportunity to break in. "You can tell mama anything, you know that, right?"
It was reassuring. He thanked the heavens that they were past the middle ages and being who he was no longer entailed illegality and no longer required being hanged by the neck - though there was still the possibility of getting beat up for it.
"Remember Marco Gomez of the New York office?" he questioned, wringing his hands together with unease.
"The suicide."
He inhaled deeply. He would always remember it and every now and then, it would haunt not only his dreams but also his conscience.
"Yes, the suicide." Quatre licked his lips. "He kissed me then threatened he would tell everyone that I liked it if I told anyone about the discrepancy I found in one of the accounts he was handling."
His mother remained silent and he was glad for that. He didn't think he could have handled interruptions until he said it.
"I felt trapped. I didn't know what to do, so I quit. I guess he wasn't expecting that and I guess I didn't realize how he felt about me. If you remember, a couple of days after I quit, he threw himself from the building - from my former office. I didn't tell anyone, not even the cops, since I was scared of the repercussions to the company and to the family, but he sent me a text before he jumped. He said he loved me."
He threw his cell away in a panic after the incident and never replaced it. Only Wufei's production expense and their need to keep in touch with him kept him from throwing away his current possession.
His mother picked up his nervous hands and encouraged him further by giving it a light squeeze. It was a mistake not reporting the discrepancies, even a bigger mistake that he didn't approach the man first with a compromise. In the end, Marco admitted the inconsistency in the accounts with a full report on his desk the day he took his own life.
"I didn't know what to think of that. I wasn't stupid enough not to have any ideas, but just recently with Trowa Barton… I… I think I've figured it out. Mom… I'm gay, mom."
His mother was the most benevolent being in the world and if there was anyone who was going to find out first, it might as well have been her. He didn't know how she would feel about it, but he was ready because he loved her and trusted her and hoped for her approval. She paused for a long moment before revealing her thoughts on it.
"I know, baby," she said with a tender smile.
"What?"
He was a nervous wreck by now, not figuring out if he was hearing right. If his mother knew when he didn't after all those years then what did it say about him?
"I'm your mother. You think I wouldn't be able to tell?"
"But dad-"
"Oh, he knows even though he hasn't said anything to me. Why do you think he's been swatting the board off your back about the whole 'marriage and kids' agenda?"
"But how?"
"Quatre, before you were born, we raised four girls. We hadn't had a boy until then so we had no idea how to raise you, but then Adrian was born a couple of hours after you and all of a sudden we were raising two boys - one of them our son and the other our grandson. You two were as different as you are now and along the way, we figured out how different."
"You wanted a son."
"We had four girls. Of course we wanted a son but not to continue the family line. At that age, it was a personal decision between your father and me."
"You almost died."
"Quatre!" she responded with mild alarm. "I didn'tand that wouldn't have been your fault. I was old when we conceived you. Those are the consequences of having children at that age and we don't regret it. We had more experience and free time by the time we had you and we're satisfied with the way we raised you."
"Is that okay with you - that I'm gay?" he asked experimentally.
"You're our son. Your father and I would defend you to the death."
"Then all your backing with the company-"
"Our backing, giving you majority shareholder rights to the company is a matter of showing you our support."
"But I wouldn't have any heirs."
"Heirs? Honey, haven't you noticed all your nephews and nieces have hyphenated surnames? Your sisters probably knew too. This is the twenty-first century. There are more options now and we're not limited to boys carrying the family name into the next century. It's not a crime to be gay."
Flabbergasted - that was the first word that came to mind. Everyone knew before he did and it was okay. He wasn't doing anything wrong by being unable to continue the family line. Breaking millennia of tradition seemed like the greatest sin. Angering the conservative shareholders was always a possibility. Bringing down the company just because he wasn't straight and couldn't have kids was his greatest fear and that fear was slowly dissolving with the assurance that his family would back him. He just didn't know if that counted as all of them or if he would have to battle it out with a few. They were a big family and the family company was never that easy to handle.
"Should I be expecting opposition from somewhere? From the in-laws?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Well, some of them didn't want me seeing the younger boys."
"Because of the drugs, Quatre."
"But when we were discussing the subject of inheritance…"
Having a lot of money wasn't as easy as it sounded. It was a matter of juggling the happiness and contentment of everyone involved. Nobody would want to be slighted or deceived into a smaller share of the enormous pie.
"They assumed you would have no children of your own and that since you grew up with Adrian, you'd favor him and his descendants over your other sisters' kids when you were to distribute their inheritances in your own time. Money has that kind of effect on people, Quatre. You've lived in this family long enough. You should know that."
In reality, a part of the dilemma with his sexuality was more than just about his own mental state, but partly about the money. He imagined what it would be like to struggle paying bills every month and dismissed his woes altogether. He was luckier than most people and the least he could be was thankful to his parents for that.
"Honey, you know I don't like talking about money. We should talk about something more important," his mother said as leeway into her next intended topic. "How do you feel about this Trowa Barton?"
The focus changed suddenly and Quatre felt unease at the remembrance of his last encounter with Trowa. What started out as transformative turned out sour in the end.
"I'm not sure. There are speculations in the media about the two of us while we were shooting the film. We've almost wrapped up, so I hope it'll stop. But, he had a partner. I didn't know, mom, and his partner is not happy."
If the partner was vindictive enough then he'd take it to the gossip shows or, more directly, to social media. Quatre didn't have any accounts and he never checked. It was what kept him sane. Back in the day, it didn't even exist. Back in the day, it was all just speculation.
"Is he angry because you and Trowa…?"
He was not about to talk to his mother about his sex life, but with the way she let it hang, it was clear to her that they had been sleeping with each other. This was one of the most difficult subjects to breach. It ranked right up there with the revelation of his sexuality.
Quatre shook his head - a vague response he hoped would deter her from questioning him further. Whether she interpreted that as a denial of the act or a rejection of the embarrassing topic, he did not care to confirm.
"You hit it off in the show when you were young too."
Quatre had forgotten that his mother was an avid fan of the show, always being on set, recording the episodes on now ancient VHS tapes and distributing them to her friends. When they were released in VHS then later on DVD, his father had purchased multiple copies of which he distributed to everyone he knew. Back then, it was his crowning glory.
"I wasn't aware of that."
"It was fairly obvious toward the end of the series," his mother replied with a knowing smile. She put a hand to her rouge tinted lips. "I was half-expecting you to tell me then."
"Mom! You're worse than the fans."
He admitted that he was aware of the made-up stories. It was humiliating for him being advertised as the most effeminate of the group. Most of them portrayed him as the rich boy with fifty mansion hide-outs and a perpetual crush on Trowa. When he wasn't the gayest one, he was the exact opposite. Sometimes it was overkill and to a boy going through puberty, it was an emotional and psychological nightmare. He knew they were referring to his character but they might as well have been referring to him. It made him overcompensate. It made him try not to be so gay.
"If it looked like there was anything going on between us, I didn't do it on purpose," he admitted, playing with his fingers instead of looking at his mother. He was fifteen then and had no idea what was going on. "I was just being me. It still annoys me sometimes - that interpretation. But now I think it was unconscious and I am so confused. I'm not sure if this thing with Trowa is actually the real thing or the result of me giving in to the expectation of us being together. Regardless, I'm going to have to come out."
"Who says you have to?"
His mother surprised him sometimes. He blinked at her in surprise. He never even considered that possibility. All he pictured was a public shaming via magazines displayed at grocery and drugstore check-outs. All he could think about was the entertainment shows and social media outlets.
"Your private life is your own business. I don't see your sisters being pressured to come out as being straight."
"But the media…"
"Just let the news happen, honey. We'll deal with it when it comes. If you're worried about the company, your dad's been doing damage control since he retired. He can carry on until the end of time."
"I love you two so much," Quatre said with a loud, released breath. Relief was something he was hoping for ever since he found out about himself. Now that the family end of the business was done, it was time to deal with the media.
Duo was not happy when he showed up unannounced in his front door past dinner with a golden retriever in hand. First off, Duo was allergic to dog fur and secondly, he hated surprise guests. Quatre sympathized with the latter but thought of it as payback for shoving the media in his face when he least wanted it.
"Kids, come and greet Quatre Winner," he said with very little enthusiasm and a whole lot of annoyance. He purposely dodged Noam as the creature tried to deliver a very wet greeting of his own.
"Thanks for seeing me, Duo," Quatre said despite not having a pre-arranged agreement to meet. "Sorry about the dog. I couldn't leave him with the neighbor today."
"Dogs have the capacity to survive in a house all alone."
Duo grunted. Whatever gorgeous face of munificence he always presented to the public had vanished without a trace. When his offspring did not appear to his calling, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and texted. All manner of threats must have been sent the children's way when they appeared not five minutes later with fake smiles plastered on their faces.
"Nice to meet you, Quatre Winner. You really do look younger than the rest of them. You're cuter than my old man."
That was probably something Duo did not appreciate as he called on his maid to prepare them something to drink. Relena was nowhere to be found, probably still filming in overseas for her latest film.
Quatre thought the teenager and two younger kids enjoyed the dog much more than they did him. That was just as well for kids who probably wanted a pet but never got one due to the allergies. Noam yipped and jumped in delight as they played around with him. The dog hadn't been around younger and more energetic people in a while. His neighbor was pretty old and Heero was as lame as they came.
"Come with me outside," Duo said, leaving the kids to the dog and escaping into the outside air sans dog. He sneezed more than once, sending Quatre a nice long glare while rubbing his nose on his sleeve. "I'll send you the cleaning bill later. …And you better be paying from your own damn earnings and not the Winner money."
Quatre nodded before sitting with Duo in one of the chaise lounges by the pool. It was large and pristine with clear water flowing out of a marble carved lion's mouth illuminated by a spotlight. It wasn't his taste, but it wasn't his, so Quatre let the statue be.
"I need your help."
"Oh, please, Winner. You're the one they come to for help, not me."
"They're probably going to ask you about me, if I'm gay."
He didn't mind it if Duo said what he honestly thought, but he would rather save his father the headache of damage control before he could come up with a better solution. Duo would be his best ally in this, being the face of popularity. People still loved him and whatever he said would sway their opinions.
"So are you? What caused this mind-blowing discovery, finally, way, way past the pubescent stage - sex with another man?"
He didn't have to answer that because Duo made conclusions of his own.
"Holy shit you were sleeping with Trowa. I knew it!"
Quatre did not have to say anything else. Duo went off on a tangent, building a whole imagined scenario of an illicit affair. He spoke of a Nostradamus-like prophecy that came true and reiterated that it wasn't only him that thought it but the rest of the entire world. This went on for a long time until he was finally out of breath and the maid came and went and came back again to deliver hard liquor. She probably knew he needed it.
"Are you done?" he questioned after what felt like an eternity. He didn't drink the alcohol but pushed it on Duo. He looked like he needed it more.
"No. I've got more." Duo sipped on his Scotch, enough time for Quatre to break his monologue before he continued on again.
"I didn't know he was married. …No ring or anything."
"You didn't know you were a mistress?"
"Paramour. I would appreciate it if you didn't use that term."
"Who even uses that word? Anyway, you aren't completely to blame. Him and Raph have been going through a rough patch and decided to do a trial separation. Raph moved to their place in the Caribbean for a bit with the understanding that when the movie Tro was filming was over, he'd move back in to their house to try to work it out. Trowa asked permission from Raph to go after you."
So, he had been part of the spectacle even before he knew it. It was not a very nice eye-opener and he wished that Trowa had told him in the first place. Not that he would have agreed to it if he knew beforehand. He came from an old-fashioned family and this was not the sort of thing he would ever consent to.
"Who is this Raph?" Quatre questioned, curious to find out what he would be up against. Surely the competition was not for Trowa, but for who would win over the press.
"His agent. They've been together for ten or eleven years."
Quatre rolled his eyes to the heavens.
"I know!" Duo said before he was off again to another tirade. It was a good thing that even though Trowa lived next door, they were miles apart due to the size of their properties. Duo was loud enough to announce the situation to the entire household.
"Look, Duo," he said when the chatterbox finally stopped to catch his breath once again. "I'm not asking for any favors, but you know what kind of person I am – though you don't like me very much." He muttered the last bit. "And you know my situation with the company."
"Dear lord, Quat, you could easily pay people to shut up or pay the media or pay a publicist. It's your choice, really."
"That's not how I do things."
"I heard you quit."
"I am still a majority shareholder."
"Then you could bend them to your will."
"Duo!" he said with exasperation. Maybe he needed that drink after all, but he really didn't want to add alcohol to his list of addictions. "Whatever you say to the press will determine the course of how this news will be taken, either in a positive or negative light. I am not going to tell you what to say. I am just hoping that you won't make it harder for me."
"I'm a lot less saintly than people think and I am not a liar."
"I trust you."
He looked at Duo with the full force of his mother's eyes. The Winner charm never worked on Duo as he had a more powerful charm of his own, but maybe this would.
"Fine," Duo said, picking up his glass of Scotch and drinking it in one go. "You're the least likely to be an asshole from the bunch of us anyway. I've got your back on this."