"… 'Love is what is needed' we chant and then sit back, and the world goes on as it did before. The fact is that we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much. In public affairs… something much less dramatic and emotional, namely tolerance. Tolerance is a very dull virtue. Its boring. Unlike love it always has bad press, its negative. It merely means putting up with people, being able to stand things. No one has ever written an ode to tolerance or raised a statue to it. Yet it is the quality most needed... this is the only force than enables different races, classes, and interests to settle down together."
---E. M. Forester, "Tolerance"
Roommates
Chapter 2 "Misunderstandings"
By Suki
Trowa groaned before rolling over and putting his pillow over his head. Glancing at the clock he cursed. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled at Quatre. Really, the man he was living with had no sense of respect singing in the shower at such an ungodly hour. Sure it was 7:00 a.m. but anything before noon was an ungodly hour to him. It was the same every morning; Quatre woke up, went running and returned at 7, to sing in the shower despite his non morning person roommates pleadings to stop.
"Anything wrong Trowa?" Quatre asked after opening the door.
"No, I just felt like yelling." He responded sarcastically throwing the covers off.
Quatre nodded, once again not understanding that Trowa was being sarcastic. "Well, okay. I'm off to class now; hopefully you decide to go as well." Quatre told him turning around. Quatre once partially almost begged him to show up, but had since given up.
FLASHBACK
"Oh whaaat a beautiful morning, oh whaaat a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way!" Quatre sang as he opened the blinds in Trowa's room letting in the sunlight. This, unfortunately to Trowa, was shining right into his eyes.
"Shut up!" Trowa growled.
"You have class in an hour." Quatre stated.
"Tell me something I don't know."
"I could never get ready in just an hour and if I could I wouldn't be completely awake." Quatre said. "Plus you should always show up early so you can talk to all of your professors about today's classes, it really helps me you see and once this one time I learned about a big pop quiz because I showed up early, was able to get in a little bit of extra studying you know…"
"Is there any point to this story?"
"Oh, yes. If you don't show up at least 15 minutes early then you're late. That's what my father told me anyway."
"What did you father tell you about not showing up?" Trowa didn't see how his father or anyone for that matter could stand having a conversation with Quatre without going insane. Quatre wasn't unpleasant he just didn't seem to have the ability to take hints.
"Not showing up?" Quatre repeated as if he didn't understand the words coming out of his roommates mouth. "You have to show up! Not showing up will lower your grades!" Grades to Quatre were everything.
"Grades aren't everything. Hasn't anyone told you that your grades are a direct indication of what you know and what you know prepares you for life."
"Spare me the lecture and save it for someone who cares." he replied bitterly. Trowa felt an instant pain of guilt when he looked into the blondes eyes that were rattled in fear. "Quatre I didn't mean it."
"I'll leave you alone," Quatre told him bewildered his face radiated with confusion.
Trowa cursed under his breath, he knew that someone needed to go talk to Quatre and explain things to him, namely him. The general sluggishness of his current personality overdid his thought of getting up. I'll do it later, he reasoned with himself before falling into sleep.
End of Flashback
That had all happened 5 days ago. This was unusual for even Trowa to feel bad after that much time. I meant to apologize, he reasoned with himself, it's just Quatre hasn't who's apartment this is, spends little or no time in it. Trowa wasn't sure if it was because Quatre was ignoring or he was normally not around. If he was mad however, he had a very good way of hiding it, for his attitude hadn't changed one bit since the little insistent.
Originally he wondered how Quatre could afford such a large apartment, before deciding that he was either rich or had a full ride scholarship and could afford to spend his money on a nice apartment.
Trowa hoped desperately that it was the later of the two, he hated rich people. How they acted, how they thought they were better than everything else, and how they thought everything could bought if the right price was paid. Ironically, he himself was rich. Well no exactly him, but his dad, but he h ad grown up surrounded by money.
Everything in Trowa's life was deceitful and not was it appeared to be, his father claimed to be the perfect father, and Trowa truly believed that the only reason he was "concerned" about his son's grades was only because the saw whatever his son did as a direct link to what his company would be. But he would have traded his life with anyone in the world.
His father had 2 main hobbies, money and women. He was extremely good at money, having conquered everyone in his way, striking fear in the hearts of everyone of his obstacles. Though he wasn't very good at women, sure women flocked to Trowa Barton Sr. including his favorite, the air brain, tall, beautiful, ones attracted to his money and they jewels he could offer. He grew up witnessing his father's endless string of wives and mistresses that were dimissed as soon as he lost interest in them, and Sr. lost interest in thing very fast. He simply mentioned that it was over and the next week they were gone, no fighting, no pleading, no argument, that was it. But that was okay in Mr. Barton's life for money was what truly mattered, for it was power and bought everything he wanted he reasoned.
His mother was long gone, left her husband when he started to turn into the cruel person he was now and she found out that he was having mistresses behind her back, though Sr, claimed that he had been the one who had divorced her. He remarried within 3 months.
Trowa swore to never turn out like his father. Sure his father tried to get him to treat women as he did, but seeing Trowa wouldn't, he cursed and said 'something's wrong with that boy' before returning to his office to work. Pretty soon he had decided that Trowa himself wasn't worth hanging on to and was shipped off to a boarding school in Switzerland. Not that Trowa minded, after all the father away he was from his old man, the better.
Hearing the front door open and close drew Trowa out of his thoughts. "Might as well get this over with." he mumbled.
*~*
"What are you doing for thanksgiving?" Quatre inquired later on the week. The problem had been settled, so easily in fact, that Trowa believed that Quatre had completely forgotten about it. But he had learned that Quatre didn't seem to have the ability to hold a grudge.
Trowa, on the other hand, held grudges quite easily, ironically however the person he held most of his grudges against was himself.
"Thanksgiving?" Trowa repeated confused, suprised that it had snuck up on him again, like it always did and he always swore that he wouldn't let it happen next year.
"Yeah when are you going home?"
"Home." that was a laugh to Trowa. Why would be freely return to that hellhole?
It was 7:30 in the morning and Trowa and Quatre were eating together like they always did. It was suprising to be awake at such an hour, and Trowa found that he was remarkably awake at such a time. Not that he had given up, he reasoned, he had just gone tired of fighting with Quatre, it also might have been a little bit of guilt involved.
"I don't plan on going home. Ever."
"But thanksgiving if about being with your family and giving thanks."
"Trust me, if you had my dad as a dad, you wouldn't find anything to give thanks."
"He can't be that bad." Quatre argued.
Trowa shook his head. "My dad likes to crush everyone in his sight, including me." he admitted. He glanced away his eyes full of pain.
"That's impossible, a real father wouldn't do that."
"You're right." Trowa agreed. "A real father wouldn't."
"And your mom?" Quatre asked not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
"Left when I was 8, never saw he again, and neither do i want to." he told the blonde even though his eyes clearly showed otherwise.
Quatre took a moment to register this, "That's awful, you are going to spend thanksgiving with me and my family, i insist."
"Why not?" Trowa agreed knowing that he wouldn't be left alone until he did.
"Really?" Quatre asked suprised that he had given up so easily.
"Sure." he responded more firmly.
"My parent's will be so happy, and so will my sisters."
"Sisters?"
"13 of them."
"Thirteen?" [Oh shit, what have i gotten myself into to?]
*~*
AN: I know
this section mostly focused on Trowa, but the next section will focus more
on Quatre. Next Section: I want the drumstick!