I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four H]
Quatre left the playroom, too tired to take out the taped wings on his back and the golden ring that the children somehow managed to attach above his head. His hair was in tangles and the white robe that he was currently wearing was both humiliating and uncomfortable. He looked more like a run down wannabe than the immaculate being that the children were aiming for.
"I'm getting tired of this," he muttered and proceeded to the stairway.
Of course, he loved the children dearly but their naive association was beginning to get on his nerves.
"I look just like everybody else," he said in frustration.
He started to walk up the stairway, intent on changing and taking a quick nap but was drawn to the news that the children proclaimed in silent gossip.
"The devil's daddy's here."
He blinked and then glanced down to find the wealthy businessman waiting outside Ms. Noin's office. He argued with himself whether he should listen in on their conversation or not and decided that he might as well do so. It was his chance to understand the real situation since nobody seemed inclined to explain to him just what was happening. Perhaps they though he was too naive to be plagued with such foul proceedings despite his proven maturity. Several attempts were proven fruitless and he doubted that this time would be different.
"Now honey," Ms. Noin would say. "We're just going to talk about something important. You don't have to worry about anything."
He hated being secluded from such talks, especially when they concerned him. He remembered the times when radiant young couples would come by the orphanage, pinching his cheeks until they turned red. They'd talk to him like some incompetent infant then pat his head and ask him if he'd like to come home with them. Often times, he'd refuse. But then, he was never really able to go home with any of them. He never knew why.
The problem with Trowa was no different. From the first time he came in contact with the other boy, it seemed like everyone around him was intent on keeping the two away from each other. It was as if Trowa had an incurable disease waiting to infect him the moment he came close. Sure, Trowa was a bit sinister but he was also a very pleasant person to be with when given the chance.
Without rationalizing his action any further, he ran up to his room, closed the door and placed his ear on the ground to hear the conversation through the thin flooring.
In the meantime, Mr. Barton looked inquisitively at the children that were gathered in one corner. They were pointing at him and then whispering words to each other. It was funny how the children tried to hide the topic but it was obvious from Mr. Barton's point of view that they were talking about his son.
He understood Trowa's situation and felt bad that he didn't notice anything sooner. His son had been judged before he even acted and therefore had no reason to disprove the people's assumptions.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Barton."
The voice interrupted him from his thoughts as he looked up to face the irritated Ms. Noin.
"Still the dog to your master?" she said and then continued. "Where are your back-up troops?"
"My lawyers are not needed," he said in reply and adjusted his suit. "May I come in?"
Ms. Noin moved out of the way and let the man in. These visits were now very familiar and undoubtedly the same.
The ceiling shook a bit as Quatre adjusted his position.
"What do you think of my son?" Mr. Baton asked immediately without waiting for Ms. Noin to settle down.
"Honestly?"
"Yes."
"I think that he's the embodiment of evil set on corrupting the souls of the innocent."
She sat on the large chair behind the desk and eyed her unwanted guest.
"Very well chosen words, Ms. Noin," he said. "Is that the reason why you are determined to keep him away from your precious ward?"
Ms. Noin just laughed.
"If it wasn't then we wouldn't have this conversation now, would we?"
"Do you know my son?"
"Don't change the subject."
"Just answer the question."
"Yes."
Ms. Noin crossed her arms, quite amused at the little ploy that the affluent man was using.
"That's strange. I don't even know him and I'm his father. May I ask you, just how did you get to know him so well?"
"Rumors have been..."
"Rumors are merely unconfirmed fallacies with the purpose of destroying the stature and nature of the person being accused. They do nothing but quell the anger and increase the probability of a person doing such the thing they are accused of."
"Defending your son again?"
"I didn't defend him. I merely disproved you."
Ms. Noin fell silent, thinking of a retort. Quatre just whistled in awe, surprised that Trowa's father could speak so well. He shifted a bit from his position on the floor, causing it to creak and continued to listen to the interesting argument going on.
"These 'tag' names that have been put on them are the same as well," Mr. Barton continued. "The 'angel' and the 'demon'," he said and paused. "Very interesting thought but it's not very original. It's strange that the whole town has been going around with this staged play that neither my son nor Quatre has agreed to."
"Heh," was Ms. Noin's reaction. "Sure, that's the observation from a man who only wishes to indulge his son."
"Ms. Noin, this insanity will end now. I will no longer hide in the shadows. It's time for me to take action. I know the law Ms. Noin and I know how to make it work against you. I am not some bungling idiot who hides behind his lawyers. I've played the part of the clueless fool long enough. And if I am correct, the restraining order is temporary so it should expire in..." he paused and checked his watch. "...Oh, I'd say about one hour and thirty-seven minutes."
Quatre got up and jumped in jubilation, causing the floors to quiver and the occupants of the room downstairs to look up. He didn't need to hear any more, knowing that he had to prepare for something else later that day. He took out his costume and changed into more comfortable clothing.
Ms. Noin remembered who the occupant of the room above was and suddenly felt her panic rise. She realized that she hadn't been paying enough attention to the matter and chided herself for forgetting the small but relevant detail.
"You should've scheduled the hearing earlier."
Ms. Noin muttered something intelligible and then opened the door to her office, signaling for the victor to leave her presence.
Mr. Baton obliged her and then stopped just before he stepped out completely.
"My son may be a troublemaker Ms. Noin but he also has endless amounts of persistence. If you think that he's nothing more than a delinquent brat then you haven't seen the genuine boy behind all that. I'm glad that Quatre has seen through his disguise. That's why he keeps coming back to my son no matter what the consequence."
Mr. Barton made his exit and Ms. Noin just stood at the door, thinking for the first time about what they'd discussed so many times before.
Exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes later, Quatre was attached to the window of the Barton home, peeking inside to find his target engrossed in reading a book. He thought about knocking on the window to gain access but decided against that, preferring to watch Trowa in his quiet reading. He didn't look that much different from the last time he saw him but there was something else different. He was more solemn, devoid of the mischief that used to come along with him.
A bug landed on Quatre's nose as he watched and he reflexively reached for his nose to shoo off the insect. He scratched his itchy nose in annoyance, forgetting that he had to keep a steady hand on the windowsill.
Trowa turned his head to the window at the sound of something falling and put his book down. He proceeded to the window and opened it to find slender fingers hanging on to the feeble support.
"I thought angels could fly?" he asked, staring at the hanging boy.
"It's not funny Trowa. It's a long way down. Get me up before I fall off."
Trowa reached out his hand and pulled up the thankful blonde. He smiled at his unexpected guest and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek.
"I hope we won't get caught," he said and frowned.
"Your dad took care of that. Now, what do you want to do?" Quatre asked and tugged at Trowa's hand.
"Anything you want, Angel."
"Trowa, you know I hate it when you call me that."
"But..."
"Fine," Quatre huffed.
"I missed you, you know," Trowa whispered and put his arms around Quatre's waist. "Why don't we go out for chocolate ice cream?"
Quatre's anger immediately dissipated. He did miss Trowa as much as the other did him and no matter how much he was annoyed with the nickname, he figured that he might as well endure it for the rest of the day. After all, he didn't want to spoil their reunion by fuming.
A few blocks of walking and two scoops of ice cream later, they walked hand in hand, not minding the reactions of the people that were appalled by their cohesion and careless laughter. Both dismissed the people as ignorant fools and continued to catch up with each other's side of the story.
"So, why do you hate it when I call you Angel?" Trowa suddenly asked after throwing his ravaged cone in the trash and licking off the rest of the chocolate off his lips.
"Because I'm not," Quatre answered while wiping his sticky fingers on a napkin.
"I think you are."
Quatre stopped in his footsteps and looked at Trowa, disappointed at the admittance. He felt betrayed that the other would think him an illusion, a myth that was meant to enliven false fantasies of the heavens. In truth, he had never thought the assimilation pleasant in any way. It bothered him that people thought him a mere phantasm, something that wasn't real and yet existed in their minds.
"I'm not," Quatre said again in a more somber and insistent tone. "I don't want to be one."
"But you are."
Quatre looked away from him.
"Stop it Trowa. You can't always get what you want. I don't want to be your illusion anymore. You might as well go back to read your angel books and stare at the angels in your ceiling because I'm not going to be the doll you'll parade around like everybody else does."
He let go of the other's hand and turned around. At first, he couldn't move but then he forced himself to walk away, leaving Trowa to contemplate on what he said. He always hoped that he'd find someone that understood his feelings toward the matter but he failed, finding out the person he loved the most had deceived him. What Trowa loved about him was merely a projection of his false daydreams. He simply wanted Trowa to love Quatre, the Quatre without the imaginary wings.
He then accepted that it would always be the same way. It had been the same for quite some time now, through different lives and different encounters. He would always be that guardian angel, there to protect but never there to experience his own joy and existence.
As he continued to walk away, he caught a glimpse of two men approaching Trowa. He was sure that he'd seen them somewhere before and was immediately in fear of their intentions. He didn't know just how he figured it out but realized what all his friend's warnings were for. He was playing a dangerous game with Trowa.
At that instant, the events of the near and distant past were brought together, concatenated to bring about a sad but necessary epiphany.
"Maybe this is the way it's supposed to end," he mused. "I never thought that it would hurt this much to leave."
Without any further hesitations, he leaped for Trowa and latched his arms on the other's neck before laying his head on the his shoulder.
"I guess Trowa Barton always gets what he wants after all," he whispered and closed his eyes before he chocked back a painful cry.
A shot rang loudly in Trowa's ears before he heard a cry and a limp body in his arms. All he could do was look down and then at the perpetrator, his face blank and calm, as if not comprehending the situation.
"You little brat!" a large man holding a handgun yelled. "Didn't I tell you before that you can't always get what you want?"
An image from ten years ago quickly permeated his head. He remembered firing someone in a fit of anger and frustration, later acquiring a fallen angel that had dropped from above. He stood frozen.
"You crazy nut! I told you that this wasn't the way to settle this!" his companion of smaller stature said and motioned for the larger man to drop his weapon.
"No! He destroyed my faith in human kindness years ago. I'm not going to stop until angel-obsessed over there is dead."
The smaller man grabbed the gun and shook his companion, forcing him to look at the scene he's caused.
"Idiot!" he said and continued in a softer voice. "He already is."
Trowa continued to stare at the light body that was supported by his own. He never moved ever since the shot and never heard anything after that.
Like a sudden blow to an already fallen soul, a realization of immense proportions adulterated him, causing his eyes to open and his mind to remember. In a scene that resembled a familiar dream, it appeared before him - a sad clown with an empty candy bag on the sidewalk, smoke filling the air and then an angel appearing engulfed by it. For once, the orphan called Trowa was not alone.
All of a sudden, the scene changed into a grotesque one, of two men, one smaller than the other holding the angel captive. Minutes of watching and a sickening episode later, the boy hidden in the shadows screamed, piercing the air with a deafening screech of sorrow.
Trowa understood everything now. What he regretted was that his realization had come too late. His blind obsession had caused him the dearest person to him and a continued sense of helpless longing.
As he looked at the motionless body that was taken away from him, all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of grief, guilt, and emptiness. All he could do was continue to watch like the dumbstruck spectator. All he could utter was a single name that he so often refused to acknowledge.
"Quatre," his lips formed and his throat elicited.
Was it the angelic guise or the being that he truly loved?