Roommates
Chapter 4: Wallflower
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He doesn't meet Quatre for lunch. He's neither hungry nor is he ready to discuss his odd behavior. And he is sure Quatre will ask. So he calls his friend's secretary and leaves a message: Must cancel lunch. Errands. It's a lie, and an obvious one at that, but he has far too much on his mind to be concerned with tact.
Trowa strides along the street, seeking movement and distraction. He needs to think, but he doesn't particularly want to. He needs to sort through his emotions, but he hesitates to even acknowledge their existence.
How did his life become such a mess? Things had been so much easier when it had been just him and Yokaze sharing an apartment, teaching the classes at the academy, volunteering at the local public schools. He remembers coming home to see her researching some new cause on her laptop or plodding her way through a new song concept for the band. He'd helped with the research. He'd listened to the music. And she'd seemed so content to share them with him. In those moments, he'd forgotten that there was a colony full of people around them. In those moments, the two of them had existed in their own universe. But, more and more, lately that universe is shrinking to encompass only Trowa.
Once, before he'd joined the circus, before he'd befriended his fellow pilots and sworn to protect his coworkers, this sensation had been the norm. But he's felt what it's like to be included in someone else's world, what it's like to invite them into his own.
He doesn't want to go back to that cold solitude. Not anymore.
His thoughts begin to loop back again in a seemingly endless cycle when the one thing that has the power to completely distract him assails his senses.
Yokaze's voice.
"Do I act like... I trust you?"
Trowa pauses on the sidewalk outside a small music shop as the strains of one of NW's lesser known songs drifts out to him.
"Do I stare like… I love you?"
Her husky voice pulls him into the alcove created by the open door and faded awning. He doesn't try to resist.
"Can you feel my... skin against yours?"
His lips part and echo the lyrics unconsciously.
"No?"
A heartbeat of silence follows. And then Yokaze's voice, low and aching: "I didn't think so..."
It's been a long time since he's heard this song. In fact, he can remember the time she'd sang it for him. Well, she hadn't been singing to him. Not really. He'd been in the studio with George when she'd offered to share her newest tune with them. He almost smiles at the way the mere sound of her voice over an old audio system has brought that afternoon back to him. His eyes drift half closed as he remembers the bulky headphones over her short, messy hair, recalls the way she'd leaned into the mic and breathed out the words, returns to the moment she'd looked up at him and the feel of their gazes connecting had been... electric.
"Do I seem like... I need you?"
A shiver tumbles just beneath his skin. That phrase. It had been that phrase when she'd looked up at him. When he'd held her complete and undivided attention.
"Do I sound like... I'll listen to you?"
And she'd always given that to him when he'd had something to say or to share, he realizes; that perfect focus of hers had zeroed in on him without fail. Trowa feels a sigh push past his lips. It feels like it's been forever since the last time she'd looked at him like that. His chest aches with the desire to have that back again.
"Can you tell me... you want me?"
Trowa's entire body seems to pause at that breathy question. His eyes open. The phrase loops back around, replaying in his mind.
"No?"
He swallows as that single syllable, filled with such aching regret, shudders in the air.
"I didn't think so..."
He stares into the small store not seeing the rows of shelves displaying hundreds of compact discs. Trowa is too busy unfolding a shocking realization. He'd always assumed this song had been about anger, about upholding one's defenses, about the end of a passionate relationship, about confronting a long-time lover about their cold indifference.
But that's not it at all.
It's a list of clues. Yokaze sings of unrequited love. She attempts to show how she feels but encounters an unresponsive companion. She asks him if he notices it when she brushes against him. She asks if he has realized he wants her. She sings about loving someone who is either unwilling or unable to return that affection.
And she'd looked directly at him the first time she'd whispered those lyrics to an audience.
He'd been her audience.
Trowa sways slightly on his feet. He reaches out and braces one palm against the doorjamb. She had been singing to him. This song... it's about... it's for... for him? No. No, it can't be. She doesn't... She wouldn't... feel this for her friend, her roommate, her coworker... would she?
How long? he wonders, his body thrumming with energy. He feels on edge and numb at the same time. She wrote this song over a year ago. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he imagines her waiting for him to see it. Waiting for him to open his eyes and notice her the way she wants him to.
His fingers tighten around the frame as he realizes that, over the course of a year, a lot can change. Including her feelings for him.
He's not sure what to do about this. If he can do anything about this. If she'd felt this way about him then, it's no guarantee she'll still feel the same now.
Trowa needs time but he doesn't have it. Tomorrow night is the charity concert. The next morning she'll be flying to Earth for a ten-month tour...
"Can I help you?"
He starts at the intrusion of another's voice. He glances up at the bored-looking teen minding the music store. A corner of his mouth pulls into an abashed half-grin. "No. Thank you," Trowa says as he pushes himself out onto the sidewalk again. "I seem to have answered my own question."
And with that he turns in the direction of the concert hall. NW should be taking a break for lunch soon and he needs to have a few words with the lead singer.
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"Okay, guys. Thirty minutes for lunch," Yokaze announces.
"Thank ever-loving God..." Luke moans, climbing off of his seat behind the drum set and beating a path to the break room.
Jarret switches off his keyboard and comments, "You'd think is ass was on fire."
"Hemorrhoids will do that," Mark says.
Sam snorts. "That's the voice of experience."
"Excuse me?"
Shaking his head, Sam elaborates, "You're the one with the stick up your ass, man. The rest of us keep trying to yank it out but you just clench on for dear life. Don't tell me that don't chafe like a bitch."
"Chafe? Keep talking, Pig Pen," Mark threatens, "and we'll see if you'll be able to find any drawers to wear under your leather pants for the concert."
Sam looks rather amused at that. "We can be the Chafe Brothers!"
Mark slaps his forehead with an open palm. "Another masochist. I just can't win."
"Time to come up with some new, more creative threats, Mark," Jarret says, grinning. With a wave, he motions for Sam to accompany him out of the rehearsal room.
With a sigh, Mark settles his guitar on its stand and heads for the door. "You coming?" he asks Ian. "That pizza's not going to be around much longer with Luke having a head start..."
Ian nods, his gaze flicking to Yokaze. "Yeah. In a minute."
With a shrug, Mark wanders off following Jarret and Sam.
Yokaze finishes wiping down her bass and stands. "What's up, Ian? You've got that look on your face."
"What look is that?" Ian asks, stalling.
She gives him a wry grin. "Reminds me of that time you had diarrhea real bad and the only toilet within a city block was a dilapidated Port-A-Potty from the twenty-first century..."
Ian sighs deeply. She isn't making this easy for him. "Look, Yokaze..."
"Yeah?"
"About what we talked about before..."
She waits. And then when no further information is forthcoming promtps, "Yeah?"
Ian takes a step closer to her and then another until he's just inside her personal space. She looks up at him, making no move to back away.
Very quietly, Ian says, "I need to ask you a really important question..."
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Trowa doesn't bother to try to explain his presence to building security. He simply avoids them. But the delay he's experiencing at locating Yokaze isn't allowing him to enjoy that small victory. He turns down another hall and spies an open door a few yards ahead. As he approaches, a masculine voice becomes audible.
"...the hell can you eat like that?"
"Like what?" a muffled voice returns.
A new voice says flatly, "That's disgusting, Luke."
The first comments, "Dude, I didn't know you could fit that much food in the human mouth."
Luke cackles evilly. "You should see my deep throat."
A small snapping sound echoes in the resulting silence. Someone sighs. "God dammit, I need another spork."
Trowa slows as he nears the doorway and peers into the room. Four of the six NW members lounge about eating pizza without the protective netting of a plate beneath it. All except Mark who is attempting to saw his pizza into bite sized pieces with a pair of white, plastic sporks.
Mark continues without looking at Luke, "You know, for a guy who's so concerned with appearances you—"
Trowa shifts on the threshold and one by one every pair of eyes looks up. Even Luke's. Trowa has to admit he's quite the sight bent over the table with half a rolled-up slice of pizza handing out of his mouth.
Trowa arcs a brow at him. Deep throat, indeed.
"Hey, Tro," Jarret greets, setting down his can of legal stimulant. "What's happening, man?"
"Yokaze?" he asks simply.
Jarret nods to the right indicating Trowa should continue his search further down the hall. "Fourth door on the left."
"Thanks."
"Hey, tell her and Ian to get their asses in here soon if they want to eat today!" Jarret calls after him.
Trowa frowns slightly at the information. She's not alone. Yet another obstacle. He would like to stop and think this whole situation through more carefully. He would like to be a little more sure of what these emotions are he's feeling. But he can't. In less than forty-eight hours she'll be planet-side. For ten months.
He jogs the short distance to the room Jarret had directed him to and slows to walk as he approaches the door. He can hear Ian's low, rumbling voice as he approaches. The door is slightly ajar and he reaches out to push it open when the man's words finally register.
"... you marry me?"
Door now open, Trowa stares at the scene before him. Ian kneels before Yokaze, gently cradling her hand. And Yokaze... Trowa's questions die, unvoiced, in his throat as the most radiant smile lights her features.
Silently, he slides back into the hall. Mind numb with shock, Trowa instinctively seeks the shadows... but finds none. So he keeps on walking. Later, he can't recall how he got out of that building with no one seeing him. He supposes his training is responsible for that.
And, a heartbeat later, when he vividly recalls Yokaze's joy at Ian's proposal he supposes his ignorance is responsible for that.
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~End of Chapter 4~
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Author's Note: The song in this chapter is actually my own original stuff. So, yeah, my lyrics. Go me.