That Little Angel
Pairings: implied 4x3
Warnings: Iria's POV
Note: I had a weird little moment and decided to write a fic with Iria's point of view. Hope you guys like it. By the way, it's uber-short because it's a ficlet.
My little brother has always seemed like the pride and joy of my father to other people. He even took him to work sometimes when he was a baby. That was a long time ago, though. Now, it seems like Papa doesn't even care. Quatre's had a decent childhood, I would think. No, scratch that. I know he had a decent childhood.
You see, Mama died giving birth to Quatre. With Winner Corporation, Papa didn't have any time to properly take care of the blue-eyed, blonde angel. So, I did. Being the most responsible of all the twenty-nine sisters, it only seemed logical.
Don't get me wrong, the others helped sometimes; however, I was always the one who really took care of him. I changed him, feed him, held him when he cried, played with him, and did everything else that a good mother does.
The challenge came, however, not when he was a mere baby, but when he was a teenager. I can still remember how moody and depressed he was. No one knew why. He wouldn't talk to anyone at all about it. Not even his best friends from school.
Duo, Trowa, Heero, and Wufei meant well, but it wasn't enough. Trowa's close friendship only backfired on my little brother, considering that he was the main cause of all of Quat's problems. Poor Trowa. He never knew. I still don't know if he does.
I still feel a little jealous of the friendship that Quatre and Duo shared. They were best friends. Almost inseparable. I wasn't jealous because of this, you understand. That would be ridiculous. No, I was very happy that Quatre had good friends.
Jealousy reared it's ugly head when Quatre finally confessed his problem to Duo. Not to his beloved sister, who raised him, but to a mere teenager. I can't help being childish like that. Quatre's so important to me, and I thought that he felt that he could tell me any of this problems.
Back to his problem, though. It wasn't what you'd normally suspect, unless you're actually a fantastic interpreter of what a person's problem is. The "problem" was plain and simple: our dear lil' Quat was gay. It came as a bit of a surprise to me, but he never had taken any interests in girls. The real problem wasn't that Quatre was gay, it's how he came out.
We were all at dinner--yes, all thirty-one of us. Papa had wanted the whole family together for some odd reason. He just does that kind of thing sometimes. Anyway, Quatre was just poking around at his peas and carrots, looking depressed. Papa asked him what was wrong. The little sweetie did the only thing he could think of: he told the truth. I can still remember his exact words: "I, um, have a problem, Dad. It's just...I'm, um...gay."
He had barely even spoken, his words were so soft; however, Papa had heard him. Papa glared at Quatre. He demanded to know how his one and only son could possibly do something like this to him; how could be ruin the family name and put the Winner Corporation at jeopardy. Tears had flowed down the poor kid's face. Quite a few of us girls had started crying for him to.
There were so many shouts of anger that night. Papa screamed at Quatre; I screamed at Papa; Papa screamed at me and anyone else who said something in defense of Quatre. Quatre sat at the table, hand in his lap, tears flowing down his face. He never said a word, no matter what awful thing Papa screamed at him. Eventually, Papa called him a "faggot" and went to his room in disgust. I held Quatre all night because of that. And many more nights afterward.
From that day forward, Papa and Quatre didn't talk. I told Quatre that he should try, yet he never did. Papa seemed against any type of conversation with his son. It angered me terribly, but I couldn't intervene: Quatre had begged me not to. A week after Quatre had came out to us all, he moved in with Duo. Papa legally disowned him.
I don't think I'll ever understand why Papa had to be so cruel to a sixteen-year old boy. I don't understand how any father can hate their son with such a passion. They haven't spoken since that night. I try to talk to Quatre as much as I can. He always says he's doing okay, but I don't believe him. No one can be okay when their own father calls them such ignorant words and screams hate at them. The only thing I have to depend on is Duo, but I know Quatre's dying inside. When he needed Papa the most, Papa denied him love. All Quatre ever wanted was love and acceptance from Papa, but, apparently, Papa thought other things were more important than his one and only son.
Pairings: implied 4x3
Warnings: Iria's POV
Note: I had a weird little moment and decided to write a fic with Iria's point of view. Hope you guys like it. By the way, it's uber-short because it's a ficlet.
My little brother has always seemed like the pride and joy of my father to other people. He even took him to work sometimes when he was a baby. That was a long time ago, though. Now, it seems like Papa doesn't even care. Quatre's had a decent childhood, I would think. No, scratch that. I know he had a decent childhood.
You see, Mama died giving birth to Quatre. With Winner Corporation, Papa didn't have any time to properly take care of the blue-eyed, blonde angel. So, I did. Being the most responsible of all the twenty-nine sisters, it only seemed logical.
Don't get me wrong, the others helped sometimes; however, I was always the one who really took care of him. I changed him, feed him, held him when he cried, played with him, and did everything else that a good mother does.
The challenge came, however, not when he was a mere baby, but when he was a teenager. I can still remember how moody and depressed he was. No one knew why. He wouldn't talk to anyone at all about it. Not even his best friends from school.
Duo, Trowa, Heero, and Wufei meant well, but it wasn't enough. Trowa's close friendship only backfired on my little brother, considering that he was the main cause of all of Quat's problems. Poor Trowa. He never knew. I still don't know if he does.
I still feel a little jealous of the friendship that Quatre and Duo shared. They were best friends. Almost inseparable. I wasn't jealous because of this, you understand. That would be ridiculous. No, I was very happy that Quatre had good friends.
Jealousy reared it's ugly head when Quatre finally confessed his problem to Duo. Not to his beloved sister, who raised him, but to a mere teenager. I can't help being childish like that. Quatre's so important to me, and I thought that he felt that he could tell me any of this problems.
Back to his problem, though. It wasn't what you'd normally suspect, unless you're actually a fantastic interpreter of what a person's problem is. The "problem" was plain and simple: our dear lil' Quat was gay. It came as a bit of a surprise to me, but he never had taken any interests in girls. The real problem wasn't that Quatre was gay, it's how he came out.
We were all at dinner--yes, all thirty-one of us. Papa had wanted the whole family together for some odd reason. He just does that kind of thing sometimes. Anyway, Quatre was just poking around at his peas and carrots, looking depressed. Papa asked him what was wrong. The little sweetie did the only thing he could think of: he told the truth. I can still remember his exact words: "I, um, have a problem, Dad. It's just...I'm, um...gay."
He had barely even spoken, his words were so soft; however, Papa had heard him. Papa glared at Quatre. He demanded to know how his one and only son could possibly do something like this to him; how could be ruin the family name and put the Winner Corporation at jeopardy. Tears had flowed down the poor kid's face. Quite a few of us girls had started crying for him to.
There were so many shouts of anger that night. Papa screamed at Quatre; I screamed at Papa; Papa screamed at me and anyone else who said something in defense of Quatre. Quatre sat at the table, hand in his lap, tears flowing down his face. He never said a word, no matter what awful thing Papa screamed at him. Eventually, Papa called him a "faggot" and went to his room in disgust. I held Quatre all night because of that. And many more nights afterward.
From that day forward, Papa and Quatre didn't talk. I told Quatre that he should try, yet he never did. Papa seemed against any type of conversation with his son. It angered me terribly, but I couldn't intervene: Quatre had begged me not to. A week after Quatre had came out to us all, he moved in with Duo. Papa legally disowned him.
I don't think I'll ever understand why Papa had to be so cruel to a sixteen-year old boy. I don't understand how any father can hate their son with such a passion. They haven't spoken since that night. I try to talk to Quatre as much as I can. He always says he's doing okay, but I don't believe him. No one can be okay when their own father calls them such ignorant words and screams hate at them. The only thing I have to depend on is Duo, but I know Quatre's dying inside. When he needed Papa the most, Papa denied him love. All Quatre ever wanted was love and acceptance from Papa, but, apparently, Papa thought other things were more important than his one and only son.