I know a few things now that I couldn't have known then. Things I probably didn't want to come to realize at the time, for whatever reason.
Like, for instance, when someone tells you they heard from a guy who heard from a guy who had been in the honours dormitory that girls walk around in their underwear freely in the hallways - to take it for face value as just talk. When a guy gets into upper levels of the all-girls dorm, the last thing on his mind is panty inspection - he's too busy just trying to make sure he doesn't come out as dog meat. However, at the time, when I would see Relena walking down the hallway side by side with any girl coming out of the dorm - I was happy to think it was true.
When someone told me that they heard from some guy who knew a girl once who told him that she had a shower with another girl... it gets you that much more curious about the inner workings of a single-sex dorm.
It's like when you see Catholic school uniforms: you just can't help but wonder. Do they like wearing the uniforms? Would they wear them outside of school if you asked them to? Young and stupid questions like that... which all seem perfectly reasonable to ask at the time (though it's usually safer to keep it from being said out loud).
So when Quatre asked me, "Why?" as in, "Why Relena?" it just seemed like one of those young and stupid questions that would get a young and stupid answer.
"Uh well, she's really pretty and smart."
What else can you say? I mean, you're in a class with a girl, you see her a couple times a week, in class or on campus... and you're really only just seeing.Sometimes they might raise their hand and say something witty that makes you laugh - but that isn't enough proof to say they are indeed funny and have the gift of humour. You're in class, watching them, just out of your reach and the gears in your head start turning. And then you get crazy ideas in your head like you can somehow turn your life into the perfect plot for an eighties movie. You get your buddy Quatre, your gal pal Hilde from your history class, her friend Sally... and you form a St. Elmo's troop that is hell-bent on uncovering the secrets of the Peacecraft Breakfast Club.
Alright, so it wasn't a Breakfast Club per say - honestly, they weren't that mixed up. There wasn't the one jock, the one pretty girl, the pre-Emo kid, the geek, and the rebel. They weren't so easily categorized - not that we didn't try. We wanted to lump them together so that it would be easier to figure out exactly why we couldn't have them - so we could just say, "They're out of our league," and it would be a totally righteous and informed answer.
The girls of the club consisted of Relena (of course), and her best friend and cousin, Dorothy Catalonia. Dorothy was her cousin on her father's side, but even after the Darlians divorced, the cousins stuck together. Though the parents burnt bridges, apparently the kids didn't follow suite. Maybe that's just a Winner attribute - not that I hold it against Quatre or anything. He's been my best friend since grade school. He even went to my public high school, when he could've gone to posh private school where he could've given me access to girls in uniform.
Again, I don't hold it against him; though we had fun with it. He would remind me of his sacrifice, and I would remind him of my loss.
The Peacecraft Brat Pack also included her boyfriend, Heero Yuy (of course), and his roommate at the time, Trowa Barton. They both bunked in the all-boys honours behind our residence - ours, being Quatre, mine, and the rest of our crew. Because we were first-years, we were stuck in the freshman co-ed dorms.
Well, I was stuck there. Quatre could've opted out, but since we're in different programs and what not, it was easier when we lived on the same floor to keep in touch. Quatre starting out in Business Administration and me in English... Somehow, I didn't suspect we'd be in a lot of classes together. It's one of those things we didn't want to end up like... those kids who leave high school saying they'll keep in touch and never do. Why? Because things happen.
Eventually, if you're too far apart, you can't keep up with each other on a day to day basis. Then you can barely keep up on a break to break basis at winter, spring, or summer. And then you're just meeting up at high school reunions, chatting about the good ol' days that you don't really ever think about otherwise. Neither of us wanted that for our friendship.
With the five of them walking together - Heero, Relena, Trowa, Dorothy, and Wufei - you'd think it was the girls were being escorted by their own personal Mod Squad. Quite frankly, the guys of the Pack all appeared to be overly serious in one way or another. Wufei's no-smile policy, Heero's diehard competitiveness, Trowa's silent treatment... they could've been poster children of the Revolution. I'd watch them walk across the grounds in perfect step with one another, half-expecting for a theme song to start playing as they went by. If Relena saw me, she'd nod or wave. I even heard her once tell them who I was, "Oh that's Duo, from one of my classes. I pretty sure he's an English major." I wouldn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, until Quatre finally hit me at the backside of my head. It wasn't a friendly tap either - he doesn't look like he has it in him, but if you hit a nerve, there is no telling what he's capable of.
On the flipside, if he's got a soft spot for you, there isn't anything he won't do for you. I'll never forget when we were ten and he took me to go see his new horse, Sandrock. We took Sandrock out grazing and I tripped, and my shoe came off and ended up in a creek. If you've ever been to a ranch, you may be aware that many of them come complete with long stretches of manure and horse excrement surrounding the stables. While we were trying to recover my shoe, Sandrock wandered back to the stables without us, and we were there with me with one shoe in hand and a field of shit to cross. Ten year-old Quatre, in the greatest iconic token of friendship that I can possibly fathom, carried me on his back over a field of shit. I swore to him that day that if I could ever return the favour, metaphorically or actually (preferably the former), I'd be at his beck and call.