-Chapter Four-
Boring. Repetative. Mind numbingly redundant.
Trowa sighed as he held the styrophome cup under the machine, watching as it was filled with the dark liquid.
"How long does it take you to make a cup of coffee!" the woman in a business suit asked rudely.
Trowa didn't flinch as the comments continued, carefully putting the plastic lid on the cup and turning around. He did give himself the pleasure of fixing a good glare as he held the cup out. Emerald orb narrowing in on the lady, his face a perfect blank, Trowa smiled inwardly at the reaction he received.
The woman paled, mouth opening and closing a few times as no sound came out, though she collected herself quickly as she handed him the appropriate amount for the drink. "Hmph."
Trowa put the money in the register, his movements mechanical, his face expressionless- he looked like a robot (or Duo had so kindly informed him once) playing the part of an employee.
The scent of warmed sweetbreads and foreign coffees filled the air, enticing customers to come in each time the door was opened-- a quaint little cafe, it was nothing compared to the job he'd had in the circus. But, he'd needed to get away from all that. Yes, he did care for Cathy, but... There was no one explanation he'd been able to give his sister when she'd tearfully asked why he was packing his things and leaving to live in some crummy apartment in the city, on Earth no less... Sometimes, a person just needed to follow his instincts.. And Trowa's had told him it was time to try a different life now that the war was over, one he'd never known before.
He remained silent as he went about his task, putting a blueberry muffin in a bag and getting the next customer in line a cappuccino. Two years in a low salary, low maintenance, zero respect job. The exact opposite of what he had done for most of his past. Even if the customers were rude, all in all, the normalcy of his new life was something he welcomed, and enjoyed. Though, given his usual melancholy aura, one would be hard pressed to see that.
Sighing as he put the last man's payment into the register, Trowa sounded far from enthusiastic as he spoke to the next in line. "Yes, what can I get you?"
". . .Trowa?"
Trowa blinked, eyes widening as he took a step back, shocked, to say the least. It had been almost two weeks since the night of the party...
xxx Flashback xxx
Trowa curled his hands into tight fists, nails biting into his palms- physical pain was easier to accept then this.
There wasn't much he'd needed to do before leaving, save for fixing up his room and grabbing his jacket. It was too much to have to think about here, under Quatre's roof, knowing -she- was with the blond pilot.
And, the worst part was, Trowa couldn't even find reason to hate Relena for what she'd done... She hadn't done anything wrong, that was the problem! In reality, he despised himself for having been so foolish as to actually entertain thoughts that--
". . .Trowa?"
He tensed at the sound of that voice, like a child who'd been caught doing something wrong. Trowa's back was to the other; it gave him a moment to make sure any trace of inner turmoil was gone when he turned around to face Quatre.
Trowa said nothing- he didn't trust himself enough to try speaking.
"What are you doing out here? It's late..." Quatre sounded worried.
The taller youth swallowed hard. Quatre was wearing a red bathrobe over a pair of flannel pants and top, a bottled water in hand... He didn't look like a well-off businessman, and with the concerned look he wore, he seemed even younger.
The blond's brows drew together as he came closer, realizing why Trowa was downstairs at this hour. "You.. You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?" Concerned features shifted to obvious hurt.
"I need to go home. I can't sleep," Trowa explained, his answer short, detached. He wouldn't finish the sentance... He couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes, he could only see what had happened in the courtyard.
"That's not an excuse!" Quatre was almost shouting. "We're supposed to be friends- We rarely see each other as it is, and you were ready to walk out in the middle of the night. I don't suppose you even had the decency to write a note."
Trowa didn't know what to say; not only had his dreams been completely crushed, but now he'd managed to put further strain on their friendship. He took another step back- it was almost impossible to make Quatre lose his temper. Yet somehow he'd done it, when all he truly wanted was to hold the other pilot and have his feelings returned.
Quatre was just standing in front of him, waiting for some sort of answer.. No.. Those beautiful, aqua eyes were demanding another explanation from him.
"...My cab will be here soon." Trowa's tone never wavered, his 'uncaring' features never changing. He knew it was a mistake the moment the words passed his lips, but it was too late to take them back.
Deeply wounded by Trowa's callous reply, Quatre's shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "I thought things were different now- we all promised to stick together after everything. I know it's not as easy for you or Heero or Wufei as it is for Duo or me, but..." He raised a hand helplessly.
"Quatre... It's just--" Trowa began, knowing something should be said, that he couldn't leave again without patching up at least this part of things.
"Oh, Quatre! Hurry, the movie's starting, I put it on pause for now--" Relena came into the room, wearing only a silken nightshirt and thin, cotton bathrobe ontop. She cut herself off when she saw Trowa standing there, a hand rising to her collar.
Quatre's gaze shifted from the tall pilot to Relena, then back, as did Trowa's.
The Latin's jaw clenched. Unable to fully control his feelings further, the raw emotions were visible in his eyes.
Confusion.
Hurt.
Betrayal.
Quatre read it clearly, and his expression changed to one of guilt. "Trowa, I--"
The taxi's horn honking from outside interrupted him. Without pausing, Trowa turned and left, not even so much as saying goodbye.
xxx End Flashback xxx
"Wow, I had no idea that you worked here, what a surprise," chimed the sweet voice, belonging to the only one who could make the distant 03 pilot weak in the knees. "I mean.. I knew you lived in the city, but I didn't.." Quatre seemed to be stumbling through his words, an unusual trait for the normally eloquent speaker. He nervously toyed with one of the buttons on the blazer he wore.
Trowa nodded faintly, picking up on the sound of strained ease to Quatre's voice. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who still remembered that night.
A second of awkward silence passed between the two, Trowa wisely avoiding eye contact as he instead stared down at the counter, Quatre trying to hold a smile though he was rapidly failing.
"..Can I get you something?" Trowa asked quickly, hearing the shuffling of the other people in line. If he hadn't looked up, Quatre might have just ordered and left, and that would have been the end of it.. Try as he may, his will power wasn't strong enough, and his eyes flickered up.
Quatre's phoney smile fell instantly, his voice lowering. "Trowa, I.. I'm glad I ran into you like this... Please, I really need to talk to you."
Trowa almost trembled-- he was in less and less control of himself every time he was around the other. His friend's voice was full of pleading desperation, and it effected him more than he'd expected.
Not understanding the expression that briefly rippled over Trowa's face, Quatre assumed he wasn't going to get through to his friend. The blond leaned closer, pressed against the counter. "Please, Trowa, I'm--"
"I'm due for a break in five minutes. Have a seat until then," Trowa's soft voice cut him off.
Nodding his agreement to Trowa's words, Quatre made his way to the back of the cafe, taking a seat in one of the booths.
As the minutes passed, and Trowa tried to focus on what he was doing, he found that his gaze kept straying to Quatre. The blond was sitting so solemnly... His hands were folded over one another on the table, his head bowed... Trowa sighed deeply- it would be so much easier if he hadn't ever admitted (to himself) that he had feelings for the other.
Removing the tacky green apron he was forced to wear, and motioning for the other employee to take his spot, Trowa filled a cup with coffee, adding the sugar and cream. He moved toward the table his friend was seated at, placing the steaming drink down before Quatre and taking a seat across from him.
"Thanks." The blond slid the cup closer, as if he meant to take a sip-- he didn't.
The tension was thick enough to choke a person. Trowa couldn't remember a time when it had ever felt like this to be near his friend, and worse, he didn't know what to say.
"Trowa, I'm so sorry," Quatre said unexpectedly, gently.
Those few simple words, so full of sympathy, made Trowa's stomach clench in icy fear. Quatre knew! Somehow, he had figured it out.. Oh God.. And now he was going to try to console him, to somehow save Trowa from losing all of his dignity in this sort of "rejection." The 03 pilot's heart pounded painfully-- at least now it was out, and he wouldn't have to--
Quatre's remorseful words interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sorry that I never told you about my relationship with Relena. I didn't mean to betray our friendship like that, or for you to find out like you did... I spoke to Duo, he told me... It was wrong of me to not confide in you earlier, especially considering how much I criticize you on your 'friendship etiquette'."
Relief eased the hastened beating of his heart-- Quatre didn't know then!
But, this was wrong. Though they were friends, good friends, Quatre had no more of an obligation to tell of his 'personal' life than Trowa did to tell of his intimate feelings towards the other. What Quatre had interpreted as a hurt friend's actions went so much deeper than that; Trowa was selfish. "Quatre, you don't have to apologize," he began, his voice steady, calm, "My reaction was utterly childish, the result of too much champagne," he concluded, the lie rolling glibly off his tongue.
Quatre smiled sadly, head lifting to regard Trowa with a heartfelt look. "No, there is no excuse for what I did." He reached across the table, laying a hand on Trowa's forearm. "There I was, accusing you of not caring enough, when in truth, it was I who was careless! If I had found out you were seeing someone we both knew, and that you never told me about it, I'd be devastated... I care about you, Trowa, you know that, right?"
It was an innocent touch, a friend offering physical contact to enhance his sincerity.. Trowa wanted nothing more than to reciprocate it, to lay his own hand over the irrisistable blond's, to quickly, before the mood was broken, whisper his secret. He wanted to say something meaningful, something striking!
He couldn't. Quatre didn't mean his words the way Trowa would. "Of course," he replied, monotonously. "Honestly, Quatre, it's alright; think no more of what happened."
Despite his lack-luster efforts, the Latin was rewarded with a sweet moment of Quatre's laughter. Giving the other's arm a quick squeeze, Quatre withdrew his hand, leaving that lingering, fading, feeling of warmth where it had been. "I do want you to know-- I didn't mean to keep it from you. It's just that, whenever we were alone, it was always the furthest thing from my mind."
Trowa somehow forced a dim smile, wishing there was more behind the words of that statement... His crushed hopes were too painful, too recent to simply bury and forget... But.. He would have to.. to learn..
Vision straying toward the work counter, the employee who'd taken his place gave him a pointed look. "...I have to get back to work."
Quatre nodded, rising with his untasted coffee in hand. "Okay."
The Latin started to turn away.
"Trowa..."
He halted, cool green eyes glancing over a shoulder. "Yes?"
The 04 pilot's demeanor had changed dramatically. He seemed unsure, almost.. shy. "There's still so much more I'd like to say to you..."
Trowa turned back around, facing Quatre, ignoring the fact that he'd probably be reprimanded later for extra time he was taking on his break. "Yes?" he repeated, reserved voice showing more encouragement than normal. He was too easily caught up in those sea-green eyes of his dearest...
"Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? There's this wonderful restaurant, not too far from here..."
Even if it would never... He could indulge in his longings... And when Quatre was standing so close to him, acting so..
It was easy to forget.
"I'd like that," Trowa replied softly.
Smiling brightly at the acceptance, Quatre waved goodby, promising to call with the time and directions later on.
Trowa stood there, unmoving, until the other youth had vanished from his sight. Only then, when even the afterimage of Quatre's smile had faded, did he slowly, mechanically make his way back behind the counter.
Methodically, as he tended to each customer, he thought over what had been said.
They would be alone, tonight. Quatre had specifically asked him to meet where they would be by themselves, undisturbed by the other aspects of their lives. Undisturbed by other people, friends or...
Trowa knew, in his heart, that there was nothing deeper to read from any of this.
But.
He could.. pretend...
Nothing would ever justify it.
But if only for a moment, to just. . .
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Thank you guys for supporting this lazy author! o
-Zangai