AIDS – Chapter 2
The second stage of HIV came on quick. I had diarrhea everyday, and I started to lose feeling in my hands and feet. But still, nothing came between Trowa and me. We were still engaged, after all, and our wedding day came sooner than we expected. It was our plan to tell everyone the news at the reception. We knew it would sober everyone up, but it had to be done. My sisters were coming, and so were the guys. That was pretty much it.
Anyways, the day of our wedding dawned warm and sunny, much like our dispositions. We were happy to finally be getting married. The great state of New York had just passed a gay marriage law so we would be marrying there. We both wore tuxedos; Trowa's black and mine white. I walked down the aisle slowly, smiling a little at my sisters on my way down.
Trowa and I wrote our own vows.
"Quatre," Trowa began, "I can't wait to spend my life with you. I've loved you since that very first time I met you during the war. You know that. I know we've had our disagreements, but I think we can get through anything. Thank you for being mine Quatre. I love you."
"Trowa," I said, tears filling my eyes, "I can't wait to spend my life with you, no matter how long or short it may be. Not even death could tear us apart, and when I die, I want you to find someone else. Someone who will love you just like you deserve. Someone who will love you like I will. I love you, Trowa. You're the light of my life, and I never want that light to go out."
By our reception, I felt painful sores growing on the sides of my tongue, surely another sign that my HIV was getting worse. It was then that I realized I couldn't fight it. This HIV was going to kill me no matter how much I tried to postpone it. And another thought had dawned on me: Trowa was susceptible to it as well. We had made love many times after I was diagnosed, so it would be a miracle if he hadn't caught it yet.
I tapped on my glass during the reception and a pregnant silence filled the air.
"We have an announcement," I said, barely above a whisper. "Trowa, will you stand with me?"
He did.
"I'm HIV-positive, and Trowa has been exposed to the disease."
A gasp shuddered through the small room, and an anxious silence followed.
"Quatre!" my sister, Nina, breathed. "How?"
"I'm led to believe it was a sexual encounter I'd had during the war," I said, ashamed.
The remainder of the reception was a somber occasion, and then Trowa and I went home. I cried on his shoulder all the way.
"My sisters," I bawled. "Did you see the looks on my sisters' faces? They were so ashamed of me!"
"No they weren't," Trowa assured me. "They're just concerned. They love you, Quatre. I know they do, and so do you."
"Yeah," I sniffled, drying my tears as we pulled into the driveway, "I guess."
"Come on, Quatre," he said, "let's pack up for tomorrow."
So we packed, and we had fun while we packed. For the first time since I was diagnosed-two years before-I laughed. And we left the next day for Paris. We had fun on our honeymoon, and while we were there, I let myself feel alive. Because I knew that, once this disease took a tight hold, I would no longer live. I would just exist until it took me away from the man I loved.