I gave Quatre another day to turn it around. I even suggested he make soup for dinner, in case he was getting sick. I watched closely how much he ate and drank during meals, seeing with wonder as he moved things around and slipped pieces of food into his napkin to make it seem like he was eating more than he was. His words about having just eaten, or having a large other meal, or snacking during the day were now dismissed as preposterous. Quatre was barely eating anything.
I consulted Trowa next, trying to keep our meeting brief and minimally invasive. I needed to make sure Quatre wasn't keeping snacks in his room, and make absolutely sure that he wasn't sick, before I could pursue him for anorexia. Trowa was hesitant, at first, to give up information, but opened up when I assured him that Quatre was not in trouble. My fears were immediately confirmed, but I did gain some relief in the knowledge that Trowa had not heard Quatre throwing up at all in the past week. It was hard enough to think of Quatre as anorexic, but I shuddered to think that he might be bulimic as well.
It was a constant struggle that day to keep from saying something, to keep from holding Quatre down and feeding him. Seeing the clothes I had bought him only days ago suddenly become loose and baggy made me cringe and look away. The bright smile he wore on his face, too, hurt me, because it suddenly seemed hollow and empty. A broken mask.
I couldn't have lasted longer than Wednesday, even if I had wanted to. It seemed almost divine intervention to keep me from procrastinating, as Sally called to say she was busy and would have to stop by on Monday. Not even the promise of Sally's advice would give me another day, and I wasn't sure I could have waited for her anyway. Still, it took me all day to decide how to approach him, and I finally settled on taking him up to the library after dinner so that we could talk. It wasn't a great plan, and it was far too close to an actual confrontation for me to be fond of it, but I was running out of patience and Quatre was running out of spare pounds.
Dinner was a long and arduous affair for me, though it was usually something I enjoyed immensely. Tonight, though, I couldn't manage to concentrate on Duo's story of virtual conquest, or Heero's newest tale of feline mischief. I barely managed to rouse myself enough to congratulate Trowa on his latest scholarly achievement, and I simply wasn't in the mood to engage in witty banter with Wufei. All my attention was focused on Quatre's plate, and I had to remind myself several times not to stare at him. I was so out of it that it wouldn't have taken the boys long to figure out something was wrong if they had been paying attention. Wufei, however, seemed to be at top form tonight, and managed to deflect most of the attention from me by keeping up an energetic dialogue. Only Quatre and I were mostly silent.
It wasn't until desert that there came an opening that was slightly better than the confrontation I had been planning and dreading for later than night. It came to me as an epiphany, the plan forming almost immediately in my head. It was risky, but no more or less so than a direct confrontation. Perhaps the thing that swung my choice most was that it just felt better than the confrontation, which didn't feel right at all. I was more confident with this plan, and confidence was really all a master was in the end, right?
For dessert, Quatre served a triple-layer chocolate fudge cake, with a thick layer of fudged in the middle and coated with a homemade chocolate butter-cream icing. The top was sprinkled with chocolate shavings that seemed to almost float on the thick layer of icing at the top. It wasn't as fancy a dessert as Collar would require, but it looked delicious.
"Aren't you having a piece?" I asked as Quatre deliberately passed up his own seat and served a large piece of cake to Trowa. "It's too rich for me," Quatre replied easily. "Besides, I'm not very fond of chocolate," he said, but I had little doubt that he was lying. Quatre had never had a problem with sweets before.
"I think I've eaten too much as well," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Perhaps I'll skip dessert tonight as well"
"Oh," Quatre said, looking hurt. "Are you sure?" he wondered, causing all eyes at the table to turn to us. But I wouldn't be swayed in my resolve, so shook my head. "I'm sure. Anyway, what were you saying, Wufei"
"Ah..." Wufei hesitated, staring at me deeply. His eyes asked me what I was doing, and I tried to tell him to trust me with my own. He must have gotten the message, because he dove back into his explanation of Mongolian horsemanship. He and Heero got so involved, in fact, that it occupied the attention of the table for the rest of the meal.
The meal was not officially over until all the occupants were done with their food and the conversation had finished. No one was allowed to leave until the meal was over, and this was one rule that I was very strict about. However, our meals were most often considered over when Duo began to bounce around, whining about missing his TV show. "Please? Come on, this is the one where Truckzilla takes on Moby Suburban!" said, fairly bouncing in his seat. "Fine, get out of here," I dismissed, and the table began to clear out, with everyone picking up their dishes and heading toward various chores and activities. "Quatre, you stay"
Quatre hesitated, casting a frightened glance at Trowa, who could only give him a confused stare in return. "Go on," I told Trowa gently, giving him a push toward the kitchen, "Don't you have a gun lesson later tonight?" I asked. We both knew he did, so Trowa could only nod and move toward the kitchen. Wufei, too, had paused in the door way, and threw me a look telling me not to screw up before he left the room. And then we were alone. Quatre sat back down nervously, his head down and his hands clasped in his lap as though he expected to be yelled at. But I didn't yell, or say anything at all. Instead, I cut a large piece of cake and sat down beside Quatre. Quatre, of course, looked at the cake as though he'd never seen anything like it before, then looked at me, like he needed to know what to do with it. Again, I said nothing, merely cutting a bite-sized chunk of the piece with my fork, then stabbing it and lifting it into the air. I took a bite, savored the flavor, chewed slowly, then swallowed. Beside me, Quatre made a pained, mewling sound, and I looked up to see that Quatre was staring determinedly at his hands, a blush on his face. I refused to allow myself any facial expression. I didn't want to give Quatre any hints that I might know what was going on. It would only upset him more, and he might bolt. Instead, I cut another piece of cake, lanced it with the fork, and raised it to Quatre's lips. It hovered there for a moment as Quatre just stared, unsure of what to do. A second later, he shook his head, pulling away from me. "Master, I don't"
"Quatre," I said firmly. "Open"
"Ah," he hesitated. "Now," I demanded. Quatre seemed to see that I meant business, because his eyes slammed shut and his mouth popped open, almost without his consent. I put the cake into his mouth, then tapped his chin with the fork. His mouth closed and he began to chew, but stopped after a moment. "Swallow," I instructed. He took a deep breath and followed my command, swallowing like it was mud in his mouth, not chocolate. I didn't expect for him to start crying in the next second, but it wasn't completely unexpected. I sighed and pulled him into my arms, pillowing his head on my shoulder. "Shh," I cooed, trying to calm him. "You're not in trouble. I just... I need to know what's wrong," I told him, but Quatre could only sob in response. "You haven't been eating all week, have you?" I wondered. Quatre gave a hard sob and shook his head. "I thought so," I sighed, trying to decide what to say next. In maintaining the master and slave relationship there was no way I could tell him that I didn't care what he looked like, so I would have to try a different route. I chose my words carefully, and spoke softly. "You must understand, I would really prefer to have you healthy than skinny. I don't want a pale, sickly child. I don't care what you say about this, if you're not eating properly your concentration will be affected, and we can't have that if you're training for Collar. But, most of all, I want you to feel safe here. I'm not going to sell, I promise," I told him, staring deep into his captivated blue eyes. "So I want you to eat normally again, alright?" I asked, holding my breath for his answer. He seemed overcome with emotion, and could only nod as more tears slid down his face. "That's my boy," I sighed as I drew him closer and embraced him. It was several minutes before we parted again, but when we did I could tell that Quatre was feeling better. The hollowness was gone from his eyes, and he actually smiled and laughed nervously.
"I suppose you're hungry, then," I teased him, "Do you think you can eat the rest of the cake?" I dared. Oddly enough, Quatre blushed again and turned away. "Um... Master"
"Hm"
"I really don't like chocolate," he admitted, still blushing. I could only stare at him in surprise, then laughed so hard it hurt. In a minute, he joined me.
It wasn't until desert that there came an opening that was slightly better than the confrontation I had been planning and dreading for later than night. It came to me as an epiphany, the plan forming almost immediately in my head. It was risky, but no more or less so than a direct confrontation. Perhaps the thing that swung my choice most was that it just felt better than the confrontation, which didn't feel right at all. I was more confident with this plan, and confidence was really all a master was in the end, right?
For dessert, Quatre served a triple-layer chocolate fudge cake, with a thick layer of fudged in the middle and coated with a homemade chocolate butter-cream icing. The top was sprinkled with chocolate shavings that seemed to almost float on the thick layer of icing at the top. It wasn't as fancy a dessert as Collar would require, but it looked delicious.
"Aren't you having a piece?" I asked as Quatre deliberately passed up his own seat and served a large piece of cake to Trowa. "It's too rich for me," Quatre replied easily. "Besides, I'm not very fond of chocolate," he said, but I had little doubt that he was lying. Quatre had never had a problem with sweets before.
"I think I've eaten too much as well," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Perhaps I'll skip dessert tonight as well"
"Oh," Quatre said, looking hurt. "Are you sure?" he wondered, causing all eyes at the table to turn to us. But I wouldn't be swayed in my resolve, so shook my head. "I'm sure. Anyway, what were you saying, Wufei"
"Ah..." Wufei hesitated, staring at me deeply. His eyes asked me what I was doing, and I tried to tell him to trust me with my own. He must have gotten the message, because he dove back into his explanation of Mongolian horsemanship. He and Heero got so involved, in fact, that it occupied the attention of the table for the rest of the meal.
The meal was not officially over until all the occupants were done with their food and the conversation had finished. No one was allowed to leave until the meal was over, and this was one rule that I was very strict about. However, our meals were most often considered over when Duo began to bounce around, whining about missing his TV show. "Please? Come on, this is the one where Truckzilla takes on Moby Suburban!" said, fairly bouncing in his seat. "Fine, get out of here," I dismissed, and the table began to clear out, with everyone picking up their dishes and heading toward various chores and activities. "Quatre, you stay"
Quatre hesitated, casting a frightened glance at Trowa, who could only give him a confused stare in return. "Go on," I told Trowa gently, giving him a push toward the kitchen, "Don't you have a gun lesson later tonight?" I asked. We both knew he did, so Trowa could only nod and move toward the kitchen. Wufei, too, had paused in the door way, and threw me a look telling me not to screw up before he left the room. And then we were alone. Quatre sat back down nervously, his head down and his hands clasped in his lap as though he expected to be yelled at. But I didn't yell, or say anything at all. Instead, I cut a large piece of cake and sat down beside Quatre. Quatre, of course, looked at the cake as though he'd never seen anything like it before, then looked at me, like he needed to know what to do with it. Again, I said nothing, merely cutting a bite-sized chunk of the piece with my fork, then stabbing it and lifting it into the air. I took a bite, savored the flavor, chewed slowly, then swallowed. Beside me, Quatre made a pained, mewling sound, and I looked up to see that Quatre was staring determinedly at his hands, a blush on his face. I refused to allow myself any facial expression. I didn't want to give Quatre any hints that I might know what was going on. It would only upset him more, and he might bolt. Instead, I cut another piece of cake, lanced it with the fork, and raised it to Quatre's lips. It hovered there for a moment as Quatre just stared, unsure of what to do. A second later, he shook his head, pulling away from me. "Master, I don't"
"Quatre," I said firmly. "Open"
"Ah," he hesitated. "Now," I demanded. Quatre seemed to see that I meant business, because his eyes slammed shut and his mouth popped open, almost without his consent. I put the cake into his mouth, then tapped his chin with the fork. His mouth closed and he began to chew, but stopped after a moment. "Swallow," I instructed. He took a deep breath and followed my command, swallowing like it was mud in his mouth, not chocolate. I didn't expect for him to start crying in the next second, but it wasn't completely unexpected. I sighed and pulled him into my arms, pillowing his head on my shoulder. "Shh," I cooed, trying to calm him. "You're not in trouble. I just... I need to know what's wrong," I told him, but Quatre could only sob in response. "You haven't been eating all week, have you?" I wondered. Quatre gave a hard sob and shook his head. "I thought so," I sighed, trying to decide what to say next. In maintaining the master and slave relationship there was no way I could tell him that I didn't care what he looked like, so I would have to try a different route. I chose my words carefully, and spoke softly. "You must understand, I would really prefer to have you healthy than skinny. I don't want a pale, sickly child. I don't care what you say about this, if you're not eating properly your concentration will be affected, and we can't have that if you're training for Collar. But, most of all, I want you to feel safe here. I'm not going to sell, I promise," I told him, staring deep into his captivated blue eyes. "So I want you to eat normally again, alright?" I asked, holding my breath for his answer. He seemed overcome with emotion, and could only nod as more tears slid down his face. "That's my boy," I sighed as I drew him closer and embraced him. It was several minutes before we parted again, but when we did I could tell that Quatre was feeling better. The hollowness was gone from his eyes, and he actually smiled and laughed nervously.
"I suppose you're hungry, then," I teased him, "Do you think you can eat the rest of the cake?" I dared. Oddly enough, Quatre blushed again and turned away. "Um... Master"
"Hm"
"I really don't like chocolate," he admitted, still blushing. I could only stare at him in surprise, then laughed so hard it hurt. In a minute, he joined me.