Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ Quatre - 5 ( Chapter 10 )

Part X

Trowa looked down at the drugs in his hands before throwing his startled glance back at the front door that had just slammed. His eyes kept flickering between the two as he struggled to come to grips with the spiraling thoughts in his head. He went over in his mind's eye walking into the apartment to find Quatre gazing passionately at a bag of drugs. He was watching Quatre spin and finger the baggie, as a man would caress his lover. He winced as he remembered his harsh voice and accusatory words.

Damnit! He was supposed to be listening to Quatre -- not pushing him away all over again. But he couldn't have controlled his fear when he saw Quatre with those drugs. Seeing the drugs themselves had made Quatre's problem even more real, instead of being something that he could conveniently forget about whenever he so chose. It was like a slap in the face. But even more so was the slamming of the door as Quatre walked out. That was like a kick in the balls.

He dropped the drugs and raced to the door, wrenching it open and flying down the hall after Quatre. He had to find Quatre before he could get too far. He had to beg for Quatre's forgiveness, apologize profusely for overreacting. He had to bring Quatre back inside before anything could happen. He didn't know what might happen, it was just this strangling feeling in his chest that something bad would happen. He didn't think that Quatre would go off in search for drugs, but he didn't know for sure.

He jumped down flight after flight of stairs, foregoing use of the elevator for its slowness. He shoved himself through the door, catching his hip against the metal bar. He winced in pain but continued on, rushing toward the main door of the apartment building. Rain fell like sludge from the sky, coating him in its coldness as soon as he burst through the door. He stopped, looking desperately from side to side searching for Quatre. Off to the right he saw a gray smudge in the mantle of rain, splashing through the rising waters.

"Quatre!" He screamed at the top of his lungs willing for Quatre to stop. He couldn't explain the intensity of his desperation, but it had felt as though Quatre had walked out of his life forever with the closing of the door and his final words: "No, you're just reminding me of why I took that shit in the first place. If you were really here for me, you wouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You would've listened."

"Quatre!" He sprinted after the grainy shadow. He closed the distance, calling out for Quatre to stop. The figure halted for a moment before rolling his shoulders and continuing on. Trowa dashed in front of Quatre, griping his arms to prevent him from moving away. "Quatre, please!" Quatre struggled in his grasp, turning his wet face to look at him. Trowa knew that tears were also mingled in with the rain on Quatre's face.

"Leave me the fuck alone." Quatre tried to tear himself out of Trowa's grasp, but Trowa held on.

"No! I'm sorry! Please!" Quatre's eyes narrowed at him as he continued to struggle.

"Fuck you, Trowa. Fuck you." Trowa's heart twisted at the harshness of Quatre's voice and he blinked back tears.

"I'm so sorry, Quatre. I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Please! Forgive me! I was so scared!" He was pleading, begging, but he didn't care. So long as Quatre forgave him, he didn't care what he had to do. Quatre raised his elbow and yanked down hard, effectively breaking Trowa's grip. Quatre pulled away from Trowa, held on to by only one hand. Quatre kept his free shoulder as far away from Trowa's hand as possible as he rounded on Trowa.

"Forgive you? Forgive you for what? For jumping to conclusions? For assuming the worst? For not listening? Or for not trusting me? Take your pick, Trowa! Forgive you for what?" Emotion and tears strained Quatre's voice, and it rose to an unimaginable pitch at the last few words. Trowa flinched as the anger washed over him to be pelted down by the pouring rain. Quatre wrenched his other arm out of Trowa's grasp and back a few steps away. Trowa moved to hold him and he threw out a hand in warning. "STOP!" Quatre shrieked. "Don't come any closer!" Quatre trembled in the rain and Trowa stood still, aching to embrace Quatre, but afraid to move. Everything he had wanted, everything he had hoped for was crumbling around him as Quatre glared at him with sorrow and fear. Quatre was backing away; he didn't even want to be comforted by him. Quatre was slipping through his fingers, and the harder he clutched at Quatre, the faster he slipped.

"Quatre, please. . ." Trowa began, but trailed off at the gutting sorrow and anger flashing through Quatre's eyes.

"Fuck you, Trowa!" Quatre spat. "All I wanted, all I needed was for someone to listen to me. For someone to care about me. I just needed someone to hold me." Trowa reached out his arms and Quatre batted them away. "Fuck you! You don't know! You don't know, and unless you listen to me, you won't know! How the fuck can you claim to know what's going through my head? How do you fucking know? I don't even know!" Quatre clutched at his temples, hitting them with every syllable. Trowa moved closer to Quatre as he hunched slightly forward, shaking with angered sobs.

"I'm sorry, Quatre. You don't know how scared I was. I walked in and you were looking at those drugs like they were your life."

"They are my life, Trowa! I couldn't live without them! I can't make it through a day without them, Trowa! You've taken away my only weapon against this world!" Quatre straightened, lowering his hands to sweep around the parking lot. "You want to know why I took those drugs? You really want to know? I took them, Trowa because I had no one to tell me that what I was feeling was okay. No one to lend me a shoulder when my nightmares got to be too much." Trowa closed his eyes understanding Quatre's sorrow. "I had no one to help me struggle through my guilt at my part in the war. No one to laugh with, or cry with. I had no one.

"So when the company tried to pull me even further into its clutches, I went willingly, hoping to drown out some of the pain with work. It's my fault, Trowa, why everyone in my company thinks that I should be a fucking god. I'm the one who set up that image in the first place! I was the one who put them in that habit! I did! Because I couldn't do anything else!" Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre who sagged into his chest, sobbing wearily. "I couldn't take it anymore, Trowa, and I still can't.

"I haven't taken drugs since I OD'd, but obviously you don't believe me."

"I do. I'm afraid, Quatre. And I haven't been this afraid since the war. I just don't want to see you hurting." Quatre pushed away from him just enough to look into his eyes. Trowa brushed back wet and clinging bangs from Quatre's eyes.

"How do I know, Trowa?" Quatre's voice cracked. "How do I know that you won't do this again? How do I know that you won't yell at me again? That you won't jump to conclusions and assume the worst again? How do I you that you'll still trust me?" Quatre paused and Trowa held his breath, afraid of what was to come. "How do I know that you trust me even now? Did you ever?" Trowa closed his eyes, biting back a sob.

"I do trust you, I swear. It took me by surprise; I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't prepared. I hadn't thought of the possibility that you'd go back to drugs -- in any form. So when I saw you gazing hungrily at the drugs, I overreacted. I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid for you, Quatre. I don't want to lose you.

"I don't know what to do." Trowa squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to even acknowledge the next part. Quatre shoved violently away, glaring at him.

"You think I do? You think I have even an inkling of an idea about what I should do? If I did, I wouldn't be in this mess." Quatre yelled, throwing his arms up. Trowa moved closer to him. "I'm not perfect, Trowa! I need someone to help me." Quatre's words began coming out in hitching gasps as he visually struggled to overcome escaping sobs. "I need someone who will hold me. Someone who will love me unconditionally." Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre's shoulders and held him tightly to his chest. He raised his face to the sky, flinching as the rain splattered against his face.

"I'm not perfect, either, Quatre." Quatre broke into heavy sobs that shook even Trowa's body, though Trowa wasn't sure if it was the power of Quatre's sobs or if it was his own. "I'm trying. Let me help you, Quatre. Let me love you." Trowa held Quatre to him wishing that he could make everything better by a flick of his wrist or a snap of his fingers. He loved Quatre, and everything that Quatre went through, Trowa did as well. And seeing Quatre in pain like this was ripping his heart apart. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but there it was, the sole reason for him even returning to normal life. He didn't know what to do, and he felt as though he was failing Quatre. He watched the rain hammer against the grass in the distance.

"I'm so tired, Trowa. I'm tired of hurting, of being alone. I don't want to be alone anymore." Trowa buried his face into Quatre's wet hair.

"You aren't alone, Quatre. I'm here, and I'll always be here for you." He held Quatre closer, tightening his embrace, and whispered into Quatre's hair. "I won't ever leave you alone. I'll always be here. I promise." Quatre barely nodded. "Let's get inside, okay?" He felt Quatre nod slowly against his shoulder, and he bent to slide his arm under Quatre's knees and effortlessly picked Quatre up and cradled him in his arms.

"I can walk you know." Quatre looked a little indignant.

"No. You need someone to pamper you. Enjoy this." Quatre looked like he was about to say something, but leaned his head against Trowa's shoulder instead. Quatre's arms wound around his neck as they traversed the wet parking lot. Trowa felt as though Quatre belonged in his arms like this. He closed his eyes, suppressing a sigh. Once Quatre was better, he could pursue something -- if Quatre wanted it, but until then, he felt as if he would be taking advantage of Quatre's emotional state to even ask. So, he would leave it alone, and just enjoy Quatre as a friend.

He would be Quatre's bulwark. He would make mistakes, he already knew this, but he would try to learn from them. He would stand behind Quatre, offering help, friendship and love whenever Quatre needed it. He would stay in the shadows, silently supporting Quatre through anything.

He would love Quatre, never expecting to be loved in return.

He glanced down at the soaking Quatre in his arms and smiled.

"You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Quatre." Quatre looked up at him through his dripping bangs. "I am so proud of you, Quatre. I want you to know that." Slowly Quatre's mouth turned into a smile, and Trowa's heart swelled.

"Thank you."

Once he had gotten Quatre inside their apartment, he made his way for Quatre's bedroom. He set Quatre down on the bed and moved toward the bathroom.

"I'll run a bath for you and while you're relaxing, I'll make dinner." He didn't look back to see if Quatre had agreed. He sat on the edge of the sunken tub and turned on the hot water tap letting the water warm before plugging up the drain. He watched the water swirl and fill the tub. He looked under Quatre's sink for bath salts and grunted in success as he pulled out some lavender bath salts. He poured a large amount under the faucet watching the water slowly turn a soft purple. He tested the water and turned on the cold water to bring the bath to a bearable temperature. Once the tub had finished filling up, he turned off the tap and walked into the bedroom.

"It's ready. Take as long as you want -- there's no hurry." Quatre nodded, eyes carefully diverted from Trowa's face. Trowa approached Quatre, sliding his hand under Quatre's chin. "Hey, it's okay." His voice was soft as he turned Quatre's face toward him. Quatre's eyes reluctantly met his own. "Keep your head up, Quatre." He brushed his other hand through Quatre's bangs. "It'll be fine. I promise."

"Thanks." Quatre gave him a weak smile, but Trowa just appreciated the effort. Trowa jerked his chin toward the bathroom.

"Now go. Enjoy. Take all of the time you want. I'll be in the kitchen. I'll check in on you in a while." Trowa dropped his hands and turned to leave Quatre. He could hear Quatre moving toward the bathroom and he shut the bedroom door behind him to give Quatre some privacy. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he turned and backed into the nearest wall and slowly sunk to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He bit his bottom lip to try and prevent the harshest of sobs escaping, but it didn't work and he bawled into his cupped hands. The immense sorrow that had been in Quatre's eyes was mind-blowing. And Trowa didn't know how to take it away.

He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, stretching his arms out to rest on his bent knees. Where did everything go so horribly wrong? Why did they still have to suffer after everything they had done? Why couldn't they have peace and happiness like those they had fought for? Why?

He didn't have all of the answers, nor did he have the means to even begin to answer them. These were questions that he would be asking himself for the rest of his life. He could only hope that Quatre and himself eventually were able to be happy. He sighed imagining a world with no more suffering and pain. It was a beautiful world -- but an impossible one.

He eventually became uncomfortable in his soaked clothes and slowly stood up and wandered into his bedroom to change. While staring at the floor in his darkened room, he decided that he needed a quick hot shower, so he made his way into his bathroom. He leaned into the shower and turned the tap on, running his hand under the faucet until the water ran on the hot side of warm. Turning the knob to activate the showerhead, Trowa slipped out of his wet clothes and stepped into the shower.

The spray pelted down in a massaging trance, kneading the tense and knotted muscles in Trowa's shoulders and neck. He turned around to face the spray and placed his hands on the shower wall, bracing himself against the cool white tile. He bent his head down, chin almost touching his chest. The water fell on the back of his head and neck, rolling down his face in random rivulets the dripped from between his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, his lips and his chin. He stood there, letting the warm water run down his body, twisting and threading its way between muscles. He didn't know when he had begun crying again, but he gasped, eyes and mouth open wide as he stared at the shower floor. Eventually he turned the water off and stepped out of the tub, grabbing the towel that waited for him. He looked at himself in the mirror, running a dripping hand through his hair.

Was he good enough? Would he be able to hold Quatre up? Would he be able to provide for Quatre?

Could he love Quatre?

He brought the towel up and began rubbing at his hair, watching himself through the undulating material. Looking into his own eyes, he decided that he could be everything Quatre needed, and more. He could most definitely love Quatre.

He pulled on a pair of loose pajama bottoms and shuffled into the kitchen to make dinner. Quatre eventually joined him, clad similarly but sporting massively wrinkled fingers and hands. Dinner was finished and he set a full plate in front of Quatre with a smile, which Quatre returned easily.

"The bath was good?" Trowa asked, already knowing full well the answer.

"Oh yes. It was wonderful." Quatre took a bite and chewed before continuing. "I don't think I've been this relaxed in a year."

"Good." Trowa immersed himself in his food, stealing sidelong glances at Quatre who definitely looked better.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't really feel like dressing up for dinner." Trowa laughed and gestured at himself with his fork.

"Look at me, Quatre. I understand. Anyway, I didn't really feel like making anything fancy." Quatre shrugged, putting another forkful in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before pointing his fork at Trowa.

"I rather like Hamburger Helper, thank you very much." Trowa chuckled and continued eating. They finished their meal in silence and Trowa placed their dirty dishes in the sink to wash tomorrow. He placed his arm around Quatre's shoulders and guided him to bed. He silently tucked Quatre in before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Are you feeling any better?" He raked a hand through Quatre's hair. Quatre nodded, sinking into the pillows.

"Stay with me tonight? I've grown rather attached to you holding me, and. . ." Trowa smiled and crawled in over Quatre. Quatre turned and snuggled against Trowa. "Thank you."

"Sleep well, Quatre."

"You too." Trowa watched over Quatre until he had fallen asleep and then traced Quatre's face with his finger.

"You are so beautiful, Quatre. So strong. Please, just hold on. I know you'll make it through this. Lean on me whenever you need to, because I will always be there for you." He whispered softly, so as not to disturb Quatre. He gently rubbed his thumb over Quatre's parted lips and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep shortly.