Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Angel ❯ Quatre - 7 ( Chapter 14 )

Part XIV

"So, why did you go to the bar?" Trowa asked, raising another forkful of lasagna to his mouth. Quatre shrugged.

"Just felt like it, I guess." Trowa nodded. Quatre pushed some food around his plate. "This is wonderful, Trowa." He smiled, nodding his thanks.

"I just worry about you, Quatre. That's all." He wiped his mouth with his napkin before leaning back in his chair, studying Quatre.

"I know. It's not something I do very often, and before you say anything, it's not something I plan on doing very often." Trowa nodded.

"I understand." Trowa reached for his water glass, taking a slow sip before continuing. "Quatre? Tell me something. How do you feel about Kelly threatening you?" Quatre scowled.

"I don't know how to explain it, Trowa. I'm not happy about it if that's what you mean."

"You do know that's its an empty threat, right?"

"Of course I know that! She isn't even in Management." Trowa leaned forward, gazing intently at Quatre.

"Then why can she even treat you like that? Why can she tell you what to do?" Quatre lowered his eyes and dropped his hands from he table.

"I . . . I don't know." Quatre looked over at the couch, body language screaming that he didn't want to talk. "They've always been in the sidelines telling me that I'm not man enough. And since Father wasn't really ever happy with me, they were able to get under my skin. I was able to forget them during the war, but now . . ." Quatre sighed and raised his eyes to meet Trowa's. "I never have liked confrontation. I don't like hurting people. And I certainly don't want to yell at anyone. As a result, I don't stand up for myself, and because I don't stand up for myself, I believe people when they tell me that something is wrong with me."

"What about when people tell you something good about yourself." Quatre looked away again.

"People don't tell me good things about myself." Trowa narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you tell yourself good things about yourself?" Quatre didn't say anything, giving only a small shake of his head. Trowa leaned back, stretching an arm over the back of the chair next to him. He stretched his legs out under the table and crossed his ankles. "Tell me something good about yourself."

"I can't." Trowa shook his head.

"Sure you can." He watched with concern as Quatre shook his head again. Damnit, Quatre! I know that you can think! "Yes you can, Quatre. I know you. I know that you can think. You just have to think Quatre. Not about what people say, but what you feel. Ignore everybody else."

"It's not that simple, Trowa."

"Yes it is." Quatre looked away again.

"I'm nice." Trowa felt a smile threaten to overtake his face. This might just work.

"Yes. Yes you are." He leaned forward, steepling his arms and leaning on his elbows. "What else." Quatre sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I am smart." Trowa nodded. "I like Opera. That's good."

"Yes. Which Opera is your favorite?"

"Tristan and Isgold."

"Why?"

"The song Liebestood." Quatre paused before looking up at Trowa. "I am a good musician."

"Any favorite composer?"

"Mahler."

"Why?"

"His works are passionate and dramatic. Like me."

"You're passionate?" Quatre nodded, eyes sparkling. Trowa smiled in encouragement.

"Very." There was another pause. "Trowa? Am I lovable?"

"Do you think you are?"

"I don't know." Quatre stared at him a moment before seemingly conceding that he wasn't going to give him an easy way out. His voice was meek, like he was seeking out the answer. "I am lovable?" It was definitely more of a question.

"You don't seemed very convinced." Quatre glared at him and he fought laughter.

"Yes. I am lovable." Finally, a statement. A firm statement.

"Yes, you are."

______________________________

He helped Trowa clear the dishes away from the table and place them in the kitchen. His sister was just a bully, using threats to intimidate him and hopefully manipulate him into doing what she wanted. However, knowing that didn't make dealing with it any easier. He should have fired her, but he didn't have the heart -- or maybe the balls. So far, Trowa hadn't seemed to get upset, and he had been understanding of Quatre's weakness. He walked back to the kitchen holding the last plate in his hand. He gently set it down on the counter. Hands gently grabbed his wrists and he was spun around before being crushed to Trowa's hard body.

Trowa danced him around the kitchen, humming disjointedly to an improvised melody. Quatre laughed as he was dipped and twirled around again. They ended up against the counter and Trowa pulled him closer, pressing his cheek against Quatre's temple. Quatre wrapped one arm around Trowa's back while the other was entwined in Trowa's hand. They waltzed out of the kitchen and into the living room where Trowa spun him out and spinning him back against him. Trowa waltzed them up to the stereo where he used Quatre's finger to push the play button on the CD player. A tango began playing and Trowa danced Quatre around the room, dipping him so dramatically that the blood flowed completely to his head before he was raised up again to be manipulated by Trowa's skilled hands. He was pressed from side to side, having to move his legs around Trowa's legs so he wouldn't trip. He had to admit that he like being dipped because then he would be pressed to Trowa's body as he was raised back up.

They were both breathless as they danced back into the kitchen. For a moment, they didn't let go of each other, just swaying back and forth. But soon enough, Trowa released him, turning back to the waiting dishes.

"I'll finish up here. You go get ready for bed." Quatre hesitated, thinking that he should help Trowa, but Trowa placed a kiss on his forehead and turned him around and gently pushed him out of the kitchen. "Go. I'll be there in a sec."

Quatre left the whistling Trowa in the kitchen and made his way to the bedroom, yawning as he realized that he was extremely tired. He crawled into bed, burrowing himself in the covers and waited for Trowa. He smiled at the thought that Trowa would be sleeping in the same bed with him again. The thought had, at first, been comforting, knowing that he would have someone to hold him, but it slowly became something else as he wanted Trowa in his bed for more reasons than just comfort. He was falling for Trowa.

It hadn't been anything sudden; it was something that he had just begun to realize. He certainly hadn't thought that he would be falling in love with Trowa when they first met. But here he was, blushing under the covers as he waited for Trowa to join him. He knew that they wouldn't do anything, but any time close to Trowa was cherished. He wondered how Trowa felt about him, but he wouldn't find out. And that was suprisingly okay with him. Just having Trowa near was good enough; Quatre didn't need anything more.

He rolled over, his back facing the door, as he grew uncomfortable staying on his left side. He preferred sleeping on his right side anyway. He heard Trowa approaching the room. He knew that Trowa would have already shed his clothes, tossing them in the unused guest room. The guest room was supposed to be Trowa's room, but he never used it, opting instead to stay with Quatre. A technicality that Quatre certainly wasn't going to argue about. He was perfectly happy when Trowa slipped under the covers each night.

This night, Trowa pulled him close and stroked his hair. He snuggled up to Trowa's side.

"Why don't you just resign?" Trowa's soft voice drifted over his head as he looked sharply into Trowa's eyes.

"Are you mad?" Trowa blinked.

"No. I'm serious. You hate your job. Leave it. Do something else." Quatre sat up staring at Trowa like he had grown a third eye.

"How would I live?" Trowa chuckled.

"Quatre, this loft is yours. It's completely paid off, as is your car. I have a well paying job, certainly bringing in more then enough money to pay for utilities and food. We both have huge savings accounts; your checking account is insane. Believe me, you don't need to work."

"I can't just quit." Trowa cocked his head to the side.

"Why not? You hate it there. Why not get a job doing something you actually enjoy?" Quatre opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced as Trowa continued. "You're going to destroy yourself if you stay there. Go someplace else. Do something else. Make yourself happy."

"But . . ."

"What did you want to do with your life, Quatre?" Quatre lowered his eyes feeling tears beginning to form.

"I wanted to be a musician." Trowa hands cupped his cheeks.

"So do." His voice was insistent and Quatre found himself almost believing that he could pull this off. But he laughed bitterly instead.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've even touched my violin, much less played it?" Trowa shook his head.

"Its never too late to pick it up again. Relearn it. Practice. Do what you want."

"I'd never be good enough."

"You can be as good as you think you'll be. If you don't want to play anymore, then write. I know you can do that -- I've seen you. I believe in you."

"Why? Why do you believe in me?" Quatre snapped, suddenly feeling the inexplicable need to. Trowa drew him into his arms.

"Because." Quatre pulled away.

"Why?" Trowa's lips pressed together and he looked away. Silence descended over the room. Trowa started to whisper.

"The reason I came back was because of you." Quatre didn't move, the understanding slowly sinking in.

"Oh." Trowa sat up staring intensely into his eyes.

"I worry about you, because I care about you. I want what makes you happy. I want you to be happy and you aren't right now. I don't know if your resigning will solve all of your problems, but it will help tremendously. You have the means to change your life, Quatre. Take it. Grab it by both horns and don't let go.

"Quatre, you have the whole world open for you. You can do with it as you please. All you have to do is believe in yourself. Choose what you want to do and do it. Believe it. Believe in yourself and you can do whatever you desire."

"Its not that simple." Trowa grabbed his shoulders.

"Yes it is. You will stay in this hell if you believe that is all you can do simply because you won't venture out of your routine to see what else you can do. Because you don't believe in yourself, you won't succeed at anything because you won't even try since you are so positive you'll fail."

"But --"

"But nothing. I don't want to see you waste away at a job you hate because you're too afraid to move on." Quatre looked away from Trowa, unable to meet his eyes. He was right, he just had to move on. But first he had to believe that he could move on. Was he ready for that? "Believe in yourself, Quatre. I believe in you." Quatre turned to look at Trowa and he threw his arms around Trowa's neck sobbing.

"Will you stay with me? Will you help me?" Trowa's hands rubbed his back.

"Of course. I'll always be here. I came back for you. I don't intend to leave." Quatre drew back enough so he could look into Trowa's eyes. He could see how much Trowa cared for him. He slipped his arm around the back of Trowa's neck and slowly drew Trowa's face to him. He believed that he could do this.

"Thank you." He could only whisper before he kissed Trowa.