I Will Corrupt You

By karei

Capitulus Tredecim

Chapter 13

"Quatre, really, quit moping around. It's Friday! Aren't you in the least bit happy?"

He looked up at his overly exuberant friend with tired eyes. The week had rested its full weight on Quatre, visible by his pallid complexion and the dark lines under his eyes, accompanied with the typical puffiness of exhaustion. "Yay," he retorted, without the slightest hint of energy. "Two whole days in my big empty home. Whoop dee doo."

"Oh, come on, Quatre, it can't be that bad."

He glared at his friend through reddened eyes. "Yes it can, John."

"Well, then, how about you don't go home tonight?"

"Meaning?"

John smiled, "Let's get out and do something! Come on, you, me, and James; what do you say? We can go out and have a blast!"

Quatre frowned a moment, then sighed in resignation. "Fine. What do you have in mind?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "It's a surprise. But I think you'll like it."

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Quatre sat in the backseat, listening to James talk excitedly about his classes. "My Anthropology teacher is a real pain. He just stands there and lectures us in this horribly monotone voice for three hours straight. It drives me and Kristin up the wall! Thank God it's my last year."

"Kristin?" Quatre asked, slightly disinterested.

"Yea," James replied, blushing lightly, although the darkness of the car did not reveal it. "She's a new friend. I kind of like her."

Quatre smiled gently. "Go for it. Life's too short and unpredictable to wait."

The car lurched to a stop. "We're here."

The three of them stepped out and Quatre looked up at the sign. "Karaoke?"

John smiled. "Yea, I thought it would be fun. Lead the way, Quatre."

He took the order and walked forward, into the bar, and turned momentarily to say something. "Look, John, I-" He was cut off as John and James shoved him in and slammed the door shut behind him. "What in the hell?" Quatre turned around and found himself pinned to the ground, unable to move for the sight he saw in front of him.

A pair of moss green eyes, slightly doleful, concealed themselves behind a cinnamon shock of hair, as the tall, lithe figure mounted the small stage, adjusting the hem of his green turtleneck slightly. An announcer was standing at the mic with a gleeful smile on his face. "Welcome back, Trowa! We missed you!" This was followed by a few cheers from the crowd, more notably, high-pitched, feminine-sounding cheers, capped off with a few cat-calls.

Trowa stepped forward and raised the mic to his level. "Hey there." More cheers from the ladies in the crowd. "It's good to be back. So, let's get this started."

The sound of electric guitar filled the room and the crowd burst into cheers once more. Quatre heard someone shout over the music to a friend, "Hey, he picked U2 again!"

"If you ask me, I think he sings better!" called the friend back.

Quatre returned his eyes to the stage, taking a slight step forward. He was immediately halted by the sweet sound that came next.

Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
You say...

He was entranced by the melodic sound of Trowa's voice, azure eyes focusing on nothing but him. His tone was so clear and it carried a deep-seeded sound of melancholy that Quatre could feel penetrating his heart.

Trowa took in a breath and looked up, scanning the room, noticing a few of the regulars sitting around; however, his gaze took an immediate halt when he noticed a familiar pair of blue eyes framed by pale blonde hair gazing back at him. A mix of anger and sadness forced its way into Trowa's heart, causing the rest of the song to be sung with an irregular passion and bitterness.

One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you
Don't care for it

Quatre's mouth hung open slightly, a sad expression crossing his face as the waves of mordancy in Trowa's voice came straight at him. Their eyes were locked and Quatre could feel that every word Trowa sang from here on in was directed to only him. The room slowly began to fade away and all he could sense was Trowa, himself, and the overwhelming feeling of despair.

Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without

Trowa was staring down his former friend, feeling everything he ever wanted to say but couldn't coming out in a flood of emotion that was evident only in his voice. But seeing the look on Quatre's face, he knew that his feelings were being received and that Quatre knew the levels of depression and anger he felt.

Well it's
Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...

Trowa was now glaring full force, his voice sounding as if it were on the brink of tears, so very full of emotion. Quatre was startled by this display, as he had only seen Trowa angry once before, and that had resulted in a major headache for him.

Have you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head?

Quatre opened his mouth as if to contest some sort of accusation, but was quickly silenced by the anger he heard.

Did I ask too much?
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
Well we
Hurt each other
Then we do it again

Quatre felt his eyes burning; he reached up to rub the pain away, but when he glanced down at his hands, he saw that his fingertips were moistened with his tears.

You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt

Trowa stepped back and took a breath, trying to regain control over his voice and his body. In this moment, the crowd went wild and jumped up screaming, momentarily hiding Quatre from his view. Oddly, he felt his heart fall just slightly at this, and it left him wondering why. However, he didn't have much time as he had to continue singing.

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One

Trowa reached up to rub his eyes, a slight headache coming through. He was shocked when he looked down and saw that his own hand was moistened. Unable to believe it, he reached up once more and found that, in fact, there were tears in his eyes. He remembered himself, and brought the mic back to his mouth. "Thank you," he breathed into it, sending the crowd into yet another eruption of cheers. With that, he left the stage, only to be assaulted by two vapid girls.

"Oh my gosh, Trowa, that was amazing!" chirped one.

"That was the best I ever heard you sing!" the other squealed.

"Thank you," he replied calmly, brushing them off his arms. "Excuse me, but I need something to drink."

They smiled, "Of course!" Thankfully, they decided to leave him at that.

With a sigh and a look of anger, he quickly strode over to Quatre. 'How dare he!' shouted his mind. He stalked up to Quatre angrily, glaring down at the smaller person in front of him.

"H-hey... Trowa..."

Trowa glared. "What do you want?"

"To," he swallowed, "apologize?"

"Apology accepted," he replied, clipped and bitterly. He turned away and would have continued walking, had it not been for Quatre's hand suddenly resting on his arm.

"Trowa," he pleaded, "wait. Please?"

He turned back around, staring Quatre down. "What?"

"Can we talk? I need to apologize properly."

Trowa narrowed his gaze slightly, feeling himself calm slightly at the hopeful look on Quatre's face. Even in the poor lighting of the bar, he could still see that Quatre was pale and worried, and the marks of little to no sleep were evident on his face. "Fine. Let's step outside then." He opened the door that Quatre was still standing in front of and let Quatre step outside in front of him.

Quatre scanned the area quickly, noting that John's car was long gone. "Shit," he breathed.

"What?"

"Oh! Nothing," he sighed. He saw that Trowa had taken a seat on a bench, so he walked up to him and followed suit.

"So?"

"So..."

"Well, you wanted to apologize. Apologize."

Quatre took in a deep breath, looking down at his hands. "It was wrong of me to deceive you like that. I should have been up-front. I didn't mean it as pity, it truly was a desire to help."

"But you lied to me all the same, and you made me trust you and-"

He looked up at Trowa hopefully. "And what?"

"And nothing," he replied curtly.

"I don't know what else I can say other than I'm sorry..."

Trowa thought this over angrily. "Some apology this is turning out to be."

"I said I was sorry! What more can I do?" Quatre was at his wit's end trying to appease Trowa, growing more and more frustrated as the stoic man did nothing to help him.

He sighed, turning this over in his mind. "Maybe you could tell me why."

"Why?"

"Why you did it all. Why did you take me in? Why did you have to lie?"

Quatre turned away slightly and he felt a sudden tenseness come over him at his question. "It's stupid. You'd laugh at me."

"No, I wouldn't."

"You'd hate me."

"Quatre, give me a little more credit than that."

He finally looked back up at Trowa, his eyes miserable and his whole frame emanating sadness. "I'm sorry, Trowa. I didn't mean to offend you."

"All I want to know is why, Quatre, that's it. I don't want any apology, I don't want you to feel guilty, I just want to know why you did it and then you can leave this little "project" taking comfort in the knowledge that you did your job."

"Is that what you think?"

"Hn."

Quatre sat unmoving, his mouth completely unwilling to form the words that were flying through his mind at immeasurable speeds. He wanted to tell him that it was a misunderstanding, that he didn't mean it to be a condescending gesture, that it was an earnest attempt to aid another human being and nothing more, although it was no longer "nothing more." And all this was overlaid with a strong desire to cover his whole body in kisses.

"That's what I thought," growled Trowa quietly. He stood up and turned, about to walk out on Quatre for the second time that night.

"Wait! Trowa, I'm sorry..."

"Heard it," came the monotone reply. "And I told you you're forgiven. Now just leave me alone."

Quatre stood up, saying fiercely, "No!"

Trowa turned slowly, only to be met with a fire of blue in Quatre's intensely gleaming eyes. He was taken aback by this sudden show of ferocity from the otherwise quiet but strong Quatre. "What?" He asked it as an earnest question, although very apprehensive, as if he was slightly fearful of what Quatre's response may be.

"I said no," he iterated, less sure of himself this time. "I'm not going to leave without explaining myself." He straightened himself out, trying unsuccessfully to add height to his extremely diminutive frame, in an attempt to create an air of dominance. "And what's more, you're going to hear me out."

"And if I don't?"

Quatre's face fell slightly, a look of fear and embarrassment washing over his expression. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet..."

Trowa sighed in resignation, reclaiming his seat on the bench. "So, here's your chance. Talk."

Quatre too sat down, looking Trowa squarely in the eye. "True, it started out as a move of charity," Trowa shifted at this, clearly incensed, prompting Quatre to plead slightly for his attention, "started out, I said. But it's not like that anymore."

"How is it, then?" Trowa asked.

He thought he heard a hopefully beseeching tone in Trowa's voice, but he just chalked that up to his own warring thoughts. "It's, well..." Quatre took a deep breath, thinking how to organize his words so that he could get his point across without revealing too much of his heart to Trowa. 'God only knows how he'd react...' "The house is so empty now, and my coffee stinks. It's way too quiet without you. I didn't even realize how quiet it was until you left. I..." he trailed off, struggling to put into words the mellower form of his feelings for Trowa. "I miss having you around; you're a good friend, Trowa."

Trowa had been sitting, staring off into space the whole time, taking in every word Quatre said with intense anticipation. However, once Quatre finished, his hope fell, but only slightly. "A friend, huh?"

Quatre swallowed. "Uh-huh."

"But why?" Trowa pressed. "Why did you do it?"

He hung his head, not wanting to answer. He took a moment to recollect himself before deciding to spill his life's story. 'I owe this much to him...' "I lied to you on more than one occasion, Trowa. I, uh, didn't exactly come from the perfect family you think I did." He gave a pause for Trowa to comment, but when he didn't, Quatre continued. "Yes, well, I actually didn't come from any family. I don't have any parents or relatives - at least, none that are living. I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at this. "Then how in Hades did you become so successful?"

"I had help. I was about fifteen when I met John. He was volunteering at a soup kitchen, and I happened to wander in that day."

"You were homeless."

"I was, for a very long time. I'm not very proud of that time; I stole a lot. I stole, but I always worked to pay it back somehow." He looked up hopefully at Trowa, "I had to eat, you know?"

Trowa merely nodded in response. 'No wonder he's so very small...'

"I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for John. He sot of... took me under his wing, you might say. He gave me an education and helped me get a job. The rest sort of fills itself in."

"And so that's why you feel like you have to help others? Because somebody helped you once?"

Quatre faltered, speaking hesitantly. "I suppose you could say that."

"So you're merely repaying a debt you think you owe through me?"

He bowed his head, feeling a tightness come to his throat, making it very difficult to speak. "I didn't want it to be like that. I'm-" he squeaked softly, his breath catching in his throat, "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but now that everything's over, let's just go our separate ways." His chest constricted slightly as the cold, harsh words fell from his lips.

"But..."

He could see the pleading that Quatre's vocal chords were unable of producing evident in his eyes. "Give me one reason why we shouldn't just go our own ways."

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