Eye Apples

disclaimer: I don\'t own Gundam Wing, its characters, etc. This is a FANfiction site, so, it\'s only reasonable to assume that this story is a work of FANfiction. If it was an ORIGINAL fiction, it would be in the ORIGINAL fiction section.


Eye Apples


It was a lazy week in June when Duo decided to press the idea upon Quatre to offer up one of his family estates for his vacation time. In a roundabout way, Quatre pressed back onto Duo the suggestion that he invite other people to join them (ie. Heero, Trowa, and Wufei) to make the, no doubt, expansive, vacationing spot worthwhile. Already on the same page as him, and planning to invite his significant other, anyway (ie. Heero), Duo, somehow, rounded everyone up and cattle prodded them into agreeing to sacrifice two weeks of their summer vacation to be holed up in one house (or mansion) with only, for miles around, each other to irritate.

Quatre, as the actual host, should have, rightfully, been the one to send out the R.S.V.P notices, however, contrary to popular belief, he felt as socially inept as a carp would feel comfortable in the desert. He could speak eloquently and in a decievingly flattering manner if he felt it necessary, after all, he was the affluent son to a very socially active senior, but it always stirred a certain degree of distaste within him.

He could control his outward emotions well, courtesy, once again, of his childhood initiation to diplomacy; but, also in part to his work as a soldier in the colony wars and currently as a part-time preventer and general industry tycoon (which also lent a helping hand in fostering his discomfort with other people). Thatn\'tn\'t to say that he wasn\'t compentent or that he felt particularly threatened by speaking with other people; it was that he felt too sure of what he thought and how he articulated it, and what other people thought and the ways that they communicated that. To a certain degree, he could read exactly what a person was thinking, and detect every discrepancy in their expression of their own thoughts. His subordinates caught on quickly that there would never be a \"suitable lie\" to tell Mr. Winner because of his uncanny ability to dissect every single one.

It was only with people similar to him that he felt any sort of disorientation. They knew too well how to care-wrap their emotions until all Quatruld uld see of them was the tightly tied bundle and a \"nice-try\" tag slipped into the knot. He never knew how to act around them except to be as pleasing as possible, which was extremely exhausting. As far as he saw them, his primary goal was to be likeable, to be an asset to their friendly inclinations.

The only ex-pilot that required little to no analyzation was Duo. He was more frank with his emotions and comfortable in even the most unusual situations. Quatre greatly appreciated that, even though there were times that Duo could harden himself to Quatre\'s mind\'s eye just as well as the others.

++

So, after leaving the picking to Duo, everyone ended up being dumped on a Winner private island in the Caribbean.

A little nonplussed, Quatre endured by wearing a smile and providing everyone with a tour of the main grounds that he had often tread as a child. It bothered him that they were a very long way from civilization, but, also, in a way, made him a little relieved to be out of the public eye for two weeks. Besides that, he had bigger fish to fry.

He hadn\'t seen Trowa in a couple years, and the mere prescence of him made Quatre a little ill to his stomach. Trowa had always, since his first appearance, been an amazing force in Quatre\'s life. Before he ever did anything, he thought about how Trowa would feel about it, even when he wasn\'t there. From their first meeting, Quatre had been struck with the worst feeling of inadequacy that he had ever experienced in his life. Trowa was like a god, and Quatre an unworthy, groveling, supplicant.

Though, Trowa was obviously oblivious (or he just hid it well), it was apparent that if he expressed even the slightest whim to Quatre, it would be so.

It became even more clear two days into the retreat to the likes of Duo, Heero, and Wufei that Quatre acted a certain way towards Trowa. He was no less accomodating to anyone else, but his manner towards them was less appeasing; less like a dog performing ts fos for praise.

Trowa was a tall, sinewy young man with aristocratic features, a slightly ad nod nose, delicate eyebrows, and stern eyes that seemed slightly aloof in comparison to everyone else. His way was quiet and measured, probably the features that Quatre found most appealing.

++

\"When is the shipment?\" Quatre sat at a table that was next to a window that overlooked the beach (where his friends currently were) taking one of many business calls that had been plaguing him ever since he took up the reigns of his family\'s company. He scribbled formless shapes on the pad of paper in front of himself, anything to distract himself from the crisis at hand. \"You have someone camping at customs?...But, it\'s there, right?\"

His eyes wandered to the shore where it looked like Duo had had another unfavorable encounter with a crab. Heero was trying, in his own awkward way, to calm him down, but it didn\'t seem that Duo was going for that.

\"It\'s there,\" Quatre feel back into the conversation. \"Then, do do you think that you can get started on the cells?...We need them by Sunday. I\'m sorry, but, I have to put this project on fast-track or we won\'t meet the deadline...When will I be back in? I think, maybe, nine days from now...I know. This is an uncomfortable situation for me, too. I\'d really like to be there to help with everything, but...\"

Duo was in the doorway looking irritated. Quatre couldn\'t tell what with: the crab, or his cell phone. It could have been either, or both. Ever since they first set foot on the island, Quatre had been taking business calls almost non-stop and Duo had since been complaining about it non-stop.

As endearing and sincere as Duo\'s concern was, for Quatre, his work was like a vacation from his friends. He could use it as a protective charm to prevent himself from bing ing the third wheel in Heero and Duo escapades, being alone too long with Trowa, and kept him from staring at Wufei (whom he found almost equally attractive as Trowa, but more in the specimen sense than that of a hopeless romantic).

\"I\'ll call you back, John,\" Quatre hurried the call to a conclusion and forced a smile at Duo. \"Are you alright?\"

\"Shit, you\'d think that cellphone was your lover,\" Duo muttered, still feeling sore from his crustacean run-in. He walked past Quatre to rife through the refrigerator in the sub-kitchen. willwill destroy it, someday, Quatre. Mark my words.\" He made a pleased sound after finding his personal bottle of milk, shut the door, and chugged.

\"But, without it, how will I ever annoy you?\" Quatre joked lamely, though he really was afraid that Duo would disassemble it when he wasn\'t looking and scatter its remains to the four corners of the earth as a warning to all \"nuisance\" callers to leave his friend the hell alone.

\"I suppose that\'s true,\" Duo replied, thoughtfully, taking a seat at the table. \"So, are you ever going to join us for a swim? Or do I have to hook your phone to a fishing line and lure you out?\"
\"My body isn\'t very good,\" Quatre replied nsivnsively. \"It would be embarrassing for the all of you to see it. I\'m very happy just watching you from here and staying out of your way.\"

\"I want to see you in your swimming trunks!\" Duo declared without a hint of modesty.

Modesty that Quatre had plenty of; blushing profusely, he shook his head and stuttered a negative.

++

On the beach, Trowa, Heero, and Wufei inedined.

It had been about four years since Wufei had seen anyone from the Marimeia incident.

He was taller, now, somewhere wedged between Heero and Trowa\'s heights. As a direct contrast to his former self, he opted to wear his hair down rather than in the severe single tie that had defined his strict character when he was younger. Also, in place of his traditional outfit, he sported jeans and a t-shirt, in a way, expressing his detachment from his old militaristic image.

After a fashion, he had come to the realization that discipline was not defined by accessory, but, rather, showed through individual character (as long as people were perceptive enough to pick up on it).

Not that he particularly cared what anyone thought, anymore, or ever. Always, his primary focus had been to have the ability to recognize himself. The only opinion that mattered to him, truly, was Quatre\'s.

Out of everyone, Quatre managed to maintain the most normal profession and had the ingrained predisposition to selflessness rare among his kind. Even during the Marimeia incident and before that, Wufei meditated on what Quatre thought or was liable to think. Quatre was like everybody\'s angel, even endowed with the physical attributes to look it.

His hair was a platinum shade of blond, bright enough to almost be white, and framed his head in feathery wisps that could, in the right light, resemble a halo. His figure was slight and effeminate, also in the structure of his face. His features seemed finer and smaller, like a woman\'s; most prevelant in his seemingly larger eyes. The closeness of his features (like a woman\'s face) accentuated his doe eyes that, Wufei felt, must have been a direct transference from his mother before she passed on. Quatre\'s overall, head to toe, structure was very Asiatic (most noticeable in the androgyny of his face, and the sharp edges of his eyes) and Wufei felt acute fascination with his paradoxial coloring that seemed, oddly enough, to fit him so well.

Wufei gazed up at the house, and saw Quatre sitting at the window, inside.

He was in a comfortable pair of semi-casual business slacks (which was a great achievement, since most of his wardrobe had transformed itself into a monochrome spectrum of suits), and one of his last surviving t-shirts with a faded cartoonized Louis Armstrong clinging to the back. On the front, the words were still readable, and began with: I see trees of green, red roses too... Quatre had been gracious enough to tell him that it was a song from a long time ago titled \"What A Wonderful World,\" written by the man on the back of his shirt, Louis Armstrong, and then, proceeded to sing a little bit of it in a soft smooth crooner\'s voice for Wufei\'s benefit.

Quatre had a peculiar love of old things, almost anything over one-hundred years old; things that people no longer thought about, whether due to the convenience of the modern day product or collective ADD, it wasn\'t for certain.

Absently, Quatre\'s hand rose to caress one of his earrings, a nervous gesture that Wufei had come to recognize easily. Originally, it was Duo that had \"duped\" Quatre into getting his ears pierced. After his initial encounter with the stud gun, however, Quatre didn\'t need Duo to convince him the other times that he went to pierce his ears.

Now, he had roughly about five holes in each ear, but Wufei couldn\'t say for sure, since Quatre rarely wore more than three earrings, at a time, per ear.

And, through his observances of Quatre, hew thw that it was Trowa and not himself that was reflected back in Quatre\'s own eyes. Wufei would have loved the opportunity to change that, but still subscribed to his old belief in fate, at least, concerning love, and regarded his long-fostered affections as derelict.

Quatre and Trowa, from the first, seemed made for each other, to compliment one another.

Hell, most of the time, they didn\'t even need to talk. It seemed that with one look, they knew exactly what the other whinkhinking.

Wufei never had, even a glimmer of an idea of what Quatre could possibly be thinking.

Most people left it up to Trowa to read Quatre and translate him to everyone else, though, typically, he witheld that information, probably because he had become accustomed to not thinking about it.

Wufei tore his eyes away and refocused on more immediate people.

Heero and Trowa had already wandered a ways ahead of him, which was fine, since he didn\'t feel quite up to the task of interacting, anyway. It had always been weird between him and the other pilots since the Marimeia incident. Only through working against Quatre, had he realized how completely isolated he was. He didn\'t mind trading fists with either Heero or Duo, anyday, maybe even Trowa (after all, he was, sort of, his rival); but against Quatre, any ill action was nothing short of evil.

Wufei kicked up sand idly with his thick-soled sneakers, thankful that, by them, he was spared the irritating grit that would otherwise define the beach for him.

He looked up from his work just in time to catch the strangest expression on Trowa\'s face as he regarded Heero. Right off, Wufei knew what that look was. He, himself, watched Quatre with that look, and Quatre watched Trowa with that look, and Duo watched Heero with that look.

Wufei\'s blood ran cold and as poisonous as mercury.

It was undeclared, but a general understanding that Heero and Duo were meant for each other and that they may even already be involved.

Conversely, Wufei had believed it to be a given truth (plain, even to Trowa) that Trowa and Quatre were destined to be together; hopelessly entangled until the day that they die.

The look that Trowa had given Heero seemed to violate natural law in a most obscene way.

Wufei felt like a director that had just witnessed the worst NG take of his life. He wanted to roll up a script and hit Trowa over the head with it (maybe Heero too, just because he didn\'t particularly like him) and show Trowa that in the happy ending, he was supposed to love and treasure Quatre forever and ever and ever.

Heero and Trowa were amusing themselves poking at crabs with tide borne twigs, far away from Wufei, and it was unmistakeable, the way that Trowa looked at him.

Trowa was smitten.

++

Back at the house that evening, Wufei almost couldn\'t look at Quatre, the shame of knowledge pressing his head down nearly sulkingly low.

Confused, but no less cordial, Quatre escorted him and the others toner.ner.

Wufei watched the Louis Armstrong on his back eclipse in the folds of fabric as he led them, and thought to himself bitterly: And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

++

After dinner, Duo talked Heero into a walk that everyone else respectfully declined, much to his inner delight.

Quatre excused himself to call John and check up on the customs predicament.

That left Wufei and Trowa alone.

Wufei maintained the silence for less than five minutes before he blurted, \"You like Heero, don\'t you?\"

Trowa set down the volume that he had been reading and gave Wufei a hard glare. \"What makes you say that?\"

Resisting the urge to stand on his seat and issue a tirade, Wufei breathed deeply, \"The way that you look at him. I know what that kind of a look is.\"

\"And if I do?\" Trowa quipped defensively.

\"It\'s not fair-\" Wufei began.

\"To Duo?\" Trowa finished for him. \"I know. That\'s why I\'m not pressing it.\" He turned to a random page of his book and pretended to read.

\"No, I meant-\"

\"Drop it,\" Trowa warned him.

Wufei took a steadying breath before saying as fast as he could (before he got cut off again), \"It wouldn\'t be fair to Quatre!\"

\"Quatre?\" the book dropped out of Trowa\'s suddenly lax hand. \"What do you mean?\"

Wufei fought the urge to roll his eyes, \"I thought you would have realized by now, he-he\'s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you.\"

Trowa looked like he was mulling the matter over in his head. His eyes had that distant look, and his lips had become a thin grim line.

\"You know that I wouldn\'t tell you this if I didn\'t believe it, myself,\" Wufei assured him. Then, he thought it would be helpful to push Trowa onto the right track of thinking, \"You know, though, everyone thinks that you and Quatre belong together. Maybe you should give up on Heero and try to love Quatre.\"

Trowa opened and closed his mouth a few times, forming words, before he shook his head, \"I love Quatre as I would a brother, like I love Cathy. It would never work.\"

\"It won\'t work with Heero,\" Wufei argued, afraid that he was too happy at Trowa\'s admission. \"It can work with Quatre. He loves you implicitly.\"

Trowa chewed his lower lip pensively.

Before he could respond, though, Quatre appeared in the doorway, completely unaware of what had just transpired.

He smiled, though he could sense the tension, \"Is everything alright?\"

Wufei smiled back at him, which was unusual, and nodded, \"Everything is fine.\"

Quatre nodded as a formality, though he knew Wufei was lying. \"I-\"

\"I\'m sorry, Quatre, I was just leaving,\" Wufei said, finally uncomfortable to dislodge himself from the situation entirely. He brushed past Quatre in the doorway on his way out, and chided himself at the minute tl itl it inspired in him.

Quatre watched him leave, \"I wonder if he\'s really alright. He\'s not exactly forthcoming when he has problems.\"

\"Quatre,\" Trowa\'s voice arrested his attention instantly.

\"Yes?\" Quatre could detect the discomfort Trowa felt.

\"I,\" he stood up, \"I think that you\'ve, that I\'ve been giving you the wrong impression.\"

Quatre felt like a deer in the headlights, \"W-What?\"

\"You...like me, right?\" Trowa asked. \"I,\" he was having trouble forming his words, \"I can\'t like you like that. You\'re like a brother to me. I-I think that it would be kind of like...incest...to like you like that.\"

A crooked, confused, embarrassed smile stole over Quatre\'s face. The blood pounded in his ears, and his heart stuttered like a dying engiHe tHe tried to put on his most cheery face, even as tears began to roll down his cheeks, \"Ah, h-how e-emb-barrassing!\" His voice had taken on a particularly disturbing tone, somewhere strangled between laughter and misery. His hand searched blindly for and caught the doorframe. His free hand hovered over his mouth as if shielding it from Trowa would hide the fact that he was crushed. Not only had Trowa told him that he didn\'t like him, but in the same breath informed him that his feelings were immoral. His lip curled upward on the right side, the muscle there throbbing with self-disgust, \"\'m s-ss-sorry,\" he swallowed hard, \"f-for tr-troubling you.\" The \"you\" came out as more of a gust of air, the power to formulate words had been completely robbed from him. He giggled with the shock and fled shakily from the room.

Trowa didn\'t follow.

TBC-


note(s):
1. No~I haven\'t forgotten about my other fics ;>> and, yes, it\'s irresponsible of me to juggle too many at one time=_=;; BUT, I\'ve constructed this one in a specific time frame :D Which means that it will be shorter and have to end in a reasonable time and fasion.
When summer comes (in two weeks) expect updates of the like and frequency from spring break. Almost two/three chapters a week! O.O
2. This fic is based from another fic that I (sort of) read;>> so, if the scenario sounds familiar, you know why. I wanted, relatively the same circumstances, but a different interperetation of the characters and their reactions.
3. Reviews are always welcome^^;