|
" Quatre's Space Heart "Written By: Shinigami's Dark Angel
Warnings: Sap, angst, shonen-ai Rating: PG 13 Quatre's Space Heart
Quatre collapsed in his room, throwing himself on his
bed. He immediately curled into a fetal position as another wave of
pain laced through him. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block
out the relentless pain. He didn't realize that he had been holding
his breath until he let out a whoosh of air, gasping for breath. He
knew he wouldn't be able to stand the pain much longer, as he never
did have a very high tolerance for it in the first place. He grabbed
for his phone on the nightstand, nearly toppling off the bed in his
attempt. He quickly dialed Trowa's number, praying to Allah that the
boy was home from gymnastics practice. Trowa answered on the second ring, sounding out of breath. " Hey Trowa, it's Quatre," Quatre said, trying
not to whimper from the pain. "Hey Quatre. Catherine and I just got back from
gymnastics practice," Trowa replied. "Trowa, you think you can come and get me? I need
to get outta the house for a while," Quatre asked, grasping the
side of the bed as his vision started to blur. "Quatre? Quatre?! Are you alright?" Trowa
asked, when Quatre didn't respond. "Hurry Trowa," Quatre gasped out, just before
the darkness enveloped him. Trowa heard the clack of the phone as it fell to the
floor on Quatre's line. Fear gripped Trowa's heart and stomach as
he realized something was very wrong with Quatre. He had never heard
his friend sound so desperate and it scared Trowa to think what had
happened to make Quatre drop the phone like that. Quatre's house was about a 10 minute drive from Trowa's,
the whole time pictures of a hurt and scared Quatre filled Trowa's
mind. Trowa screeched to a halt in front of the Winner estate, not
even bothering to properly park his car. He frantically knocked on
the front door, waiting for the butler to answer. The boy, who was
normally so calm and reserved was practically jumping up and down
by the time the door was opened. Trowa shoved past the butler, racing
for the stairs and Quatre's room. Suddenly one of Quatre's sisters threw herself into
Trowa's arms, clinging to him tightly. Trowa was in no mood for this
though and cringed slightly at the harsh contact. "I thought that was you at the door! Come to see
me I suppose?" Elizabeth grinned devilishly. "Actually I got an urgent phone call from Quatre.
Is he all right?" Trowa asked, prying the girl's fingernails
from his skin. "I guess so, I haven't seen him since he got home,"
she replied. "You know Quatre, he's probably studying or reading
or even playing that flute of his," she added. "All the same, I think I'll go say hello,"
Trowa said, slipping to the other side of the girl. Elizabeth huffed at being put off so quickly, and stormed
back into her room. Trowa hurried down the long hall to Quatre's room.
Trowa gently knocked on Quatre's door, but got no answer. Slowly opening
the door, he peered in, to see if the boy was there. Trowa gasped
at what he saw. Quatre was curled up into a ball on his bed, moaning
and writhing about in pain. Trowa knelt beside Quatre's bed, not sure
what was wrong with his friend. His eyes darted from Quatre's pale,
sweat soaked face, to his hands that were clenched into tight fists.
Trowa placed his hand on Quatre's forehead to check for a fever. He
was slightly warm, but nothing to be concerned about. "Quatre? Quatre can you hear me? It's Trowa, what's
wrong?" Trowa asked, taking one of Quatre's hands and gently
stroking it. Quatre's eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing Trowa
a sob caught in Quatre's throat. Trowa did not like what he was seeing
at all. Quatre's usually warm, cerulean blue eyes were frighteningly
pale and full of pain and fear. Quatre couldn't believe that Trowa was finally there.
He wanted to tell Trowa what was wrong with him, that he needed to
get out of the house, but he was so weak. The pain was getting worse,
he could hardly breath anymore, he wasn't even sure if he could stay
conscious long enough to tell Trowa what he needed. "Get me out!" Quatre begged, clenching Trowa's
hand. Trowa didn't know what to do. The boy was obviously
in a lot of pain and agony, why did Quatre want to leave so badly?
For a moment Trowa though Quatre wanted him to get him to the hospital,
but why didn't he just call for one of his sisters? "Your house," Quatre managed, seeing the hesitation
in Trowa. "But Quatre you're sick, you should stay here.
I'll go and call for the doctor," Trowa said, getting up to leave. But Quatre held fast to Trowa's hand, vigorously shaking
his head "no". "But Quatre...," Trowa started, glancing from
the door to his friend. A tear slipped down Quatre's face, his eyes silently
pleading with Trowa to get him out of there. Trowa couldn't stand
to see his best friend cry, so he gently lifted Quatre into his arms
and carried him out to his car. The movement seemed almost too much
for Quatre though, as his tears quickly soaked Trowa's shirt.Nobody
even noticed the two boys leave, except the butler, who simply opened
the door to let them pass. Trowa gently placed Quatre into the back of the car,
hopped into the driver's seat and headed for his place. Quatre's moaning
seemed to die down the farther they got from the Winner Estate, much
to Trowa's relief. Quatre assured Trowa that he could walk into the
house by himself, but Trowa wasn't taking any chances, so Trowa carefully
carried Quatre into the house. He set the boy down on the couch and
went to get him a glass of water. Quatre still looked far too pale
and sickly, so he also went to find Catherine. Quatre glared at Trowa as Catherine fussed over him, asking him what was wrong and if he needed anything. Quatre told them that he'd be fine, and that he had just needed to get out of the house for a while. Deciding that Quatre wasn't going to keel over on them, Catherine went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, warning Trowa to keep an eye on Quatre. Trowa was dying to know what had happened to make Quatre as sick as he had been, but he wasn't going to pry. "I know, I know," Quatre started, seeing the worried look in Trowa's eyes. Trowa just raised an eyebrow, what exactly did Quatre know? "Trowa do you remember when I told you about my space heart and how I can feel what others are feeling?" Quatre asked. Trowa sat down on the couch beside his friend, nodding his head. He remembered, it had been quite an interesting conversation. "Well, the reason I was in so much pain was because I was feeling my sister's pain," Quatre explained. Now this piqued Trowa's interest, was one of his sister's that sick? Maybe she should be in the hospital, and why didn't Catherine know about it if one of them was that sick? Afterall, she was friends with all of Quatre's 29 sisters. "A few of my sisters, well actually like 12 of them are on their periods," Quatre said, looking glumly into his water glass. Their periods?! Trowa almost fell off the couch, he
could not believe that was what had brought his friend to moaning
and writhing about on his bed in so much agony. Quatre understood
how Trowa could be so shocked, no guys, except himself had ever known
what it was like to go through period pains. They were bad enough
when he was dealing with just one of his sisters, but 12 all at the
same time was enough to send the boy to well...to Trowa's house in
order to escape. Just then Catherine came in and announced that dinner was ready. Quatre was hungry, but at the smell of food Quatre's stomach lurched unhappily. "Sorry Catherine, but I'm not really all that hungry afterall," Quatre apologized. "Oh of course you aren't! Don't worry you can
have something later if you feel like it, there will be plenty of
leftovers," Catherine said, shooing Quatre back into the living
room. Trowa didn't want to leave Quatre all alone while his sister
and him ate, so he took his plate and settled down on the couch next
to Quatre as they watched Gone With the Wind. By the end of the movie however, Quatre who had curled up beside Trowa was fast asleep. "Trowa is Quatre staying the night?" Catherine asked, as Trowa headed for the kitchen with his dirty plate. "I dunno, but he fell asleep a while ago," Trowa replied, as Catherine started to wash the dishes. "He might as well stay then, no use in waking him up," Catherine said, glancing into the room at the sleeping boy. "I'm going to bed. Good night Tro," Catherine yawned, giving her brother a hug. "Night Cathy," Trowa called back, as his sister
disappeared up the stairs. Trowa walked back into the living room
and tucked a blanket around Quatre. The small, blond boy didn't even
twitch. Trowa awoke with a start. He had been woken up by something crashing about downstairs in the living room. "Quatre!" Trowa gasped, leaping out of his bed. It was pitch black downstairs and Trowa nearly did a head flip over a small table. Quatre had woken up to a sharp stabbing pain in his stomach, the period pains were back. He wasn't exactly sure where he was though, the last thing that he remembered was watching Gone With the Wind with Trowa and Catherine. But had he gone home afterwards, and if so, why wasn't he in his room? Stumbling about in the dark was not making Quatre feel any better and at this point he desperately needed a bathroom. He sunk to the floor, whimpering and gripping his stomach. "Quatre? Quatre where are you?" Trowa called out, hearing the whimpering. "Over here Trowa," Quatre moaned. Trowa groped out in the darkness, finally finding Quatre's huddled form. "What's wrong?" Trowa asked, wrapping an arm around Quatre's shoulders. "Bathroom," Quatre mewled. Trowa wasted no
time, he scooped Quatre into his arms and hurried off to the downstairs
bathroom. Trowa flicked on the bathroom light, making both boys shut their eyes at the harsh light. Trowa set Quatre down, and he immediately scrambled for the toilet. He vomited up everything that he had left in his stomach as another wave of nausea swept over him. He didn't have much in his stomach though and soon he was dry heaving, sweat and tears mingling together as they ran down his pale face. Trowa sat down behind Quatre and gently rubbed his back until the heaving subsided. Quatre collapsed back against Trowa, completely exhausted. "Are you all right?" Trowa asked, brushing Quatre's sweaty bangs from his face. "Yeah I think so," Quatre sighed, as Trowa wiped the last of Quatre's tears away. "I'm so sorry Trowa. I never meant to be such a bother, I never should have called you," Quatre said dejectedly, staring down at the tiled floor. "Quatre I'm glad you called me. That's what friends
are for, to be there when the other needs them," Trowa said,
lifting Quatre's chin up so he could see the other's cerulean eyes.
Trowa could tell that poor Quatre was beat and needed a good night's
rest. He gently swept Quatre off the floor and carried him back to
his room. "We'll both sleep better in my room, where I can keep an eye on you," Trowa teased, placing Quatre in his bed. Quatre was amazed at the tenderness that Trowa had been showing that day, and would have protested but was far too tired. So he snuggled into the pillow and pulled the covers up around his chin. Trowa climbed into bed on the other side of Quatre and pulled the boy into a comforting embrace. Quatre wrapped his arms around Trowa and rested his head on the other's chest. Trowa nuzzled his face into Quatre's soft, golden hair, both boys quickly falling asleep. |
