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A GW fan fic: Let Go
Author's notes: Major angst. Loosely based recent events in my past. This story just screamed to be written.
The phone rings.
The numbers '02:14' on my alarm clock are flashing in blurry trios of luminescent green, and Trowa is a warm presence draped across my legs. It took some doing to figure out which way was up and subsequently pinpoint the exact location of the phone (should've left it off the hook) by touch alone while trying not to shift my legs. I bump into something soft and warm and get an irritated grunt; Trowa shifted, and effectively pinned the lower half my body. I wouldn't be complaining at all, but I still need to get that damned phone. If only to throw it against the wall.
"Quatre," there is definite disgruntlement in Trowa's sleep-fuzzed voice. "Phone."
My voice hasn't caught up with Mr. Brain yet - not that Mr Brain is fully awake himself. The phone screams for the umpteenth time, and I fall out of the bed as I make a grab for it on the bedside table. Muttered grumbling from the sheets as a pillow tumbles down after me. Unwinding the phone cord from my pajama button I make a concerted effort to guide the earpiece to the right place.
The crackling voice is slightly tinny and a touch hesitant, but I recognise it. "Duo?"
"Quatre-man, sorry for disturbing ya."
Warning bells are going off, and I'm suddenly much more awake. Trowa rustles the sheets behind me sensing the shift in mood. Warmth presses up against my back and his arms encircle my shoulders loosely.
"It's okay," I say into the phone, leaning back into the supportive silence of my partner. There's a long pause before I hear anything else.
"I'm sorry," Duo says eventually, "but I can't think of anyone else to call."
There is a not-rightness in his faked flippancy that causes an ache in my chest. I keep up the gentle tone, coaxing for more information, "Duo - what's wrong?"
I move the receiver away from my mouth and allow a startled exhalation to escape. Trowa presses a kiss to my ear, silently questioning, but I shake my head. This was a private matter. Setting the phone back, I frame a suitably neutral response, but Duo beats me to it with a barrage of words, each one heart-felt and painfully extracted from all the secret places that bleed in the dark.
"We had a fight. Um, correction - we had lots of little fights, then one big one. We threw things. Yelled. I think we did permanent damage to the kitchen wall. And I think there isn't a 'we' anymore, or there won't be. Soon. Soon-ish."
I nod encouragingly, only half-aware of how silly it is to do so - Duo can't see me through the phone.
"I love him, Quatre. He loves me. But we fight all the time, and lately, we've even been skipping the kiss-and-make-up parts. He doesn't want to talk about it, insists everything is fine. All roses and wine, and in the morning, we're screaming at each other again. I don't think I can do this any more."
His words are coming so fast; they're tripping over one another, jammed into one long discordant jumble of incomprehensibility. Cold fire trickles down my spine, and I sit up in Trowa's embrace. "Duo. Duo - calm down." We both listen to each other breathing. "I'm here. I'm listening."
More breathing. Then, "Thanks, Quatre."
"You don't need to thank me," I say automatically. Longer pause.
"I told him it was over," Duo whispers. I have to strain to hear him. "The end, no more, finito - I couldn't take another day of the pain. The love was not enough. It killed me to tell him, and his statement I wanted to kiss him, make it all better. Make all the shitty stuff go away. But we'd be at the other's throats the next day."
I shift, uncomfortable as the anguish rushes into the sympathetic ache in my heart. "Duo," I start, and then stop. I couldn't do more than be supportive. He called to vent - and that was good, because the poison was clearly ripping him up inside - and I was supposed to listen. Trowa remains quiet, rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"I asked for closure." Pause. Insidious lethargy is creeping up on me, and I'm getting a headache from fighting it. Duo's voice grabs at my attention when he finally speaks again. "He looked at me it broke my heart, Quatre. He didn't know how much I wanted to make things better and how tired I was of always giving in first. Telling him, teaching him. Again and again." There was another endless pause. "I moved out while he was off cooling down - grabbed my stuff and ran. Got a fresh start in a new city, new job and new strangers. Yesterday, I found a red rose on my pillow when I got back from work. With a card." Duo lapses into silence.
After a long minute, I prod gently, "The card said ?"
"'I won't let you go.'"
The pause this time was left unbroken while I process the statement.
"What should I do, Quatre?" Duo's voice was soft. Broken.
"I can't tell you what to do, Duo. You've already made your decision, and it should be honoured. Just stay strong. I know you'll work this through." I was trying to be cheerful for the both of us, but I slipped back into seriousness almost immediately. "If you have any more troubles and need to dump, call me. Okay?"
Duo seems calmer now. A touch resigned, almost melancholy. "Yeah Yeah, okay. Good night. Sorry I disturbed you and Trowa. Send my apologies."
"Of course, Duo. You're welcome any time."
Barely audible, I hear Duo mumbling to himself before the phone clicks off. Moving slowly, I hang up and stare at the now-silent phone. Trowa touches his lips to the base of my neck, gently offering support without invading my thinking. Bad thoughts are circling around in my head. Duo. Heero. There isn't a couple more in love and inseparable than those two. Wasn't. Dark thoughts and guilt were threatening at the edges of my mind. I still have Trowa - now Duo didn't have Heero, and Heero wasn't leaving him alone. It's all too confusing.
What if What if I didn't have Trowa?
What if we fought, as Duo had with Heero?
What if, what if, what if
I turn to my lover, seeking reassurance, needing the sight of his face, his scent. The shadows curl around his graceful limbs, blanketing everything in a dim haze. I can feel his concern as he draws me up to him.
Would I be able to let him go? Would he be able to let me go?
"What do you need?" Trowa asks, his eyes glittering in the dark as he tilts my face into the dim light filtering in through the window.
He looks so beautiful, watching me with a serious statement, his eyes saying everything. Wanting to help, wanting to make it better, whatever 'it' is. I bury my face in the curve of his neck, my cheek against the smooth cotton fabric of his pajama top.
"Just a hug," I mutter, my voice muffled. "Just Hold me for a little while."
Trowa rests his chin on my head in a familiar gesture, radiating his quiet understanding. Duo's last whispered words flit into the thick silence, desolate and haunting.
"Let me go. Why won't he let me go?"
(© June 2001 by Stargem)
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