Disclaimer: GW and all things associated belong to Sunrise & the Sotsu Agency. 

Notes: Special thanks go to Lilias (for beta-ing) and Ryoko & Meph, for helping me sort out the story. ^_^

 

NEW EXPERIENCES – PART ONE: AUTUMN

CHAPTER ONE: Freshman Orientation

 

I moved into my new dorm on a Saturday.  Orientation weekend was pretty much over; my father hadn't been able to get away from his business to arrive on Friday, but he didn't want me to travel by myself.  So we decided to arrive together the following day.  But in the end, his reason for our showing up late was null and void.  He was called away at the last minute and I had to make the trip by myself anyway.  Iria saw me off; Father didn't even call.  I was used to stuff like that.  He wasn't exactly the most attentive person I'd ever known.  Though his expectations of me—of all of his children—were high, he never had the time to help us reach them.

 

So I showed up at Sanq Liberal Arts College by myself.  After waiting twenty minutes for me at the admissions office, the taxi driver was only willing to dump my things on the lawn, no matter how much extra I offered to pay.  I was nervous—but a little relieved—when another student walked over to me, volunteering his help.

       

"The name's Duo Maxwell," he said as I picked up a box of books.  "Can I take these things inside?"

 

I glanced up to meet the eyes of one of the most attractive guys I'd met in my life.  Now, I'd never really been in the habit of checking out guys (though I'd known my sexual preference for years), but this one was that attractive with his long braided hair, contagious smile, and brilliant blue eyes. 

       

"Can I help you?" he repeated, grabbing my violin case.

       

"Yeah," I said finally, following him to the door.  "But is it safe for me to leave all these boxes out here?"

       

He laughed.  "This is the safest town I've ever been in.  Last year the biggest crime in the newspaper was when a bunch of kids left a restaurant without paying their bill.  Don't worry."

       

I couldn't help but relax with him.  Something about his easy manner was exactly what I needed to channel whatever bits of confidence I had within me.  Meeting new roommates and going to new classes wouldn't be easy—but there was a certain infectious spark in Duo Maxwell that made me realize that it couldn't be so hard if I had him as a friend.

       

He held the door for me, then began to lead me down the hall.  "So what's your name?"

       

"Oh—I'm Quatre Raberba Winner."  I felt sheepish for my lack of manners.

       

"Winner, eh?  Of Winner Enterprises?  The multi-billion-dollar corporation?" Duo asked incredulously. 

      

"That'd be the one," I muttered.

       

"Wow.  Isn't this school full of the rich and famous?" he asked dryly.  It looked as though he rolled his eyes, but I preferred to think that it was only the angle.

       

He led me to a large room at the end of the hall, where a guy with long, white-blond hair was sitting at a table. There were keys and sign-in sheets spread out before him, and it made me a little less self-conscious to know that I wasn't the last arrival.

      

"Zechs, my man! We have another new one!" Duo shouted as he crossed the room.  He turned his head slightly, looking at me over his shoulder.  "Quatre, this is the lounge.  We all like to study here and play video games and stuff."

       

I walked over to the table and introduced myself.

       

"You're in room 221.  I'm Zechs Merquise—second floor RA.  You have any problems, you come see me.  All right?"  He handed me the key to my room and gave me an expectant look. "I mean it—any problems.  Grades, roommates, girlfriends—I'm here to help you and keep this place safe."

       

I nodded, avoiding his steely blue eyes.  He was rather intimidating.

       

"You're down the hall from me," Duo said cheerily, dragging me out of the lounge.  "Don't worry about Zechs.  He likes to play rough and tough, but he's as soft as any guy can get—completely whipped by his girlfriend, too." He opened the door to the stairwell, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

      

"I met your roommates a couple of days ago," he continued from behind me.  "They've been here for two weeks, practicing with the soccer team.  I hear they're pretty good, too.  Wufei plays varsity, in fact—the first freshman ever.  They're both quiet, but cool."

       

"So you guys are friends already?" I asked, falling into step with him.

       

Duo shrugged.  "Better than random acquaintances, I'd wager.  They're a little standoffish until you start talking about sports or school.  But I think we'll all end up hanging out together—at least for a while.  I can usually tell about things like this."

       

I could see that his grin was genuine, not cocky.  While I wasn't sure where I'd fit in with Trowa Barton and Wufei Chang, I had a feeling I'd at least have Duo Maxwell as a friend. 

      

"I see you're in the conservatory," Duo said, holding up my violin, "but what's your major?"

      

"Theory and performance," I answered.  It had taken a year of bickering with my father before I was allowed to apply to the conservatory of music—now that it was a fact and not a dream, it felt refreshing to say it.  "But my father still wants me to go into business.   I can't stand the idea of ever inheriting his company, though."

       

Duo narrowed his eyes.  "Sucks to be rich, huh?" 

       

I got the distinct feeling that he was a class warrior—but it confused me.  How could he afford to go to Sanq if his family didn't make a lot of money?  This was one of the most elite schools in the world.

       

"So what's your major?" I asked, hoping to erase his scowl.

       

"Physics."  I let out a low whistle, impressed. "I'm a sophomore, though, and unlike you music people, we have to wait a little while before we can really get into our major programs.  This quarter my only science class is chemistry."  He motioned to a door and stepped out of the way.

       

I set the box down and examined the sign taped to the wooden door.  "Wufei & Trowa & Quatre."  Well—this was it.  My new room.  I pushed the key into the lock and turned it slowly, then moved to open the door.  It wouldn't budge.

       

"Oh, that's a tough door," Duo reassured me.  "I was in this room last year and it took me weeks to learn the trick."  He nudged me aside.  "You just have to push in and up against the door a bit while you turn the key."  I tried to pay attention as he jiggled the knob and leaned against the door.  It didn't look too hard.

       

We walked into the room and I looked around.  It was fairly spacious, but I was sure my opinion would change once all of my luggage and the other guys were with me.  They had apparently done their best to make as much room as possible, lofting two of the beds over the third, which made room for an old, over-stuffed loveseat, a small refrigerator, and a TV.  There were only two desks in the room, but I wasn't too worried about homework arrangements; I usually studied on my bed, anyway.

       

"I guess I'm up here," I said, throwing my jacket onto the only unmade mattress.

       

Duo smiled and stretched like a cat.  "Let's go get the rest of your stuff."

 

***

       

Duo finished hanging the last poster three hours later, commenting on my poor taste in wall décor.

       

"Thanks again for helping me."  I put away the last of my CD collection.

       

"Not a prob," Duo shrugged.  "I like doing this kind of stuff.  And it looked like you could use the help."  Over the past hour I'd recounted my history with my father—not to complain, just to inform.  Duo was sympathetic without being condescending; it was a trait I liked in people.

       

"Dinner?" I asked.  My stomach was growling.

       

"Yeah, but let's go to the lounge and get my roommate."  He grabbed me by the elbow and led me downstairs. 

       

The lounge was crowded.  Students were watching TV, playing cards and talking.  One fellow was pounding out harmonic progressions on the out-of-tune piano in the corner.  The room was alive with the chatter of friends catching up over the lost vacation time.  But my eyes were drawn to the couple sitting in the window seat in the far end of the room.

       

They were necking.  In public.  It was Zechs and a dark-haired girl.  She was very pretty, from what I could see.   Duo crossed the room and tapped Zechs on the arm lightly while clearing his throat.  The RA merely shooed him away with a wave of his hand. 

       

"Have you seen Heero?" Duo asked impatiently.

       

The girl—Zechs's girlfriend, I assumed—pulled away and looked at us with wide, violet eyes.  When she spoke her voice was rich and almost husky.  "If you're talking about the sinister, broody guy, he was outside on the porch when I came in."

       

Zechs made a sound of protest, yanking the girl toward him again.  Duo snickered and dragged me out to the hall.

       

"That was Lucrezia Noin," he explained.  "There are a couple of things you need to keep in mind when you're dealing with her." He grinned wolfishly.  "First of all, you should call her Noin.  If you call her Lucrezia or Lucy or anything like that, she'll wring your neck.  Secondly, if you openly lust after her or make a pass, you'll be on Zechs's shit-list.  Not a good thing."

       

He stopped short and nudged me with his elbow, still grinning.  "But she's a babe, isn't she?  I'd do her in a heartbeat if it didn't ensure my death."

       

I wasn't sure if it was a good time to reveal my orientation to him; Duo was obviously quite straight, and seemed to be one of those people who never really thought about the alternative.  I swallowed nervously, but then thought about the way her hair hung over those luscious, violet eyes.  "Y-yeah... me too."

       

We continued the foyer and out onto the lawn where a dark-haired boy sat on a park bench.  He was reading a book.  Duo crept up behind him, reading over the other guy's shoulder. 

       

"Stop it, Duo," he said coldly, snapping the book shut.  I caught a glimpse of the title: Time and Free Will.  From what Duo had told me, I never would've pegged this guy as someone who read philosophy.

       

"Man, you suck, Heero," Duo complained, pouting.  "How did you know it was me?"

       

Heero stood, staring blandly at us both.  "Do I look approachable?"

       

I gulped.  The guy was hardly any bigger than me, and actually quite attractive—almost pretty—but he was easily the scariest guy I'd ever met.  There was something odd in his expression.   From the neck down he was an average guy: kind of small build, blue jeans and a white button-down shirt, worn-out yellow hiking boots.  His hair was rather shaggy and unmanageable; his eyes were dark and icy.  But his mouth was rather timid, giving an unusual weakness to his overall appearance.  He looked like the kind of guy who would learn how to make bombs over the Internet, or poison his roommate with arsenic. 

       

Then he smiled and uttered a small choking sound—it took me a moment to realize he was laughing.  That had been a joke?  I wasn't too sure about this guy; Duo seemed fine with him, though, and I guess that was what really mattered in the end.

       

Duo snorted.  "Let's go grab some food."  We walked over to the student union, Heero and I relatively silent and Duo giving the full tour.  He pointed out buildings and other points of interest, filling us in on the gossip and ghost stories as well. 

       

At the student union we bought our meals and sat at one of many large booths in the far corner.  The place didn't seem so bad, considering that it was a glorified school cafeteria.

       

As soon as we sat down to eat, Duo jumped up again, waving his arms frantically.  I had no idea what he was doing until two guys came over.

       

"Hey!" Duo greeted.  "Don'tcha want to meet your new roommate?"

       

Trowa and Wufei dropped their gym bags and slid into the booth on Duo's side, nodding hello to Heero and me.

       

"So you're Quatre."  Wufei, I presumed, looked at me, his expression stern but his eyes amused.

       

I gulped.  "Yeah—Quatre Raberba Winner.  Nice to meet you."

       

He nodded curtly.  "Chang Wufei."

       

Before I could ask, Duo leaned over and whispered loudly, "Rock-hard Chinese traditionalist—last name first—so just call him Wuffy."  He grinned wolfishly at Wufei, blocking the punch he apparently expected.

       

"And I'm Trowa Barton."  His voice was soft but rich, and he looked like he was on the verge of smiling.  "What are you studying?"

       

"Music theory and performance.  Violin.  You?"

       

He shrugged.  "I'm undecided."

       

"I'm political science," Wufei answered when I silently redirected the question.  "But I hope to go into law, eventually."

       

"I'm computer science and information."  Heero's voice sounded as bland and glum as before.  I wondered what it'd take to cheer him up.

       

"So what do you do when you're not practicing music?" Trowa asked.

       

"I like to swim.  I'm going to be part of the swim team here, in fact."

       

He smiled and raised the one eyebrow that wasn't obscured by his hair.  "I've never been able to swim well; I'm impressed."

       

He was amazing when he smiled.  I thought all of my new friends were attractive, but Trowa, with his odd hair, dark green eyes, and rare smile, seemed different from the rest.  I knew that Duo was straight, and Heero and Wufei seemed so as well.  But Trowa... there seemed to be a possibility with him, if those smiles meant anything.

       

My heart beat a little faster with the recognition. Quatre Winner, you fag, I scolded myself, did you have to develop a thing for your roommate after five minutes?

 

***       

 

"Who's this?" I asked Trowa later that night, when Wufei was at the first student government meeting of the year.  I held a small picture in my hand—it had been sitting on his desk.  It was a photo of a tall, slender brunette standing next to him.  She was probably his girlfriend.  I must have guessed wrong about him.

       

Trowa glanced away from his PlayStation game long enough to see what I was talking about.  And he smiled.  "Cathrine."

       

"She's awfully pretty."  I felt like a rat, trying to wheedle out information to find out if I had a remote chance, rather than being up front with him.  It's not like you'd ever hit on him, anyway, a cynical voice whispered in my mind.  You'd never get a chance with him even if he were gay! 

       

Trowa ended his game with a sigh.  "She's beautiful.  Wonderful.  But she's messed up."

       

I said nothing; I wanted to know the whole story, naturally, but I didn't want to pry.

       

He gazed at me, his eyes serious and his expression somber.  "She's kind of suicidal," he explained.  "She has this habit of cutting her arms up.  Never enough to threaten her life, but she leaves scars.  I almost didn't come here because of her.  But she insisted."

       

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.  I had a feeling it was unusual for him to confide in anyone. "Where does she live?" I asked softly.

       

"With my grandmother.  She's been there for the past three years.  Grandma's really rich, and pays for Cathy's counseling.  Unfortunately, she also houses my late grandfather's collection of swords and daggers; Cathy's always been fond of daggers." 

        

I blinked.  "Fond of daggers?  How does someone develop an interest like that?"

       

Trowa laughed musically.  It made my heart thump in my chest, seeing him momentarily happy.  "When we were little, we snuck into a circus together.  The one act we saw before we were thrown out was a knife-throwing routine.  Cathy started practicing, saying that she wanted to run away and join the circus."  He shook his head, snorting.  "They'd probably take her.  Her aim is incredible."

       

I sat next to him on the couch.  "You love her a lot, don't you?"

       

He nodded, grimacing.  "It's impossible not to love someone when you know just how easily you can lose her.  She's only tried to kill herself once, but I know she thinks about it all the time.  And that one time was the scariest moment of my life."  He paused, as if words were no longer enough to describe his feelings.

       

I felt shallow and immature, knowing that I'd thought only about hitting on this guy since the moment I'd met him.  He obviously wasn't someone to trifle with—he was clearly with Cathrine for the long haul. 

       

A part of me could sense a portion of his grief, his confusion over her.  His expression was pained, and I thought he looked as if he needed a hug.  After a moment's hesitation, I gave in and pulled him close.  He didn't resist, as I'd expected him to.  Instead he wrapped an arm around me and buried his face in my shoulder.

       

I was relieved that he didn't react badly.  Only once before had I offered my shoulder for another guy to cry on—but that had been a lifetime friend, after the loss of his wife.  And Trowa was much different from Rashid, who knew his place in the world and never doubted his masculinity the way pretty eighteen-year-old boys do.  I had expected Trowa to push me away, call me queer.  But his hand was warm and gentle on my shoulder, his embrace neither sexual nor awkward. 

       

"Thank you," he said, his words muffled.  "Thanks for letting me vent."

       

"No problem," I replied.  I pushed him a bit away so I could look into his eyes.  "You feel a bit better?  I know getting things off my chest works well."

       

He nodded.  I moved to get up, but his hand clamped on my forearm halted me.

       

"Quat."  His voice was low.

       

"Y-yeah?"

       

He paused.  "Are you... are you straight?"

       

I closed my eyes, not wanting to answer the question I had never been asked before.  Most people assumed unless told otherwise.

       

I hadn't ever been particularly attracted to girls; did that mean that I couldn't be?  And what would Trowa say if I told him that?  Would he be the sensitive guy who'd told me his girlfriend's problems, or would he be the jock that had laughed at Duo's crude jokes over dinner? 

       

I thought of all the girls I could possibly "click" with.  Noin came to mind.  She was awfully cute and seemed nice, and I could imagine kissing her.  Did that make me at all straight?

       

I looked at Trowa.  He was watching me carefully.  Telling him that I was more interested in guys would only jeopardize my new friendships and rooming situation.

       

"Yeah, sure.  I'm straight."  

 

continued in Autumn: 02