Life Together - Part 5 by Maaya
Standard disclaimers apply

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Quatre stared at his newly opened locker in disbelief. It was parted in two, and both sides were filled with books, papers, tennis balls, half-eaten lollipops, a rotten apple and even a half-filled glass of water. After a moment of quiet staring, his jaw finally worked again and he closed it carefully.

He searched in his mind for a moment, and then some words fell to place from Une’s earlier speech. There was something about ‘sharing lockers’. . . The blonde boy suddenly felt very unhappy with the fact.

Singing, he picked the side without any kind of leftovers and began to move the stuff to the other side, but found himself unsuccessful in the task and gave up, settling with stuffing his bag into the locker. He hoped that it wouldn’t become too wrinkled.

“Hi. You’re my new locker-mate?”

Surprised, the blonde boy swirled around. He was met by the sight of a boy who looked to be around his age, carrying a football under his left arm, carelessly. The boy had short, blonde hair, was broad-shouldered, rather tall and muscular. Brown eyes looked down at Quatre, showing only the slightest hint of curiosity and a much greater amount of . . .amusement (?) in them. He was wearing the school-uniform, but only the shirt and tie, which was loosened around the sleek neck.

He held out a hand towards the shorter boy. “Ryan McEvens. Nice to meet ya.”

“Quatre Winner.”

“You’re new, aren’t you? How do you like it so far?” Ryan went over to the open locker and rummaged around in it for a moment, leaning inside as far as it seemed possible.

“Quite well, I guess.” Quatre began, uncertainly. “But do you think you could. . .”

The older boy emerged again, now with a tattered, black baseball cap and a wide grin. “Got it! I thought I had forgotten it somewhere!”

“. . . could, uh. . . ”

“Well, it was nice to meet ya! See you later!” Ryan disappeared around the corner, gone faster than he had appeared.

“. . . clean out the locker for me. . . ?” Quatre finally finished to himself and stared at the spot where he had seen the youth latest, surprised and shocked, and not a little indignant.

*******

“This is our new student, Mr. Duo Maxwell.”

The teacher stopped after that short statement and Duo felt unsure about what he should do. After a long moment of uncertainty, he decided to stay where he was; beside the teacher in front of what was going to be his English-class. From what he could see, it was a completely normal class, with both boys and girl, interested and uninterested, the usual jocks and the usual cheerleader-types. Some were playing with their pencils, some were not. Most of them looked up briefly as he was introduced, but looked down again – as if they didn’t want the responsibility to care for a new student like him.

It was when the teacher turned towards the blackboard that the braided boy felt how impatience and surprise grew in him to become a strong need to say something. “Sir?” He asked.

The teacher turned around swiftly enough to almost hit him with his pointer he kept under one arm. His name was Mr. Peters and was (in Duo’s opinion) a real teacher-character picked up from a high-school movie somewhere. He looked strict, was tall and thin. A small sign from a frown touched his forehead, and his cheeks covered in black beard that went in a horrible contrast with his white skin, went inwards. “Yes?”

“Uh.” Duo began to fiddle with the end of his braid nervously. “Am I supposed to sit down somewhere?”

“Yes, *please* do that, Mr. Maxwell.” There was a tone akin to mockery in his voice but Duo couldn’t for his life understand why.

“Where should I sit?”

“The only empty seat is beside Ms. Wilder so I *do* believe that there’s the place.”

A young girl with very blond hair and pale skin raised her hand calmly to show where she was and Duo strolled over to sit down. When he passed the first line of benches he could hear several gasps at the sight from his braid and a few giggles. He ignored both kinds of sounds. He didn’t care. He kept his braid, no matter what – and he didn’t care what people thought of him because of that.

Some people would have admired him for that. To do something that wasn’t regular, will say. It was that kind of people who *wanted* but didn’t dare because they, at the same time, wanted to be a part of the society.

But Duo didn’t care.

Sure, he wanted to be popular, (who didn’t?) but he wanted to be liked because of who he *was* not because his appearance, ugly or good-looking. And personally, he liked the way he looked with a braid and he *knew* he looked good. It was just that it was unusual.

And being unusual is something some people can’t accept.

Duo knew a lot of things that made him unusual. His braid was one fact. His mother was another, and being forced to work at the mere age of sixteen too. Being gay could also be added to the list. He smiled wryly.

Still, he kept a steady grin in place as he sat down beside Ms. Wilder (A.K.A. Melanie he would soon get to know.) and began his first class in this new school.

“Mr. Maxwell, could you please tell us the first line from ‘Othello’ by Shakespeare?”

It was going to be a long day.

*******

“..that thou, Iago, that hast had my purse..” Duo muttered on and on under his breath, where he sat alone at a table with a lunch-tray to his left and a tattered book with the name ‘Othello’ written on it, placed to his right, open so that he could read from it whilst he ate. He looked up briefly and caught sight of a face he recognized. “Hey, Quatre!”

The blonde youth looked over and spotted Duo, who was waving to him, and he decided to come over. “Can I sit here?” He asked, though he already knew what the answer would be.

“Sure, sure.” The other boy grinned at him before looking down into the book again. “..didst hold him in thy hate..”

Quatre felt baffled when the vibrant boy started to quote Shakespeare in front of him. Duo didn’t look nor act like the type to who’d enjoy Shakespeare. “Othello?” He took a bit from his own lunch-tray and chewed, peeking curiously at the braided boy as he did.

“Yeah. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.”

The blonde boy couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped his throat at the commentary that perfectly seemed to somehow reflect what Duo thought and felt right now. “Homework?”

“More like punishment.” The braided youth shut the book and hit the cover with a palm in a frustrated gesture. “My English-teacher thought that I was cheeky when I told him that I held no interest in Shakespeare whatsoever. Now I have to learn all of Roderigo’s lines in the first scene by heart.”

“Tough.” Quatre replied compassionately and took another bite. “Which teacher was it?”

“Mr. Peters, I think. And I have exactly three days until I have to quote everything for him.” Duo chewed thoughtfully before adding. “I won’t make it.”

“If you stay up every night, then maybe.” The blonde said helpfully. “I’ve been forced to do that more times than I want to recall.”

“Do you *want* to share an apartment with a coffee-addicted zombie?”

“Good point.” Quatre couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to this younger boy. It felt as if they had been friends for a very long time instead of having met only yesterday and he felt at ease with the other boy. More at ease than he had ever felt with his father.. He sobered at that thought. It was a subject he wasn’t ready to go into right now. “Still, why did you move here?”

Duo visibly sobered, in the same manner as Quatre had. “Work.” He answered shortly and ducked his head, opening his book again.

The blonde could hear warning-bells ring in his mind but he couldn’t stop the curiosity that welled up inside of him together with the words. “Why would you want to work at sixteen?”

He was answered by a shrug and lowered eyes. “Money.”

“Oh.” Quatre blushed uncomfortably and lowered his eyes too. “I’m sorry. . .”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

A silence followed his words and Duo used the moment to open his book again. “If’t be your pleasure and most wise consent, as partly I find it is, that your fair daughter. . . ”

“Are you going to practice that at home?”

“Of course.”

“Aloud?”

“Why not?”

The blonde youth let out a long suffering sigh. “I think I’m truly going to hate Shakespeare after this.”

“YOU will? What about me!?”

*******

“Long Meiran, why?”

Wufei choked on an intake of air, and he couldn’t force any sound past his throat, not even after he was able to breath normally again – because Long Meiran was the name of who would soon become his future wife.

Meiran, surprised by his sudden quietness, turned around slowly, staring at him. “What..?”

The boy didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know if he could speak. This was so unnatural and strange. He had been prepared for meeting his wife and he had been prepared for the marriage though not wishing for it – but he hadn’t been prepared for meeting his wife for the first time like this.

And he was definitely not prepared for that she would act like this.

He did finally manage to force sound past his throat again. With stiff expression and an even stiffer bow of his head, he introduced himself. “Chang Wufei.”

Keeping his eyes firmly about and inch from her head, he didn’t see how her eyes widened almost impossibly large, nor did he see how her mouth dropped open. Complete silence reigned in the alley before the girl found words to break it.

“You’re the one to become my husband?” There was dryness and something akin to sarcasm in her voice that didn’t show her surprise in the slightest. It did show her displeasure though.

Wufei let his eyes move an inch so he could look her into her eyes. “Did you expect something else?”

“I certainly did! Something I knew for sure I didn’t want was a male chauvinist pig!”

“Do you have a problem with men?”

“No more than you have with women.”

Wufei frowned as he tried to hide his growing confusion. This girl was as stubborn as a mule and as outspoken like no one else. “When did I say I have a problem with women?”

The Chinese girl opened her mouth, then closed it again in a perfect imitation of a fish stranded on shore. As she couldn’t come up with anything good to answer, she refrained from doing so and kept quiet.

“I think that you are more of a feminist than I am chauvinist.” Wufei continued and dusted his pants off. “This has to be the worst match ever made in marriages.” In the quietness of his mind, he continued. ‘And now I understand why my mother always smirked when she talked about Long Meiran.’

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Was the girl’s answer when she finally took the last step out on the road. The clock was already past four and sun had already begun to set though it didn’t make much difference on the ever so cloudy sky.. “As much as I’d like to go home now, I guess I’m forced to come with you and share a meal. It looks like we’ll spend a lot of time together in the future.”

“Not to either of our happiness.” Wufei muttered as he followed her out of the alley.

But still, it looked like the evening would become quite interesting.

********

Trowa Barton, just having finished his day in school, was just on his way home when he heard someone shout his name. Looking up, he saw a certain blonde wave and walk swiftly towards him.

“Hi Trowa!”

“Hello.” He replied softly when Quatre caught up with him and began to walk alongside him, almost forced to run as Trowa walked fast and had longer legs than the blonde youth. “You’re going home?”

Quatre shook his head, negative. “Actually, I was going to look around in this town for a bit, though I can’t imagine there’s a lot to see here anyway.” Then he smiled and looked up at the taller and quieter boy. “Want to join me?“

“No.”

“Eh?” The shorter of the two looked surprised. “Why not?”

“No reason.”

“Oh.” Disappointment filled the blonde boy and he fought to keep it invisible. “Guess I’ll be on my own then.”

“Yes.”

Quatre looked at Trowa, uncertain if the taller boy was pulling a fast one on him, but the impassive face told him no. “Well then, I better get going. Bye.”

The quiet boy watched as Quatre starting walking in a different direction, away from him and waving as he did. The blonde youth threw one last questioning glance over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner, without leaving any signs of that he had been there just seconds ago, more than the words that was still echoing in Trowa’s mind.

‘Want to join me?’

No one, more than Catherine, had ever asked for his company, and it felt strange to hear another, much softer voice, doing so. Surprise had made him say no, but something inside his chest ached when he had done that. After all, someone had *wanted* to be with him.

*Wanted* to be with him.

Why would anyone do that? Couldn’t they see what a freak he was? How strange and silent?

He hadn’t chosen to share an apartment to get friends, of course he hadn’t. There was a reason behind his choice, a very simple and still annoying reason. It had been the first thing he’d been able to get, and the cheapest. He was quickly running out of money, the small amount he had when he began the journey was almost completely gone.

He needed to get a job, and he didn’t have much time.

*******

Quatre walked quickly, trying to burn away some of that energy caused by surprise and frustration. ‘Did he have to be rude? I just wanted some company – it would be nice to get some friends here after all. Doesn’t he feel the same?’

The city was, just as he predicted, not very impressing. There was a small shopping centre with graffiti on the grey walls. There was the usual housing areas, some of them for richer people, some of them almost slum. There was a river, leading through the whole town, but it wasn’t a fresh and beautiful river, no, it was a grey, dirty one in which you could see paper-bags and empty McDonald’s boxes floating around, together with an occasional shoe before it became filed with water and sunk.

After a while, he found himself sitting in a small café by the river. The tables were without cloths, but covered in plastic plates that made them easy to clean.

Clean. That was the good thing about the café – its clean state. Quatre couldn’t think of something worse to be forced to eat from dirty plates or with gross cutlery. Ordering a cup of tea, he let himself relax in the chair, thinking about the guys he had suddenly been forced to befriend.

He hadn’t seen much of Heero, but it was obvious that Duo knew him better, if not liked him. They hadn’t spoken much at all yet, though Quatre thought that he looked like one to be quiet an ambitious.

Wufei Chang was mostly the same. Still, Quatre was curious about the Chinese man who had gone to USA to meet a future wife. That was nothing you hear of every day, much less met one who had to go through something like that. Hadn’t he said that he was going to meet, what was her name. . . Long Meiran. . . today?

Duo Maxwell was much easier to read, at least in Quatre’s option. He seemed like a friendly, if rather loud youth who was happy as long as everybody else was. The fact that he had to work to get money showed that he had rather rough finances, but there was many who had in that age, especially those who was living away from home. Quatre liked him, he decided.

Trowa Barton. Quatre frowned to himself and sipped on his too-hot-tea thoughtfully, succeeding in burning his tongue. That boy was strange. Plain. . . strange. But then again. . . he had amazingly green eyes that forced Quatre to swallow so he wouldn’t drool every time they made eye-contact. . .

*******

TBC

*******

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