Author: Kai Michi
Disclaimers: I don't own them, don't sue me
Author's Notes: It's late, I know. Anyway, I was just thinking of the
need for more 4+2/2+4, and I came up with this. I've been thinking of
a plausible sequel if anyone likes it. It's kind of weird, and very out
of character, I think, but here it is. Oh yeah, and the story is in first
person, but the flashbacks are in third person.
Warnings: Very OOC, I think, shounen-ai, het, nauseous-sounding coffee-concoctions.
PS: This fic contains SHOUNEN-AI That means boy-boy love. If you aren't
mature enough to handle that, don't read this, alright?! Any flames will
be posted to my mailing lists to be laughed at and mocked. (Evil, aren't
~*~ = flashback
It's late. 12:56, says the
little digital clock. I push back from the desk, and the deluxe leather
office chair gives, and suddenly I am reclining blissfully. I throw a
lanky arm over my face and... don't sleep. I can't give in to sleep, just
yet, there's too much work to be done. So I relax with my eyes closed,
thinking. At last I admit to myself I need something to drink. Something
to wake me up. Idly, I wonder if we have any hot chocolate, although I
already know the answer. There's never any hot chocolate at all. Not since
he left. Groaning mentally, I push myself out of the chair, and stand
for a few moments in front of the space heater. The den is sub-level,
and doesn't heat so well on it's own, you see. After that, I make my way
through the double doors, making sure to shut them (to keep in the heat)
and then up the carpeted stairs.
It wasn't an easy break for me, and I really wish I hadn't gone on that
vacation at all. It was nothing more than work of a different kind, wearing
a different mask. The light comes on with an audible hum, and I idly wonder
when the light started making that noise. Had it always done that? Had
I lived here that long and just not noticed? I shake it off and head for
the pantry. Instant coffee. Yay. There's Maxwell House, which I pull down
dubiously, and Folgers's Choice, which I pull down with the same cautious
air. I'm not really all that great with coffee- I don't drink it all that
much. I sniff the Maxwell House, which smells okay, as far as coffee goes.
Rather strong, but that's Maxwell for you. The Folgers's Choice doesn't
smell so good, rather dark and foresty, so I put it back, and heat a mug
of water. As the microwave runs, I pace the kitchen floor, shivering in
my thin t-shirt and sweatpants, and I think about the vacation. About
the fake smiles. About the pain. I think if I have to smile one more time,
I might just lose it. Go Zero-system on them all over again.
Idly, I rub my chest. It's achy, and I know it's not just a physical pain.
The mental anguish is giving me a headache though, and I get a bottle
of Advil from the medicine cabinet. A brief struggle is raised as I wrestle
the childproof cap. Damnit! Did I say that aloud? I can't tell. After
all, I'm alone here. I sigh, and scoop two of the little gel caps from
the bottle, preoccupied. There's an intense feeling of de déjà
vu as I swallow the tablets. So real, I'm caught up in the memory.
"So are you."
They paused then chorused. "I had a headache." They paused again, and
laughed gently, yet nervously. A vague hint of uneasiness swept under
the surface, then it was gone. Everything was normal.
Duo motioned towards the kitchen. "I was going to get something for it."
Quatre nodded. In the kitchen, he took the Advil down from the cabinet
and wrestled with the childproof cap. "Damnit!" he swore.
"Easy Q-man, no need to go Zero system on the thing," Duo observed mildly
from his lounge on the kitchen counter.
Quatre shot him a glare, and popped the top open. Four tastefully coloured
pills spilled from the open bottle. He divided them into two sets of two,
while Duo ran tap water into two plain cups. They took the doses simultaneously,
and then for a long time, the distant tick of the clock was the only noise.
"Something bothering you?"
"You seem vague."
"You're not happy."
"What do you mean?"
"Are you happy.. with her? I don't think you are."
Duo looked away, focused on a light somewhere in the distance, only a
speck of it visible through the kitchen window. At last he shrugged. "I'm
well off, I guess."
"Do you love her?"
Duo chuckled dryly. "Not really. Not like I know you're thinking. She's...
well, she's not that."
"Then why on earth are you marrying her?!"
Duo blinked owlishly, his deep violet eyes reflecting surprise, and hoarding
something else in their dark depths. "I didn't think you cared, sugah,"
he drawled slowly. Quatre flushed, then scowled.
"I don't. Not anymore." He turned away. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
He stalked out, flicking the light as he went, leaving Duo in the darkness.
The microwave is beeping irritatingly. Slowly, I move to take the cup
of hot, almost boiling, water into my hands, warming my chilled digits.
I set it on the counter at last, and take a heaping spoonful of coffee
(as the package directs) and dump it into the water. It sizzles like water
on a hot griddle, and there is an immediate aroma of fresh coffee. I have
to admit, it smells better than it tastes. After staring at it, I throw
some marshmallows into the mix. I know, marshmallows in coffee, right?
But really, it's good. Now that I think about it though, I think that
should have been last. I grab some milk from the refrigerator, noting
we have no cream. I register the fact that there's not enough room in
the cup to accept the level of milk I require, but I pour anyway. It's
on the edge-- it'll spill in a minute. I take down a larger mug, and pour
the steaming mix into it. Then I add a piece of chocolate I scrounged
from the fridge.
How did I start drinking coffee like this? Like Duo... Allah, I need to
forget about him! I take down an orange canister from a row of orange
canisters and shake it. The loose, sliding sounds let me know the contents
are sugar. I add a spoonful, and stir the concoction, then add more milk,
before putting it away. A few minutes later I'm adding more milk-- I like
my coffee as light as Duo's hair. Where did that come from? I take a sip
and flinch. The stuff is bitter still. I buck up and hit the lights, walking
back down the darkened hallway, mug in hand. But that bitter aftertaste
is still in my mouth. Like that marriage.
I turn and head back toward the kitchen. I don't take chances, this time:
I pour almost a cup of sugar in my cup, and watch the coffee level raise
nearly an inch at this new addition. This is what I could do for him...
take him to a new level... This time the stuff is sweet enough to seduce.
So light, so sweet, begging to be taken. Coaxing, whispering, fleeting
images, warm, soothing.... What am I thinking? This is coffee. But that's
not really what I'm thinking about, is it?
He's in my head now. Why didn't I tell him, when I had the chance? Why
did I have to be the bad guy? I don't want to be the bad guy. I
just love him too much. Way too much. And he has Hilde. Damn him. Damn
"Oh damnit all," I sigh aloud. It's too much, really it is. Keeping all
of it inside you is a scary thing. So hard to let go of the past. When
we had something. I want to have something again. But he has something
with her. And I have... well, I have a cup of overly sweet coffee,
and a bit of courage. So I'm going to tell him. Let him hate me. I don't
care anymore. Who am I trying to kid? Of course I care! But I have
to tell him. That I still feel for him. And that I don't think marrying
Hilde is right for him.
I turn on the vidscreen in the kitchen, and in moments I am connected
with the little house on L2. "Hello, Duo? I know it's late, but there's
something I need to talk to you about...."
to Singles a - k]