"Heartbreak Café"

Written By: The Plotting Housewife

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top/Bottom Dynamics, implied infidelity, Breakup, Disability

Pairings: 5x2, 5x2x4, 3x4, 3xMidi Une

Summary: After Trowa breaks his heart, Quatre leaves his life behind to open a coffee shop called the Heartbreak Café. Just when he finally begins to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, his two newest customers arrive to usurp the delicate balance.

" Heartbreak Café"

Chapter 1: Upheaval

"Mr. Winner! Mr. Winner, what do you have to say on behalf of the worker who was killed while fixing your resource satellite?"

"Mr. Winner, are you prepared to offer full lifetime benefits for the deceased worker's family?"

"Mr. Winner, are you going to be responsible for the worker's burial expenses?"

"Mr. Winner, what do you have to say about the lawsuit that's been filed on behalf of the worker's family?"

"Mr. Winner, do you have anything to say to the worker's family? Have you been in contact with them?"

"Mr. Winner, what do you say to the concerns some people have expressed about the safety of your resource satellites?"

"Mr. Winner, do you think the L4 colony cluster will suffer economically from this tragedy? And what are you prepared to do to minimize the impact?"

"Mr Winner -"

"Mr. Winner -"

Quatre sighed, a soft, barely-noticeable rise of his chest and turned his most professional expression on the gathered reporters, nodding to them in acknowledgment of their endless sea of questions. It was difficult to pick out any specific question through the white noise of all of them talking at once. Someone who was not trained for this would have difficulty deciphering what was being said, let alone who said it. It took years of experience and practice to be able to not only comprehend the rapid fire inquiries, but to address his answers to the correct person.

Quatre even went a step above that by remembering not only their affiliations, but each of their names. Trowa had always expressed fascination about Quatre's ability to work the media. Like a maestro with a finely tuned instrument, he beautifully manipulated them when they came at him with an often aggressive need to see him stumble, see him fall. Trowa shied away from the spotlight, something that instigated a number of arguments between them over the course of the last six years they'd been together. Things had come to a head three years ago when Trowa punched a man who'd incessantly shoved his camera into his face while they were leaving a fundraiser.

The news sites had had a field day reporting on the CEO of Winner Enterprises, the Quatre Winner, of the prominent Winner family, having to bail his working class boyfriend out of jail after he'd been arrested for assaulting a tabloid photographer.

Trowa, you know this is the cost of being with me.

I'm not the celebrity. I don't need to make nice with those scum-sucking vultures.

I know it's irritating, but you've got to -

You know what, Quat? No. No, I don't. Whatever it is you think I need to do, just forget it because I'm not taking that shit lying down.

The media continued to cover the incident with almost sadistic glee and still managed to throw that little tidbit on the end of any subsequent story that mentioned him, no matter what the subject matter was. Three years later and Quatre still hadn't heard the end of it.

Oh, yes. Quatre Winner, the one with the volatile partner who once punched a cameraman after leaving a fundraiser for the War Orphan Memorial. Keeping it classy.

"Mr. Winner, how does your...partner feel about all this?"

Quatre turned stern, almost scolding eyes on the reporter. She gazed back at him with unwavering confidence, brow arched in challenge. He graced her with his most charming, thousand-watt smile and addressed the viper on her own turf.

"With all due respect, Ms. Jenner, my partner has nothing to do with this incident. He is not an employee of Winner Enterprises, nor is he a member of the media. He is a private citizen. And we all know the rules about discussing legally pending matters. We also know they do not mix with personal affairs. What he thinks, or feels about this incident is irrelevant."He turned his attention to the rest of the reporters, speaking clearly into the microphones that were hovering in front of his face.

"To answer the rest of your questions, WEI has already issued a public statement which you can find on our company website. As for myself personally, I am working closely with the family and with law enforcement to determine exactly what went wrong and I assure everyone that we are doing everything we can to make sure this horrific tragedy does not happen again. More information will be forthcoming as the investigation progresses, but I'm afraid that's all I have for you right now. Thank you for your time."

He turned away, ignoring the sudden influx of hollering and questions that followed, trying not to rub his ears when they distorted due to the near-screeching of some of them who shouted over the din to be heard. He stared straight ahead, expression neutral, as the security officers ushered him to his waiting car. His eyes watered and he blinked away the spots in his vision from the strobing lights of the camera flashes, already feeling a catastrophic headache throbbing beneath his temples.

He pulled his arms into his body when he was inevitably grabbed, accustomed to the rough treatment, and quickly slid into the backseat of the running car. A security guard shut the door just as he swung his legs in and slapped the top of the car to signal the driver to go. Quatre relished in the sudden peace as it pulled away from the curb and rested his head against the seat.

He was dog tired. It really was the worst kind. The kind of tired that left his limbs feeling like paper maché and five ton Gundanium weights at the same time. It was already dark, having left well past the hour that most people had retired to their bedrooms. He watched the lights pass by his window through half-lidded eyes and savored the quiet reprieve, the brief moments of having nothing pressing to do.

The investigation was revealing some very problematic findings and Quatre dreaded where the conclusion was going. While the incident appeared to be a tragic accident, it was looking more and more like a man-made one and wasn't that always the way?

He'd hoped it was due to faulty wiring that could have possibly occurred when the satellite was struck by stray space junk two weeks ago. Unfortunately, while there had been damage from the collision, it seemed that was not what had caused the explosion. Human error was now likely to be the culprit. An error that was caused by a negligent crew foreman which made the situation all the worse.

The information of the foreman's conduct never made it back to him until after the accident had already occurred. And while Quatre was steadfast in making sure all of his employees were taking every precaution and doing things by the book, it didn't stop the occasional wayward worker from fudging up in a way that reflected badly on all of them. Quatre may not have known, but to anyone who gave a damn, he should have known. As the head of the company, he was ultimately responsible and he was the one that had to answer when something went wrong.

The truth was, he had been in contact with the family. He offered to pay all the funeral expenses and decided on a pension that would pay out for the rest of the worker's spouse's life. She could now expect a nice, cushy check for the rest of her days in return for her pain and suffering. Quatre had even gone so far as to make sure his two surviving children had their complete education covered.

But that hadn't been enough, apparently. Who could possibly equate monetary value when it came to the loss of a human life, especially a loved one killed under your watch? The lawsuit didn't surprise him in the slightest and he'd already spoken to his lawyers and decided to settle out of court. Of course, neither did that stop the widow from showcasing her grief in front of every camera in the Earth Sphere. And of course the media ate it up. Who didn't love a good sob story?

It's not that he didn't feel for the family. He did. His heart truly went out to them. But he couldn't deny that he was bitter, most probably a little jaded. Who wouldn't be after listening to anyone with an opinion, which was everyone, raking you over the coals day in and day out? It gets old after a while. Tiring. He felt heavy with it and he was looking forward to going home and hopefully spending some quality time with Trowa, if he was even still awake.

He paused that train of thought, absently picking invisible lint off his dress slacks. The fact that there was trouble in paradise didn't help matters. Quatre didn't understand it. Things had been fine until several months ago. Sure, they had the occasional fight, but they always came back stronger than ever. They had such a close bond, almost from the time they'd first met. It had taken Trowa some time to warm up to him, but once he did, they were irrevocably drawn to each other. Quatre may have only been fifteen at the time, but he'd known what love was and Trowa was it. Trowa was his everything, his soulmate. He was the reason Quatre made it through his overwhelmingly stressful days.

After the Zero incident, he'd resigned himself to the likelihood that it would never happen. Couldn't even imagine trying to pursue a relationship with Trowa once he'd returned with no memories. His guilt over ruining the life of the boy he considered to be his best friend was gut wrenching and left him feeling sick, hollow. It still haunted him even to this day and he imagined it probably always would. Trowa could forgive, but Quatre would never forget.

He was shocked once he returned to the Peacemillion after talking Trowa out of the Zero system to discover his friend's memories had been restored. Even more shocked when Trowa accosted him in his bunker several hours later. Quatre was tossing and turning in a fitful sleep when the tentative knock at his door woke him up. He figured it was Noin, or maybe even Duo trying to solicit a card game out of him. It wasn't the first time he'd engaged in a late night round of poker, or euchre with his braided comrade. When he opened the door to see Trowa on the other side, he froze in surprise that bordered on terror which was followed by a rush of shame, thinking the boy had come to give him a piece of his mind. He stood in his flimsy pajamas, barefoot, hair mussed, and ready for judgment, waiting for the verbal tirade over how he'd destroyed everything they might have ever had a chance to have.

When Trowa stepped inside the room, Quatre expected to be struck and tried not to flinch as he anticipated the powerful fist that would no doubt knock him on his ass. He'd been ready to accept it, convinced he deserved it. Trowa towered silently over him, his face unreadable. Then he leaned forward and, almost timidly, pressed their lips together. Quatre was too startled to respond, staring bug-eyed at the wisps of the boy's lashes resting against his cheeks. Trowa pulled away after a few seconds, the soft smack of his lips loud in the otherwise quiet room, and smiled sheepishly.

"I've been wanting to do that."

Quatre's intelligent response was, "What?"

Trowa eyed him curiously, his handsome face slightly amused with a soft curl of his mouth. "I've been wanting to do that. Kiss you."

Unfortunately, it wasn't Quatre's night when it came to being articulate. "Why?"

Trowa cocked his head, confused. "Didn't you - I mean..."He blushed, rather cutely in Quatre's opinion. "I'm sorry. Maybe I misread -"

The puzzle pieces finally clicked into place and then metaphorically smacked him across the face. "Oh! No, yeah!"He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs out of it. "No. I'm sorry, I'm - you didn't misread anything."

Trowa looked relieved and Quatre echoed the sentiment. His shoulders sagged under the rush of mollification, grateful that he wasn't about to get pummeled. But the elephant in the room would not take a seat and as much as Quatre dreaded it, he knew it needed to be brought out into the open and addressed. "I'm sorry, Trowa. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"I did, though!"

Trowa shook his head, suddenly confident where Quatre faltered. "No. I know you. Probably better than I know myself, I think. I know you never intended to hurt me."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"I know."

"Still, it doesn't excuse -"

"Quatre I forgave you even before I lost my memories. Having gained them back I -"He threw up his hands, gazing at the ceiling as he tried to find the words. "It just reinforced what I felt before."

Quatre's heart pounded, pumping adrenaline through his bloodstream, his breath coming hard and heavy. "Which is what?"

Trowa stepped closer, his eyes so earnest and so achingly filled with emotion, it hurt to look into them. "That what we have is - I'm not really sure what it is, but...it's special. Significant. And I don't want to lose you."

Quatre shook his head, the denial already on the tip of his tongue. Trowa losing him was a foreign concept, something that could never happen. It was preposterous, impossible. "You could never lose me. I - searched for you. I tried to find you. I never believed you were dead -"

"Somehow, I knew that without you even telling me," he said, his expression almost pained. "But how is that possible?

What is this?"

"I don't really know."

It didn't matter anyway. Trowa was already dismissing the whys and the hows with a wave of his hand. "I don't much care how. I just know - whatever we have, it's something that I don't want to let go of."His hand lifted and reached for him, his thumb and forefinger grasping a lock of blond hair. "It's...something I want to explore further."

Quatre's heart thumped against his rib cage, so hard it was almost painful. "You mean that?"

Trowa nodded and bent down again, his lips grazing against Quatre's. He seemed confident, sure of himself, but Quatre heard the hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Do you want to?"

Quatre didn't even need to think about it. There was no doubt, no question. It was meant to be. "Yes!" He blushed and covered his mouth with a hand at his exuberant shout and tamped down on his enthusiasm. "Yes, Trowa. I -"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because Trowa closed the gap and captured his mouth in a desperate kiss, blowing away Quatre's train of thought like dust in the wind. Powerful arms curled around his back and pulled him in close against an equally powerful chest. There was a sudden tenacity within Trowa, a vigor Quatre hadn't seen since before he'd lost his memories. His own arms lifted and wound around Trowa's neck, his trembling fingers carding through the silky hair. He'd never been kissed before, but with Trowa it felt as though he'd done it a million times.

It seemed infinitely more familiar when Trowa backed him up, what happened next written in the stars. He registered the bed hitting the backs of his knees and through the hazy dizziness, he realized he was being lowered onto it with a gentleness that made him feel weak all over. He marveled at Trowa's physical strength and the feeling of being cherished. His hands, itching to feel the solid muscle, slid down over prominent pecs; the feedback through his palms feeding his ardor. His head made contact with the pillow and his breath hitched as Trowa settled on top of him. He savored the heavy press of his body, so new and foreign, yet so familiar and so achingly delicious. Through their enigmatic connection, they knew exactly what the other wanted. Quatre whimpered softly, a giddy feeling in his belly as Trowa lifted the thin material of his nightshirt and sucked a nipple into his mouth. The sensation was unbelievably erotic and zinged lightning bolts of electric pleasure down to his stirring groin which quickly swelled and hardened.

Trowa graced him with a lecherous grin that made him shiver, and grasped the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling them down over his hips. Quatre blushed like the virgin he was and wrenched his head away in mortification as he was bared before the ravenous green eyes. Firm fingers, rough with callouses, gripped his chin and turned his head back. Trowa's voice was hoarse, laced with reverence when he whispered, "Don't hide. Don't you know how beautiful you are?"

Quatre's face was flaming with heat at the compliment and he shook his head, dismissals coming quick and easy. "No...I'm not."
"You are though. I'm going to make sure you know that. I want to spend the rest of my life making you feel beautiful."Trowa's head dipped down, the long hair of his bangs tickling Quatre's pelvis. He huffed soft breaths over the blond's groin, teasing for a moment before sucking Quatre's cock into his mouth.

Quatre drew in a ragged, gasping breath at the stimulation, his eyes rolling back into his head. He was beyond words at that point, babbling incoherently from the wet heat that engulfed such an intimate part of him, a part never before touched by another. Unable to control himself, he soared into a near-frenzied state, shaking and writhing under the lascivious suction and the rough swipe of Trowa's tongue. He didn't know what to do with his hands so he allowed them to go where they wanted and hoped Trowa wouldn't be angered by it. They clutched at his lover's head, tangling strands of brown silk between his fingers. He was delighted that Trowa not only didn't seem angry, but was even more aroused by it, uttering soft groans around Quatre's cock. Quatre hissed through clenched teeth, clutching handfuls of hair and tugging gently when Trowa's tongue laved at the sensitive underside of his erection.

He rose to the cusp of climax in only a couple of minutes and just when he was about to leap off the cliff into bliss, Trowa pulled his mouth away. Quatre squeezed his eyes shut, growling in frustration at his denied orgasm. Trowa rose up over him, shushing him with a gentle finger pressed against Quatre's lips. Quatre gazed up into the face he loved, his body flushing with need and he realized he was not above groveling. "Please..."

There was a flash of wickedness in the green eyes that made his heart skip. "I want to try something. That okay?"

Well, what you were doing was perfect, but...okay?

His heart skipped again then restarted with a jolt, pumping twice as fast when Trowa stuck his index and middle fingers into his mouth. Knowing where his lover was planning on putting those fingers and turned on beyond comprehension at the prospect, his legs opened wide in invitation. His body thrummed with anticipation, quivering at the sight of Trowa's pupils blown out to five times their normal size. The knowledge that his lover was just as worked up as he was amplified his excitement, the effect like a drug, the best aphrodisiac.

He gasped, sucking in a sharp breath when one of the fingers breached him. It was painful, not enjoyable like he thought it would be and now he didn't know why he'd thought it would be. It was nothing like his fantasies. He didn't know what this was supposed to accomplish, or why the hell people even did it. He squirmed in discomfort as Trowa's finger wiggled around inside him and just when he was about to tell him to abort the mission, his back bowed like a tightened string, a piercing cry escaping his lips as a spark of pleasure raced up his spine. His wide, shocked eyes landed on Trowa and caught the self-satisfied grin curling up the corners of his mouth.

Desperate to experience that mind-bending sensation again and too horny to call his lover out on his smugness, he pleaded for more, his voice breaking on a filthy moan. "Oh, Trowa. Do that again."

Trowa pressed his hand forward, the tip of his finger touching that incredible place and Quatre's cock, which had softened a little during this experiment, happily rose to the occasion, a bead of clear liquid gleaming at the tip. His hips rocked on their own accord, chasing that feeling again and again. He choked out a groan when another finger slid in beside the first, biting down on his lip and tossing his head against the pillow, lost in the buzzing current of pleasure that lit up within his body.

"Like that?"

He huffed a harsh breath and nodded. He felt sexy, sensual in ways he'd never known were possible. His hips pressed down onto the fingers, his hand scrabbling up to wrap shaky fingers around his cock.

He felt as though he was on the verge of combusting, his body tensing up as his prostate was teased, legs spreading wide, a constant litany of moans escaping his lips. He clutched the bedding tightly, knuckles turning white as sweat broke out across his heated skin. He barely registered the sound of clothing being removed and his eyes popped open when he felt the weight of Trowa on top of him, just barely cognizant enough to figure out what was going to happen next. Surprisingly, he was too far gone to be nervous and he opened his thighs, stretching the muscles taut in a show of wanton need, the vulnerability only serving to heighten his arousal.

"We need lube,"Trowa whispered.

Quatre wanted to scream in frustration, but only managed a harsh, broken sob. "I don't have any! Didn't you bring some?"

"No,"Trowa laughed softly. "I wasn't expecting things to go this far."He looked around. "Do you have any lotion, or..."

Quatre wracked his brain, desperate to get this show on the road. "I have...I have lip balm. Will that work?"

"Good enough."Trowa lifted up so Quatre could wiggle out from beneath him and he dug frantically through his pants pockets until he located the tiny tin of lip moisturizer. Giddy with excitement, he scrambled back to the bed, sliding under Trowa's body.

He watched with wide-eyed fascination as Trowa opened the tin with fingers that trembled slightly and scooped out a generous amount of the sticky substance. He coated his stunningly gorgeous cock, in Quatre's opinion, spread a little dab over the blond's opening, and tossed the tin over his shoulder. Quatre giggled as it bounced off the wall with a ting! Then Trowa was on him again and all traces of playfulness were gone. Quatre moaned, feeling delightfully dirty when he felt the tip of the hard cock brush against his opening and gritted his teeth when it pushed through the virgin ring of muscle. The pain flared across his backside, up his spine, and his body went rigid, cock softening once again.

Trowa's hands caressed him back into relaxation, sliding calloused palms over his hips and up his sides. "Ssh. It's okay. You want me to stop?"

Quatre shook his head despite the agony, breath shallow with pain. "No. No, it - it hurts, but..."

"I promise it will feel good. Just give it a little time."

Quatre's head dipped in a nod, reaching down to grasp his cock in an effort to distract from the searing burn and stretch. As soon as he began to consider that this was never going to feel good, the sting lessened and his body started to relax. Trowa peppered kisses onto his face and neck, whispering reassurances.

"There you go. Just relax. That's it."

He sucked in deep calming breaths, his body loosening incrementally. His cock stiffened again once he was able to appreciate the sensation of being filled, and the awareness of what was happening. Tears burned the back of his eyes at the dawning realization that Trowa was inside him. This was as close as two people could get. It was exhilarating. He felt new, grown up, and he whimpered, overwhelmed when Trowa withdrew his hips just a little, then carefully pushed back in. Then he did it a second and third time. Quatre's breath smoothed out, his body adjusting with each gentle thrust. After a few minutes, it actually started to feel good. After another few minutes, he was moaning brokenly, the pleasure unlike anything he'd felt before.

"Oh...God, Trowa. It - it feels amazing!"His body rocked across the bed as Trowa's hips slapped against his ass. The sound of it was filthy in the best possible way and it spiked his arousal to unbearable levels. His back arched, his hips rolled in sensuous circles, and he had to bite down on his screams every time his lover's cock pressed into his prostate. Trowa's fingers curled around his calves, lifting his legs into the air which changed the angle and Quatre gripped fistfuls of the bedding, his eyes rolling back into his head. He squeezed them shut and sunk his teeth into his tongue, trying valiantly not to shout and wake his sleeping neighbors.

Trowa was fucking him hard now and Quatre briefly noted he was probably going to be sore for a few days before the thought was lost in the waves of his rising orgasm. He panted as it began to build, the exquisite pleasure centered between his legs becoming more than he could handle. He pressed his hand over his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as his cock spurted ropes of come up his belly and chest. He choked, huffing around his hand while his body shook from the shattering climax. Trowa growled long and low, his fingers tightening around Quatre's ankles. He came a moment later with an emphatic groan, releasing the blond's legs which bounced on the bed and flopped to the sides. Trowa leaned over him, his hips pushing hard against Quatre's ass, then he dropped down onto his heaving chest, his labored breaths ghosting over Quatre's throat. Quatre felt the twitch and spurt of his lover's cock inside him and preened, feeling deliciously debauched.

He hummed in contentment, hand coming up to stroke the back of Trowa's head. He flinched a little, sore when the softening cock slipped out of him, but he smiled when Trowa lifted his head, a tiny grin tugging at his swollen lips.

"How was that?"

"Mmm...that was incredible! "He felt changed, like he'd been reborn. His senses were sharper than they'd ever been before. "I must admit, I wasn't sure about doing that, but I'm glad we did. It felt so good."

Trowa dipped his head and kissed him and Quatre sighed happily as his lover's tongue flicked into his mouth, twining against his own. He felt so safe, so warm, and so loved. Especially when Trowa curled his powerful body around him and he slept like the literal dead for the first time in his life.


***


They'd made it work. Somehow, even when life got in the way, like magnets, they always found their way back to each other. It hadn't been easy with Quatre's obligations to his family as well as Trowa's own obligations to the circus. His adoptive sister, Cathy, had not been happy about the relationship. Namely for reasons that had to do with what was between Quatre's legs. She wasn't above trying to talk Trowa into finding a "nice girl"right in front of him and it stung. Badly.

Not that Quatre didn't have to deal with that himself. Being the heir to the Winner fortune, it was expected that he produce an heir. His sisters were relentless in their quest to get him to reproduce and no amount of I'm-gayer-than-a-cock-flavored-lollipop would sway them. Not that he couldn't have gone the same route his father had taken to create his sisters. Donating sperm wasn't all that big of a deal, they'd said. But it was when the end result would be the production of another human being. One that he would be wholly responsible for. That was a problem.

It wasn't so much his sexual orientation. He just didn't want children. He didn't want to wind up being resented the way he'd resented his father. He didn't want to create life for the purpose of using it for his own gain, his family's gain. People weren't commodities. He'd spent years hating his father for that very reason. Especially when he found out about the true origin of his birth. It wasn't enough that he'd essentially killed his mother just by existing. He also had to discover the fact that his father had persistently tried to get his mother to abort him and insisted that another heir could be created the same way the other twenty nine Winner children had been. It was only through his mother's abject refusal to terminate the pregnancy that he was even alive today.

No. Gay, or not, he couldn't do that. He couldn't bring a life into this world and screw it up the way he'd been so irrevocably screwed up.

He also had to deal with the still pressing issues of homophobia in the media. It was bad enough that the great Winner heir preferred his partners with a certain appendage between their legs, but he'd had to choose a partner that was, in their eyes, a societal nobody. It didn't bother Trowa nearly as much as it bothered Quatre. He'd been infuriated at the public's casual disdain of his lover. It only got slightly better over the years, but not much, especially since Trowa wasn't the most outgoing, friendliest person and showed about as much disdain as he received. Quatre couldn't hold that against him.

"Sir? We're here."

He opened his eyes as the car came to a stop. Thanking the driver, he grabbed his briefcase and walked to the front door. He slipped his key into the lock and pushed it open, surprised to find all the lights on. Slightly worried, he set his briefcase in the chair by the door, slid off his suit jacket, and kicked his shoes into the tray. Loosening his tie, he stepped into the living room, glancing around for his lover.

"Trowa?"

It was quiet for a few minutes and Quatre was mildly alarmed, thinking something horrible had happened. Trowa never left the lights on when he went out. He was pulling his phone out of his pocket when Trowa appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen. He was fully dressed which was strange for him at such a late hour. Quatre raised a brow at him.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Trowa looked stern, decided, but there was a tinge of guilt in his expression. "Yes. Actually, I am."

Quatre slid his tie off and dropped it onto the arm of the couch, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. "You going to tell me where?"

There was a soft, resigned sigh, then Trowa lifted the arm that was hidden behind the wall, his brown leather overnight bag dangling from his hand. "I'm...leaving."

He cocked his head in confusion. Where would Trowa have to go at such a late hour? "Leaving where? Did something happen at the circus? How long will you be gone?"

Trowa's eyes gleamed with an intensity, like he was trying to get his point across with a look. He swallowed and Quatre's eyes were drawn to the bob of his Adam's apple. "No, Quat. I'm leaving."

Quatre's heart thumped erratically, red flags waving frantically in his mind's eye. "Wait...leaving leaving?"

Trowa nodded and looked down, slinging the bag strap over his shoulder. Quatre's chest tightened, his breath coming quicker as his adrenaline spiked. Trowa was leaving him? He knew things had been rough lately, but nothing that would warrant this. "Why?"

"I can't deal with it anymore, Quat. I'm sorry."

His body went cold for a second, then heated up as anger set in, slipping past the strong front of denial. "Now, wait a minute. Can't deal with what? My life? Me?"He was automatically convinced he'd done something wrong, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. It's just...all of this. Everything. You being constantly hounded by the media, working all these long hours. All this stress you're under..."

Quatre could admit to all that, but Trowa was what helped him through it. He was his lifeline, his support. And he always tried to make it home to Trowa to spend as much time with him as he could. "Are you saying I'm not doing enough?"

"No. I know you try, but...look, I just can't do this anymore. I'm not happy. I'm sorry."

Quatre could feel the burn threatening to crack open in his chest, his eyes stinging. His first love...his only love was leaving him? After everything he'd been forced to deal with, he realized he'd found the one thing he was not equipped to handle. "But...things will get better! We've had our rough times before, but we've always gotten through it. Haven't we? Trowa..."He stepped forward, pleading now, desperate to stop this from happening. "We've always fought for each other. Ever since we were kids, we -"He blinked back tears, the gravity of the situation catching up to him. If Trowa had really made his mind up..."Where does this leave me?"

Trowa's voice was soft, contrite, and he refused to look Quatre in the eye which infuriated him. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You're strong. Stronger than me."

Quatre's nostrils flared as the whirlwind of emotions carried him away. "So you're just going to walk away? From everything? Everything we've been through, everything we've been, you're just going to - just up and leave me?"A tiny flicker of a past transgression lit up his brain and spread like wildfire. His eyes hardened, brows drawing low. "It's her, isn't it?"

"No. Quat...no..."But he still wouldn't look up. Quatre's teeth clenched, the rage threatening to boil over.

"It is! You've been talking to her again, haven't you?"

Quatre had caught him the previous year, reacquainting himself with a young woman who Trowa had apparently known as a child. They ran into each other at a grocery store and had decided to catch up, which was all well and good. The problem was when Trowa had taken to continuing correspondence with her through video chats and text messages. Quatre might have been able to brush it off as friends keeping in touch except Trowa had seen fit to hide the interactions from him and that was what had made Quatre suspicious and angry.

His curled his lip, convinced now, anger flitting across his nerve endings. "You son of a bitch."

"Quat -"

"No. I don't want to hear it. You want to go? Fine. You want to be with her? Fine. I hope you two are ecstatically happy together."He turned away, heading to the bar for some much needed, mind-numbing alcohol. His fury was just barely contained beneath his skin and his vision tunneled as he honed in on the bottle of brandy.

"Quat, I'm - I'm sorry..."

He glanced at Trowa over his shoulder and sneered. "Yeah. So am I. Sorry I was such a fool. Sorry I wasn't enough. Sorry I just wasted six years of my life trying to make you happy."

Trowa looked emphatically guilty, but Quatre just didn't have it in him to feel any pity. He flipped over a crystal tumbler and poured a double shot of brandy, tipping the liquor back in one gulp. The burn was soothing to his frazzled nerves.

"Quat -"

"Just go."

Trowa hesitated. "I just -"

Quatre slammed the glass down onto the granite counter top and turned, snarling, "Go!"

Trowa took the hint and walked to the door. Quatre turned back to the bar, staring down into his empty glass. The door opened and closed with a click of finality and Quatre felt his heart rise up into his throat, then plummet into his belly, cracking open and spilling everything he'd ever felt for Trowa. Years worth of romance and domesticity, lovemaking and arguments, rough kisses and gentle touches, words of devotion and words of vitriol, love and commitment, rushed through his bloodstream and flooded into his internal organs like poison. His insides curled in on themselves and in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable explosion, he poured another drink and slammed it back, feeling the waves of liquid stress relief settle into his bones.

Through the chaos in his mind, one absurd thought floated to the top and broke the surface.

Wait until the press gets a hold of this.

~ * ~

Chapter 2

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