[catholic schoolboys rule!] Title: Catholic Schoolboys Rule!
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, mentions of others
Stuff: AU, pokes at religious institution, fluff/sap, angst, lemon topping and a bit of drag XD
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and a lot of other people who aren't me. +5 skill points if you guess the title reference.

Filling a request for Rainya, because she feeds my geek needs. Thanks to Natea for the once-over.

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X.

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The light from the hallway cut into the darkness that coated the dorm room when Trowa unlocked and opened the door upon his return. "Duo? You're still sleeping?" he tentatively asked the blackness as he cautiously stepped inside, groping for the lamp sitting on the table. Fumbling with the switch, he finally managed to flip it on. He turned around to face Duo's bed now that he could see, leaning back against the table on the flats of his palms. "Duo, you've been in bed almost all day," he addressed the large lump of sheets and comforter twisted against the wall. "Either you tell me what's wrong or I get the nurse in here to draw blood, because you're obviously not well." It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"I hate needles," came the muffled reply from somewhere underneath all the bedding. It twitched a little bit towards the center of the mattress; a set of toes was now poking out near the bottom.

"Then get out of bed!" came Trowa's simple logic. He gestured to the window, even though Duo couldn't see him; "Did you even see the sun today, Duo? Seriously, this is gross; get up."

"No point, now," Duo mumbled from within his cocoon of blankets. There was no real need for him to be up and about since it was a Sunday. He'd even skipped Mass, not at all in the mood to see the better part of the school community all at one time in one little room. Besides, he wasn't sure what he'd do when he saw Heero since he'd come to terms with the fact that no one else would do. He'd come to conclusion that avoidance was the best plan of attack until he'd had a chance to regroup.

Trowa didn't want to admit that he was genuinely disgusted with Duo's behaviour, but he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a little as he stared at Duo's half of the room. It wasn't just the unmade bedclothes that Duo had wadded himself inside that concerned Trowa, but the way Duo's belongings had slowly spread themselves out around the room. A couple shirts and a pant leg dangled out of Duo's trunk and a pile of uniform garments lay heaped in a big pile near the foot of the bed. Crossing his arms, Trowa strode to the bed, latched onto a corner of blanket and tugged.

He ripped the comforter to reveal a sunken-eyed Duo, whose hair jutted out of its confines in random directions, wisping around his face like a lion's mane. "What the fuck gives," Duo moaned, a long hand creeping out from beneath the blankets in an effort to snatch back the section Trowa held in his tight grip. He jerked it back and rolled over as he yanked it over his head. "Leave me alone, Trowa," he grumbled from beneath the safety of his quilt.

"Duo!" Trowa emphasized, grabbing at the blanket again and ripping it back, careless of how roughly Duo got tossed around because of it. "Get it together. What the hell is wrong with you? You've been getting steadily more and more like this all week and it has to stop! Get a grip!"

"Nothing's wrong with me, Trowa!" Duo snapped, rolling onto his back to glare at the ceiling in exasperation. "Can't a guy have a rotten week once in a while?"

Trowa pressed his eyebrows tightly over his nose, staring at Duo worriedly from the corners of his eyes as he leaned against the little dresser by the bed. "Something you want to talk about?" he asked, trying hard not to let his trepidation show in his voice. He had an urge to run and get Quatre.

"Not really," Duo said bitterly, making it more than obvious that there really was something weighing his mind. He didn't want to tell Trowa about his problems regarding Heero; Trowa would just be smug that Duo had allowed someone to tear up his universe so easily.

"I'm not buying that," Trowa said candidly, knowing that he would have to be tenacious if he was to get any semblance of a response from his wayward roommate.

Duo elected to at least answer Trowa enough so he'd step off. "I'm just taking the time for a couple things that weren't important yesterday, alright?" Duo retorted crisply, his eyes still riveted on the ceiling. The rain was making the wet spot in the plaster spread even further over his bed; he'd really have to go bother someone in the residence life office about that before the whole thing caved in on top of him.

Trowa hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I'm glad to hear that," he mused, though he still wasn't totally convinced that the answer could be so simple. "Still," he continued, "moping in bed isn't going to help any of them, so get up."

Personally, Duo begged to differ. How was he supposed to think about anything if he had to deal with the trouble of living? He'd actually rather enjoyed his private day alone in the dark. Life wasn't so depressing or disappointing when he could stay asleep and dream himself into a less frustrating existence. There, he didn't have to worry about the cajoling of his peers and Heero Yuy paid attention to him without being so prickly.

By the time Duo realized that Trowa had started talking again, the rower had moved to the foot of the bed, stooping down and attempting to organize the mess of clothing that had manifested itself there. "The rain isn't so bad anymore," Trowa was saying as he started to fold some of the clothing. "Come on, get up, get dressed, and we'll go clubbing. You always like that, right? Find yourself a bit of fun?" Trowa couldn't believe he was actually encouraging Duo's biggest vice, but it was still better than leaving him like this.

"Nah," moaned Duo, rolling over again. "Dun feel like it."

The pair of pants Trowa was currently in the process of folding fell from his grasp when he heard that. "Are you serious, Duo?" he pressed, standing up again. "Maybe I will go get the nurse after all...."

"No needles!" Duo panicked, finally jumping upright in bed. The covers fell away, revealing the rumpled clothing Duo was wearing. Trowa could have sworn he'd seen Duo in that same shirt two days ago. "What the hell, Trowa?!" Duo grimaced with a heavy air of sarcasm. He glared over at his roommate, who was slowly backing away from the bed. "You're suddenly so helpful." He pressed a hand against his forehead, suddenly overtaken with a rushing headache.

"I'm just worried about you, is all!" Trowa snapped, finally starting to get a little annoyed. "Would it kill you to reciprocate that every once in a while? My God!" Trowa, fed up, threw his arms stiffly into the air and turned on his heel, marching sternly in the other direction. "If you need me," he said flatly, "I'll be in Quatre's dorm." He was about to walk out on those words, but then thought secondly about it and added, "Go take a shower or something. You look disgusting." He only hoped Duo would take him up on the advice by the time he returned.

Duo lifted both middle fingers and held them in Trowa's direction unwaveringly until the other teen was well away from the room. "Fucker," Duo grumbled, tossing his blankets aside as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his wrists and stretched his mouth wide with a gaping yawn. Trowa didn't get it. There was no way Trowa would ever understand how Heero made Duo feel.

"Like a sun and rain," he mused to himself, ruffling his bangs hopelessly. There was something raw and unbridled about Heero that Duo found he rather liked. Even just thinking of the Japanese exchange student cause a small shard of something similar to pulsate deep inside Duo's chest, and as the beat of it grew stronger, he found himself digging after it with mounting urgency, desperate to know what fueled it. Not even the most vile of outside circumstances seemed capable of holding Heero fast; Duo wished he was able to throw down his chains as easily. If Heero could go to space, Duo wanted to know why he couldn't as well.

But Heero seemed very set on his path and it didn't seem nearly wide enough for two. "I guess he's one of those who had greatness thrust upon him," Duo mused poetically, cupping his chin thoughtfully in one hand. Then Duo found himself feeling terribly inadequate - more so than usual - thinking not for the first time how above and beyond him Heero was. In that moment, it became clear to Duo why he'd never be able to reach the stars too.

"Life fucking sucks!" Duo lamented, adjusting his head so his eyes were buried against his hand as he angrily whacked the mattress with his other. It did nothing to aid his pounding headache. "I'm about as useless as a piece of fucking lead!" The palm of his hand was unexpectedly moistened by what Duo soon realized to be tears of lament. Suddenly, his shirt felt clammy and the fabric of his pants seemed to be sticking uncomfortably to his legs. Maybe the shower wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Kicking aside anything that was in his way, Duo gathered his towel and his shower kit, as well as a clean tee shirt and fresh boxers. Yeah, a shower seemed like an excellent idea, now that he thought about it. Good for the headache, good for the soul. He hoped no one else had the same great idea as he shuffled into his favourite pair of blue flip-flops.

He poked his head out into the dim hallway, furtively looking up and down it like he was a sneaking criminal. He slunk quickly through the shadows to the bathroom down the corridor, unable to shake that edgy feeling that had been haunting him lately. He pushed the door open, a little disquieted by the way his face seemed an unidentifiable smear in the thickly rippled glass fixed into it and relieved when he found blessed emptiness inside.

The bathroom had a very archaic feel to it, much like the rest of the school's structure, but for some reason, Duo found something calming in the solitude it offered if no one else was there. Surrounded by a bed of tan, ceramic tiles was a strip of wall that supported a row of four porcelain sinks on either side. To the right of the centerpiece of sinks was a line of toilet stalls and a line of shower stalls to the left. The ceiling was decorated with molded plaster, its designs all circling from one of the four, brass lighting fixtures overhead. On the far side from where Duo stood, a coiled radiator that belched and groaned a cloud of warmth around it, but it was somewhat negated by the windows just above it. Their bottom panes were pushed out to allow some circulation into the otherwise stuffy room, the drizzle outside chattering against the slanted glass as it continued to fall from the heavens.

Duo took the long way around to the showers, pulling the windows closed as he passed them. The sound of the rain drove him crazy and it sent odd shivers down his spine when he thought about it. He wished there was a way to lock the door so that no one would come in and disturb him while he was trying to earn himself some real time to think. He was never quite sure why, but the shower always offered that best.

Randomly selecting one of the shower stalls, he set his shower kit down on the floor inside. Behind the vinyl curtain, a mirror hung over a small stool situated on the floor in the small dry space before the actual shower area. Duo laid his fresh pajamas on the stool and quickly disrobed himself of the crinkled clothing he'd been stinking in for the past few nights. Careless, he dropped those to the ground, not even bothering to think about the mildew that might have been incubating down there. He was wearing his trusty flip-flops, anyway.

"Ugh, bastard," Duo said, squinting at the showerhead as it squirted an unwelcome blast of cold water at his face. He fiddled with the metal knobs fixed to the pipe that fed up into the showerhead until he found a more suitable temperature, though it was still only lukewarm and left his skin crawling with gooseflesh. Idly, he rubbed his broad chest in an effort to warm his hardening nipples.

Finally content enough with the water, Duo pulled his long braid over one shoulder, and started working at the band that held it together at the bottom so he could unravel and wash it. He raked his dull fingernails at the band clumsily, his mind elsewhere until the band accidentally snapped over his knuckles, eliciting a yelp of pain from Duo. "Fucker!" he swore again, flinging the broken band to the ground and kicking it in the direction of the drain grille, where the flow of the water tried to suck it down with it as it swirled away. With an empty sense of method, Duo loosened his hair, raking it apart with somewhat vicious tugs of his fingers and coming away with clusters of it between his fingers with each pull. It strained the roots a bit painfully at his scalp, but he didn't really mind; it made him at least feel like he was accomplishing something.

Unbound, his long, thick hair fell in messy chunks around his body like an auburn cloak, clinging uncomfortably to his hips and the backs of his thighs. The water slide through his dampening tresses and drained off his hair at the tips, dripping to the floor in fat threads. Still moving absently, Duo stooped and picked up the small shampoo bottle in his shower bucket and, popping the cap open with one deft flick of a finger, squirted an ample bit into his waiting palm. It was a cold weight in his hand, and try has he might, he couldn't dispel the image he kept associating with the white cream spread across his hand as he worked it back and forth with his thumb.

He massaged the shampoo into his hair until it became a frothy lather. The suds melted through his hair as well when he moved to stand directly in the shower's spray, where he remained for quite some time with his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, silently watching it drip to the tile. His head sunk to his chest and his eyes fell halfway closed, his ears overwhelmed by the hiss of the water beating the floor. Steam was starting to cloud up around him like a masking fog as the shower started to heat up a little more. It still wasn't as warm as he'd have liked it, though.

One of his fingers traced the long trail of hair hanging over one ear and cascading over one shoulder, lying stuck to his chest with a paste of water and shampoo soap. He could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath the wet tresses as his hand smoothed over his torso and fell across the contour of his hip. Twiddling the ends of the hair around his fingers, he found himself thinking about all the problems in his world and how incapable he suddenly felt about dealing with it all. He'd tried hard, hadn't he? Why did he deserve this now?

"Got to keep on top of my game," he told himself, his voice echoing dully in the otherwise empty bathroom. "Can't go losing control now." The words did only to remind him of all the things that jeopardized his grip on all that, an explicit testament that he was, indeed, starting to fall by the wayside. The sudden realization caused him to start a bit, yanking harshly on the hair clutched tightly in his hand. "You're in charge, Duo - you're in charge," he coached himself, though his eyes were still a bit wide. He refused to acknowledge the way his cock had twitched at the fleeting image of Heero Yuy that had crossed his mind at that moment, despite the needy way his fingers strained towards it. It was no use; Heero was much stronger than Duo could ever hope to be.

Resigning himself to his more primal instincts, Duo didn't bother trying to control his hand anymore, allowing it to creep across his belly and over the soft bed of wet curls that cushioned his semi-hard penis. He ran the flat of his palm along the thick shaft, rolling it across the head and teasing the tip of it with his thumb and forefinger. He was being driven mad by the way he couldn't help but be haunted by Heero and the commanding presence he held over him. His hand turned beneath the virile organ, cradling it and closing his fingers around his quickly hardening captive as he took to stroking it roughly.

He liked to think that it was the steam that influenced the dream-like state that was starting to overtake him. Through half-lidded eyes, he imagined he could see Heero, wet and naked, kneeling before him on the shower floor, his head bowed at the altar of his sex and his plush lips reddened with hot blood as they parted to receive their unholy communion. Duo's hand ran up and down his cock faster at the thought, though his hallucinating eyes saw only Heero's brown-haired head as it bobbed deliciously between his legs. He grew harder still as he looked down to see Heero watching him from beneath his slick, mahogany bangs, his deep, midnight blue stare dark with adoration. He delighted at the image of Heero's own swollen penis pressed handsomely against one muscular thigh, begging just as wantonly for Duo's attention - attention Duo wanted nothing more than to bestow. And when he climaxed, Duo watched as Heero received it like a blessed gift, eyes closed as he savoured the taste.

Duo revisited reality to find himself lying sated against the tile wall, water stinging his eyes as he clutched his relaxing cock with a cum-stained hand. He'd never felt release as gratifying or as violent as that in his entire life, and there was little he could do to deny that it was Heero who gave that to him. It was Heero who made him come - who made him needy for sin and pleasure and comfort. He saw in Heero's unreachable eyes a flame that instilled a want for something he thought he'd learned how to forget years ago. Duo never thought he'd live to see the day he'd yearn for love again. It prickled him to imagine that Heero possibly tortured himself more than he did for it. Duo turned his back to the shower's spray, folding one arm against the wall and wondering what he'd have to do for Heero to allow him to be the one to share such a gift with him.

"I don't understand what I have to give you so you'll look at me," Duo mumbled against the wall, combing his clean hand through his hair and brushing his mass of hair entirely over one shoulder so he could more easily toy with it. "Do I have to give myself to you?" he continued in an almost indecipherable whisper. "I would..."

What if Heero was the sort who liked to dominate in bed, he wondered, following that previous tangent. Duo pressed the forearm against the wall into the hollows of his eyes, gritting his teeth as he gave the thought more consideration. He surprised himself with the realization that he really didn't care if Heero did. All that mattered to him, he found, was the notion that Heero would come to him willingly with kisses and affection and the promise that he'd stay. Then he become conscious of the fact that he'd never wanted that from any lover before and it sort of frightened him a little to think he'd let himself become so holed up inside himself.

But then, maybe he wasn't capable of giving Heero what he wanted. The follow-up panic that the notion instilled in Duo left him pounding the wall helplessly with his free hand. He'd give up entirely if that was the case, he thought. That same hand then wandered down the length of his torso, clenching one buttock tightly in an effort to instill a bit of disciplinary pain. How could he allow himself to become so ruled by such ridiculous notions? No matter what Duo may or may not have imagined buried deep in Heero's eyes, there was no way the aloof exchange student would ever want him. He'd disgraced himself too much in front of Heero, and Heero probably found him disgusting - just like Trowa did. Just like everybody else.

"But I still want you so bad," Duo told the wall as the hand at his side crept across the taut flesh of his ass, cupping one cheek as his slick fingers stretched to explore a bit more thoroughly. His cock was becoming hard again, pinned uncomfortably against the tile as his body pressed itself against the water-beaded tile, moving in tandem with the curious digit that was pushing itself deep within him. His eyes were rimmed with pain as they widened at the intrusion; he hadn't been touched like this by himself or anyone in years, and that had only been when he'd first been exploring sex and his sexuality. And yet, the thought that it was Heero molded to his back and pleasuring him like this, all the while whispering all the dirty, wonderful things he'd do once he'd stretched Duo to his liking made Duo harder than he'd ever expected such a fantasy would. Duo hoped the sound of the rushing water masked the erotic moan that rose from his slack lips as he violated himself with yet another finger, spreading them apart further inside to the crescendo of another unbidden gasp of desire.

By the time he'd allowed a third finger to join the other two, he was rocking back on them to a rhythmic chant of Heero's name, begging for the exchange student like an inexperienced virgin that had never delighted in such need. He was ashamed that he had allowed himself to succumb to such desperate whimsies, trying hard to remind himself that who he fucked didn't matter so long as he was getting laid. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't banish the image of Heero from his mind, even if the whim was nothing more than an unrealistic fancy, and it was then that he knew he was never going to be able to go back to his old ways so easily. He came against the wall with tears in his eyes and the embarrassing wish that he'd had something bigger than just a trio of fingers to play with.

"I don't know how to say.... Look at what I've lost..." he panted breathlessly as he stood unnaturally still in the shower's warm rain. He thought he'd spent enough of his life preparing for whatever the bitch had to throw at him.

This was proof he was far from ready.

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Quatre knew he had a good head for languages, but that didn't mean he enjoyed studying them rigorously. He looked up from his Latin textbook not for the first time and stared across the table at the top of Heero's shaggy-haired head and let out a far from subtle sigh. His breath caused the flame atop the table's gas lamp to shrink and quake a little, but it didn't garner a single reaction from Heero, and Quatre was starting to wonder if it was possible to fall asleep in Heero's bent position. He pressed his elbow into the fold of his textbook and leaned heavily on the heel of his hand, his large blue eyes rolling up towards the slanted ceiling of their dorm room and counting the dancing shadows undulating across it. A thousand and one uncharacteristically ill-tempered notes of sarcasm rang through his head, but he squashed the urge to mouth any of them. He blamed the deceitful thoughts on Duo's inability to speak favourably about Saint Magdalena's and everybody associated with it. "Heero," he intoned heavily.

Heero may or may not have grunted in response, but it was hard to tell for sure. Quatre's shoulders drooped as he pressed his lips into a line of uncertainty. Repeating Heero's name, he added, "Do you think you're ready for the Classics exam this Friday?"

"Veni, vidi, vici," came the unexpectedly sarcastic reply from Heero, though he didn't make a move to meet his roommate's eyes. It was then that Quatre noticed that Heero's Latin textbook was lying facedown in the middle of the table, half-hidden beneath a layer of lined notebook paper. In the top margin of the study-guide covered page nearest to Quatre was a boldly doodled Celtic knot that expanded across the width of the paper.

Quatre stooped low, pressing his chin against the tabletop as he tried to peer into Heero's lap. "What are you so intent on over there, then?" he asked, unable to make anything out.

"Nothing," Heero answered unenthusiastically. "Just thinking, that's all."

Quatre wished there was a more discreet way to press the topic, but remembering the discomfort he'd pushed upon Trowa with his relentless curiosity, he decided to stick with diplomacy on this one. Trowa at least seemed to have the ability to bounce back from things like that, but Heero came off like he'd be a bit more sensitive towards personal subjects. He was close to finding the right way to phrase it, too, when Heero suddenly let an unanticipated question that seemed to culminate whatever was passing through his head.

"What did Walker mean when I overheard him telling Dorothy that he saw you together with Trowa?" Heero queried, still hunched over so Quatre could only see the tip of his nose beneath the fall of his dark, unruly fringe.

It was Quatre's turn to be at a loss for words, and he physically balked. "W-What?" he stuttered, flabbergasted that someone had seen Trowa kissing him, despite the terrible weather. Outside, the rain, which had not relented for a few days now, whispered against the windowpane, filling the silence that beat between them.

"Yesterday, in science class. They're lab partners. She didn't seem happy," Heero said by means of explanation, finally lifting his head to reveal a pair of confused blue eyes. "Walker said Trowa and you were - "

"So what if we were!" Quatre stormed, not even allowing Heero to gather the right words. He wasn't ready to have this discussion with Heero or Duo or anyone. He still had to figure out what kissing Trowa meant for himself, much less what it meant for somebody else.

Heero stared blankly at Quatre for a few seconds, his eyelids fluttering over his shadowy irises every now and again. "I don't much care," he said at last, slowly straightening up in his chair, curling his hands around the edges of the wooden seat. "I just want to know why."

"Why what?" Quatre asked, his tone still a bit icy.

"Why you'd do that with him when you're just going to leave," Heero finished, his gaze darting off towards the sofa by the door. "Or why anyone should make it their business." He was clearly unsure of what he was saying, just letting out whatever came to mind as it did. Quatre's expression softened, realizing that Heero was truly at a loss and only meant the question to fill in some personal gaps.

"I'm sorry, Heero," he apologized, knowing he hadn't really been fair. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that but...." He slid a scrap of paper into his textbook and folded it closed, laying his entwined hands on its dark blue cover. "It's a strange thing," he tried to explain, not sure how much detail Heero needed him to get into. "But it's something that I share only with him. I can't really say; it just feels right. There's no reason for anyone else to cut in."

Heero nodded slowly, absorbing the information. He seemed to be taking his time to think about it, reaching up to scratch his clavicle as his wandering eyes turned towards the pair of beds on the other side of the room. The sheets were hastily made up on Quatre's bed, but Heero's were still wrinkled in a ball near the footboard from the uneasy sleep he'd endured for the past few nights. That brought him to another issue. "What exactly... is that something?" Heero then wanted to know, his eyes still trained on his unmade bed.

Quatre was the one left rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully at the question. He supposed he didn't really mind trying to talk about it with Heero, who he was fairly sure he could trust to keep it quiet. "I'm not really sure," he mused aloud and then cleared his throat, clarifying with, "How to put it into words, that is." Now that he was met with the question, he figured it was as good a time as any to give it some thought. "Maybe it's not something you're supposed to be able to explain," Quatre finally settled on after a little bit of internal debate. He laughed a little, curling his fingers over his mouth as he added, "I'm not even sure I really understand it myself."

"But what is it you don't understand?" Heero pushed, now sounding a tad desperate. "You have to know what it is if you know you don't understand it." His logical thinking patterns were impeding his progress with the issue and it didn't make sense why - especially considering such an approach had been his saving grace innumerable times in the past. What was it about being in this place that threw his usual battle tactics off kilter?

Quatre could only stare at Heero, amazed at his ignorance. He didn't think that Heero had trouble understanding something that basic. "Well," he began slowly, not really sure how he should start. "I guess the best way to describe it is as a feeling - something you just know when you look at someone - or when they look at you." Quatre mentally winced, all the while thinking that was possible the lamest explanation anyone could have hoped to offer. Seeing how much Heero was struggling to make sense of it, Quatre suddenly appreciated his ability to recognize such emotions.

For his part, Heero at least seemed like he was doing his best to make sense of what Quatre was telling him, even if his analytical approach wasn't the best way to go about it. "Is it like when Relena looks at me with that wounded expression?" Heero asked, trying to think of an example he could relate to. "I noticed she does it when she wants my attention."

"A... little like that..." Quatre answered slowly. "Maybe it's a little more like...." He trailed off, catching himself before he'd let himself voice his personal opinion that the longing way Duo watched Heero was more reminiscent of the thing Heero was trying to place. He shook his head like he meant to throw out all the potentially distracting thoughts residing there. Then he raised a rather crucial question to the discussion: "Why do you want to know, Heero?" he asked.

"Because I...." Heero diverted his eyes, narrowing them slightly, almost as if he was angry with himself for coming clean so easily. What he said instead came out with more force than he probably had intended. "I just don't like feeling like I'm stupid for not knowing," he snapped, his expression becoming a bit harder than before.

Quatre's lips fell apart slightly, shocked at the passionate retort from Heero. Though the words hadn't been the kindest, he hadn't ever seen Heero express himself so candidly before. He felt a small ache for his fellow exchange student, who clearly struggled day-to-day to keep himself so steady when he was crumbling apart inside. Now, Quatre understood that stillness that sometimes crept into Heero's eyes when he was staring off into nothingness like he could see the end of the world. Offering a bright smile, Quatre reached across the table and patted the top of Heero's hand in an effort to ease Heero's attention back to him in as inoffensive a manner as he could. "You're just used to taking care of things on your own," he said astutely. "That doesn't make you stupid."

"Then why does everyone treat me like an idiot because of it?" Heero demanded to know, still a bit testy. At least he was meeting Quatre's eyes again, and Quatre could see that panicked fear starting to seed itself in Heero's midnight blue irises as he went on. "No one wants me to be a part of their little social rings and then whispers behind my back when I say I don't care. Why does it matter if I talk to anyone or not? Making friends here is just as stupid as you letting Trowa Barton kiss you when you know damn well that after you leave in a few months, you'll never be back. None of these people and their problems matter - it's all stupid."

Heero had obviously been letting that build up inside himself for quite some time, but Quatre was surprised that he fell apart so easily. Maybe Heero wasn't as tough as everyone made him out to be. And then, after thinking for a moment about what had actually come out of Heero's mouth, a slow smile budded upon Quatre's face as a little bit more of Heero's shell fell away. "It's not - stupid, that is," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think it would bother you that much if you really didn't care."

"I don't think so," Heero said resolutely, pushing his chair away from the table with a hearty jerk of one hand, causing it to teeter awkwardly as its legs got caught up in the carpet beneath them. "I'm better off if everyone leaves me alone. What's hard to respect about that?" The quiver of his lips betrayed him, though.

"Then why do you want me to tell you about it?" Quatre pressed, unsure of what Heero wanted him to say.

Heero laid himself onto the tabletop, a pair of fingers idly playing with the key on the gas lamp that controlled the strength of the flame. The little light swelled from a long tongue of light to a little ember and then back again with each twist of the key. "I told you - because I don't get it," he said, sounding defeated. "I don't like feeling inadequate. It's getting in the way of what I came here to do." The fluctuation of the bronze flame was reflected in Heero's eyes, which were still glassy with that unnamed stillness.

Quatre shook his head with disbelief, confused by Heero's confusion. "It's not something someone can explain to you with words. You have to figure it out yourself," he countered softly, also watching the unsettling flame. "It's why I want to be close to Trowa, even if I'm leaving soon, or how you let Duo get under your skin, even if you're going to leave, too."

Heero's fingers jerked the key sharply around, accidentally snuffing the into hardly more than a scant red dot at the tip of the wick. "Absolutely not," he hissed in the darkness as he blindly fumbled for the key. He slowly elevated the flame again, the light rising upon the fearful expression cast onto Heero's face. "How could you bring him up like that? He's made it perfectly clear how he feels about me."

By this point, Quatre had abandoned his chair and had taken to wandering around the room and refraining from telling Heero that he'd just proved his point. "That's dangerous," he said over his shoulder instead, nodding at the gas lamp Heero was still fiddling with as he moved to stand by the bookcase by Wufei's door. He started rearranging the contents of an old shoebox on the fifth shelf that had collected a number of random objects over the course of the year. "Wish you'd come to your senses," Quatre murmured to himself, reminded of an old song as he pulled a battered deck of cards out of the box and paced slowly back towards the table as he idly flicked through it. It had a few doubles but seemed to be missing some others. He thought again about the song and how it fit Heero surprisingly well as he reassumed his spot at the table, pushing the cards off the top of the deck one at a time with his thumb as he leaned on his hand again. He was well aware of the fact that Heero was watching him with intense concentration. "You know," Quatre said, pausing with one card perched precariously on the edge of the deck, "your prison is walking through this world all alone."

Heero wanted to turn down the gas lamp again, but he didn't feel like hearing Quatre reprimand him like he was a child again. "You think I don't know that!?" he said shortly instead, reaching across the table and snatching the card off Quatre's deck. He found himself staring down at the knave of hearts. "I've got my reasons."

"Everyone does." Quatre moved his thumb to flick another card off the stack, pausing before he flipped it. "But you'll hurt yourself if you're not careful," he said, a weighted stare on his roommate. He pushed the card and it tumbled down onto the mish-mashed pile of other discarded cards, falling face-up to reveal the king of diamonds. "You should try to let somebody in - even if it's just one person," he cautioned. "You'll get to a point where it's just too late."

Heero shrugged, flipping the jack down and drumming on the card's patterned back with a pair of fingers. "You're enough of a friend, I guess," he said, trying to make sense of the red squiggles that spread across the playing card. He didn't know how someone could have the patience to weave a bunch of little threads like that into something that made sense to the eye. Whose job was that, anyway?

Quatre's shoulders drooped as he paused again, meeting Heero with a very serious expression in his bright, blue eyes. "You know what I mean," he inflected with that slightly admonishing cadence of his. The tone sounded to Heero like one a big brother might have, and for a moment, Heero imagined that's who Quatre was. "You're so hardened but so sad, Heero," Quatre was saying, while Heero was busy trying to decide if a sibling was something he really wanted or not. "You need someone to love you - someone you can care for in return."

The comment chilled Heero's heart again, his hand suddenly slamming down onto the card and pressing it hard against the table as he slid it off the edge and snatched it between his index and forefinger. "I knew it. Just like everyone else who thinks I'm so unfortunate," Heero said coldly, using the card to gesture harshly at his blond roommate. "Who do you suggest then, hmm? Duo Maxwell, maybe? You're such good friends with him!" Heero sat back in his chair, flinging an arm over the top and clenching the wooden rungs that made up the back as he continued, "Oh yeah, that would work - what, with the only things you can count on him for being a leer or some other kind of irreverence. The only straightforward honesty I ever got from him was the time he punched me in the face and gave me a black eye." Heero glared down at the card and then looked away, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with a steely huff of air. "He's careless and selfish and only uses people for his own personal gain and he doesn't want anything to do with me! I don't need anything from someone who can't even call me by my own goddamn name!"

Unexpectedly, Quatre hurled the remainder of the deck, sending a maelstrom of cards fluttering around the legs of his chair, their gentle descent a sight calmer than Quatre. "You're not any better, Heero!" he shot back, unable to suppress himself any longer. "Maybe Duo should start calling you Desperado instead of Spacekid or whatever his name for you is. Is your world so narrow that you can't even see the special treatment he gives you - he looks at you differently than everyone else, you know!"

"All the more reason to be careful around him," Heero retorted evenly, not about to let his voice betray him this time. He turned away from Quatre, sitting sideways in his chair and throwing one leg over the other. "You're lucky he treats you like a real friend should." He made no effort to get up and help Quatre, who had fallen to the floor to pick up the mess of cards strewn around him.

"I would use that word sparingly," Quatre said from his spot on the ground, though the only part of Heero he could see was his twitching bare foot beneath the table. "Duo still keeps me at arm's length, just like he keeps everyone else. Trowa said he's lucky if he can get Duo to tell him something straight, and they've known each other much longer." He drew up a pair of face down cards, noting wryly that they were two of a kind - two lonely aces. He glanced back at Heero's foot, which had now been joined by a hand that was slowly massaging its sole. "But he's honest with you, Heero - more honest than you realize," Quatre said firmly, spreading the two cards between his fingers. There was a lot more that Quatre wanted to say to Heero concerning that, but he felt pushing it too hard would be even more inappropriate than it had already become, and Heero was unhappy enough as it was.

Heero snorted derisively. "If dislike is honesty, then I'd have to agree with you," he retorted with that aloof cynicism of his. "He treats me like I'm his toy and nothing better. I'm just a game to him - the flavour of the moment. Give it time; he'll get bored and move on eventually."

At this, Quatre got to his feet again, forgetting the cards for a moment. His expression was grave as he looked across the table at his roommate, his wispy golden bangs casting his usually bright eyes in shadow. "You don't really believe that," he stated resolutely, his hands clenched at his sides. "You tell yourself that to make it hurt less when he gets scared and tries to run from you because you think it's your fault that he's afraid - because you don't see any good in yourself, you think Duo must find you abhorrent as well." Quatre was through trying to spread his observations on Heero thinly as direct words seemed to be the only things that Heero would understand. He only hoped his roommate was listening. "Maybe everyone else is right to pity you," he went on, flinging the aces onto the tabletop, where they skidded across the crust of books and notes and came to a halt against the base of the lamp. "If you're fool enough to not quite see it, then I really am sorry for you."

Throughout all this, Heero sat still in his chair, his hand now gripping his foot tightly as Quatre spoke. He still hadn't met his eyes and only knew that he was alone after he heard the door open and slam as the blonde left to find a less tense place to be for a while. Only then did Heero dare to look up from the playing card he still clutched in his other hand. For the first time, he felt disconcerted by the room's emptiness, which was accentuated by Quatre's abandoned textbook and study guides, which still lay on the table, forgotten.

After a few, unmoving seconds, Heero got up and padded softly to the door, which stood ajar after Quatre's exit, his feet falling softly on the floor like a child's. With the intention to close it, he laid one hand carefully on the knob and placed the other upright just above the doorjamb, leaning his head against its side as he peered down the silent hallway, his vision half-obstructed by the door's thickness. Then, closing his eyes, he whispered, "I'm the sorrier."

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