01-Mar-2001
Title: Rape Me
Author: Kimmie (JaenKaeGW@hotmail.com)
Archive: GW Addiction.
Category: angst, shonen ai, mentions of NCS, POV
Pairings: 3+4
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of NCS, child abuse.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: This is my second entry into the angst contest. It deals with Trowa's childhood as according to one interpretation of the official GW pre-stuff. Quatre POV.
Tell him a story. Sing him a song.
Bring him to a world where we all get along.
Open your eyes. Open your heart.
Bring him to a world where we'll never be apart.
Teach a little. Learn a lot.
Wonder why nothing is all you ever got.
Take off your clothes and your inhibitions.
Spread your legs; learn submission.
Moan like that. Move like this.
You'll bleed a bit if you have to hiss.
Close your eyes. Shed no tears.
Wonder why this wasn't one of your fears.
Cower as you see them. Shiver as they move in.
Wonder what exactly makes you give in.
See them coming. Go ahead and strip.
Remember how to forget bruised hips.
The tears have gone. They cannot come again.
Whoever said a person could be a friend?
Everybody hurts. But you don't feel the pain.
Don't make me say it all again.
He bleeds enough for everyone. You never do.
Bang. Goodbye to you.
It's been a while since he's told anyone, well, except me. I found out last night. But, the last person he told... They had the audacity to tell him that it was his fault that people he had no control over screwed him over physically, mentally, and every other way possible. They said he spent those years living in sin by allowing them access to his most private of parts, no matter if they had to wrench his legs apart with a crowbar even when they were already holding a knife to his neck.
Ever since I've known him, he's been resilient. I thought he was just that sort of person... kind of like Heero. Only, Heero just lacks common sense and rational behavior around other people. He... Trowa... He's this way because he has to be. He had to learn to shut everything out to deal with the pain and the anguish, and then he kept it up because it seemed easier to do than trying to rebuild it all with everyone watching.
But, last night, he cracked. Trowa and I, we're close friends, but nothing more. I've been accused of being gay, but I found out in an embarassing game of truth or dare that I wasn't. My truth had been to tell which guy in my school was the cutest by my opinion. I do hate lying, so I confessed. Unfortunately, that boy just happened to be there. So, after blushing fiercely, I'd tuned back in to the game just in time to hear that boy choose a dare. His dare had been to make out with me. We tried it, and nothing. Well, nothing for me. Last I heard, he was firmly homosexual, working as a bartender in some gay single's bar and loving every minute of it. But, me? No spark. I just realized that I could sense beauty, and could appreciate it, and wouldn't have to try to copulate with everything I thought was beautiful. If that was the case, I'd have gotten it on with more artwork than is housed in the Louvre.
Trowa is beautiful, but he's a beautiful friend, nothing more. So, I had no qualms about undressing for bed in front of him while we discussed plans for the next day. Yet, when I went to take off my belt, and the end of it flew out with a snap as I pulled it off, and he ended up on the floor quivering, I knew that something drastic was in his past, and I had to find some way to work past it with him.
When I was growing up, my family was full of pacifists. I didn't know my mother, but my father and all of my sisters had a thing for peace, and supposedly, my mother had before she'd died. I didn't know anything other than peace at the time, so I'd never really gotten into the spirit of pacifism. Then, somehow, I got involved in war. It was a shock to see people deliberately harming each other while claiming it was for a higher cause that made false promises that oozed of threats. So, when I managed to coax out of Trowa that he'd been abused as a child, sexually abused, it was a shock, but not quite as much of one.
I hadn't been introduced to many aspects of "the real world". I didn't know much about violence, drugs, sex or any of that past what I'd learned in my training as a Gundam pilot and in my middle grades of school. I knew some hand-to-hand combat, but nothing to seriously hurt anyone. I knew how to give medicine in case someone was injured. I knew about reproduction, and a precarious G-spot that nobody seemed to know the actual location of. But, beyond that, I was floundering for a feel on things during the war. It was so odd to have to hurt people for my own greater cause... but, Trowa had been hurt for so long before I even knew hurting was possible.
If you watch his face most of the time, there's a little bit of emotion that shows. He'll never give a big smile, just a tiny bit of one. And, he'll never cry in public. But, when I managed to get him to start talking about what had happened, his facial expressions fluctuated from extremely pained to completely nonexistant. It was so odd to see how much control he must have had to keep any semblance to passivity. But, that's the way he fights, too.
I'm surprised I never asked him about it earlier. His battles in his Gundam indicate that something is wrong. He's the one pilot to really just stand there and take it until it's possible for him to overpower anyone else. Perhaps anyone could have that fighting style, but it just seems like that's the kind of battle he must have been doing all of his life. If he wasn't getting hurt, he was trying to hide, and if he was gettign hurt, he was still trying to hide, just... inside of himself.
It seems a lot like a little kid playing hide-and-go-seek who runs to hide, hears the final count and hasn't found a place yet, so they just cover their eyes tightly and think that no one can see them. It's disillusion more than anything else. But, some disillusion is good. Disillusion normally keeps you from getting as hurt as you could be. But, Trowa's case, it's just the opposite. He knows that he's been hurt, he knows that someone else did it, he knows that he couldn't stop it, yet, somehow, he still thinks it's his fault.
But, that's not the worst of it. Well, yeah, that is the worst of it. But, then Trowa pulled me into a really awkward situation. He asked me if I would replace all the bad with something good.
At first, I didn't know what he meant. But, the way he all but crawled on top of me gave me a hint. He wanted me to have sex with him; something willing.
I had to explain that I wasn't gay, that even if I was, I didn't know what I was doing, and there had to be someone better for it even if he had to wait until he found the love of his life. The look in his eyes after I said all of that... It made me wish I was gay just so that I could get rid of that look. It made me think that I should try it on once just to be sure... But, I can't do that to Trowa.
The person to replace all of his bad memories needs to be someone that he loves who loves him back. I can't be that person even though I do love him just because I don't love him like *that*.
It hurts to have to see him in pain. It pulls at my heart and I feel the need to sob until my eyes are dry and hug someone until neither of us can breathe, but I feel like I can't. I realize that's it's my uchuu no kokoro allowing me to feel what he feels. Empathy is a nice thing to have when you're trying to figure out what someone feels, but, at times, I wish I could read minds instead. Then, maybe I could figure out why he wanted me.
I didn't really need help on that one once I thought about it. I'm probably the first person to really care about him, and care about what's happened to him. He's obviously not met many people like that, so I don't really blame him for wanting this.
But I can't give it to him. As much as I could want to spend the rest of my life doing nothing but putting smiles back on his face and getting rid of every bit of negative feeling inside of him... even if I could do a good job... that's not what he needs. I think that what he needs is to sort out his feelings, get over his guilt, and then learn to be truly independent. He depends on other people for his feelings. He gets the guilt from the people who raped him. He gets the anger to fight with from the people on the colonies. He gets the will to survive from Catherine. But I'm not sure what he gets from me.
Or, maybe that's it. He doesn't get anything from me, and he's not used to it, so he wants something. Guilt isn't a nice feeling, so he wants something else to fill in that spot with instead. That's why he...
When he finally realized that, with me, no means no, he began to blush and back away, trying to crawl backward on the bed and fumbling as though he never had the grace that is everpresent in him. I shook my head and him and moved toward him, wrapping my arms around him. "Trowa, we're friends. I'm here to help you out as much as I can... but, having me in your bed for anything more than nightmare patrol isn't going to help you at all. I know it... and, beneath it all, I think you know it too. I'm here to talk to. I won't judge you by what has happened to you. Despite what you think, it was all beyond your control. Even if you got pleasure out of it, it doesn't mean that anything is your fault. You didn't want it, but the forced you to take it. But, it's over now. No one is going to hurt you as long as I can help it."
His shoulders were shaking, but his eyes would not rain tears. Silent, and still passive, he shook slightly as his mind tried to come to terms with what I was saying. Somehow, I think he's reacting this way because something I did managed to break through. Perhaps he was questioning those beliefs that he had held all along.
Something must have happened because the last time I saw him in battle, he took an active part in the fight. He stepped onto the battlefield, and immediately began to fight.
And, that night, he had nightmares about the people he had killed, just like the rest of us tend to do. He gave up one set of troubles for another, it seems. If I'd known... I would have asked him which he preferred. Did he enjoy the guilt or the endless pain? Which was more worth it in the end? Or are they one and the same; identical products in dissimilar packages?
It's been about a month since I've heard from him. The last time I talked to him was when he said that he was moving away from the circus. He liked the circus, of course, but he had to try to be on his own. I hope that it turns out to be a good thing for him. I hope he learns his independence. I hope he finds his true love.
But, what good is hope when, somehow, you know everything will turn out all right? Somehow... I don't care.
Owari. ;_;
Jenny&Kimmie
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