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I am finally up and doing something
other than going to the bathroom. Granted, it's only doing the dishes, but it's enough to distract me for now. Trowa is in
the other room doing something. I don't know exactly what, nor do I care. As long as he's out of my hair for a few minutes.
It's
been a week since he called us in to the Preventers. One more week to go then I can go back to work and have something that
will take up more of my attention.
Almost in a cadence, I grab a dish from the sink, rinse it with hot water, scrub
away the residue and put it in the dishwasher. They can build numerous space colonies and learn to manipulate Gundanium alloy,
yet a dishwasher that can actually clean the dishes itself is too much to ask. I don't understand why one must wash the dishes
before putting them in the dishwasher.
At the moment I am thankful for the tedious work, though. I have to think about
that strange looking piece of green stuff on this bowl and not about... other things.
The green grime finally comes
off and I put the bowl in the rack, reaching for my next task, a cup, with my other hand. I pick it up, but with the rubber
gloves and the wet surfaces, the glass falls out of my grasp and plunges to the floor. I don't have enough time to catch it
before it smashes onto the linoleum and shards of sparkling glass fly everywhere. A loud crash accompanies the shattering,
one that, for some reason, makes me jump.
When the room goes still again, I kneel down and begin to gather the shards
into a pile to throw away. Trowa must have heard the shattering because he's standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at the
massacre of glass at my feet.
I am about to tell him that I got it, but he rushes across the room to me. "Are you ok?"
he asks with frightened urgency.
I want to punch him. Just because I drop a glass doesn't mean he has to come running
to save me and even if I was hurt, I could deal with it myself. I really wish I had the guts to deck him, but all I can manage
is a nod. I go back to my task of cleaning up the mess, but Trowa's hands stop me.
"Ill clean it up, go rest in the
living room."
"No, I can clean it up," I manage to say, but he shakes his head.
"Go, I'll take care of it."
"No,"
I say a little louder, "I made the mess, I will clean it up."
"I just want to help..."
"Well stop trying to
help, Trowa! I don't need it!"
"I'm sorry, I just..."
"No," I cut him off as the anger in me escalates. "Just...
stop." And with that, all the energy leaves my body. I plop back and sit down, leaning against the cabinets. What is wrong
with me? I can't control it as my heart speeds up, I start breathing harder and my eyes swell with tears.
"Quatre,
it's ok..." Trowa moves to comfort me, but I put my hand out against him.
"Stop! I don't need your help!"
It
doesn't work and Trowa brings me into his arms, holding too tight for me to escape. Suddenly all my strength is gone and I
clasp onto him the way I did in the alley that night. I don't want to think about it but my mind wanders and the memories
come back, enforcing the flow of tears down my face. This is the first time I have cried in a long time. The first time I
have cried over this. The stress slowly evaporates as I cry against Trowa's shirt.
I wish I could tell him. I wish
my mouth would cooperate and tell him what happened and why I am so shaken. But I also don't want to tell him I don't want
to even think about it. So I stop.
I don't know how long we sat in the kitchen, surrounded by broken glass, but it
was long enough to help me relax a little. Enough to even fall asleep in his arms. Maybe it can be ok...
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