Part 9
"Trowa, this suit is blo- awfully uncomfortable!" Quatre complained, tugging at his formal wear. Trowa smiled and suppressed a sigh. He once again adjusted Quatre's suit so it was neat. Dekim would not be accompanying them to the opera; he currently believed he was a cat.
This meant Trowa and Quatre would be going alone. This made Trowa unreasonably nervous. Trowa took a breath, and offered his arm to Quatre. Together, they left the house and stepped into the coach.
Quatre marvelled at the sight of the opera house. It dripped in elegance and the sort of lazy wealth that 'old money' possessed. The steps upward were made with white granite, to two sweeping mahogany doors. Inside, everything was red velvet and gold satin.
Trowa gently tapped Quatre's chin. "You will catch flies if you leave your mouth open," Trowa chided gently. Quatre flushed, but then was hit by a wave of people. Older men and women, younger people, everyone was richly dressed, though subtly as they were. They stood in groups, talking amongst themselves with ease, occasionally gesturing with one richly decorated hand.
Quatre immediately felt out of place, particularly when a group of young women caught sight of Trowa and began to twitter amongst themselves. Quatre glared at them, drawing closer to Trowa. Trowa, sensing this, smiled at Quatre. Twitters turned to whispers, but Quatre didn't care.
"Trowa!" called an older man, and Trowa moved to join them, though his shoulder hit someone else. Trowa opened his mouth to apologise and was stopped dead by the evil glare he was receiving. The man was nearly a foot taller than he, with gingery brown hair and cold blue eyes. His eyebrows were forked, and his appearance spoke of 'new money' rather than old money. Trowa saw all this in a moment, and then he was gone.
"Trowa, what's wrong?" Quatre asked quietly. Trowa shook his head.
"Nothing. Come, I want to introduce you to some friends." Trowa led Quatre to a small group of people. The older man was tallest, with long platinum blond hair and icy blue eyes, though they were softened by his gentle, welcoming smile. On his arm was a woman with short black hair, with a fringe that fell slightly over one eye.
Next to the man stood a girl with darker, more honeyed blond hair and darker blue eyes. She smiled readily, moreso than her companion, a dark haired boy with dark blue eyes. On the women's side stood a miniature version of herself, as well as a smiling boy with a long plait of chestnut hair and strange blue-- almost violet-- eyes.
"Quatre, these are my friends. This is Milliardo Peacecraft and his sister Relena," Trowa said, gesturing to the blond man and girl. They nodded. "His fiancée, Lucrezia and her sister Hilde," he said, gesturing to the nearly identical pair. "And my old friends Heero and Duo." The plaited boy nodded cheerily while the dark haired boy merely nodded, though an imperceptible smile was on his lips.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Milliardo said. He then began speaking to Trowa of people Quatre had never heard of. Feeling shy, he attempted to retreat. Duo stopped him, putting a hand on his arm.
"Ignore 'em, eh, they's just makin' conversation. Trowa told me about ya. Sneak thief, huh? You sound like my kinda guy," Duo said softly. Quatre's eyes widened.
"Ye dinna speak like a Bag," Quatre whispered back. Duo grinned, eyes full of mischief.
"Oh, I can when I wanna. But I'm no' a bag, I'm a street rat like yerself. Heero-- he's from the Japans and dinna ken better-- took me in an' I been wit' 'im sin' I was sixteen. He's a pain inna arse at times, bu' I havena left 'im, 'ave I?" Duo said, accent thickening to something resembling Quatre's own. Quatre grinned. Heero, hearing this, tugged sharply on Duo's plait.
"Speak properly, baka," he said sternly. Duo grimaced, holding the back of his head.
"Aishiteru, itooshi yourself," Duo muttered. Quatre didn't understand what Duo had said, but Heero flushed. Trowa, who seemed to have been listening in, grinned.
"I believe we may take our seats now," Milliardo proclaimed, and people began moving into place. Trowa led Quatre to the Barton family's private box. Milliardo and company joined them. Trowa sat on the end, sitting next to Quatre, who was sitting next to Duo. Heero sat next to Duo, while Hilde, Relena, Milliardo and Lucrezia sat in the second row.
In a few moments, the lights dimmed. Quatre sat forward in anticipation. The music began to swell and the performance began. Quatre was enrapt, fascinated by the story line which he truly seemed to understand. Everyone else in the box didn't seem to. Hilde and Relena were speaking in whispers, while Milliardo watched it with a somewhat glazed look in his eye. Lucrezia used her opera glasses to look at other people in the audience.
Duo and Heero seemed to be interested, but a quick glance at their hands told Trowa they were more interested in each other than the performance. He, personally, was watching Quatre, who's eyes sparkled in the dimmed light. His lips were slightly parted in fascination. Trowa thought that Quatre was undeniably beautiful. He smiled, and then caught sight of the man that had glared at him. He was sitting with a woman with blond hair and a little girl with red hair.
Trowa shivered a moment, which caught Quatre's attention. He turned to him, concerned. "Cold?" the blond boy asked. Trowa shook his head.
"No no, I'm fine..." Trowa said, turning back to the opera and tried to concentrate. He felt a hand on his and looked down, startled. Quatre's fingers were intertwined with his, and Quatre's thumb ran soothing patterns over his hand. Trowa smiled gratefully. The hand remained until the end of the opera, and slowly drew away as the lights brightened to their full intensity.
They filed out of the box, for after opera gossip, and Trowa caught sight of the man for the third time. He cleared his throat to get Milliardo's attention. "Milliardo, do you know who that is?"
Milliardo frowned. "Yes. I'm surprised he's here. Normally these functions are reserved for people of old money." He shrugged.
"Milliardo, his name," Trowa said, urgently without trying to sound urgent.
"Kushrenada. Treize Kushrenada."
TBC...