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the fanfic I didn't finish
Page 8

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Now, we find ourselves at the beginning of this, which is the aftermath of Quatres birthday party


We find Quatre reposing in sorrowful scorn in a dimly-lit corner of a small log cabin. And this is a fitting time to tell what happens after it. But I will tell you first of all that Quatre was stoned. Thats right, I said Quatre was s-t-o-n-e-d, stoned. This is certainly out of character for this charming, sweet young man. However, when things began to go downhill for Quatre, they declined gradually, and then abruptly plummeted. I will tell you the triumphs and tragedies that continue to uplift and befall the Quatre and the other gundam pilots and company after Quatres tragic get-together.
When Quatre finally woke up, a whole day since the party had passed. And he sat in that corner of the dark cabin, and he cried, and he sobbed. His puffy, reddened eyes glared toward the infinite heavens in the night sky. With the howl of the wind, the leaves rustled and danced in the trodden fields of the country. A wrecked birthday party indeed, and now, this. Look at Mr. Perfect, who finally got messed up. Well, I guess thats what one gets for hanging out with Wufei. Of course, Wufei would leave some of his pot around for Quatre, Wufei owed him anyway. Lately, Quatre had been doing a lot of Wufeis papers for him, since Wufei was heading off into the deep end. Quatre thought that itd all turn out right somehow, that somehow, Wufei would be able to get back on his feet on his own. A faint whisper of odor emanated from Quatres clothing. Quatre sat up against the cold log cabins wall and took in a good whiff of his underarm. Sheesh! Quatre whispered with exhaustion, I reek! He let his arm drop to his lap and thrust the window frame upwards to get a breath of fresh air. Cool wind chilled his tear-stained face. The air was damp. I guess it rainedyesterday., Quatre said, as he reclined on the corner. He looked across the room and saw a navy blue robe thrown over an old wooden chair. That was his robe. He looked at his clothes. I have been wearing a pink shirt, a purple vest, and brown khaki pants for most of my teen-age lifeand three days straight., he noted, in disgust.
A birds humming drove Quatre to stir from his restless slumber, but the sound was not music to his ears. Hang-over, high as a kitewhich one happened first, Quatre could not tell. He looked across the room at his dark blue robe on the old wooden chair, and then the doorway next to the chair that led into a short hallway. There was one twin bed in his room, on the far left wall. The sheets were strewed carelessly every-which-way, and the comforter was dragging on the floor. Quatre made his bed up every day, and the day of his birthday was no exception. If he spent a night and a whole day during the aftermath on the floor, then somebodysomeone else must have slept in his bed. Quatre looked at his bed, extremely puzzled, but, in his present state, he figured that it was likely that anything could have happened. He placed his fingertips on the sides of his temples and massaged them violently, even until he gave himself another headache. Then he looked at his spread, with Sandrock prints, on the floor. The floor was dusty. All of his covers were probably dusty, and they were already in need of a washing. Frustruated, Quatre pulled himself off of the floor and walked through the door into the hallway grumbling, I dont want to know.

Youre WEAK! Youre a frail, impossible coward!
Wufeis stinging, chastising words echoed through Quatres mind as he paused in the hallway, reminiscing on the first time he took a hit.