Heya Peoples! I'm Alive! I think! Anyway, this is something that i've thought about posting for a while, and decided to finish today just for the sake of it! Its the first chapter in i dont know how many, and well, if you like it i'll make sure to finish Chapter two as soon as i can as i finally seem to have gotten past some of my frightfull writers block!
Its Yaoi
4x3 3x4 at the moment, and more might be added in the forthcoming chapters, dont read it if it isnt your thing, give it a try if you htink it might be, it starts off angsty, and we'll have to see how it finishes up!
I hope you like it!
Lora Helen
Autumn Leaves
Chapter One - When The Leaves Fall
He was there again, just like he always was, the same time every day. Standing in the clearing surrounded by a ring of trees, all alone. All around him the trees were shedding their leaves, and he just stood, watching the autumn leaves fall.
You could keep the seasons by him, and some apparently did. At the beginning of autumn every year, as the fist leaf fell red and crinkled from the branches of the small maple tree in his garden he would begin his visits. Almost as soon as he was freed from the daily toil at work he would move to the centre of a clearing in the middle of a ring of trees in the woodland park near his small cottage, stopping off only briefly at home. And there he would remain, standing in the centre of that ring of trees at least until the sun had set and often until late in the night.
He would go to that clearing every day, until the last leaf fell from the red maple that his lover had planted for him. When it fell he would go to the clearing no more, until the next year, when the leaves would fall all over again.
No one ever disturbed him when he stood among the falling leaves, neither with words nor with gestures, but they all knew he was there, and they all pitied him. They knew why he went there each day, they could all see his despair, for it was written plainly on his face at every moment, and they could all feel his grief, for he was, they felt, the one among them who deserved to feel it the least.
At one point, everyone who knew him called him happy, for he was. When he had first arrived in the small town his face, even his eyes had been alight and shining with the joy and laughter that filled his every day with happiness. And so he had been for two happy years, but four long years ago, that had all changed, and now his shining eyes were dead and blank, brimming with tears that frequently fell, and his face was filled with sorrow.
A gust of wind swirled around the watcher, pulling the autumn leaves that rested on the ground into a giddy dance about his feet. They had just barely stilled, the last few still spun and twirled about, as a second, more forceful gust swept them up, clear of the floor, one spiralling up and around the legs and torso of the man who stood alone, one of the dancers, a rusty red maple leaf, snagged in the windswept blonde strands of the mans hair, and as the gust died away a tentative shaking hand rose up and removed the leaf from its spun gold trap.
The hand continued to tremble as the man lowered the leaf into his field of vision, his thin fingers showing up pale against the leafs rusty red-brown colour. As the leaves at his feet began to dance once more, he lifted the leaf slowly to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on it, tears once more falling from his eyes and leaving shining trails down his cheeks.
"You always said you reminded yourself of an autumn leaf…." The mans soft voice murmured, as he withdrew the leaf from his lips
"If you were one…. This one would be you…." His eyes, taking in nothing but the leaf began to shine more than was natural.
"Blown along by the wind, with no definite course or direction…. I was so glad I had caught you…. I wanted to keep you safe…. Just like this." He covered the leaf with his other hand, and drew it close against his chest, as two tears fell from his cheeks, and unnoticed, hit the floor.
"But somehow…." He uncovered the leaf again "You got away from me… I let you go…"
He turned, facing behind him so that the wind whipped his hair forward on either side of his face, and in a smooth movement he let the leaf go
"And you blew away from me…. Just like that…." Sad eyes watched the copper red maple leaf as it danced once round the trunk of a silver birch, and vanished into the night
"And now…. I wonder…. If I will truly never see you again…."
He stood that night for an hour more, watching the leaves fall and dance as the sun vanished behind the horizon. By the time he began to make his lonely way home to his empty house, the wind had become chill; his own tears making his cheeks feel icy and frostbitten. It was not the journey that gave his eyes a more down hearted look than usual; he was used to his lonely walks by now.
The thing that grieved him this night was the frost that he knew would be on the ground tomorrow, autumn was nearly over and still his lover had not returned to him. He would have to wait another year, and he knew it. For, if his love had died, the only time his shade would come forth would be when the leaves were falling, and if he lived, such a thing would be magical, and the only time that would be right for such magic, would be a chill autumn evening, a few days before the first winter frosts decorated the ground.
Seven years ago, a young couple had moved into a small cottage in a small town on the edge of the Sanq Kingdom. Their names were Trowa Barton, a tall brunette with piercing green eyes and Quatre Winner, a much shorter blonde with bright aqua eyes and a mass of shining blonde hair. They had seemed to most an unlikely pair, for one of them, Trowa, had appeared so quiet as to almost seem surly, whereas the other, Quatre, had been an absolute delight to meet. The delight he had shown at his new home and the joy he seemed to find at meeting his new neighbours quickly endeared him to everyone, and slowly, though it did take a while longer, his lover warmed to everyone as well.
There were some stories that the pair had been involved in some of the troubles during the wars, but this didn't seem to matter to anybody in this sleepy little town, for precious little had happened there, and the young couple caused no trouble anyway, as far as everyone was concerned they were welcome to stay.
For two years the couple had lived happily there, in that sleepy little town. Winter nights had been spent warm by a fire, reading, finishing little bits of work about the house and occasionally entertaining guests from out of town, and spring spent working on the small garden that they enjoyed spending time in during the summer, they had not even needed to work until they had resided there for two years, money from somewhere kept them going, but their neighbours were not really nosey enough to care.
Despite the joys of Spring Summer and winter however, autumn was always their favourite. As soon as the first leaf fell from the maple tree in their little garden, they would begin their walks.
Every evening they would walk together through the small copse that mostly filled the park a short stroll from their small cottage. Their walking would only stop when they reached a particular clearing, a spot ringed by nine or ten trees, each one different, and there they would stop.
They would stand together in the ring of trees, looking either up, or at each other as the autumn leaves cascaded down around them. Quatre always took a great deal of pleasure in these walks, and it showed, from the moment they reached the clearing, until the second they left, their cheeks flushed from the wind and leaves tangled in their hair, he would be smiling, and Trowa would smile too, but more at his lovers delight than anything else.
It is sad to say however, that even the loveliest things in life have to come to an end.
After two and a half years of living in happiness and restful comfort Trowa had become slightly restless with his peaceful lifestyle, and, even though the little community found his choice of career hard to understand, apparently Quatre didn't.
The complete truth in fact was that the money they had saved after the wars was also dwindling, and neither felt compelled to return to their old ways of acquiring money, and though admittedly Quatre was still technically the head of the Winner family business, he had handed the major responsibility over to his sisters, and felt himself compelled not to interfere.
Trowa had signed himself up as soldier… and, as he had expected, rose up the ranks significantly far enough for him to barter a great deal of time off of work, and bring in a sufficient amount of money for Quatre to avoid the necessity of getting a job.
The perks ended however, in the middle of a fine summer's day, when sadly war broke out again in Sanq. Things were easier on civilians this time around, as there were less mobile suits nowadays, thanks to the apparent work of Hilde and Duo… and of course Relena Dorlain, so the damage was less significant, but there were still human losses, and when Trowa was at last called up, Quatre fretted and shed many many bitter tears over his lovers departure. How he wished that they had had longer than three years to enjoy themselves.
After Trowa left however, he was able to console his lover from afar with letters and at first the occasional vid-phone call to let him know he was okay and still loved him very much.
When autumn came, and Trowa had still not returned Quatre walked alone to the clearing in the wood each day, in the hope that the next time he made that trip it would be with Trowa by his side.
Spring followed winter, which had followed autumn, and the letters that Quatre had been receiving from his lover each week stopped, at fist he thought that they might have been delayed, but when, after three weeks of nothing but bills and letters from friends arriving in his letter box, Quatre realised that this could not really be the case. Although nine long months had passed since his lover had left, the war was still raging on, and so, Quatre reasoned with himself, maybe all letters to loved ones had been stopped due to some safety hazard. This was how he got himself through to the final end of the fighting, some three months later.
"Any day," he would tell him self "any day now he'll come back to me..." but a week passed, and another began, and Trowa still didn't return to that sleepy little town with the small wood, nor did he write, and once again Quatre began to fret, for summer was again running out.
The news came on the first day of autumn, as the first leaf fell crumpled and red from the small maple tree in their little garden. Trowa, the one person Quatre had waited for for so long, was Missing, Missing in action, and presumed dead. The letter would apparently have been sent sooner…. But due to…. Circumstances beyond anyone's control the identification process for some individuals had been incredibly slow, and it was possible that something of Trowa would still be found. Quatre felt physically sick when he read, a little further on that they would let him know if any remains were discovered.
He was so upset, that he chose to doubt what he read.
Quatre simply couldn't, or wouldn't believe the news, he walked about in a daze, often spending hours waiting at the front door, or when it wasn't raining at the end of the drive, looking for the tall rusty brown haired figure of his lover coming back to him. But no one came.
Each evening during that autumn, he walked into the wood, sure that his lover was going to be waiting for him there, smiling and ready to tell him that he had been a fool to worry, and that everything was fine. But not one sign of Trowa did he see.
After autumn faded into winter, and Christmas drew near, Quatre finally realised that Trowa might not be coming back to him, and the tears this knowledge brought were many. But despite his consuming grief, there was always that little voice, nagging just inside his mind, telling him over and over again that no matter how bad things seemed he must not give up. That Trowa loved him far too much to leave forever with out saying goodbye…. And thus, until Trowa said goodbye, there was no proof that he was dead.
But, in times of trial, having faith, even in love is so very hard to do.
Quatre was broken by his loss. He himself took a job, not that he really needed to, but more as a way to pass his days, for if his mind was occupied it was a little harder for his the thoughts to continually drift back to the emerald green eyes, and rusty brown hair that he loved so much. But drift his mind frequently did, and each time that familiar face filled his thoughts, his heart would begin to ache and his eyes would fill with tears, tears that would soon begin to stream down his cheeks.
The first Christmas after losing Trowa was the hardest time for Quatre. Despite the memories it brought about Quatre resolutely decorated the small cottage, bought presents for friends, and even Trowa…. And cooked a decent Christmas meal, just in case his lover returned.
Night times were always tough on Quatres spirits, as being alone in his bed made him feel small and sometimes afraid. And in the colder months no amount of blankets seemed to be able to keep him warm. But his first Christmas Eve without his lover outdid them all.
The whole house seemed dead as he trudged up the stairs, alone once more, and settled down on the cold mattress. There was not a sound to be heard at all.
With a sigh Quatre looked around him, and saw snow falling silently past his window, at once tears filled his eyes as he thought of this very night, a mere year before.
Trowa and he had just settled into bed, the lights were out. All he could hear was the sound of his lover's heart, it always made him smile.
He had felt a pair of strong arms curl tightly round him, but he had also heard his lover sigh, this had caused him to look up, and snuggle the green eyed mans chest "Trowa…? What's wrong?"
"Hmm?" had come the initial response "Oh…." a small laugh "nothing Quat… I was just thinking how it hasn't snowed on either of our Christmases here…. and I really think it should.… I'd like it to snow on Christmas Eve…. just once for me."
"Oh." He'd replied, feeling reassured "well…. I'm sure it will Trowa, next year more likely than not!"
And again he had been relieved to hear his lover chuckle.
And there it was mere months after…. He couldn't even think the words…. It was snowing, and he was alone. His cottage that had once seemed so warm and snug now seemed large and cold, despite the warm fires.
He was alone.
And He'd vowed never to ask his friends to come to him.
He'd stay alone, until Trowa returned.
As each year passed his spirits broke more and more. The only time he seemed to have any faith was when the first leaf finally fell from the small maple, for then he would walk again, out into the wood to look for his lover, what ever trace of him he could find. He could just not accept that Trowa would fail to come to him in some way if he had to say goodbye.
Time after time while out in his own little world of swirling leaves and whistling winds, he would convince himself that he could see his lovers shade beaconing to him from behind a tree, but, as soon as he made any move to go to the spectre, it would vanish. And so would a little more of his hope.
And so, as the final leaf fell from the small maple tree, and frost began to coat the lawns, the last day of autumn passed for yet another year, and in his bed in his small cottage, Quatre wept for its passing, and the fact he would be forced to spend yet another year alone. For, while his lover failed to say goodbye, He just could not accept that he was dead.
Whee! You finished it! I hope you enjoyed it! And well, let me know if you want some more, Comment if you would like! I'm always happy to hear from readers! Love you guys!
Lh
