Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam Wing. That is all.
Author's Note: My first Internet shown Yaoi attempt. 3x4. Need I say more? I reposted this. And I changed some things such as text and such to make it a bit longer. At first the italics are writing, after that it's thoughts.
Warnings: 3x4, attempted suicide. Mush abound!
Feedback: *big watery chibi eyes* Please?!?!? E-mail to winner02@bellsouth.net . And don't forget to review please!
Flames: Welcomed? I want reviews badly. ^^;
A Death Note To My Angel
Dear Angel:
I'm sorry you had to find me. I hate to make you sad or upset, so please don't be. Remember, I had the razor in my hand and the razor to the flesh of my wrist, I had a choice to slash it or not. I took the first choice. If none of this helps, remember I am in a better place now.
I wish I could have told you how I felt when I was a live, but I'll do it in death through this letter. I never did it before because I thought you would think of me as weird, different. It doesn't matter anymore. You can think all you want now that I'm dead. Think of me as different, as strange, weird, and such. You were raised in high society, why shouldn't I notice that? You are rich, the heir to the Winner Company, but, now you own it and am the president since your father's passing. We are 18 now, both of us. We lived through the war together. I lived through it by thoughts of you.
Listen to me now. This won't help you, would it my angel? I'm sorry… I was just so upset. I loved you. I still do. Till the sun burns out and the sky falls to Earth. Did you love me too I wondered? You didn't show anything if you did. All I ever saw was your sweet smile, your innocent and pure face. Theses haunted me even in my last moments.
I must stop writing now, the raz—Oh shit… Trowa thought. Someone was trying to open his door, and the door handle was wiggling. He put down the pencil and stopped writing. He turned over the sheet of paper and went to the door pointing an ear and a hand against it. "Yeah?" Trowa said. "Trowwwwaaaaa!!!!" Trowa almost smiled. He'd know that voice anywhere. "Yes, Quatre." "What are you doing? I know you're not getting dressed or anything because you did that an hour ago!" Trowa had to stop himself from chuckling. The Arabian was smart… "Just… nothing. I was trying to sleep." "Oh…" There was doubt in his voice. He left and Trowa went back to the desk. He wouldn't finish the letter, just go ahead and slash his wrists to end his damned life. He picked up the razor he had found in, strange enough, the main bathroom. Why would there have been a razor there that had bloodstains on it if another pilot wasn't mutilating himself like he had for 1 year and 3 months? 1 year, 3 months… Since the end of the war… He held the razor to his hand, but the doorknob turned…
"Trowa! I know your not trying to sleep either! I have the keys to the doors in this house, have you forgotten?" The blonde Arabian was at his door. His eyes traveled to Trowa's hand, holding the razor poised at his wrist. ^His^ razor. That's where it went yesterday, he thought, because that razor I found must have been his… "T-t-trowa? What are you doing?" He asked. Emerald eyes looked to Turquoise. He stood up, an act which knocked over his chair at his desk, and started backing towards the wall, his arms in front of him, the one arm still posed at his left wrist. "Dieing Quatre. Just Dieing. You can read the note on my desk," he said as his back touched the wall, "That will explain everything." He pressed the razor against his skin, but not hard enough so it would bleed. His arms were a mess of scars, as well as his chest. He knew Quatre saw that. Quatre's eyes softened. "Let me read it first Trowa. Don't cut." He said. He looked over the note quickly then pinned trowa to the floor in a second holding the arm with the razor in it to the side. Damn, Trowa thought, I didn't know he could be so strong… "Trowa." He said, with a mixture of fury, love and worry in his eyes, "Damn it Trowa! Don't kill yourself…" his eyes filled with love. "I love you too."
Trowa dropped the razor. "What?" he asked. "I love you No-Name. Trowa Barton. Whatever you want to be called." he gave a slight chuckle, "I love you more then anything in the world. Please… Say you love me. In words, not writing." Trowa stared at amazement at the boy. He never expected him to love him, much less tell him… "I… I love you Quatre. I have ever since you came out of your Gundam when we met. I thought you were an angel." He pulled himself and Quatre up leaning his back against the wall. He put his arms around him in a tight hug, letting the Arabian burry his head in his chest. "Trowa…" Quatre whispered. Trowa lifted his head up towards him by gently placing his hand under Quatre's chin and lifting it. "I won't hurt my self anymore, Angel. I promise you that. As long as you're by me always." The older boy told Quatre. "I-I… I was hurting myself too Trowa, you don't know how many times I nearly killed myself." Quatre admitted, ashamed of himself. He looked down, out of Trowa's hands cupped under his chin. "You deserve better then me. I don't deserve you Trowa. All my life is… is an endless paradox of being afraid, afraid of the people hurt in war, afraid of how I'm expected to grow up, perfect, everything… But I wasn't. Never. I loved you, another boy. That would have never been aloud in my family. They wanted me to be perfect. I would be damned if they knew I loved another boy." Quatre said with a soft sigh, tears now running down his face. "Why? Why did I have to be perfect? Why did I get grounded to my room if I made one little mistake? Why did I even have to be perfect in school?" Quatre asked looking at Trowa, then hanging his head to the side again. "Because they wanted me to. It was expected of me." He finished. "Quatre… Quatre…" Trowa whispered. Quatre turned to Trowa looking him in the eyes. Quatre's eyes showed anger sorrow and pain. "No. I wasn't perfect. I would never grow up to be like my father, I was far from perfect, just… I was to be made sure that that was told to me. My father never noticed. Maids, everyone telling me I would never grow up to be like my father, not even a mere shadow! I'm not perfect Trowa. You deserve better then me, I don't deserve you. I'm… cursed. I'm Damned. Yet you're perfect." Quatre gave a weak smile through tears. "It's true. Everyone who's ever told me I was worthless. My father never noticed, he was too busy." The Arabian said. "No," Trowa told him, cupping his hands under Quatre's chin moving Quatre's face closer and Trowa moved his face closer too, "You are perfect. So beautiful and perfect." The brunette said. They moved towards each other and kissed; glad to be in each other's arms like they always wanted. Quatre forgot his troubles momentarily and threw his arms around Trowa's shoulders, and Trowa moved his arms around Quatre's petite waist, and the two teens lot themselves in a soul-searching, searing kiss.
My first Yaoi attempt, I don't really like it. Please R&R and check out my other stories under my Author Profile. Thank you! Should there be a sequel? If so I have an idea… R&R!!??
