After So Long
"Quatre-sama?" A deep, respectful voice broke the blonde's reverie.
"Yes Rasid?" Quatre forced a smile onto his face as he turned from the bank
of windows that made up the back wall of his office.
"I thought you might find this interesting," he handed Quatre a folded-up
newspaper. I hope this works. Rasid had become very worried about his
normally cheerful master. Over the past months, the young man had taken to
slipping into depression without any warning. The joyful gleam had left his
eyes.
Quatre took the proffered paper and read a short article that was circled in
red ink. His delicate features shifted from thoughtful puzzlement to a
laughing smile. "Rasid! Do you know what this says?"
"Hai, Quatre-sama," the large man chuckled.
"It's Trowa's circus! It starts this weekend!... Which means... Trowa must
already be on the colony!"
"Your appointments for the rest of the afternoon have already been
cancelled."
"Rasid, thank you. I just have some paper work-"
"Your assistant can take care of it."
"But-"
"Go Quatre-sama, go. You're motorcycle is out front."
The blonde beamed happily before racing from the room. How long had it been
since the pilots had gone their separate ways? One year and ten months...
give or take a few days. Too long without even hearing from Trowa, let
alone seeing him. Quatre's steps slowed as he approached the elevator.
What if he doesn't want to see me? Should I really be going?
"Go Quatre-sama," Rasid's voice sounded behind Quatre as he gave the young
man a gentle push onto the elevator.
Quatre came to a stop when he reached the carnival grounds. Doubts nagged at his mind, slowing his steps, almost stopping him. But excitement drove him slowly toward the lions' cages. He rounded a corner and stopped. A tall young man was petting a lion, his back to Quatre, who could only stare. He drank in the sight of the familiar dark turtleneck that hugged his shoulders and snug jeans.
"Trowa," Quatre called quietly. Heavyarms' former pilot stood very still for a moment. Maybe he didn't hear me. Quatre opened his mouth to call out once more, but froze before any words could escape.
Trowa turned slowly and replied just as quietly, "Quatre?"
The blonde broke into a wide grin, "Trowa! How have you been?" He approached the green-eyed youth with an outstretched hand.
Trowa returned the handshake coldly, his eyes distant. "Fine. And you?" His voice was the same empty monotone he had used when they first met. Quatre's smile faltered momentarily. I thought we were past this.
"I-I've been fine."
"Did you need something Quatre? I'm busy right now."
"I... Trowa... I..." the Arabian lowered his head, not wanting Trowa to see the hurt in his turquoise eyes. "I saw that your circus was here and thought I'd say hello... It's been awhile..."
"Fine then. You said hello," Trowa turned and started to walk away.
"Trowa!" The lanky youth stopped at Quatre's cry. "Trowa, what's wrong? I know you're busy now, but could we maybe meet later to talk... It's been so long."
The coldness melted from green eyes for just a moment, "Fine. Come to my trailer after the show tomorrow night."
"I'll see you then, friend Trowa."
"Goodbye Quatre." Trowa turned away from the blonde angel. Quatre... I'm sorry, but I'm too dirty for you.
Quatre watched Trowa's retreating back until he was out of sight. What are you hiding from me Trowa?
Quatre spent the next day in nervous anticipation. He fidgeted during meetings and cut phone calls short. Finally, the workday was over and he was free to head to the circus. Usually, he would enjoy an evening out, but this night saw him glancing repeatedly at his watch, until a certain half-masked clown and the knife-thrower appeared. Quatre's eyes never left the unflinching figure as Catherine's knives thunked into the wood around him. The stoic clown never blinked, the rest of the world may not exist as far as he was concerned. His eyes were that empty.
What's happened to you? Quatre's eyes filled with tears, which he scrubbed hastily away as the audience around him burst into applause. Finally, the show was over. The blonde made his way across the circus grounds, stomach in his toes, heart in his throat. Why am I so nervous? I'm just going to visit an old friend.... Yeah Quatre, whatever. He reached the trailer and stood for a moment before raising his hand to knock on the door. It opened slowly, and there stood Trowa clad in a tight pair of black jeans and a white shirt that hung open in the front, exposing his finely sculpted chest and abdomen. Quatre could feel heat rushing into his face. "T-Trowa... hello," he stammered.
"Come in Quatre," Trowa said coolly. "Please, sit down," he indicated a small sofa. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He allowed a tiny smile to turn up the corners of his lips.
"Yes, thank you.... You remembered," pleased amazement brightened his tone.
How could I forget? Trowa nodded and stepped into the kitchen.
Quatre took the opportunity to look around the small space. Everything spoke of Trowa, from its lack of decoration to its organization. There was only one item that was out of place. A flute case sat open on the table. Quatre walked over and ran his hand over the cold metal, casting his mind back to the times he and Trowa had played their duets. That was the only time you ever let your mask go. He had become so lost in his memories, he hadn't heard Trowa enter.
"Quatre?" Trowa spoke the name softly, letting it caress his tongue. He laid a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Are you alright?" Why so sad my angel?
"Oh. I'm fine.... Do you still play?"
"Sometimes." When I'm lonely and scared and needing you near. When insanity pushes at the edges and I need to forget.
There was an awkward silence as Trowa poured the tea and Quatre resumed his seat. When the silence had become unbearable, Quatre spoke up. "So how have you been?"
"Fine."
"Oh," Quatre stared down at his teacup. Things were not going well at all. "Have you spoken with any of the others?"
"No."
"Uhh... I have!" he said brightly. "Heero is working as a bodyguard for Miss Relena. Duo's gone back to working with the Sweepers. But, I don't know what's become of Wufei."
"Hn."
You're worse than Heero! Quatre sighed and stared at his nearly empty teacup. He drained the rest of the tea and sighed once more.
"Is something wrong?" It was the longest sentence Trowa had uttered since Quatre had come in! Sandrock's former pilot set his cup down on the table and rose. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to be a bother."
Quatre had the door halfway open when Trowa called out quietly, "Wait." Sad blue eyes turned to Trowa. "Don't go."
"Trowa, I don't want to be a bother."
"You're not.... It's been so long since I last saw you." He lowered his head, "I'm sorry I never wrote you Quatre."
Quatre pushed the door shut and went back to Trowa, placing his hands on the taller youth's shoulders. "I forgive you Trowa," he said in his quiet, gentle voice. Moss-green eyes met blue. "I'm not going to say it's okay, though. You hurt me. Of all the others, I thought I was closest to you. But you just left without a word of goodbye. You don't write for over a year and I have to find out through the newspaper that you would be here."
Trowa turned his back on Quatre, not able to stand seeing the pain in those blue depths. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
A muffled giggle sounded against his back as a pair of arms snaked around his waist and squeezed him gently. "I already said I forgave you, remember?"
Trowa twisted in the blonde's arms and returned the embrace. He nuzzled the top of Quatre's head, "Why?"
Quatre loosened the embrace and stepped back, looking up into Trowa's eyes, "Because I love you."
Trowa blinked, "You what?" It was a strangled whisper.
Quatre bit his lower lip as tears filled his eyes. Oh no! BAKA!! I shouldn't have opened my big mouth. His voice trembled as he answered, "You heard me."
"You love me? But why? How?" Trowa couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice.
Quatre was loosing his patience, "Does it matter why? I just do!" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he scrubbed them away angrily. Trowa just stared. He means it. Trowa loves me.
"Don't cry Angel," Trowa reached out to brush away the tears. It was Quatre's turn to stare. Angel? Trowa pulled the weeping blonde into his arms, "I love you too."
Quatre's tears subsided in Trowa's warm embrace. He looked up into the deep green eyes, "Trowa-"
"Ssh..." Trowa placed a finger over Quatre's lips, then followed with his mouth. They melted into each other. Quatre' mouth opened under Trowa's questing tongue. The kiss was warm and gentle, lasting until they needed air. Quatre leaned heavily against the taller youth, panting slightly.
"Please stay tonight," Trowa whispered into Quatre's ear. The blonde could only nod.
##OWARI##
"Quatre-sama?" A deep, respectful voice broke the blonde's reverie.
"Yes Rasid?" Quatre forced a smile onto his face as he turned from the bank
of windows that made up the back wall of his office.
"I thought you might find this interesting," he handed Quatre a folded-up
newspaper. I hope this works. Rasid had become very worried about his
normally cheerful master. Over the past months, the young man had taken to
slipping into depression without any warning. The joyful gleam had left his
eyes.
Quatre took the proffered paper and read a short article that was circled in
red ink. His delicate features shifted from thoughtful puzzlement to a
laughing smile. "Rasid! Do you know what this says?"
"Hai, Quatre-sama," the large man chuckled.
"It's Trowa's circus! It starts this weekend!... Which means... Trowa must
already be on the colony!"
"Your appointments for the rest of the afternoon have already been
cancelled."
"Rasid, thank you. I just have some paper work-"
"Your assistant can take care of it."
"But-"
"Go Quatre-sama, go. You're motorcycle is out front."
The blonde beamed happily before racing from the room. How long had it been
since the pilots had gone their separate ways? One year and ten months...
give or take a few days. Too long without even hearing from Trowa, let
alone seeing him. Quatre's steps slowed as he approached the elevator.
What if he doesn't want to see me? Should I really be going?
"Go Quatre-sama," Rasid's voice sounded behind Quatre as he gave the young
man a gentle push onto the elevator.
Quatre came to a stop when he reached the carnival grounds. Doubts nagged at his mind, slowing his steps, almost stopping him. But excitement drove him slowly toward the lions' cages. He rounded a corner and stopped. A tall young man was petting a lion, his back to Quatre, who could only stare. He drank in the sight of the familiar dark turtleneck that hugged his shoulders and snug jeans.
"Trowa," Quatre called quietly. Heavyarms' former pilot stood very still for a moment. Maybe he didn't hear me. Quatre opened his mouth to call out once more, but froze before any words could escape.
Trowa turned slowly and replied just as quietly, "Quatre?"
The blonde broke into a wide grin, "Trowa! How have you been?" He approached the green-eyed youth with an outstretched hand.
Trowa returned the handshake coldly, his eyes distant. "Fine. And you?" His voice was the same empty monotone he had used when they first met. Quatre's smile faltered momentarily. I thought we were past this.
"I-I've been fine."
"Did you need something Quatre? I'm busy right now."
"I... Trowa... I..." the Arabian lowered his head, not wanting Trowa to see the hurt in his turquoise eyes. "I saw that your circus was here and thought I'd say hello... It's been awhile..."
"Fine then. You said hello," Trowa turned and started to walk away.
"Trowa!" The lanky youth stopped at Quatre's cry. "Trowa, what's wrong? I know you're busy now, but could we maybe meet later to talk... It's been so long."
The coldness melted from green eyes for just a moment, "Fine. Come to my trailer after the show tomorrow night."
"I'll see you then, friend Trowa."
"Goodbye Quatre." Trowa turned away from the blonde angel. Quatre... I'm sorry, but I'm too dirty for you.
Quatre watched Trowa's retreating back until he was out of sight. What are you hiding from me Trowa?
Quatre spent the next day in nervous anticipation. He fidgeted during meetings and cut phone calls short. Finally, the workday was over and he was free to head to the circus. Usually, he would enjoy an evening out, but this night saw him glancing repeatedly at his watch, until a certain half-masked clown and the knife-thrower appeared. Quatre's eyes never left the unflinching figure as Catherine's knives thunked into the wood around him. The stoic clown never blinked, the rest of the world may not exist as far as he was concerned. His eyes were that empty.
What's happened to you? Quatre's eyes filled with tears, which he scrubbed hastily away as the audience around him burst into applause. Finally, the show was over. The blonde made his way across the circus grounds, stomach in his toes, heart in his throat. Why am I so nervous? I'm just going to visit an old friend.... Yeah Quatre, whatever. He reached the trailer and stood for a moment before raising his hand to knock on the door. It opened slowly, and there stood Trowa clad in a tight pair of black jeans and a white shirt that hung open in the front, exposing his finely sculpted chest and abdomen. Quatre could feel heat rushing into his face. "T-Trowa... hello," he stammered.
"Come in Quatre," Trowa said coolly. "Please, sit down," he indicated a small sofa. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He allowed a tiny smile to turn up the corners of his lips.
"Yes, thank you.... You remembered," pleased amazement brightened his tone.
How could I forget? Trowa nodded and stepped into the kitchen.
Quatre took the opportunity to look around the small space. Everything spoke of Trowa, from its lack of decoration to its organization. There was only one item that was out of place. A flute case sat open on the table. Quatre walked over and ran his hand over the cold metal, casting his mind back to the times he and Trowa had played their duets. That was the only time you ever let your mask go. He had become so lost in his memories, he hadn't heard Trowa enter.
"Quatre?" Trowa spoke the name softly, letting it caress his tongue. He laid a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Are you alright?" Why so sad my angel?
"Oh. I'm fine.... Do you still play?"
"Sometimes." When I'm lonely and scared and needing you near. When insanity pushes at the edges and I need to forget.
There was an awkward silence as Trowa poured the tea and Quatre resumed his seat. When the silence had become unbearable, Quatre spoke up. "So how have you been?"
"Fine."
"Oh," Quatre stared down at his teacup. Things were not going well at all. "Have you spoken with any of the others?"
"No."
"Uhh... I have!" he said brightly. "Heero is working as a bodyguard for Miss Relena. Duo's gone back to working with the Sweepers. But, I don't know what's become of Wufei."
"Hn."
You're worse than Heero! Quatre sighed and stared at his nearly empty teacup. He drained the rest of the tea and sighed once more.
"Is something wrong?" It was the longest sentence Trowa had uttered since Quatre had come in! Sandrock's former pilot set his cup down on the table and rose. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to be a bother."
Quatre had the door halfway open when Trowa called out quietly, "Wait." Sad blue eyes turned to Trowa. "Don't go."
"Trowa, I don't want to be a bother."
"You're not.... It's been so long since I last saw you." He lowered his head, "I'm sorry I never wrote you Quatre."
Quatre pushed the door shut and went back to Trowa, placing his hands on the taller youth's shoulders. "I forgive you Trowa," he said in his quiet, gentle voice. Moss-green eyes met blue. "I'm not going to say it's okay, though. You hurt me. Of all the others, I thought I was closest to you. But you just left without a word of goodbye. You don't write for over a year and I have to find out through the newspaper that you would be here."
Trowa turned his back on Quatre, not able to stand seeing the pain in those blue depths. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
A muffled giggle sounded against his back as a pair of arms snaked around his waist and squeezed him gently. "I already said I forgave you, remember?"
Trowa twisted in the blonde's arms and returned the embrace. He nuzzled the top of Quatre's head, "Why?"
Quatre loosened the embrace and stepped back, looking up into Trowa's eyes, "Because I love you."
Trowa blinked, "You what?" It was a strangled whisper.
Quatre bit his lower lip as tears filled his eyes. Oh no! BAKA!! I shouldn't have opened my big mouth. His voice trembled as he answered, "You heard me."
"You love me? But why? How?" Trowa couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice.
Quatre was loosing his patience, "Does it matter why? I just do!" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he scrubbed them away angrily. Trowa just stared. He means it. Trowa loves me.
"Don't cry Angel," Trowa reached out to brush away the tears. It was Quatre's turn to stare. Angel? Trowa pulled the weeping blonde into his arms, "I love you too."
Quatre's tears subsided in Trowa's warm embrace. He looked up into the deep green eyes, "Trowa-"
"Ssh..." Trowa placed a finger over Quatre's lips, then followed with his mouth. They melted into each other. Quatre' mouth opened under Trowa's questing tongue. The kiss was warm and gentle, lasting until they needed air. Quatre leaned heavily against the taller youth, panting slightly.
"Please stay tonight," Trowa whispered into Quatre's ear. The blonde could only nod.
##OWARI##