Never to Say
The warm air cycled through my flute and I closed my eyes to everything in the universe except the presence beside me, and the music. The notes seemed to pass through us both, and flow through my dreams. Maybe it was all a dream...it was nearly perfect.
More music from his hands came through my ears. I seemed to be falling further and further into a feeling I've never known before. In the middle of Hell, this angel stepped forward and surrendered himself. He came out of a war machine and smiled at me. And when I heard his voice, I saw that his spirit was so large and beautiful, that it barely fit in his lithe body.
Out of the dirt and ash of war came a glimmer of light that I never had experienced.
I put down my flute as he put down his violin. "Perfect," he whispered.
Perfect, the word comes again. I remember it was the last thing I thought of before Heavyarms exploded. My mind had been racing, trying to save the one thing that was clean. And I was too happy to give my life for him.
If I was too happy to give my life for him, why can't I be so sure about my words? Every time he was near me, my heart would perform so many types of acrobatics... Why can't I say anything?
With the knowledge of my cowardice, I would stand and have knives thrown at me. I would get in a cage with a lion and not even cringe. But two words could haunt every minute of my existence. Two words make me flutter away like a moth afraid of a light. I knew the words I couldn't bring myself to say when I went on a suicide mission. I climbed into my Gundam to "perform" for OZ, because I wanted to die before I saw the angel again. It's so much easier to battle with soldiers than it is to battle with your own heart.
When I rescued him from Libra, I said that I was losing my heart with every battle. It was because the more I thought about him, the less I understood myself. The only thing I was sure of was I loved him. He changed Dorothy's heart like he changed my own, even if it required him to splash his own blood onto the cold metal floor.
I remember how well I masked the fact that I was wishing to leap out of my Gundam and run to him when I heard he was in danger. I only wished I could have gotten to him sooner so he wouldn't have to feel the pain he feels now. I came as quickly as I could to him without clamoring my booted feet down the hall. I saw him, curled up and wincing on the floor. I swallowed the yell that was quickly forming within me and said simply, to Dorothy. "How sad, a woman that can't cry." I cut through the wires that had helped put my love through such pain, and I took him away. Even as he was balled up on the floor, he could only think of others. I had my other right in front of me to think about, so I supported the angel with broken wings.
Perfect, I say inwardly. The love that I feel would be perfect, if only I weren't missing from it. Perfect, his pale face is visible because of the many readouts that flash beside his bed. Perfect, the white sheets only have a few drops of blood that leaked through his bandages. I sit beside the boy who is clad in one of those cheap green hospital nightgowns. Perfect, his fingertips are white and nearly blend in with the sheets.
I lift my head and move my right hand that was supporting it. It passes his fingertips. I bring it to his face. My hand is only a centimeter above his blood-drained cheek. I let it float there for a moment, but I take it away before I can stroke his cheek and wipe his blond hair from closed eyes. I take it back to my own cheek to wipe the saline that suddenly appeared there. I know in my heart, that is the closest I will ever be to touching him. Perfect, he will be. Perfect, without me.
I walk to the door of his room because I never want him to hear me cry, even in his comatose dreaming. Oh how I wish I could touch angel wings... The words that have been haunting me return to rip my heart to pieces.
I stand by the door to his room. The fluorescent light of the hallway barely touches my face through the crack in the door. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the door, and I only mouth the word where my voice is absent. "Ai shiteru, Quatre." The words that haunt my dreams only echo inside my own mind. The words I am never to say because my brain chokes my heart.
*~*~*
No, I don't own Gundam Wing nor do I own Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I just like to write stories that feature them. I'm sorry I had to torture you, Trowa-chan. Maybe I can make it up to you by showing you all the reviews you have helped to inspire ~ hint hint ~ Thank you, Chibi Stratus
The warm air cycled through my flute and I closed my eyes to everything in the universe except the presence beside me, and the music. The notes seemed to pass through us both, and flow through my dreams. Maybe it was all a dream...it was nearly perfect.
More music from his hands came through my ears. I seemed to be falling further and further into a feeling I've never known before. In the middle of Hell, this angel stepped forward and surrendered himself. He came out of a war machine and smiled at me. And when I heard his voice, I saw that his spirit was so large and beautiful, that it barely fit in his lithe body.
Out of the dirt and ash of war came a glimmer of light that I never had experienced.
I put down my flute as he put down his violin. "Perfect," he whispered.
Perfect, the word comes again. I remember it was the last thing I thought of before Heavyarms exploded. My mind had been racing, trying to save the one thing that was clean. And I was too happy to give my life for him.
If I was too happy to give my life for him, why can't I be so sure about my words? Every time he was near me, my heart would perform so many types of acrobatics... Why can't I say anything?
With the knowledge of my cowardice, I would stand and have knives thrown at me. I would get in a cage with a lion and not even cringe. But two words could haunt every minute of my existence. Two words make me flutter away like a moth afraid of a light. I knew the words I couldn't bring myself to say when I went on a suicide mission. I climbed into my Gundam to "perform" for OZ, because I wanted to die before I saw the angel again. It's so much easier to battle with soldiers than it is to battle with your own heart.
When I rescued him from Libra, I said that I was losing my heart with every battle. It was because the more I thought about him, the less I understood myself. The only thing I was sure of was I loved him. He changed Dorothy's heart like he changed my own, even if it required him to splash his own blood onto the cold metal floor.
I remember how well I masked the fact that I was wishing to leap out of my Gundam and run to him when I heard he was in danger. I only wished I could have gotten to him sooner so he wouldn't have to feel the pain he feels now. I came as quickly as I could to him without clamoring my booted feet down the hall. I saw him, curled up and wincing on the floor. I swallowed the yell that was quickly forming within me and said simply, to Dorothy. "How sad, a woman that can't cry." I cut through the wires that had helped put my love through such pain, and I took him away. Even as he was balled up on the floor, he could only think of others. I had my other right in front of me to think about, so I supported the angel with broken wings.
Perfect, I say inwardly. The love that I feel would be perfect, if only I weren't missing from it. Perfect, his pale face is visible because of the many readouts that flash beside his bed. Perfect, the white sheets only have a few drops of blood that leaked through his bandages. I sit beside the boy who is clad in one of those cheap green hospital nightgowns. Perfect, his fingertips are white and nearly blend in with the sheets.
I lift my head and move my right hand that was supporting it. It passes his fingertips. I bring it to his face. My hand is only a centimeter above his blood-drained cheek. I let it float there for a moment, but I take it away before I can stroke his cheek and wipe his blond hair from closed eyes. I take it back to my own cheek to wipe the saline that suddenly appeared there. I know in my heart, that is the closest I will ever be to touching him. Perfect, he will be. Perfect, without me.
I walk to the door of his room because I never want him to hear me cry, even in his comatose dreaming. Oh how I wish I could touch angel wings... The words that have been haunting me return to rip my heart to pieces.
I stand by the door to his room. The fluorescent light of the hallway barely touches my face through the crack in the door. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the door, and I only mouth the word where my voice is absent. "Ai shiteru, Quatre." The words that haunt my dreams only echo inside my own mind. The words I am never to say because my brain chokes my heart.
*~*~*
No, I don't own Gundam Wing nor do I own Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I just like to write stories that feature them. I'm sorry I had to torture you, Trowa-chan. Maybe I can make it up to you by showing you all the reviews you have helped to inspire ~ hint hint ~ Thank you, Chibi Stratus