Trowa could put it off no more. It had taken him a long time to get up the courage, yet he could not still the shaking of his hands as he knocked tentatively upon the boy's door. From within he could hear a muffled "Come in", and needing no further invitation he slowly pushed it open. And there he was, this boy he had come to love.
No longer could he deny the strong affections he held for the blonde sitting upon his window sill. He had recognized and accepted his feelings for him long ago . . . but he just couldn't take the pain of not knowing anymore. He had to know. Did Quatre love him as well?
"What are you standing there for Trowa? Come in! Sit. What is it you need?" He said amiably and gestured to the plush chair sitting in front of him in the corner.
Trowa nodded silently and walked over to the window sill, yet he didn't sit. He couldn't sit. His stomach was fluttering with chaotic butterflies as he bit his lip. It was hard to look upon the other boy and not be able to hold him in a simple hug, nor plant a gentle kiss upon those golden strands.
"Is there something the matter? Trowa, what's wrong?" Quatre asked, concerned.
Setting down the book he had been reading, Quatre stood next to Trowa. Worry creased his brow as he look up at his dearest friend. He looked truly distraught.
At first he was silent as he averted his gaze, pretending to take extreme care in examining the details of the curtain patterns. He simply couldn't bring himself to look at the other boy. Trowa knew it would be hard . . . but this hard?
"Trowa, answer me! You can tell me anything." He said as he reached a hand up and rested it upon his shoulder.
The brunette flinched away from his touch at first, but eventually he forced himself to relax into it. Now or never. It took all of his will to make his eyes look into the blonde's, and he forced down the lump that had grown in his throat. Taking a deep breath, he finally answered.
"Actually . . . there is something I need to tell you . . ." He began slowly.
Quatre nodded and continued to look up at his dearest friend with worry. It hurt Trowa to see the boy worried so, but this was something that had to be done. For his own sanity.
"I . . . I wont stretch this out any longer than it need be . . . Quatre . . . I love you . . ." The pitch in his voice rose slightly. It was amazing how time spent with this boy could so easily let him loose control of his emotions. "As more than a friend . . ." He clarified.
Sandrock's pilot blinked a few times as he absorbed this new knowledge and shock filled his eyes. Removing his hand from Trowa's shoulder, he took a shaky step back. His hands were clenched tightly together and now it was Quatre who could not look him in the eye. The premonition of dread clenched Trowa's gut as he looked upon the one he had come to love and every imagination of his rejection flashed through his mind. But he could hope . . . couldn't he?
The shock faded from his features but the look that had taken its place scared the brunette even more. It was sadness. A chill settled over Trowa's skin, and his teeth clenched together to brace himself for whatever was to come.
"I - I'm sorry Trowa . . . but . . . it couldn't work between us . . . Allah would never allow it." Quatre spoke softly.
The muscles in Quatre's throat clenched painfully and he still could not look at Trowa. It was difficult for him to say this. It had been something he'd concluded a while ago as he realized his feelings. The blonde did love Trowa, with all his heart, but he could not bring himself to committing the sin that his religion was so against. He wished it could be different . . . truly he did . . . but things never turn out the way we want them to, do they?
Quatre tried to further explain himself, to provide comfort to the heart he knew he had broken. One look upon Trowa's face, however, and any words he might've spoken died within him. Heavyarm's pilot had regained that emotion-less mask . . . everything had tuned out after he heard the words "it couldn't work", and he neither saw no heard anything else. Nodding to the boy, he turned stiffly and left the room. Sitting back on the window sill, Quatre let his face fall into his waiting hands.
Trowa's room was dark. It matched the emotions roiling within the gundam pilot who entered the room. Softly he closed the door behind him and wearily sat upon the edge of his bed. He'd known it could've happened like that. He'd pictured it a thousand times before . . . but it didn't make the hurt any less.
Silent tears wove salty streams down his cheeks as he stared at the blackened wall before him. Nothing betrayed the inner pain but those traitorous tears; his body remained dull and neutral. Even the tears seemed a fraud to Trowa . . . as his eyes closed the pain faded, replaced by a feeling of numbness. Empty. That was how he felt. He had sacrificed his love to his fellow pilot, had given it upon his knees . . . and he still had it. Trowa had given his heart, but he was not getting that back. He'd never get it back.
How could he stand to work side by side with the one he loved, knowing for certain they could be nothing more than friends? Could they even be that anymore? Things would be different. Awkward. They wouldn't be able to talk like they used to . . . did Quatre even want to continue their friendship?
He knew it was a mistake. The only time he had allowed himself to fall in love . . . and this . . . no more. He should've remained the emotion-less mute he was infamous for. It had protected him. Trowa knew he could not rebuild that shield. Could not rebuild his life.
Standing up, Trowa approached his closet and searched through the sparse shelves. It didn't take long to find the recorder. First checking to make sure it worked, he set this carefully down on his bed. Green eyes that glinted with hard resolve drifted over to the acoustic guitar leaning up against the corner. Quatre had insisted that he dabble in other instruments besides the flute . . . said that not playing anything else was like only eating the appetizer and ignoring everything else at the buffet. So he had learned the guitar. It seemed fitting that he use it.
The polished wood of the instrument sat peacefully in his lap as slender fingers ran across the finely tuned strings. All of the instruments were well taken care of . . . Trowa took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clutched the guitar to his chest. One hand reached out to press the record button and a silence filled the room for a moment before he began to play . . .
Goodbye to you my trusted friends
Heero it will be easier in the end
Together we've fought our enemies
Wufei we've been through those stormy seas
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
-
Goodbye my friends it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Hope and peace is everywhere
Think of me and I'll be there
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the feelings that have died were just seasons
Out of time...
-
Goodbye Duo please pray for me
I was the black sheep of our family
You tried to teach me how to smile
Even though it's been a while
You always went the extra mile.
-
Goodbye Catherine its hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I'll be there.
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the smiles and the song like the seasons
Have all gone.
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the smiles and the song like the seasons
Have all gone.
-
Goodbye Quatre my Little One
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground.
-
Goodbye Quatre it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the sunshine everywhere
I wish that we could both be there
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the smiles and the song like the seasons
Have all gone.
-
All our lives we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the feelings that have died were just seasons
Out of time...
-
We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun . . .
The music faded away as Trowa fought the choking feeling that clenched at his throat. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and a soft sob wracked his body. His hand trembled as he held the recorder . . . but there was something else . . .
"I'm sorry . . ."
He choked out before turning the recorder off. Gently he laid his guitar down on his bed and wiped the tears from his eyes. His face once more held no emotion as he walked over to his dresser. Trowa knew which drawer needed to be opened, and the cold metal of the gun greeted his fingers solemnly. He didn't bother to close it as he walked into the bathroom joined to his room. Trowa didn't want to make too much of a mess.
The barrel felt so cold against his temple as he stared at himself in the mirror. Goodbye Quatre, my Little One . . .
A/N: (sniffle) I cried while writing this . . . hell, I'm still crying . . . the song doesn't belong to me, I just changed it a teeny bit for Trowa . . . good song . . . it's called Seasons in the Sun . . . by Terry Jacks I think. (sniffle) So sad . . . I'm going through some depression right now, so sue me! Perhaps I should go write that comedy I've been entertaining in my thoughts . . . maybe it'll cheer me up . . . ah well . . . another side note, I was kinda inspired by somebody else who used this song, only it was from Quatre's point of view. I think it suits Trowa better, but maybe that's just me . . . (sniffle) please don't hurt me, I'm too pathetic to be worth it . . . (sob)