"Desert Rose"
©Legyviel, 2003
Disclaimer: All characters of Gundam Wing belong to their respective owners. This is a purely non-profit story written for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: Some alteration of lyrics (in reference to gender) to make them yaoi-friendly. Occurs sometime after Endless Waltz as the boys stay at a desert mansion of Quatre's.
~*~*~*~*~
He heard the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops falling steadily onto the arched roof, lulling him into a peaceful slumber that threatened to last forever. He gazed out the window and saw the endless stretch of green before him, flowers blooming and sprouting as far as the horizon, surrounded by nothing but the tall curves of the sand dunes.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand]
Sand dunes? But everything was green... And then he would look up at the large magenta sun and it's light would sting his eyes, burning the image of a pure white flower into his mind. Then, the rain would stop, the trees and flowers withered and died, the dried brown carcasses slithering back below the sand. And then there was nothing left but the sand dunes.
[I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
The nameless soldier known as Trowa Barton woke with a start, the image of the white flower still etched in his mind. The light from the sun still stung his eyes, and he was only vaguely aware of what he was doing before he was already at the window and gazing out longingly at the orange-yellow plain of sand that stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. His fingertips grazed the transparent white curtains softly, and he let out a soft sigh. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was only 4:30 in the morning, and that he had a while before anyone else was awake. But he knew he would not get any more rest that night. So, after running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a robe and headed down to get some coffee.
[I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die]
He made his coffee without too much thought or effort, just needing to sit quietly and reflect more than anything else. Taking his steaming mug, he made his way into the sitting room, surprised to find that the fire was still burning in the fireplace.
[And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of the man's desire]
He walked towards one of the large cushioned chairs that sat facing the flames, his eyes concentrating on the flickering fire. He was so distracted that it startled him when he realized that somebody was sitting in one of those chairs. Trowa was suddenly embarrassed when he realized the person was Quatre.
[This desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise]
He opened his mouth to greet the other teen, but then realized with sudden relief and disappointment that his friend was asleep. Walking around to get a better look, he noticed that Quatre had a stack of papers in his hand. A rare smile graced the silent teen's face. Quatre always worked far too hard. Prying the papers gently from his hand so as not to disturb him, Trowa found a blanket and tucked it securely around Quatre. He stood back to look a moment, and had to resist the urge to wake Quatre up and tell him everything. The shadows danced on his fair and face, caressing his lips, his cheek and his pale blond hair. For a moment, Trowa yearned to be those shadows, just so he could touch Quatre once.
[This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this]
~*~*~*~*~
The sun was the same magenta hue, and the sand the same orange-yellow. A vast plain of gracefully curving sand dunes lasted to the edge of the horizon. And then the white flower would appear in the centre of the sun, still as pure and radiant as ever. But then the image changes, and the blooming petals of the flower become pale blond hair. The figure has their face turned, but the dreamer is painfully aware of who the person is.
[And now he turns
This way he moves in the logic of all my dreams]
The head turns and the person's face is made visible. The face is one that resembles a child's: innocent, trusting, and beautiful. The large blue eyes are very expressive and hold a playful twinkle to them. He reaches out his hand to touch that face, but just as he touches the surface of the sun, the childlike face contorts into an expression of pure agony and a flare reaches out to burn his hand. Instinctively, he pulls back, and the face disappears.
[This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems]
The dreamer calls to the sun-child, willing him to come back. But dark, angry clouds suddenly form, and they move quickly to cover the sun. Soon, nothing but a purplish sky is visible, and rain, at first a light sheet, pours down so hard that the dreamer thinks that the heavens are crying, crying for the loss of their angel.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand]
After a while of continuous downpour, the rain let up and the clouds moved away. The sun, however, did not come back, and the garden of green no longer appeared. The dreamer sighed a melancholy sigh, and then bent down to touch the sand. Picking up a fistful, he opened his palm to the wind and the grains slipped through his fingers. And he could still feel the grains between his fingers, although when he looked down he realized that he was merely clutching at the silk sheets, balling his hand into a fist and clenching the material tightly in the enclosed space.
[I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
"Do you really have to leave, Wufei?" Quatre asked again for the tenth time. "It's going to be awfully quiet with just Trowa and I here." After almost two weeks of spending time together in Quatre's desert mansion, each of the four guests had needed to get back to their own lives. Surprisingly, it was Wufei who had stayed the longest out of the other three, but now he was leaving Quatre and Trowa by themselves. "There's some work I need to do down at Preventers' HQ before my next mission, and I need to use the resources there," he replied once again. "I'm sure you and Trowa can manage yourselves for a while." And with a parting hug with Quatre and a handshake with Trowa, he departed, leaving the two of them standing at the door looking after him. Trowa realized with sudden apprehensiveness that now he was staying in a large mansion, with Quatre, alone. He felt his throat tighten.
[I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above]
He turned quickly, and walked away as fast as he could without seeming to run. But as luck would have it, however, Quatre decided to follow him. Stopping abruptly, Trowa turned around and faced the other boy. "I'm not feeling too well," he said in a voice that sounded unnatural even to his own ears. "I'm going to go and rest for a bit." Concern immediately sprung up in Quatre's eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his hand automatically reaching to touch Trowa's forehead.
[I close my eyes
The rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love]
At the first sensation of Quatre's fingers touching his skin, electricity pulsed in Trowa's veins. Suddenly frightened by that feeling, he harshly jerked Quatre's hand away with his own. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but Quatre's face was contorted into an expression of such hurt and he was suddenly reminded of his dream.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
"I'm sorry," he mumbled hastily. "I didn't mean to do that." And with those words, he fled.
~*~*~*~*~
Dinner had been stiff and quiet, with neither one of the two speaking to each other. Not knowing how to mend what he had done, Trowa tried to avoid Quatre as much as possible during the next day. At breakfast, however, Quatre returned to his normal self and acted as if nothing had happened at all. Not knowing whether to be glad or annoyed, Trowa left it at that.
[Sweet desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise]
The days were ending too quickly for Trowa as he found that the time he spent with Quatre were the best moments of his life. The blond Arab knew how to get him to smile, to talk, even to laugh—although the laughing took longer than the others. He knew he'd have to leave soon, and while he was trying to work up the courage to tell Quatre how he felt about him, he couldn't help noticing the lingering touches on his shoulder when they shared a joke or the way Quatre observed him when he thought he wasn't looking.
[This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this]
It was Trowa's last night, and they were sitting in front of the fire again, the same fire in which Trowa had wanted to confess his feelings for Quatre. Their bond ran much deeper than friendship—deeper even than brothers. They had endured so much together, and through it all Trowa felt that the only person who truly understood him was Quatre. They shared a companionable silence that both enjoyed, but Trowa was much plagued by other thoughts. Even if he told Quatre how he felt, he knew it could never be. If Quatre had been someone else, some street orphan or just a regular person, then maybe they would've had a chance. But, though he knew that, Trowa still felt that he owed it to Quatre to tell him how he felt. He was so absorbed in thought that he didn't notice the other teen getting up. Quatre, wrapped tightly in a blanket, had walked over to the chair where Trowa sat deep in thought. Trowa noticed the boy standing in front of him, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. He opened his mouth to speak when Quatre silenced him. "You don't have to say it," he said gently, touching a finger to Trowa's lips. "I know." Then he leant in and touched his lips to Trowa's, a soft, gentle kiss that broke the mould. There were no words required between them, as both shared a mutual understanding of their relationship. After the kiss had ended, Quatre touched Trowa's cheek fondly and sat down on his lap, Trowa's arms circling him in a protective embrace, and the two of them sat staring at the fire until both of them fell asleep.
[Sweet desert rose
This memory of hidden hearts and souls]
He awoke early in the morning once again, and then realized where he was. He lifted the bundle in his lap gently to place Quatre on the couch. Walking gingerly since his legs were numb, Trowa walked over to a window and stared out of it, expecting to find a vast plain of sand. Instead, what he saw was a garden of green, and he turned around to Quatre, expecting it to all be a dream and that he would wake up in his own bed, alone again. But Quatre did not vanish in front of his eyes this time, and the greenery did not wither and die. As he saw the first rays of the sun peeking over the edge of the horizon, he knew that everything was as it should be. Something very rare had happened.
[This desert flower
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love]
It had rained.
©Legyviel, 2003
Disclaimer: All characters of Gundam Wing belong to their respective owners. This is a purely non-profit story written for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: Some alteration of lyrics (in reference to gender) to make them yaoi-friendly. Occurs sometime after Endless Waltz as the boys stay at a desert mansion of Quatre's.
~*~*~*~*~
He heard the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops falling steadily onto the arched roof, lulling him into a peaceful slumber that threatened to last forever. He gazed out the window and saw the endless stretch of green before him, flowers blooming and sprouting as far as the horizon, surrounded by nothing but the tall curves of the sand dunes.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand]
Sand dunes? But everything was green... And then he would look up at the large magenta sun and it's light would sting his eyes, burning the image of a pure white flower into his mind. Then, the rain would stop, the trees and flowers withered and died, the dried brown carcasses slithering back below the sand. And then there was nothing left but the sand dunes.
[I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
The nameless soldier known as Trowa Barton woke with a start, the image of the white flower still etched in his mind. The light from the sun still stung his eyes, and he was only vaguely aware of what he was doing before he was already at the window and gazing out longingly at the orange-yellow plain of sand that stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. His fingertips grazed the transparent white curtains softly, and he let out a soft sigh. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was only 4:30 in the morning, and that he had a while before anyone else was awake. But he knew he would not get any more rest that night. So, after running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a robe and headed down to get some coffee.
[I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die]
He made his coffee without too much thought or effort, just needing to sit quietly and reflect more than anything else. Taking his steaming mug, he made his way into the sitting room, surprised to find that the fire was still burning in the fireplace.
[And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of the man's desire]
He walked towards one of the large cushioned chairs that sat facing the flames, his eyes concentrating on the flickering fire. He was so distracted that it startled him when he realized that somebody was sitting in one of those chairs. Trowa was suddenly embarrassed when he realized the person was Quatre.
[This desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise]
He opened his mouth to greet the other teen, but then realized with sudden relief and disappointment that his friend was asleep. Walking around to get a better look, he noticed that Quatre had a stack of papers in his hand. A rare smile graced the silent teen's face. Quatre always worked far too hard. Prying the papers gently from his hand so as not to disturb him, Trowa found a blanket and tucked it securely around Quatre. He stood back to look a moment, and had to resist the urge to wake Quatre up and tell him everything. The shadows danced on his fair and face, caressing his lips, his cheek and his pale blond hair. For a moment, Trowa yearned to be those shadows, just so he could touch Quatre once.
[This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this]
~*~*~*~*~
The sun was the same magenta hue, and the sand the same orange-yellow. A vast plain of gracefully curving sand dunes lasted to the edge of the horizon. And then the white flower would appear in the centre of the sun, still as pure and radiant as ever. But then the image changes, and the blooming petals of the flower become pale blond hair. The figure has their face turned, but the dreamer is painfully aware of who the person is.
[And now he turns
This way he moves in the logic of all my dreams]
The head turns and the person's face is made visible. The face is one that resembles a child's: innocent, trusting, and beautiful. The large blue eyes are very expressive and hold a playful twinkle to them. He reaches out his hand to touch that face, but just as he touches the surface of the sun, the childlike face contorts into an expression of pure agony and a flare reaches out to burn his hand. Instinctively, he pulls back, and the face disappears.
[This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems]
The dreamer calls to the sun-child, willing him to come back. But dark, angry clouds suddenly form, and they move quickly to cover the sun. Soon, nothing but a purplish sky is visible, and rain, at first a light sheet, pours down so hard that the dreamer thinks that the heavens are crying, crying for the loss of their angel.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand]
After a while of continuous downpour, the rain let up and the clouds moved away. The sun, however, did not come back, and the garden of green no longer appeared. The dreamer sighed a melancholy sigh, and then bent down to touch the sand. Picking up a fistful, he opened his palm to the wind and the grains slipped through his fingers. And he could still feel the grains between his fingers, although when he looked down he realized that he was merely clutching at the silk sheets, balling his hand into a fist and clenching the material tightly in the enclosed space.
[I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
"Do you really have to leave, Wufei?" Quatre asked again for the tenth time. "It's going to be awfully quiet with just Trowa and I here." After almost two weeks of spending time together in Quatre's desert mansion, each of the four guests had needed to get back to their own lives. Surprisingly, it was Wufei who had stayed the longest out of the other three, but now he was leaving Quatre and Trowa by themselves. "There's some work I need to do down at Preventers' HQ before my next mission, and I need to use the resources there," he replied once again. "I'm sure you and Trowa can manage yourselves for a while." And with a parting hug with Quatre and a handshake with Trowa, he departed, leaving the two of them standing at the door looking after him. Trowa realized with sudden apprehensiveness that now he was staying in a large mansion, with Quatre, alone. He felt his throat tighten.
[I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above]
He turned quickly, and walked away as fast as he could without seeming to run. But as luck would have it, however, Quatre decided to follow him. Stopping abruptly, Trowa turned around and faced the other boy. "I'm not feeling too well," he said in a voice that sounded unnatural even to his own ears. "I'm going to go and rest for a bit." Concern immediately sprung up in Quatre's eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his hand automatically reaching to touch Trowa's forehead.
[I close my eyes
The rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love]
At the first sensation of Quatre's fingers touching his skin, electricity pulsed in Trowa's veins. Suddenly frightened by that feeling, he harshly jerked Quatre's hand away with his own. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but Quatre's face was contorted into an expression of such hurt and he was suddenly reminded of his dream.
[I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand]
"I'm sorry," he mumbled hastily. "I didn't mean to do that." And with those words, he fled.
~*~*~*~*~
Dinner had been stiff and quiet, with neither one of the two speaking to each other. Not knowing how to mend what he had done, Trowa tried to avoid Quatre as much as possible during the next day. At breakfast, however, Quatre returned to his normal self and acted as if nothing had happened at all. Not knowing whether to be glad or annoyed, Trowa left it at that.
[Sweet desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise]
The days were ending too quickly for Trowa as he found that the time he spent with Quatre were the best moments of his life. The blond Arab knew how to get him to smile, to talk, even to laugh—although the laughing took longer than the others. He knew he'd have to leave soon, and while he was trying to work up the courage to tell Quatre how he felt about him, he couldn't help noticing the lingering touches on his shoulder when they shared a joke or the way Quatre observed him when he thought he wasn't looking.
[This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this]
It was Trowa's last night, and they were sitting in front of the fire again, the same fire in which Trowa had wanted to confess his feelings for Quatre. Their bond ran much deeper than friendship—deeper even than brothers. They had endured so much together, and through it all Trowa felt that the only person who truly understood him was Quatre. They shared a companionable silence that both enjoyed, but Trowa was much plagued by other thoughts. Even if he told Quatre how he felt, he knew it could never be. If Quatre had been someone else, some street orphan or just a regular person, then maybe they would've had a chance. But, though he knew that, Trowa still felt that he owed it to Quatre to tell him how he felt. He was so absorbed in thought that he didn't notice the other teen getting up. Quatre, wrapped tightly in a blanket, had walked over to the chair where Trowa sat deep in thought. Trowa noticed the boy standing in front of him, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. He opened his mouth to speak when Quatre silenced him. "You don't have to say it," he said gently, touching a finger to Trowa's lips. "I know." Then he leant in and touched his lips to Trowa's, a soft, gentle kiss that broke the mould. There were no words required between them, as both shared a mutual understanding of their relationship. After the kiss had ended, Quatre touched Trowa's cheek fondly and sat down on his lap, Trowa's arms circling him in a protective embrace, and the two of them sat staring at the fire until both of them fell asleep.
[Sweet desert rose
This memory of hidden hearts and souls]
He awoke early in the morning once again, and then realized where he was. He lifted the bundle in his lap gently to place Quatre on the couch. Walking gingerly since his legs were numb, Trowa walked over to a window and stared out of it, expecting to find a vast plain of sand. Instead, what he saw was a garden of green, and he turned around to Quatre, expecting it to all be a dream and that he would wake up in his own bed, alone again. But Quatre did not vanish in front of his eyes this time, and the greenery did not wither and die. As he saw the first rays of the sun peeking over the edge of the horizon, he knew that everything was as it should be. Something very rare had happened.
[This desert flower
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love]
It had rained.