Other-World: The 195 Word Challenge
"Put your hands down. I was the first to surrender and come out. Remember?"
She heard these words from a great distance. For weeks now, she had seen in fever dreams two pilots with entwined destinies. Heard in her presumed madness their words, so many from one, so few from the other.
The blond pilot was playing his violin. Unseen by him, the brown-haired one watched, listening to the music. A noise startles the blond from his playing. The other has a flute in hand. A smile from the blond. No words are spoken, but the music reigns.
She sees this, knowing that their fates are sealed. A duet begun, to continue forever.
Quatre Raberba Winner watches from a window as his fellow pilot leaves. The one with no name stops and looks back. Trowa Barton. And then, he is gone, but the wish for togetherness remains.
Her breathing is weak and shallow as these scenes play before her fevered eyes. She knows they are for each other. Bound together by something both feel but neither can name. Will they realize it, she wonders, even as she breathes her last.
She will never see it.