Two of Us
Disclaimer: I dun own Gundam Wing. ^_^
Notes: Wooo, haven't written any Gundam fics in a while. Sorry, minna-san! I've had the terribly devastating writer's block for about…I dunno, two weeks maybe. T_T Long time. Sorry if this kinda seems disconnected, I'm a little out of touch. By the way, this is my first real romantic-type fic like this, and also, it's shounen-ai. Not tellin' who, it'd give the whole story away! Okie doke, read now!
Once, there were two of us. Me and him. Him and me. But then, things had changed. He had never been the same after the war. And after I had…
After I…
I still couldn't admit that I had actually done it.
It had been so long ago…two tears ago today.
Two years…
I was in the cemetery. It was a bright, warm day, and I would spend it in a cemetery, looking over the graves. Not praying, not visiting, just looking…
These were the graves of the fallen soldiers. The ones who had risked their lives to bring peace to the colonies.
Or at least to their own hearts…
The sun was blinding…so warm…I hated the warmth. I wished for rain, I wanted it to just pour down and soak me. But there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the sun continued to mock me with its warmth.
Two years ago…
I stopped walking. I still don't know why I decided to stop right there, it was almost as if…
As if he made me stop.
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed as the memories came back.
Me, him, and a whole world of possibilities. Days spent together, nights spent dreaming of each other. Afternoons in each other's arms. Love shared between us.
A single word had ended it all. One weak little word could end the whole world for two people. It's amazing to think about, but true.
The memories were so clear, as if it had not been two years but two seconds since that day in the hot summertime when I had said that one word…
"I wanted to tell you…" I whispered, looking up into his eyes. He was so tall…or maybe I was just short. Either way, it didn't matter.
He took my hand and turned it
over.
"You did this…"
"I wanted to tell you,
really, but I…" I looked down at my feet and whispered, "I was
scared."
"Scared of what?"
His voice sounded so strange…so distant…
"I was scared…I don't
know," I admitted. "I think I was scared that you would…" He
took me into his arms.
"There's nothing you
could do that could make me stop loving you," he whispered, "So just
get that idea out of your head. You should have told me…"
"I need help," I
sobbed. "Please help me…"
"I will, I
promise…"
I had tried to kill myself. I had taken a knife and slit my wrist, and I hadn't even thought about it. The war…the people I had destroyed…everything had come crashing down on me all at once, and I couldn't take it.
For the next two weeks, he never let me out of his sight. He wouldn't even let me close the door to use the bathroom. He had to make sure that I wouldn't do that again.
The first day, I told him that I wouldn't try to kill myself again. He nodded, but still watched over me at every moment. He hardly slept; hardly had a moment to himself. I felt so bad…so sorry that he had to put up with me. So I came to a decision. And I wrote a letter for him, putting it on his bed, where he was sure to find it.
He was exhausted, and it took little effort to get him to sleep. I didn't want him to suffer looking after me forever…I wouldn't let him eat himself away for me. I put the letter beside him on the bed after he went to sleep, and quietly walked out the door.
I had written a second copy for myself, so I would never forget it. I took it out of my pocket and read it.
'I'm so sorry…I made you push yourself too far. You've exhausted yourself for me. I haven't seen you eat or sleep in days…and I know I'm just a burden to you. So I'll leave you, I'll let you live your life. I'll always love you, and you're always in my heart, but I can't stand to see you kill yourself like this for me. I love you…goodbye…'
A tear dropped down my cheek, and I absently wiped it away. It was so unfair of me to leave, but it was worse for him to do this to himself…I wouldn't allow him to die for me.
I went away, but I spent the next month very close to him. Not close enough so he might see me, but so I could see him. He was always looking…for me…
I suppose he figured I wasn't coming back, because he no longer looked through the streets. For a while I stopped watching him, and let him live on without me. After all, I was out of his life now. Until I heard about what he did.
"Don't tell me he…"
"He's barely
alive," the doctors had said. "If he had fallen from a higher floor,
he wouldn't be."
"Will…will he
live?" My voice was so full of hope that I nearly choked on my words. The
doctors said nothing. I silently begged for them to answer…
"We don't know
yet," they said to me. "We'll have to wait and see…and pray…" I
nodded and turned away. "I'm very sorry."
"Can I go see him?
Please?" They nodded. I pushed open the door and looked at him, lying
there in bed…unconscious. He was a wreck. Covered from head to toe in bruises
and cuts, with probably more broken bones than I could count on both hands.
I sat beside the bed and
prayed for a minute, then I took his hand and sighed.
"Please don't die,"
I whispered. "Please…" his hand flinched in mine, but he said
nothing.
I would sit there all night
with him, and through the next day. He didn't wake up. Then, on the second
night, it happened. The machines he was hooked up to started chirping and
beeping all at once; all of his systems were shutting down. I cried, I screamed
out loud, yelling at him to fight back…to live.
But he was gone, and when the
doctors came in and wrote his time of death, they gave me looks of pity.
"Time of death:
ten-fifteen P. M.," one of them muttered. "Name…" I whispered
dryly in return,
"Trowa Barton."
Two years already, and I was still standing over him. I began to cry…not just because he had died, but also because he had allowed me to really live, and love. He had opened my eyes and my heart, and had welcomed me into his with open arms.
I had left him, and he hadn't wanted to live any longer. So he had jumped…and he didn't live.
It was all my fault! I had hurt him so much…how could I ever forgive myself?! I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Quatre, don't cry," said the owner, a close friend, Duo Maxwell. "C'mon, it'll be okay…" his voice was reassuring, but he sounded like he was trying not to cry himself.
I only nodded and walked with him, out of the cemetery.
"He's at peace now," Duo muttered as I put the cemetery and its iron gates behind me. I remembered the slight smile on his face when he had finally died, at ten-fifteen at night…I would always remember.
Duo walked with me back to my apartment, and offered to come in. I told him that I was okay, and he left. I promised to call him if I needed someone to talk to.
But I didn't want him to end up like Trowa, killing himself so slowly to protect me…
I walked into the bathroom and turned the handle for the sink's cold water. I cupped my hands and poured some of the tap water on my face, then wiped it dry with a white towel. Then I looked into the mirror…there were dark circles under my eyes. I hadn't slept in weeks. I doubted that I would ever sleep peacefully again.
Then I went into the kitchen, numbly. I was in a daze, and when I got to the kitchen I could barely remember making the decision to do so.
"What's wrong with me…?" I wondered in dismay. My eyes went to the knife rack, the one with the knife that I had used to…
I pulled it out of the rack. The wooden handle was still bloodstained. The blood hadn't completely washed off; it had soaked into the wood. I ran it lightly over my skin where my scar was, but didn't try to cut myself.
Which was more painful, killing yourself or living with heartache? Two years ago, I would have opted for the latter, but now I'm not so sure.
Trowa had sacrificed his freedom to preserve my life…the least I could do was keep on living, if only just for him.
I put the knife away and went into my bedroom, picking up a picture of Trowa and me…we were, ah, kissing in the photo. The date underneath said, "Trowa and Quatre, New Year's Eve, A. C. 200". Then I put the picture back on my nightstand and sat on my bed.
"Aishiteru, Trowa…I'll love you forever." There was no one in the room, but I felt the presence of another…and somehow, someday, I knew I wouldn't be lonely. I wouldn't have to cry for him…and there would again be two of us.
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