Author: Pseudoangel
Title: Broken Touch
Disclaimer: Me no own Gundum Wing. Some other lucky bastard does.
Warnings: Why, there is yaoi in this crappy fic. So, if this isn't your cup of tea, hit that little back button on your browser. Horrible mechanics and writing as present. Some spoilers as well, especially with the Zero episode.
Notes: This is my first Gundum Wing fic. I love feedback. Yes I do.
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You watch me in my sleep. I can tell.
I can hear the whispers of your feet as you slither across the hall and into my room. You don't want to tread too heavily, maybe because of the sound, but I don't think that's the reason.
You're frightened, of the touch. The touch of the cold wooden floor, or my small timid hand, for both you seem to avoid.
Maybe you're afraid that you'll shatter, like porcelain and the shards will cut you so deep that you'll bleed. Bleed into me even, I think that is what frightens you more.
That I might become a part of you.
I don't blame you really, sometimes I terrify myself.
The icy metal of the controls still bites at my skin sometimes. But that is not what haunts me. I know the graves are out there, somewhere.
The voiceless graves of the people I killed. With a careless flick of a switch, a silent turn of a knob—- You were almost one of them.
Like I said, I really don't blame you.
You said that you forgive me, forgive me for the zero system. That it wasn't my fault.
Trowa, you don't have to lie to me. I know the truth; I know what a monster I am. You might look at me like I'm some sort of innocent angel, naïve in every respect.
But you're wrong. So, watch me if you must, be sure I'm swept away by some devil in the deep depths of night.
Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere.
-------
"You look tired, Trowa," a small pause lingers in the air, "Are you sleeping alright?"
A miniature silent nod is the only answer I receive from you. Apparently, coming to stalk me, it doesn't keep you from your bed at night.
The bags under your eyes don't lie.
I turn my head, the window beside us shows the view of the garden. The leafs are starting to turn, dying off, because the cold is coming.
I feel you watching me again, but I say nothing. I never have, so why start now.
Minutes pass that feel like days before you content yourself to say, "Quatre."
When I meet your emerald green eye that isn't masked, I almost feel alive. I can almost forgive myself.
Almost.
I sit there, letting the pliant leather of the sofa absorb me. Swallow me whole, just like your eyes. I am so lost that I don't realize you're beside me, not until feel your hand faintly touch my shoulder.
Aren't you frightened? Frightened, that you might break? That I might break you?
Your lips move. "Quatre—- look at me."
When I look at you, I see how beautiful you are. Sometimes I think that you still see yourself as a nameless soldier, not Trowa Barton, the gundum pilot, my best friend. The person, who makes me forget, who surrendered to me, who knows I like two lumps of sugar in my tea-
-who during the night, when you thought I was asleep, captured my heart.
As you angle my chin gently towards you, I know that I was wrong. I was the one that was scared of shattering. That I might taint you even more than I already have.
"It wasn't your fault."
Yes, it was, I almost killed you. My mind cries, but it's quickly drowned out by your soul, your presence-
-everything that is you.
You pull me into your chest. You smell of trust, understanding and love. These are the things you want me to know, but you hide it under a mask of detachment.
I want to cry, but I don't know why. I blame you for this. You're the reason, the reason I breathe, I think; you are the everything.
"Trowa, how can you say that?"
I clutch your already wrinkled shirt as you pull me closer. I want to melt inside you, but something holds me back. We all have our masks, Trowa, and my false innocence, is mine. I don't think you can see past that.
Pulling abruptly away, I know it's for your own good. You would be disappointed once you see the real me, not the one you watch in the dead of night. The darkness, it blinds you.
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You come again that night. Merging into the shadows, you dance silently around my room. I don't know what you hope to find here. You have my heart if that is what you're after; the blue sweater that you love to see me in, it's here too.
For some reason, I don't think that is what you're after. I bite down the desire to scream out, and ask, 'What do you want from me?'
But that would ruin our game.
You continue the ritual stalking. It's getting late now, and I can feel the hesitation in the air. It's thick and heavy. I can hardly breath.
The bed sinks under your weight. I am drowning, but it's not the blankets or the mattress that are the cause.
As your warm hand cups my face, my mind is frantic. You're breaking the rules.
The thing is, I can't remember which one was broken first.
Opening my eyes, I gaze back at you. You don't seem alarmed; your face is cool and detached. The dark, it makes it hard to see.
My fingers numbly turn on the over priced lamp that resides beside my bed on the nightstand. It will take a few seconds for the light to filter in. As I wait, letting my mind wander.
I know, I have to ask. "Why are you here? What you do want?"
Your answer is simple in a complicated situation drenched in emotions.
"You."
Lowering my gaze, I choke out the words. "I'm not innocent, I don't know what you think, but I'm not innocent."
"I know."
The light flickers on, slowly at first. It's pure and clear letting us finally see one another. The love swirls in your eyes, it's not masked or hidden by war or any outside forces. It's just us.
We share a breath as you lean forward achingly slow. Your lips are soft and gentle, and I lose myself in you. I forget about the war, my bloodied hand. I am forgiven as your tongue brushes mine.
I know this is the end of the game. The mask, the silent footsteps in the hall, it all ends and begins here.
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WOOOOOO! End of my first fic ever! Hope you liked it, it was more than confusing and boring, but thank goodness it was short!
Thanks for sticking with me this long.