A/N: Written for Youko Astarael for a drabble challenge on my journal. This is complete and will not get updated ever, as it is intentionally meant to be this short.

Prompt: Trowa/Quatre, 'Devil's Trill.' (song)

Enjoy!

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Messa di Voce

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From the circus, Trowa learned this-- even before the music starts and after it stops, there is a beat that must be followed.

From the desert, Quatre learned this-- the heartbeat of the earth must match your footsteps, or the dunes will swallow you.

There is a melody to the flow of time that cannot be ignored. If one attempts to move out of harmony with it, disaster follows and trails pain and misery behind itself.

When they met, they both understood from one look at each other that this was a person who heard the rhythm of the truth and danced in time with it. The world was a frantic, impatient place that at the same time had all the moments in existence to play with. It was fast-paced, but eternal. Humanity was only an overlaying melody played by a brash, arrogant violin.

Quatre smiled sadly, because he understood.

Trowa said nothing, for the exact same reason.

Without saying a word, they stood together, because that kind of understanding needed no explanation. The devil's trill rippled through the air every time they fought, singing of blood and truth and the cycles of death.

I know something you don't know echoed through the air between them and the other three who did not hear, or at least did not know what it was that they heard.

The violin clawed its way through time and space. Trowa and Quatre held each other's hands and kept each other out of its way.

This too would pass.

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