The Dangling Conversation
By Rhyianna Merquise
Summary? Trowa x Midii. Love hurts. Real bad. Therefore, there is and angst waning out! Beware! This is in Trowa's POV, which I am sure I did a craptastic job on… Anyway, R&R, if you would.
Disclaimer: GundamW isn't mine. If you want to sue me, all you're going to get is a Simon and Garfunkel tape (BTW, the song belongs to them..) and some tic-tacs if I haven't eaten them all.
*~*~*~**~*~*~*
Midii and I have been together for almost a year now. We both thought that my love would show when I broke through my shell of a warrior. We were both wrong.
She loves me, and I know it. I wish I loved her back. I wish that with all my heart. But apparently my heart is dead. I said it once before: I have completely devoid of feeling for quite sometime now.
We sit and sip at cups of coffee that have long since been cold. The unreal rays of sunset filter through the lace curtains, and cast illusions of colors askew across the room. It looks perfect. But we both know that nothing is well between us.
She smiles delicately at me, trying to look her best, but I notice her eyes are red. She knows I don't love her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It's a still life watercolor
Of the now late afternoon
As sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows paint the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Cast in our indifference
Like Shells Upon the Shore
You can hear the ocean roar
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Later that evening, we both sat in the living room, lounging about with one book or another. A tear or two slips down Midii's cheek as she indulges another romance novel. She looks beautiful when she cries. I wish that sight would somehow stir up feelings in my heart; give me some reason to stay. It doesn't.
Sometime later, she puts her book down after marking her place with a paper rose. She loves roses. Midii loves everything.
"Goodnight, Trowa." She says softly, before lightly kissing me. I feel nothing. Damn this heart of mine.
"Goodnight, Midii," I reply automatically, letting my hand run through her hair before giving her a slight smile. "Have sweet dreams, Little One*."
She looks almost surprised at my display of affection. She smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. I curse myself again.
I hear her go into our tiny bedroom, hear the door shut, and then hear muffled sobs. Why, damn it, why can't her tears mean something to me?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the Dangling Conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives…
And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I, my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That Measure What We've Lost
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme
In syncopated time…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After a while, I hear her tears subside. She's cried herself to sleep once again. It's been like this for days. I wish I could somehow comfort her… make the tears stop… bring back the memory of the days when everything sparkled. God, how I loved those days. The days when Midii's smile could ward off any unhappiness or doubts I had, the days when she could convince me to dance in the rain, the days when we made love amidst a bed of roses…
Those are the days I want her to remember. Not the days where I had become a cold, unfeeling soldier again.
I slowly walk to our bedroom. Quietly opening the door, I take in everything around me. The way the stars sparkled from outside, and the way a moonbeam seemed to be tangled in Midii's hair, and the way the same pale light illuminates the tear streaks on her delicate face. I close my eyes. A lone tear dares to make its presence known on my skin.
At this moment, I hate myself. How could I dare cry?! I am a clown, with an empty heart, so I shouldn't be able to cry.
Opening my eyes, I make my way over to our bed. Midii lays there in slumber, looking like some angel that has fallen from above. I want to imprint this image on my memory.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In The Dangling Conversation
And the superficial sighs
The border of our lives
Yes, we speak of things that matter
With words that must be said
Can analysis be worthwhile?
Is the theater really dead?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hoping against hope that she doesn't wake up, I lower myself onto the bed. She looks so peaceful. I hope she stays that way.
With a small, twisted smile on my lips, I reach my hand down and let the pads of my fingers brush the side of her face. When I dare to let my hand lightly rest on her face, she leans towards the warmth. I still hate myself. Leaning over, I allow my lips to softly brush her temple.
I bite my lip as I stand up. Taking one last glance at my sleeping angel, I turn on my heel and walk out, taking care to shut the door quietly behind me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And How the room is softly fading
And I only kiss your shadow
I cannot feel your hand
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I take a deep breath as the apartment door gives a protestant creak as I pull it shut. I pause for a moment, reflecting on my decision; somehow willing feelings I know aren't there to make themselves known. They don't, so I continue on my way.
As I stroll down the vacant street I can almost imagine her tears when she wakes up tomorrow and finds not me, but a single white rose and a simple note.
Can almost see her shake as she reads the words…
Midii,
I know you love me. I wish I could say the same. Have a happy life, Little One.
Trowa
Looking up, I see a crystal clear night sky, sparkling with countless stars. I decide to give into a stupid myth and make a wish… that maybe someday my mask of tears and smiles will break, and I will be free to return to my moonlight angel.
I never saw her again.
~Fin
* = In most 3x4 fics, Trowa calls Quatre "Little One". So I figure, hey, why can't he call Midii that?