Title: Quatre, in Five Easy Bites,
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre,
Warnings: BL (boy love), a little sap, mild angst
Note: Written for the fall '06 stagesoflove, for the theme set of emotions: Compassion, the third of five. These five stories address the theme, all loosely connected but not a continueous timeline.
At the other end of the city, Trowa finds him perched upon a large block, a knee drawn to his chest and his chin resting on the knee. The sun is as flames around him, and Trowa pauses to watch. His hands twitch with the need to act, though he knows not what. His heart is beating a slow and heavy rhythm, and it feels as it had in proving his worth and allegiance to OZ. Only, there is a difference.
It is the middle of summer and the circus is touring Europe. Outside the city opposite where he is now, the Big Top rises and camp settles. From one end to the other, the war scars are present – ancient trees still showing damage and destroyed buildings lie in rubble heaps. It is there in the faces of children, the desperation in the eyes of the mothers and the stooped shoulders of the men.
He hears Quatre sigh and sees that he moves to stand. Trowa steps closer, makes a slight noise in his throat, warning of his presence. Quatre's head turns and his smile is swift, but Trowa still sees the hints that are there. He is at Quatre's side; his hand rises to touch Quatre's face.
"Did I ever tell you I was here before?" Quatre asks, his voice so low Trowa almost doesn't hear it. "There was an old man who ran a shop there." Quatre nods his chin toward a broken pile of brick and boards.
Trowa barely glances, knowing well what he'd see. There is no wisdom he can share, no words to ease the pain. Instead, he captures Quatre's hand and holds it to his chest. He sees the despair in his eyes, and pulls Quatre from the block. His arms are around Quatre's body and he holds him as he had held his hand.
The sun is all but gone, and the night brings a light wind. Trowa lifts his face from Quatre's shoulder, his hand rises, and he touches his own cheek. Quatre steps back, gives him a wavering smile and Trowa shows him his fingertip.
"They are like crystal in space."