Title: When the Nightmares are Real (Part 1)
Author: Sphynx
Rating: PG now, probably worse later
Pairings: 3x4.Isn't it obvious? What do I always write about?
Author's notes: Hmm, I really should stop with the whole nightmares make
good stories. You'll learn why later *grins evilly*
Part 1: Sunrise
The next day the sun rose quietly to filter through the thick glass panes on the window to find two upright figures in Quatre's bed. Trowa was awake, keeping his silent vigil on the sleeping form he held ever so carefully, but awkwardly at the same time. He felt honored to be entrusted with the care of such an angel, his best friend. He had known there was something horrible in Quatre's past, but before Trowa had never gotten Quatre to tell him why he had such horrible nightmares. But the night before had been different. As they sat, Quatre drinking his tea, still shaking from time to time, Trowa watchful and careful.
It wasn't the first time he had heard the Quatre's desperate screams as he awoke from a nightmare. When they had first come to school, they had lived on the same hall. Quatre had managed to scare away his roommate in the first couple of weeks after a couple of really bad nightmares that had woken him screaming and leaving him sleepless and shaken. It was then that Trowa had realized that Quatre needed someone. He didn't know what to do except go to see if the young boy was all right. Soon his visits after he heard Quatre's screams had become routine. He had learned that chamomile soothed Quatre's worst terrors into something manageable. It had fallen into a routine. Trowa would slip in as quietly as he could, make tea, and sit with Quatre until morning.
Before Trowa could never get Quatre to tell him what the nightmares were about. Until the night before when he had called him kitten it had always been he and Quatre sitting up until the sun rose and a new day began, silent. Quatre's nickname had always been Cat. It was too easy with him looking like a scared kitten just to let the name slip. Quatre had cried that night, as he told the story of his childhood. His father's soldiers were what haunted him. After seeing his sisters unjustly persecuted for having "western" ideas and his father blame him for his mother's death, the men in his father's honor guard had become terrifying nightmares to the young boy. All this had come out as Trowa quietly listened to every word.
And now they sat on the bed, Quatre asleep on Trowa's shoulder and Trowa awake and ever watchful. It was the first time Quatre had been able to fall asleep after one of his nightmares.
Part 1: Sunrise
The next day the sun rose quietly to filter through the thick glass panes on the window to find two upright figures in Quatre's bed. Trowa was awake, keeping his silent vigil on the sleeping form he held ever so carefully, but awkwardly at the same time. He felt honored to be entrusted with the care of such an angel, his best friend. He had known there was something horrible in Quatre's past, but before Trowa had never gotten Quatre to tell him why he had such horrible nightmares. But the night before had been different. As they sat, Quatre drinking his tea, still shaking from time to time, Trowa watchful and careful.
It wasn't the first time he had heard the Quatre's desperate screams as he awoke from a nightmare. When they had first come to school, they had lived on the same hall. Quatre had managed to scare away his roommate in the first couple of weeks after a couple of really bad nightmares that had woken him screaming and leaving him sleepless and shaken. It was then that Trowa had realized that Quatre needed someone. He didn't know what to do except go to see if the young boy was all right. Soon his visits after he heard Quatre's screams had become routine. He had learned that chamomile soothed Quatre's worst terrors into something manageable. It had fallen into a routine. Trowa would slip in as quietly as he could, make tea, and sit with Quatre until morning.
Before Trowa could never get Quatre to tell him what the nightmares were about. Until the night before when he had called him kitten it had always been he and Quatre sitting up until the sun rose and a new day began, silent. Quatre's nickname had always been Cat. It was too easy with him looking like a scared kitten just to let the name slip. Quatre had cried that night, as he told the story of his childhood. His father's soldiers were what haunted him. After seeing his sisters unjustly persecuted for having "western" ideas and his father blame him for his mother's death, the men in his father's honor guard had become terrifying nightmares to the young boy. All this had come out as Trowa quietly listened to every word.
And now they sat on the bed, Quatre asleep on Trowa's shoulder and Trowa awake and ever watchful. It was the first time Quatre had been able to fall asleep after one of his nightmares.