Title: When the Nightmares are Real (Part 2)
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 2:
As people pushed through the relatively narrow hallways getting to class, Trowa paused to say hello to a teacher he had had the year before. There was a teacher like her in every school. Someone that people trusted and could go to when things went weird.
"Mrs. L.B.[1]?" he paused, waiting for her to finish talking to a student. It was his free period, and hers too. "Can we talk?"
"Yes, or course. Are you ok?" The teacher motioned for Trowa to take a seat across from her desk. Once he was seated she motioned for him to talk, giving him his time.
"I am. But Quatre isn't. He's been having nightmares since he got here last year. But it's not just that. He finally told me what he always dreams of last night." Trowa shifted nervously in the seat, betraying only slightly the uneasiness that ate up his mind.
"I don't know what to do. He's so hurt, and I can't do anything to ease his pain but just sit there and hold him."
Mrs. L.B. looked at Trowa, surprised. He hardly ever showed this much emotion, being naturally very reserved and introspective. She knew that he experienced strong emotions, but few others did. Now there was a look of anguish in his eyes that spoke volumes about what he cared for the blonde boy he was so worried about. It worried her.
It was a moment before she replied. "Trowa, you have to be there for him. That's all you can do right now. Oh, and tell him that you care. That will mean the world to him."
"But what if he's not." Trowa trailed off. It was his worst fear, that he would care for someone and they wouldn't care for him in the same way, or even be reviled by his feelings.
"Does it really matter? You will still care for him, that won't change. And I have a feeling he might just be what you are looking for."
----------------------- [1] My eighth grade English teacher. Now she teaches high school English where my best friend goes to school. This woman is amazing. She really will just sit there and listen no matter what. You wouldn't believe how many times I skipped gym to talk to her.
Part 2:
As people pushed through the relatively narrow hallways getting to class, Trowa paused to say hello to a teacher he had had the year before. There was a teacher like her in every school. Someone that people trusted and could go to when things went weird.
"Mrs. L.B.[1]?" he paused, waiting for her to finish talking to a student. It was his free period, and hers too. "Can we talk?"
"Yes, or course. Are you ok?" The teacher motioned for Trowa to take a seat across from her desk. Once he was seated she motioned for him to talk, giving him his time.
"I am. But Quatre isn't. He's been having nightmares since he got here last year. But it's not just that. He finally told me what he always dreams of last night." Trowa shifted nervously in the seat, betraying only slightly the uneasiness that ate up his mind.
"I don't know what to do. He's so hurt, and I can't do anything to ease his pain but just sit there and hold him."
Mrs. L.B. looked at Trowa, surprised. He hardly ever showed this much emotion, being naturally very reserved and introspective. She knew that he experienced strong emotions, but few others did. Now there was a look of anguish in his eyes that spoke volumes about what he cared for the blonde boy he was so worried about. It worried her.
It was a moment before she replied. "Trowa, you have to be there for him. That's all you can do right now. Oh, and tell him that you care. That will mean the world to him."
"But what if he's not." Trowa trailed off. It was his worst fear, that he would care for someone and they wouldn't care for him in the same way, or even be reviled by his feelings.
"Does it really matter? You will still care for him, that won't change. And I have a feeling he might just be what you are looking for."
----------------------- [1] My eighth grade English teacher. Now she teaches high school English where my best friend goes to school. This woman is amazing. She really will just sit there and listen no matter what. You wouldn't believe how many times I skipped gym to talk to her.