Chapter Five

Trowa sighed at his thoughts and looked down at the piece of paper he was doodling on.

/Hm, it's strange how our innermost thoughts can be revealed through art./ Confusion was what most people would see, and frustration. The images before him reflected Trowa's mind at the moment so accurately it was frightening.

Except one.

It stood out from the rest.

An angel, in the centre of the paper, its golden locks and pure white feathers floating on a gentle breeze. Surrounded by chaos.

Trowa looked up at the figure at the front of the room with their art teacher Mr. Weaver. /I wonder what Odin meant about him?/ Trowa studied Quatre's graceful movements. /Who cares what he meant, Odin's just being a prick. I wonder what his problem is? Is it just because of Duo, or is there something more?/ Trowa shrugged at his thoughts and returned his attention to his paper.

This wasn't what they were supposed to be doing, but it was art class, shouldn't any form of art be acceptable? Trowa studied the images again and noticed a tiny picture of a yellow rose in the upper right corner of the page.

~~"Why do I have to go too?" Trowa pouted sulkily, making him look even younger than his eight years of age.

"Because I have to go somewhere sweetie," his mother replied, cleaning off a smudge of dirt from his cheek with her finger. "Mr. Winner already agreed to look after you too."

"It'll be fun Trowa," Catherine smiled at her younger brother. "Iria has a little brother too, I'll bet he'll love to play with you."

"Yeah right," Trowa muttered under his breath, resigned to the fact that he was not going to get out of this.

Ten minutes later, Catherine was standing on the Winner's porch ringing the doorbell with a sullen little brother standing beside her. "I'll get it!" Trowa could hear Iria's voice echoing through the house. The door was flung open and Iria squealed as she saw her guests. "Cathy!" She hugged the brunette excitedly. "I'm so glad you can stay! And Trowa!" She leapt on the small boy without any warning. He squirmed and tried to pull away but the golden haired girl wouldn't let him. "Come on, let's go out to the backyard." Iria grabbed Catherine's hand and dragged her through the house.

"Bye Trowa," his mother called out from the car. "Be a good boy." Trowa scowled and didn't wave as she drove off. This was not going to be a pleasant day.

"Konichiwa," a cheerful voice called from the doorway. Trowa turned around to see a smiling boy with pale blond locks of hair and huge aqua eyes. Trowa recognised him from school, he'd seen him around the playground a few times.

"Koni what?"

"Konichiwa, it means 'good afternoon'."

"But it's still morning." Trowa was staring at the small boy with a kawaii look of confusion.

"I know." Quatre grinned and walked back inside. Trowa stood on the porch scratching his head for bit then sighed and entered the house. /This is going to be a long day./

Trowa sighed. The girls were boring. It had been an hour since Rashid, Iria and Quatre's babysitter, had served them lunch and still, he'd had no fun all day. Quatre was no where to be seen and now the girls were sitting and putting icky pink goo on their faces and nails. Trowa sighed again, drawing his sister's attention.

"What's wrong Tro?"

"I'm bored." Trowa narrowed his eyes at the evil glint in his sister's eyes. He knew what that look meant. "That's why I'm going to go play with Quatre, in his room or something, not down here with you and your make-up. Uh … bye." Trowa ran out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He jumped up the stairs and ran into the first room he found and slammed the door behind him.

"Trowa?" He spun around to see Quatre sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, a violin in his hands.

"Hi, uh … what ya doin'?" Even to an eight-year-old it sounded lame. Quatre just looked at his guest funnily.

"Playing the violin. Are Iria and Catherine playing dress-ups, or are they putting on make-up?"

"Make-up. So have they used you for their evil experiments too?"

Quatre nodded. "Wanna play with me?" This must have been a music room, there was also a piano in one corner and a huge array of woodwind instruments in cabinets along the walls.

"I don't know how."

"Oh. I could teach you."

"Really?" Trowa walked over to one cabinet and pulled out a flute. "Can I play this?"

"Sure." Quatre jumped off his seat and grabbed a second flute and proceeded to give Trowa his first flute lesson.

Soon, the sky grew darker and it came closer to the time when Trowa and Catherine would have to leave.

"Here." Trowa looked around at Quatre who had followed him out to his car after his mother had arrived. She was talking with Rashid on the porch. Cathy and Iria were trying to convince the two to have Iria sleep over.

"What's this?" It was obvious what it was, but Trowa didn't understand why Quatre was giving him this.

"It's so you can practice."

"Thank you." Trowa was honestly touched, but he would never let anyone else know that. He held the flute tightly to his chest.

"You can have this too." Quatre broke off a yellow rose from the huge bush in his front yard. "Dorothy told me that red is for romance and yellow is for friendship."

"You want me to be your friend."

"If you want to be. You don't have to, I have lots of friends and so do you, but if you ever wanted another one I could be your friend."

"Thank you." Trowa got in the car. "Good bye Quatre."

"Sayonara Trowa." Quatre waved to him and bounced back into his house with a merry grin.

/It's strange,/ Trowa thought as he drove home alone with his mother, /but I've talked more today with Quatre than I have with other strangers./ He looked down at the rose and the flute. /Quatre's nice, I wonder if he really did want to be friends./~~

Trowa smiled slightly at the memory. It was unfortunate, he thought, thinking back, that he and Quatre didn't become close friends, but they had a mutual like for each other that was in some ways better than a flighty childhood friendship. Trowa would always remember Quatre's kindness to him as he still had the flute in his room and the flower had been pressed and turned into his first artwork. It was hanging on his wall in his room, but no one knew the significance of it, not even Odin, one of his closest friends. No one had ever asked.

Trowa frowned suddenly. Odin. He didn't know what was wrong with his friend lately. /Could it be jealousy?/ Trowa shook his head. No, Odin would have been blunter in his dislike of Quatre if it were jealousy, so what was his problem?

"Trowa?" Trowa looked up at Mr. Weaver.

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you help Quatre carry this box up to the front storage room?"

"Sure." Trowa got up and walked to the front of the room and lifted one side of the large heavy box, making sure Quatre had a firm grip on the other end before he started moving out of the room.

"You looked lost in thought back in the art room." Trowa glanced at Quatre across the box to se him smiling curiously. "Anything troubling you?"

"No." Trowa was silent for a minute before he decided to speak up. "I was thinking about the past."

"Oh?" Trowa was actually instigating a conversation? This was very unusual behaviour.

Trowa smiled at the blond boy, not realising that his action caused swarms of butterflies to flutter in the other boy's stomach. "Yeah, I was actually thinking about the first time I met you. So you remember?"

Quatre's smile seemed to dazzle and light up the hallway. "Hai, but I'm surprised that you would remember."

"I remember more than most people would think. Have you ever had regrets about the way things happened in the past?"

"A little, but I like how things are now. I'm happy, I have friends, good grades, a loving family." Quatre looked up, a bit worried by the question. "What about you?"

"I regret some things, but not much." They reached the storage room and cut off their conversation while Quatre got the key that Mr. Weaver gave him from his pocket and opened the door so they could put the extra supplies in the room. Quatre closed the door again and looked at Trowa, not missing a beat in their conversation.

"What do you regret Trowa?"

Trowa looked into those aqua depths and knew exactly what it was he regretted the most. "I regret not being friends with you." He offered Quatre a small smile.

Quatre looked stunned. "There's no reason why you can't be." He returned the solemn boy's smile and started walking back to the art room.

Trowa studied the retreating boy. /Is it really that easy for him? Say we're friends and we are?/ He though about it and realised that perhaps that's all that's needed to be friends, an informal acceptance of each other. /Maybe I'm too serious for my own good. This should be an enlightening experience,/ Trowa thought wryly as he followed Quatre back.

They were passing by the administration office when Trowa heard a familiar beeping noise.

"Damn!" Quatre hissed softly rushing past the office. "I forgot I had it on." He grabbed his mobile from his pocket and answered it. "Hai?" Trowa had to stifle a giggle at the sight of Quatre glancing around nervously for a teacher while he talked on his phone. They weren't supposed to have them at school.

"Wufei? How are you? I haven't heard from you in a while." Quatre stopped glancing around, now totally absorbed in the conversation. Trowa decided to keep a lookout for him. He noticed an empty classroom nearby and gestured for Quatre to enter.

"Wufei? What's wrong?" Trowa turned from the door after he closed it and noticed the worried expression on Quatre's face. Quatre paled and a horrified look passed over his features. "Oh no," he whispered before his eyes rolled up in the back of his head.

Trowa caught him before he hit his head on a desk, but the phone slipped to the floor. "Quatre? Quatre!" Trowa shook him lightly then laid him down on the floor, checking his breathing and heartbeat. "He fainted," he finally concluded. It was then that he remembered the phone.

#Hello? Quat? What the hell is going on?! Quatre!#

#Wufei?# Trowa picked up the phone.

#Who's this?#

#Wufei, it's Trowa Barton, I'm with Quatre, he passed out. What happened?#

#Can you make sure Quatre's all right and get a hold of Iria?#

#Sure, but tell me, why was Quatre so upset?#

There was a long pause. #Dorothy Catalonia was in a serious accident, she's in ICU.#