Ok. Thanks to:
Nanashi's DreamBerry, Lisa, Kat (Lady Dragonnaine), Soon to be world renown Gracie, and Anime Writer2.
I'm a bit odd, so this whole fic will be using "My Grown-Up Christmas List" and it will also all be backwards. As in, that first chapter is the end, and we are now working backwards towards the beginning.
Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING mentioned here that is not mine! As in, I don't own Gundam Wing, etc., etc.
Warnings: Uh...yaoi, duh. And confusion. Lots of that. Please, be patient. It should make more sense later on...
Now, since I have to do homework, worry about a math, Spanish and band test, this will take me a while to post...Heck, who's still reading this authors note crap? I know I wouldn't be. Sheesh. I should stop typing this part, shouldn't I? Ok then.
Eep, almost forgot. Reviews.
S.T.B.W.R. Gracie: I will show Trowa dying in here somewhere...donât worry about that...Although I DO worry slightly about you. Wanting to see Trowa die? Ooooook...
Lisasa: ...What to say to Lisa...er...HI! I have found a picture of Oliver Wood in a toga. Do you want it?
Kat: Yes, you told me that before in an e-mail. And I have your jacket and Hogwarts shirt.
Nanashi's Dreamberry: Very cool name. I just figured it out(yes, Iâm a bit slow...). *bows* You were the first person to review. I worship you. *shows shrine*
Anime Writer2: Thanks for the review! And the complement!
***
~Thereâd be no more lives torn apart...~
//The funeral was yesterday. It was yesterday and I broke my promise. I said I would give it back, that mask that meant everything to him. It was just a mask, but then...then it changed. _I_ changed. It's my fault. I know it's my fault and I don't think I will ever come to terms with that. I don't think I can.//
Quatre padded down the empty hall of his current safehouse, bare feet making no noise as they hit the cold floor. He pause outside the door next to the one bathroom, then continued on his way.
//It's the memories that make it hard. I would almost like it better if I could forget all of it. But then, that would mean forgetting him, too. Why did it have to be now, just now that I am so confused? Before, it was all clear as glass. Now, now I don't know what I would have wanted. But I know it's not this.//
He pushed open a door at the very end of the hall and walked into a living room of sorts. It had a sofa and a small area that could serve as a kitchen. He walked over to a small pile of boxes standing in a corner.
//Like I said, it's the memories. But I have a chance. I have a chance to make it all right. One last, desperate chance. A slim one, but a chance. If I can only find it...//
He began searching the top box, then the middle, then the bottom.
//I can't find it! It must be here, somewhere...It should be here. I put it here. Where is it!? I know he said something. That's what makes it hard. Not remembering. It's as bad as the memories. I know he said something...something about it. What was it?//
Giving up, he repackaged the items, precious articles, pieces of a time, showing what could have been. A green turtleneck, a photo album, a letter that had been ripped in half and taped together again. An interwoven piece of hair, blonde and brown weaving in and out in an intricate dance. All things that were lost, and if this important mission not completed, lost forever.
//I need to find it. But to find it, I need to remember. What did he say? I _need_ to remember! Trowa, I promise, I will come through, if I can just remember...//
Running randomly through the house, the boy went back to his bedroom, where he had come from before going down the hall, to the living room. After ransacking the house with no effect, he sat down on his bed. Stretching out on the mattress, he thought that maybe he would be able to remember if he could just relax a little, just take it easy. As he was getting comfortable, he placed his hand on something hard. Hard, wooden and comforting. And he remembered.
Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING mentioned here that is not mine! As in, I don't own Gundam Wing, etc., etc.
Warnings: Uh...yaoi, duh. And confusion. Lots of that. Please, be patient. It should make more sense later on...
Now, since I have to do homework, worry about a math, Spanish and band test, this will take me a while to post...Heck, who's still reading this authors note crap? I know I wouldn't be. Sheesh. I should stop typing this part, shouldn't I? Ok then.
Eep, almost forgot. Reviews.
S.T.B.W.R. Gracie: I will show Trowa dying in here somewhere...donât worry about that...Although I DO worry slightly about you. Wanting to see Trowa die? Ooooook...
Lisasa: ...What to say to Lisa...er...HI! I have found a picture of Oliver Wood in a toga. Do you want it?
Kat: Yes, you told me that before in an e-mail. And I have your jacket and Hogwarts shirt.
Nanashi's Dreamberry: Very cool name. I just figured it out(yes, Iâm a bit slow...). *bows* You were the first person to review. I worship you. *shows shrine*
Anime Writer2: Thanks for the review! And the complement!
***
~Thereâd be no more lives torn apart...~
//The funeral was yesterday. It was yesterday and I broke my promise. I said I would give it back, that mask that meant everything to him. It was just a mask, but then...then it changed. _I_ changed. It's my fault. I know it's my fault and I don't think I will ever come to terms with that. I don't think I can.//
Quatre padded down the empty hall of his current safehouse, bare feet making no noise as they hit the cold floor. He pause outside the door next to the one bathroom, then continued on his way.
//It's the memories that make it hard. I would almost like it better if I could forget all of it. But then, that would mean forgetting him, too. Why did it have to be now, just now that I am so confused? Before, it was all clear as glass. Now, now I don't know what I would have wanted. But I know it's not this.//
He pushed open a door at the very end of the hall and walked into a living room of sorts. It had a sofa and a small area that could serve as a kitchen. He walked over to a small pile of boxes standing in a corner.
//Like I said, it's the memories. But I have a chance. I have a chance to make it all right. One last, desperate chance. A slim one, but a chance. If I can only find it...//
He began searching the top box, then the middle, then the bottom.
//I can't find it! It must be here, somewhere...It should be here. I put it here. Where is it!? I know he said something. That's what makes it hard. Not remembering. It's as bad as the memories. I know he said something...something about it. What was it?//
Giving up, he repackaged the items, precious articles, pieces of a time, showing what could have been. A green turtleneck, a photo album, a letter that had been ripped in half and taped together again. An interwoven piece of hair, blonde and brown weaving in and out in an intricate dance. All things that were lost, and if this important mission not completed, lost forever.
//I need to find it. But to find it, I need to remember. What did he say? I _need_ to remember! Trowa, I promise, I will come through, if I can just remember...//
Running randomly through the house, the boy went back to his bedroom, where he had come from before going down the hall, to the living room. After ransacking the house with no effect, he sat down on his bed. Stretching out on the mattress, he thought that maybe he would be able to remember if he could just relax a little, just take it easy. As he was getting comfortable, he placed his hand on something hard. Hard, wooden and comforting. And he remembered.