I don't own GW.

One Little Mistake

Chapter 4 – Over Analyzing the Human Heart

Quatre sighed heavily as he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. How long ago was it that he was so full of hope? So full of excitement about being so deeply in love? Hours? Nah, couldn't be. It couldn't have changed so much so quickly. What happened, then?

He shut his eyes tightly. He knew very well what happened. Not why it happened. That was far beyond him. He thought he had everything ready. He thought he was right in assessing Trowa's feelings towards him. Damn being empathic!

But he was wrong. How could he have been so wrong?

Blue eyes snapped open suddenly. Trowa. Trowa was out the door. Hesitating. Almost knocking, then retreating his hand. But he was still there. There was a mixture of feelings… guilt, regret, concern, sadness, and slight frustration which caused the next mix- more frustration, anger, and annoyance… but he was still there. Contemplating what to do.

Should he approach the boy? Should he call out to him? Or should the first move be Trowa's? He was the one to come there, after all…

But maybe now he was waiting…

Quatre shut his eyes again. He was over analyzing. Or was he? There was never over analyzing Trowa; being together taught the blond that much. But stil…

"Quatre?"

A small sigh escaped the Arab's lips. So he didn't have to make the first move.

"Trowa."

Silence again ensued. It was obvious the boy behind the door wanted Quatre to say more. Instead, the blond threw the ball back to Trowa's court.

"Can I come in?"

"Why not?"

"The door's locked."

"Really? That's a shame."

He didn't get up. He didn't make an attempt to reach out. Not that Quatre didn't want to, mind you. But he had too clear an image of what happened the night before. He tried to swallow a tear that threatened to fall.

"Quatre, we need to talk."

"Well, I think we talked more than enough last night. Sure there's anything left to be said?"

Trowa was silent.

"Quatre, don't do this."

"I'm tired. Good night, Trowa."

"Quatre!"

The blond curled up in the blanket, trying to ignore the voice he loved so.

"Quatre, open the door!"

No response.

"…I'm sorry. I really am."

It annoyed Quatre, much to the blond's dismay.

"Sorry won't cut it, Trowa."

He whispered so the other boy couldn't hear.

"I love you, Quatre. You know that."

A declaration of love from Trowa. Quatre clenched his fists, gripping the sheets tightly.

"You love me. You just can't touch me."

Again, a whisper.

"Quatre, please open up! I really need to talk to you!"

There was urgency in his voice, which caused Quatre to sit up and stare at the door. He could sense Trowa's need to talk. But what could he possibly say to make things better? Sure, it was childish to hold a grudge. But every time the blond tried to run the conversation in his head, the feeling kept getting more and more bitter.

"…I don't feel like it."

The Arab boy half spat at the closed door, and he suddenly got a wave of hurt, before it was replaced with anger and more frustration.

"Well then. Good night, Quatre."

"Night, Trowa."

It was hard not to cry.

Morning came to find the atmosphere even worse than the day before. Wufei and Duo were already present when Quatre came in, an obviously forced smile on his face.

"Morning."

"Morning."

The Arab took some of the pancakes Duo made and sat down next to Wufei, glancing around rather nervously.

"Trowa left."

It was obvious Quatre relaxed, but he tensed as well at same time.

"Mission?"

"Yep."

"I see…"

It took Duo a whole five minutes before he broke his silence. Wufei was proud.

"So what was it about last night? Trowa giving a speech in front of your door?"

"I was asleep."

"You yelled at Trowa in your sleep?"

The brief pause in the blond's movements was enough to let on the boy had something to hide.

"Maybe you're hearing things."

"Doubt it."

A seemingly careless shrug. Both other pilots knew much better.

"Pass the syrup, please."

Wufei did as he was asked and took the opportunity to look into Quatre's eyes. His bands were all over the place, as though to provide a physical barrier. But he still got a glimpse. Blue orbs were worn out; tired; distressed. He needed help. Either that, or he needed Trowa.

"Let me know if you're going to play your violin today."

A blink.

"Why's that, Wufei?"

"So I know not to meditate."

A wince.

"It's gotten that bad?"

"Nope. Even worse."

Duo was kind enough to contribute.

"Well, excuse me for having a bad day."

"You never have bad days, Quatre. Just less good ones."

"Guess there's a first time for anything, eh?"

Wufei and Duo exchanged worried looks, but it was obvious they wouldn't be getting anything out of their friend.

"There's a new punching bag in the basement, if you like."

The Chinese found small relief in the fact Quatre was actually considering it.

"Really?! A new punching bag?! That's great! I can't wait to try it…"

Duo's enthusiastic outburst was cooled off by a glare from the Nataku pilot.

"But, of course, I have tons of… stuff, to do, so, all yours, Q!"

Quatre blinked, but both his friends resumed eating. He opted to do the same as they seemed to have dropped the subject. For now.

It was about noon when Quatre came down to the basement… and almost lost his head. Wufei blinked and put the katana away, blushing lightly.

"You know, we have a wide back yard. You could just…"

"No. No, I'm ok. My apologies, Winner."

"That's ok, I guess. Everything's still in one piece. I hope."

Quatre said, teasingly feeling for his face.

"I see. So…"

The Chinese boy kept a watchful eye on his friend as the blond started to lightly punch the bag.

"…You came to hit something?"

"I guess."

"Care to share?"

"You've been spending waaay too much time with Duo."

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid."

Another punch, harder this time.

"You're getting soft, Chang."

He tilted his head only momentarily, and so, missed the bag coming back to hit him.

"Quatre!"

Wufei rushed to his side and could almost see the stars that went flying around Quatre's head.

"You ok?"

"I… I guess."

"Ok, up on your feet. Come on, up."

He helped the blond up until he balanced.

"Maybe I should help you."

Wufei stood behind the bag and held it firmly.

"Go on. Punch it."

Punch.

"You just ate, Winner. You can do better than this."

Punch.

"Come on, you're tickling it! Don't be a weak onna!"

Punch.

"That's better. Now I just almost felt it."

Punch.

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots here. What did Barton do to you, anyways?"

This caused Quatre to start a series of punches, each stronger than the other.

"Oh, we're getting somewhere now! So what happened between you and your lover boy, huh?!"

The final punch sent Wufei backwards, and Quatre to his knees, his fists clenched, tears threatening to fall. He began muttering things which Wufei could only understand glimpses of.

"Should've known better." "Trowa." "Love me." "Not good enough…"

The Chinese kneeled next to his friend, placing a hand on Quatre's shoulder, which the Arab shook away. Something snapped in Wufei. Sure, Quatre was the emotional one of the five, you might say. But that wasn't like him. That wasn't him. This… weak being. This almost pathetic thing.

"Quatre, look at me."

Another incoherent sob.

"Quatre…"

Gently taking the blond's chin in his hand, Wufei turned Quatre's tearful face to stare into his calm expression.

"Look at me."

Eye contact was made, and the act that followed surprised both boys. Wufei leaned forward until their lips met. Quatre gasped in shock, yet he didn't push away. If anything, he leaned into it.

The two slowly broke apart after a few minutes, The blond blinking like mad.

"Wu, Wufei…"

"I don't want to see you like that, Quatre."

He said, wiping a tear from the other's face.

"I want to help you get strong again."

Speechless, shocked, scared… excited… Quatre nodded as he wrapped his arms around Wufei and buried his face in the Chinese boy's shoulder.

"Please help me."

"It'll be my pleasure."