It was already midnight and Quatre still hadn't come out of his room. Mr. Barton came home, tired out from work and headed straight for his bedroom to catch some sleep. Trowa on the other hand, waited in his room until he knew that everyone was asleep. He had been drawing in pastels after he fixed himself a quick dinner. From there, he planned on making his way into Quatre's room to find the letter.
A flashlight in one hand and his driver's license in the other, Trowa tiptoed across the hallway and knelt down before the door to Quatre's room. He tried the knob to see if the smaller boy had unlocked it at anytime throughout the night. To his disappointment, the door was still locked. Trowa took his driver's license and carefully shoved it between the door and the wall. He had done this numerous times before when he accidentally locked the bathroom door. The door clicked open and Trowa crept into the room.
'Where did he put that letter?'
Trowa glanced at Quatre. He was in fact asleep on the bed. Quatre had changed into his pajamas, his clothes from earlier in a pile by the bed. Trowa clicked the flashlight on and directed it to the dresser. The letter was nowhere to be seen on the dresser so Trowa decided to look in one of the boxes. Nothing. He tried another box. Still nothing.
'Maybe it's under his pillow...'
Trowa walked over to the bed and very carefully slipped his hand under the pillow. Quatre stirred causing Trowa to freeze. Quatre made no other movements so Trowa kept feeling under the pillow to no avail.
"Dang..." Trowa sighed under his breath. His flashlight spotted a box near the bed. Trowa walked over to it and glanced at its contents. The envelope was slightly crumpled from their earlier experience with it.
"Yes!" Trowa whispered. He covered his mouth and glanced at Quatre. The blonde turned in his bed and slept on his side. Trowa let out a sigh of relief. He grabbed the letter and tiptoed off to his room, making sure to lock the door to Quatre's room.
Sitting at his desk, Trowa turned on his lamp and opened the envelope. He pulled out the weathered piece of paper and began to read.
Dear Trowa,
Hello. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. I'm an eight-year-old boy from Maine but now I live in California.
'Cute...' Trowa thought.
I didn't think I was gonna like it here. I thought it was gonna be hard to start over in a new place. But when your sister came up to me and my sister, I thought things wouldn't be so bad after all. You looked like real nice to get to know too. The only thing was that you were quiet.
'Some things don't change...' he smirked.
I thought it would be real nice to be your friend. I was gonna talk to you when we were walking behind our sisters but I guess I was too chicken to say anything to you. By the way, you have really nice eyes. They're lighter than your sister's eyes.
'What is it with him and my eyes?'
I was having a lot of fun with you and your family my first day. I think your dad's nice too. He's not like my dad. My dad is really strict.
'Tell me about it...'
Then that Richie guy came. I was pretty upset when you two left. I didn't even do anything to him and he just decided to call me names. Sure, I'm hardly perfect but that's no reason to pick on someone. When he made fun of me, all my sadness returned and I started to miss my friends all over again.
Do you know what it's like, Trowa? To be the new kid on the block? To be in a new neighborhood for less than an hour only to be picked on? It hurts. It hurts real bad. I cried that day. I still cry.
It's not my fault that I'm small. I was born to be small. I can't change that fact. Anyway, I thought that day was bad. No. The first day of school was worse. How was I supposed to know that answering a question was wrong? It's not. But when the school-yard bully got the answer wrong, you're not supposed to correct him. I learned that the hard way.
'That's why Ralph got mad? How stupid...'
Next thing I knew, I was at the hospital with Rashid since my dad doesn't care about what happened to me. I didn't want to go back to class. That's when I found a place for me to hide. I wish I could show you. I bet you'd like it there.
Trowa gave a slight smile. 'I love it there...'
My hand's starting to hurt so I guess I should finish this up. I really hope you have a wonderful life, Trowa. You seem like a really great guy. I know that you care about your friends cause I see how you stick with them all the time. I wish you and I could share a friendship like that. I know that it probably won't happen. But, it's nice to dream. Goodbye Trowa. I really hope for the best for you.
Your new neighbor,
Quatre Raberba Winner
"Wow..." Trowa whispered under his breath. Something dropped onto the piece of paper. A tear? The brown haired boy felt his cheek to see that he was crying.
'Oh Quatre...Even when I was a jerk, you were still wishing the best for me...Why? Why did you care when I didn't? Quatre...'
Trowa folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. After turning off his lamp, he walked out of his room and quietly made his way to Quatre's room. He knocked.
Quatre rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. 'Wha...' He sat up, walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it a bit.
"Trowa? It's 12...I think..."
Trowa stepped in and closed the door.
"Trowa? What's...you're crying...what happened?"
Trowa held up the letter in his hands. Quatre just stared at it.
"You read my letter?"
Trowa nodded. Quatre began to fidget.
"Uh. I was a kid. I was going through a phase...I think. What did I say?"
Trowa walked over to Quatre and hugged him. "You're a wonderful friend, Quatre. Even when you didn't know me, you were wonderful."
"Uh, Trowa?"
"I'm so sorry for being a jerk. If I could go back and change things, I would."
"Trowa, it's okay. I don't care about what happened back then."
"And that's why you're so wonderful."
The two hugged in silence for the next few minutes.
"Come on, Trowa. It's late. Let's go to sleep."
Trowa nodded upon Quatre's shoulder. They walked over to the bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Just a little chapter on forgiveness. Don't own, don't sue.