"Hello?" Trowa said into the receiver.
"Well hello, Trowa." Came the cocky reply. "How are you this fine afternoon?"
'Taylor…' Trowa growled. "What do you want, Quinn?"
Taylor laughed. "I want to speak with my boyfriend. Hand it over."
"Well, too bad. Quatre's not here."
"Bullshit. Give him the phone."
Trowa was growing highly impatient. "I told you. He's not here."
"That's crap, Barton, and you know it. This is just a pathetic attempt for you in keeping Quatre all to yourself. But it's not gonna work. He's mine."
"Listen, Quinn. I'm telling you the truth. Quatre's not here. He-"
"JUST GIVE HIM THE DAMN PHONE! I want to talk to him."
"I TOLD you. He's not here! Why the hell would I pick up the fuckin' phone if he were, dammit?!"
"I'll tell you why. Like I said, it's just your stupid attempt to keep him to your pathetic little self. I can see right through you. You want him. But you can't have him. I've got Quatre wrapped around my finger. He practically worships me. I'll have that little white ass of his soon enough. Just you wait."
"Fuck you, Taylor. Quatre's just some sex toy for you isn't he? That's all you want."
"Damn straight. But even if you tell him, he won't believe you. He'll think you're just being mean and overprotective. He'll probably cry and come crawling to me where I'll be waiting to comfort him." Taylor laughed.
Just then, Quatre stepped in but Trowa didn't notice.
"Listen you dumb fuck! If you hurt him in anyway, I swear to God that I'll tear your throat out with my bare HANDS!" Trowa slammed the phone down and marched off into his studio.
'Whoa…what was that about?'
The phone rang again and this time Quatre picked up. Before he could say 'hello', the voice came on yelling.
"You really are pathetic, Trowa Barton! You can't even take a phone call like a man! You have to hang up before you can take a whack right back at you!"
"Taylor?" Quatre said. 'Trowa was yelling at Taylor? Why?'
"Oh, shit. Quatre. Sorry. I thought Trowa picked up. He told me you weren't there."
"I just got home a second ago."
"Oh. I guess he was telling the truth, then. Oops." Taylor chuckled.
"What happened?"
"Nothing to worry about, love. So what time should I pick you up tonight?"
"Huh? Oh. Um, I don't feel like going out tonight, Taylor."
"What? Why not?"
"I'm pretty tired."
"Come on, Quatre. You'll feel better when you're with me."
Quatre chuckled. "Hmmm. I'm really tired and I'm still trying to finish my song. I'll just see you some other time, okay?"
"Fine, fine. I love you, Quatre."
"Hmmm…yeah…Bye, Taylor." The blonde hung up the phone.
Quatre walked over to Trowa's studio and gave a soft knock.
No answer.
"Trowa?"
Still no answer.
Quatre opened the door slowly and poked his head in. Trowa was sitting on a stool in front of his easel, like a week before. Quatre noticed that on the canvas wasn't a picture of something, rather an abstract painting, obviously signifying Trowa's rage. Quatre stepped in and quietly closed the door.
"I don't understand how you can put up with him." Trowa growled.
"He's very nice and gentle when we're together. I'm sorry…"
Trowa put the paintbrush and palette down on his side table. He looked at the smaller boy who still stood by the door as if to run through it if anything bad happened. 'Oh Quatre…' "There's nothing to be sorry about. I just had an argument with Taylor. A heated argument. And that's between him and me so you have nothing to be sorry for."
Quatre bit his lip. Then, he walked over to Trowa and wrapped his arms around the taller boy's torso.
Trowa, at first, was surprised with the action but soon recovered to return the gesture.
"Hmmm…" Quatre thought out loud.
"What?"
"Trowa, do you have something to tell me?"
"Huh? What do you mean?" Trowa looked in to Quatre's aqua eyes.
'Just tell me, Trowa. Please just tell me…' "If you have anything to say, I'm here to listen."
"Ummm…" Trowa blinked. 'Should I tell him how I feel? But he's in love with Taylor…not me…' "There's nothing."
"Are you sure?" 'Come on, Trowa…'
"Positive."
Quatre sighed and stepped away from Trowa. "All right. I guess I'll leave you to your painting. If you need me, I'll be across the hall."
"Okay…"
Quatre left the art studio and stepped into his music studio. He pulled out his violin, the one that Trowa had given him so many years ago. Quatre began to play the song he was currently composing.
'Oh Trowa…why can't you tell me? Maybe you did change your mind…maybe you really don't love me…that's it isn't it…'
Quatre shut his eyes to fight off the on-coming tears.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I do not own the GW boys nor do I own Taylor.
Battle, battle...I'm sorry Quatre! Don't cry! I know you all wanted Trowa to just spit out, "I love you, Quatre!! Love me and only me!!" But that's so unlike him, don't you think?