Well as it turns out, I haven't passed out from work, so I'm putting this up. (Wufei isn't dead. ) It's a little longer than the last one, and I'm so happy I got reviews Thank you!

His fingers traced gently over the keys as he played. His eyes were closed but he knew where every key was that played every note. A lot of the neighbors asked him why he was playing this song in particular over and over. He usually changed the subject. They asked if it was the Chinese boy. He laughed.

"His name was Wufei. He was just a good friend. He left to get his own place because he met a girl. It was usually him playing the piano, because I only know how to play depressing songs," he would joke if they persisted. In truth he was an artist. He could only paint when he was depressed, when he was sad… It was the only time he thought his work came out truly great. How could he tell anyone that though? He finished the song and closed the piano. He had to find a model.

He was always looking for blondes, but none replaced Zechs. Zechs was a man of 22 compared to his 17 then. They spent a year together, and he had made millions off the paintings. It wasn't the money he wanted, it was the model. He had been seduced, been used and hurt. Wufei helped him move to a new city in a new state and had lived with him for almost 2 years. He was nearly 21 now. He put on his black trench coat and pulled the collar up, sinking his head down so it covered his ears. It looked like it was snowing outside, but he hated to use scarves.

He figured he would get a cup of hot chocolate at the coffee place a few blocks away and look for a model. There were always a lot of girls looking to model, but he thought it was mostly to sleep with the more famous artists around these parts. A lot of popular contemporary artists made their homes in New York City, perhaps that's why Wufei had taken him here? Los Angeles was a lot different. It was always warm…

He thought back to meeting Zechs at the beach. He was lying in a thong on a towel in the sun. He was a beautiful guy, long white blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, soft seductive voice, muscular body… He was a perfect model. The one he wanted to try in several mediums. He had half smiled when he'd asked, but agreed to come. On their 4th week he'd started taking off his clothes. It wasn't the first time, but that was too painful to think about. He thought about one of the times later on that Zechs had seduced him…

"It's always so warm in here," Zechs said.

"It's not as easy to sketch or paint when the A.C. is on," he replied.

"Do you get too stiff?" Zechs whispered into his ear from behind. Zechs was a good two feet taller than him and he sensed the desire.

"My fingers, when they're cold, I can't really work," he whispered back, swallowing hard.

"You must be hot too," the older man whispered, running his fingers down his chest, unbuttoning each button slowly. Zechs received no resistance and they fucked many times after that as well as a couple of times before. Zechs even started staying longer and longer after this time though, sleeping over after the sketching was done. But then one day Zechs stopped coming. His work turned dark and he almost killed himself. Wufei stepped in and took him to New York.

He wanted to find the perfect model and destroy him. He wanted to mar the innocence of a blonde with his paint. To destroy the beauty in him and make something dark that reflected his feelings, his hatred and pain for Zechs… His paintings of Zechs in pastels and pencil had sold decent. It was the dark paintings he'd done after Zechs had left that had ensured his future in the field. He had gotten decent money to live off of from earlier things, things from high school that had gotten awards and various recognitions, but this was different.

They had put all his paintings in a gallery and held a show. All the pieces were sold within two hours of the opening. He hadn't stayed to talk with or discuss any of his art. He didn't feel the need. His thoughts, emotions, explanations lay inside the paintings, and if they couldn't feel it they didn't deserve them. He got a check and he and Wufei had moved to a cozy apartment building on the outskirts of the big part of the city. They taught each other their talents. When Wufei had his piano shipped over, it would not fit in their small home. They moved right into the city into a decent building that encouraged the arts. A lot of actors and actresses that performed the plays in the theatres on Broadway and the like were in the building. Others were just rich students attending art school at their parents' request. Others still were attending music schools.

He cared nothing for all that. He only cared in convincing Wufei that he was mentally stable. Enough so, to be living alone. The last painting in the set from L.A. had a lot of red. He had cut himself across the chest and used the blood to create his masterpiece. If that piece didn't reach out to people, he wasn't sure what would. It easily made the most money. Wufei had caught him finishing that one and cleaned him up. He decided the best thing to do was get out of L.A. Truth be told, he didn't feel much different, and he was still depressed over Zechs.

A girl from behind the counter nodded at him, and got his hot chocolate ready for him. He sat at a small table close to the cash register. He normally sat on the stools at the table against the wall on the far end of the shop, but all the seats were taken today.

"I would've saved a seat for you if I'd known you were coming," the girl said. Her nametag said Hilde. She was always bright and cheery, always going out of her way to try and make him smile. Often time she succeeded and they talked about the weather or about someone famous being in the city. "You know, you still haven't told me your name," she said putting the cup down with extra marshmallows.

"You never told me yours," he replied, sipping the aromatic drink. Just the smell made him feel warm inside. It had only been snowing lightly, but it was still freezing outside.

"That's true, but I have a name tag. Most of these other guys in here, they don't tell me either, just tell me names of their paintings. They don't usually turn out famous or anything, just egotistical," Hilde replied.

"Trowa Barton," Trowa offered her with a hand. Hilde stared for a moment.

"Are you a painter?" Hilde asked. Trowa nodded slowly, not understanding how she was acting. It's not like he considered himself anything special. "I've got a friend, Catherine that lives in L.A."

"My sister," Trowa mused. It would figure she'd get brought up. When he was in middle school and she was in high school, their parents had split up. His mother took him and his father 

had taken her. His mom changed their names back to her maiden name to spite him and kept them from seeing each other. He was afraid that Catherine would be ashamed of him if she knew what he'd done, and more so that he was gay…

"She said she went to that exhibit so she could talk with you. She wanted to keep in touch, because she was sure you'd be going places with your art. After she got in though, you'd already gone. She said she could feel you though, your happiness and your pain from the art hung up on the walls. She said you're amazing," Hilde rambled.

"I haven't painted in a long time," Trowa said softly. He did write his number and email on a napkin for her though. "Give this to my sister. I can't go back to L.A. It was threatening my health…" he said, moving to leave already. He didn't want to get into personal business with a coffee store clerk… It wasn't that she was a bad kid; he just didn't like to get to know people anymore.

"I will. But please, sit down and finish your hot chocolate. It'll just go to waste. I'll leave you alone, I promise. She said you were a loner," Hilde replied, smiling and laughing a bit before hopping back behind the counter. Trowa hesitated but sat back down. He watched the snow falling outside. It was much like the model he was trying to find. Delicate and soft, wandering freely through the streets. He was so busy watching the snow he did not notice the thin pale blonde enter the shop.

"Hey Q," Hilde said.

"Tea please," Quatre asked sweetly. He sat at a table next to Trowa's.

"All of you are coming in the same time today," Hilde called out as she got his tea ready.

"What do you mean?" Quatre asked.

"Well my 'brother' and his boyfriend just left. Trowa came in. You came in. I'm waiting on like 4 more people and my day will be over," Hilde said with a laugh.

"The regulars I assume?" Quatre asked. Hilde nodded as she placed the cup down. He handed her the money and she stuffed it in her apron until she went to the register. "So you finally found out the name of the other regular huh?"

"Yeah, he's right there," Hilde said in a whisper. Trowa heard what was being said, but was oblivious to it. Quatre turned red. "What are you up to today?"

"Just teaching some lessons. My dad called to fight with me again. He wants me to take over his business, but my talent lies in music. I finally got a piano delivered. They were very angry," Quatre replied.

"Angry? Who?" Hilde asked.

"Well I live on the 21st floor of the Silver Garden apartment building. It wasn't an easy task," Quatre said.

"That's an arts appreciation building right?" Hilde asked.

"How did you know?" Quatre asked.

"My 'brother' and his boyfriend are living there. They're both actors," Hilde replied.

"What floor are they on?" Quatre asked.

"14," Hilde replied.

"Yeah, I don't see how I'd run into them, unless by chance in the elevator," Quatre joked. "So he's not your real brother?"

"Well he was the son of the people living in the upstairs apartment of my house on Long Island. Both our parents thought we'd end up getting married and living happily ever after. Duo is gay though, and I just never felt that way for him. He protected me all through school and he's still looking out for me while I'm going to school here. I'm thinking about majoring in teaching, in 

elementary school. They need a lot of teachers here in the city anyhow, and I love living here. It wouldn't be a big stretch to stay," Hilde explained.

"My dad keeps hoping I'm going through a phase. That this 'music stuff' will pass and I'll take business in school instead of music composition. It's his own fault really. He's the one that pushed for me to be involved in the arts instead of sports. Oh, damn, it's almost 5! I've got a lesson back at my apartment," Quatre said, standing.

"Teaching some hot young girl that you can seduce later on?" Hilde joked.

"More like a teen girl who can't afford the tutors in the city. She's in middle school. Her grandfather just passed away and left a piano to her. She doesn't want anyone to know she's learning. They're celebrating his life on his birthday in a few months, throwing a huge party in his memory. This is going to be her gift. Besides, I lean your brother's way. Another thing that will prompt my father to write me out of his will," Quatre explained, joking at the end. He took a long sip from his cup and rushed out, waving goodbye. When he was outside, Trowa and him made eye contact. Deep blue met emerald green and Trowa could not move. Quatre hurried off, but Trowa finally absorbed the conversation that had been going on.