Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Forgotten Dreams ❯ Chapter 7

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Title: Forgotten Dreams



Title: Forgotten Dreams
Chapter: 8/?
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and all characters associated with it is not mine, nor am I making any money from this. This is purely for my personal enjoyment, and the enjoyment of the people who read this. GW is copyright Bandai, Sunrise, etc.



"Here's some tea." Quatre set the tray down on the coffee table, then knelt in front of the fire and added another log. It had started snowing soon after they'd gotten inside, and the thermometer was reading in the low twenties outside. "Duo, there's a cup of hot cocoa there for you."
He turned around and looked around the room at everyone; Wufei, sitting tall and proud in a straight-backed chair as he ignored the blanket at his side; Heero and Duo, curled up together on the loveseat and sharing a blanket. Heero had a cup of tea in one hand and what looked suspiciously like the end of Duo's braid in the other, as the owner of the braid leaned close to him, not quite touching, but content as he sipped his cocoa. And finally, Quatre turned his gaze to Trowa, silent as usual as he sat with crossed legs on the sofa. He held his mug of tea in both hands, looking down at it. He looked up as Quatre stood, then moved the blanket across his lap to one side. Quatre sat next to him and put the blanket across his own lap, accepting the mug Trowa silently handed him with a murmured "Thank you," and sipped it carefully. Trowa hadn't said a word to him since they had gotten inside, and Quatre was starting to worry that he'd been wrong to kiss the tall boy. True, Trowa had kissed him back, but that really didn't mean anything.
"Oi, man." Duo stretched, inching closer to Heero as he did. "I'm wiped. Saving your pretty butt's hard work, y'know, Quatre-baby?" He winked at Trowa. "But it's worth saving, eh, Trowa?"
Trowa blinked once at Duo, then turned his head and looked at Quatre. Quatre offered him a small smile and tried not to fidget under that penetrating gaze, heart racing as he waited for Trowa's response, hoping there would be a response.
Trowa got up and walked to the door, where he paused. With one hand on the doorway he turned his head. "The only things worth saving, are those worth loving," he said softly, then walked swiftly away.
"Huh." Duo sat back, tilting his head quizzically to the side. "I think he likes you, Quatre-baby." He stuck his nose in Heero's teacup and sniffed. "Ewwww. Tea, yuck."
Heero shoved him away. "Then don't drink it, baka."
Duo looked up and grinned. "Okay. I'll fantasize about doing all sorts of nifty things to your body."
Heero rolled his eyes. "Knock yourself out."
Duo leaned against Heero and sighed dreamily. Then he started snickering.
"In the other room, baka!" Again Heero shoved at Duo, but this time his hand didn't leave the violet-eyed boy's shoulder. Quatre sighed unhappily and stood up.
"Going to bed, Quatre-baby?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"Oh, well, have fun, whatever you do." Duo put his hand on Heero's leg and smiled at Quatre. "Go fall in love, Quatre-baby. It's good for you, I hear." He turned a much softer version of his smile on Heero, resting his head on Heero's shoulder. Heero ignored him, staring at the fire.
Quatre walked out of the room slowly, soon lost in thought. 'I haven't been thinking. I've been going about this the wrong way.' He entered the indoor gardens, walking among the various flora. 'I went too fast. Trowa was molested as a child, I know it. Probably in that mercenary group he was in . . .' Quatre suppressed a surge of anger at those who would do such a thing to an innocent child. 'Damn it! I need to go slow with Trowa. I probably scared him . . . I wonder what he's doing?' Quatre settled on a bench, relaxed, and opened his mind. He filled it with thoughts of Trowa, not concentrating on any one thought, but rather letting them flow like a soothing river across his consciousness . . .
The book was a good one, one he'd read before, but he couldn't concentrate. The book had nothing to do with it; he couldn't stop thinking about a certain blond angel who cared so much, yet knew so little, about him. Or did he? He put the book down and sighed softly. He just didn't know . . .
Carefully Quatre withdrew from the touch, pulling his consciousness back to himself. It was rather like reeling in a fishing line, carefully and slowly. Quatre smiled at the sudden image of a chibi fish Trowa clinging to a fishing pole. He giggled.
"Great. I'm starting to think like Duo." Quatre reached out his hand and plucked a rose from a vine, admiring it as he twirled in gently between his fingers. It was partly open and had little water droplets clinging to it from he mist that fell every once in a while to water the plants. It was perfect, and Quatre was removing the last thorn from it when he heard soft footsteps approach.
"Hello, Trowa," he said softly, still admiring the rose. He smiled softly at it, tilting his head to the side as he held it up to the light, watching the water droplets reflect tiny rainbows. Quatre continued to examine the rose as Trowa sat down next to him, pretending to ignore the tall boy.
"You were thinking about me." There was a hint of accusation in Trowa's voice.
"Mm-hmm . . ." Quatre brushed the rose lightly across his face, enjoying the way it tickled. Trowa shifted slightly.
"I felt you thinking about me."
Quatre nodded, tucked the rose in a vase and got up, walking through the aisles. 'If he takes the bait . . . Come on, Trowa, I know you're curious . . .'
He smiled to himself when Trowa got up and followed him.
"Why?"
Quatre suppressed a chuckle at the plaintive tone of Trowa's voice. He sounded like a child, almost. He shrugged, sitting by a pond of koi. Trowa sat next to him.
"Why?"
'I wonder if he knows how utterly adorable, not to mention redundant, he sounds.' Quatre lay on his back, trailing the tips of his fingers in the water. The curious koi came up and nibbled at them, and he laughed softly, closing his eyes.
"Quatre, please. Why were you thinking about me?" Trowa moved and sat by his head.
'Since he asked so nicely . . .' "I like you," Quatre replied softly, petting the koi.
Trowa thought about this for a moment. "Why do you like me?"
Quatre shrugged, smiling softly to himself. "No reason. Lots of reasons. Do I need a reason?"
Trowa sighed. "You're talking in riddles."
"I know." Quatre kept his voice soft.
"Why?"
'My, how persistent he is.' "Why what?"
"Why are you talking in riddles?"
Quatre sat up, sitting cross-legged. "I've heard it takes a riddle to solve one."
"Am I a riddle to you?"
Quatre laughed very softly, more of a breathing out of air. He looked across the pond. "You've never been anything but a riddle to me, Trowa." He turned his head slightly, looking at Trowa out of the corner of his eye. "That's something I'd like to change."
Trowa looked down, eyes tightly shut. "I can't"
"Can't what?" 'What's wrong?'
"Can't tell you. I can't. It's --- No. No. You'd hate me. I can't." He shuddered, arms wrapping protectively about his chest.
'Oh, that.' "Trowa . . ." Quatre reached out his hand to Trowa, but the other boy flinched as if he'd been hit, so Quatre let his hand drop. "Trowa, how old were you?"
"Five." Trowa's voice was almost inaudible.
"How old were they?"
Trowa swallowed sharply. "Th-thirties, forties. Maybe late twenties."
Quatre nodded. "How many?"
"Different . . . at different times." Trowa continued to tremble.
"Mm-hm. And they were all bigger than you, and stronger than you?" Trowa nodded swiftly. "So you couldn't stop them, even if you tried?" Trowa shook his head. "Trowa? I'm going to put my arms around you, is that all right?"
"Will you make it stop?" Quatre opened his arms and Trowa curled up in them, laying his head on Quatre's chest.
"I'll try, Trowa." Quatre held Trowa loosely, but firmly, running his fingers through Trowa's hair. "But I need you to help me." He rested his cheek on Trowa's head and rocked side to side slowly. "I need you to trust me, Trowa. I can't do anything if you don't tell me. You don't even have to tell me anything; just let me be there for you, is all I ask."
Trowa didn't respond, just lay in Quatre's arms silently. A few minutes later he stopped trembling.
"Quatre?"
"Yes, Trowa?"
"Am I weak?"
Quatre shook his head. "No, Trowa, you're not weak at all. You're very strong, but even the strongest need support at times."
Trowa thought about that for a moment. "Do you love Duo?"
"What do you mean?" Quatre had the feeling he knew exactly what Trowa meant.
Trowa shifted a bit. "When I came in to give you the ticket, and you and Duo were . . . ahhh . . ."
"Oh," Quatre said softly. "Uhm, yes and no. Yes, I love Duo. He's one of my best friends. No, I don't love Duo romantically. He's not who I want to spend the rest of my life with."
"Then what Heero told me was true?"
"If he told you that we're not lovers, yes."
"Good." Trowa looked up at Quatre.
Quatre smiled down at him and lightly brushed his bangs back from his face. "That's better. I can see both your eyes now." Trowa closed his eyes almost shyly. Quatre leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. "You have beautiful eyes, Trowa." He tilted his head lower, mouth hovering over Trowa's. "You're so very beautiful," he whispered, eyes half-closed. Trowa's lips were partly open, his breath warm on Quatre's mouth and slightly irregular. "I'd like to kiss you . . ."
"Don't, please!" Trowa put a hand to his mouth and Quatre pulled away, panting slightly.
"I'm sorry. I-I'm really sorry. I won't." 'Great, Winner, freak him out.' Quatre stroked Trowa's hair lightly, and Trowa relaxed.
"Quatre?"
"Mm-hm?"
"At the risk of sounding childish, will you tell me a story?"
Quatre smiled and gave Trowa a brief hug. "What would you like to hear?"
A shrug. "Something in Arabic. I've never heard you speak Arabic before."
Quatre considered this. "How about 'Ali Babba And The Forty Thieves?' That's a good one."
Trowa nodded. "That sounds good. In Arabic," he added, as if Quatre might forget.
Quatre nodded. "As you wish." He shifted a bit to get more comfortable and smiled down at Trowa. Trowa had closed his eyes, tucked securely in Quatre's embrace. Quatre began his tale.

* * *

"Callas(1)." Quatre looked down at Trowa. "Trowa?" he asked softly. There was no reply; Trowa was fast asleep. Quatre smiled and kissed Trowa's cheek, then rested his own cheek on the top of Trowa's head. He would hold Trowa all night, and he would be there when Trowa woke up.


(1) Finished