Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Oxfords ❯ Symphony ( Chapter 3 )

Oxford's

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By:Dentelle_Noir

Warnings: YAOI. CLOSED MINDEDNESS, homophobics, and superficial parent bashing.

Discalimer: Don't own the Gundam boys. If I did, I would probably keep them in a box locked tightly under my bed and only let them out to play once in a while. So be glad I don't because you wouldn't get to see them as much. Because I'm mean. Sorry. I just love my Tro-baby so much… WHAAAAAA!!!

Author's Note: This is a re-post.The original was taken from the sight as was my original author's name when another story of mine was complained against. Use this as a warning. One complaint is all it takes and they kick you off right quick like!

BUT!!!!

It's also been added to in certain area's, some of the scenes taking on a different perspective. If you liked it the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

Chapter 3 Symphony

He blew the note into existence and continued his part clear and fluidly even as his heart pulsed within his chest as the no-longer-alone violinist closed his clear blue eyes again and played on. Trowa couldn't help but pour his fluttering emotions into the song as he watched the boy from earlier, the beautiful blonde angel with the clear blue eyes sway to his music. His feet, adorned with immaculately white sneakers with pen-drawn bunnies in blue and black on the side, lightly tapped the meter as the boy seemed to become one with the music he played. He bared his soul, his every whim on display. Trowa was memorized, and held captive by the boy, immersed in his music and radiating peace. His short, almost liquid frame swayed and hair so blonde, the lights created a halo over the angel.

As the song climaxed, Trowa wasn't sure if he could keep his notes steady any longer. Thankfully and sadly, the song ended, and clear ice locked with the deepest of forests. Trowa's feet were nailed to the floor. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. Which right now, he didn't want to. Not away from this angel.

Quatre recognized the boy immediately. How could he forget someone as captivating as the tall green-eyed boy. He wouldn't admit it, but ever since he saw the boy watching him from down the hallway, he couldn't wait to get to talk to him. His eyes seemed so deep and yet sad. He could feel that he was yearning for something and Quatre wanted to help him find it. Hopefully that something could include Quatre.

Now he had him right in front of him and the slightly flushed look and rise and fall of his muscled chest made every beat of his heart come in tune with the beautiful creature in front of him. He couldn't say that he only wanted to talk to him for purely spiritual reasons.

No, that would be a lie.

The boy was absolutely beautiful, and Quatre couldn't take his eyes away. He knew what he wanted, the boy in front of him. And he always got what he wanted. But, he schooled his rampant teenage hormones, and brought his thoughts back on track. He was starring at someone he didn't even know. He had to introduce himself. It was now or never.

Quatre took a step towards the boy, and rested his hand against the taller music stand. Leaning casually, he hopped, he extended his other arm out in front as a hand shake. "I'm Quatre. That was absolutely wonderful. Are you joining our little third period music class? With talent like yours I can only hope."

Trowa was pulled from the wonderland the boy's soft tenor lulled him to, and jumped back to the present, "Forgive me for interrupting your song. I had to listen..." Then what the boy had said clicked into his head as well as reality. He was a guy. A GUY.

A guy that just introduced himself! "I'm Trowa. And no, I don't play." He said coolly.

Then he looked down and realized he was still holding the flute in his hands. He had just played! Damn, now the whole school would know he played! He had to play didn't he! Like he wasn't being talked of enough already! Now the whole school would know how he played music! Music! That was not a very manly thing to do at all! Damn it! He had kept it secret most of his life and all it took was this little blonde and his whole world started to crack.

A light giggle like a hundred harps playing sent ripples down his spine, and Trowa saw Quatre trying to suppress the rest of his laughter. "Do you mean you don't play in a class?" The angel asked. He had his slim pale finger's trying to cover his mouth as his giggles sent another wave of goose bumps down his arms.

Catching his line of thought, Trowa schooled his emotions, and quickly grabbed up the explanation Quatre had given.

Quatre... What a beautiful name... Damn! He had to keep his mind sharp.

Quatre had already leant in closer to Trowa. He noticed Trowa's music stand was empty of anything save a worn notebook, and smiled up at Trowa, "You should play" his eyes captivated his soul as if he knew everything that had ever entered Trowa's mind. "You're beautiful."

Trowa felt his whole chest constrict and his breath stopped as heat burst from his face at such a compliment. Damn it! He never used to blush before, why did he have to start now!

Quatre's feminine fingers flew to his pink lips and he turned red too. He didn't mean it like THAT!

"I meant you were talented. Your PLAYING was beautiful, " Quatre felt his bravery swell, "Although it's true that you are too." His long lashes opened slowly to capture Trowa within the glass depths that held his soul.

Trowa couldn't slow his breathing. He was so close. Too close. FAR TOO CLOSE! Trowa had to do something now. He knew he shouldn't want to lean into the boy. He knew that his thoughts of the sweet pink lip's taste were wrong. He knew he shouldn't want him...

"Trowa?" Heero's cold voice stated, shocking Trowa to reality.

Every muscle in Trowa's body burst and he ran with all his track days had taught him to get as far from the siren as possible. That was exactly what Quatre was, a siren! A test! A temptation!

He still had his bag over his shoulder, so he dashed down the hallway his breath still coming in short bursts as he turned the now familiar corners and made it directly to the bathroom and back into the same stall to retch his lunch again, purging his sinful thoughts.

~*~

Quatre stared at the spot that Trowa had just dashed from, completely confused.

Quatre could feel his heart ache and throb and he clutched his stand to keep himself up, lest Heero notice. He couldn't help but feel guilt. He had offended him. He tried too hard. Moved to fast. He didn't realize he had, he wasn't trying to scare him away. He wanted to weep from the loss... "Why?"

Heero turned back to evaluate the scene he had just been party to. Quatre looked like he was about to cry, and every fiber in Heero screamed bloody vengeance to Trowa for hurting Cat by running off like that. But unfortunately, Heero understood.

Where Trowa had stood was a music stand void of anything save the notebook Heero had noticed Trowa kept with him discreetly. But it was close to Cat's stand, and Cat was leaning close when he walked in. Although Heero knew Quatre was the sort of person who liked contact, innocent as it may be to him, Trowa's nature seemed quite the contrary.

"Quatre, were you hitting on him?" Heero, ever the blunt one, walked up to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder to reassure him from the hard truth.

Quatre's doe eyes locked with his long time friend's, "I thought that... By the way he was...Oh no, I hope he won't hate me..." Quatre's fingers started to fidget with something on Trowa's music stand to stop his knuckles turning white.

"Quatre, it's not your fault. And I think he is, but I also think he's phobic."

Quatre's hands flew to his mouth and his eyes widened in worry. "Oh, Heero! He'll hate himself!"

A small smile appeared on Heero's normally stoic face. Heero learned never to underestimate the selflessness of Quatre. He always did what he wanted to do, yes, but most of the time what he wanted to do was help. Anyone else would worry that Trowa would kick their scrawny ass in this situation, but not Cat. He was worried about how Trowa felt about himself. Now, he'd worry himself sick over someone he just met, like he always did. The last one Quatre fell for ended up taking advantage of his kindness and still, Cat refused to break up. Then, once he found someone new, he just dropped the unsuspecting Quatre.

Needless to say, the next day the guy showed up sporting his newly redesigned face, courtesy of Fei and him, although Cat didn't know that. And he never would.

Heero was beginning to like Trowa, and he really would feel a bit bad having to make him hurt. But not bad enough not to do it.

Right now though, his priorities revolved around Quatre. "Stop worrying, Cat. He's already coming around a bit. He and G are becoming friends quickly. Not to mention he seems to trust me. We'll set him right, don't worry." With a nod of finality, Heero turned and left.

Quatre mustered up his strength with a deep breath and brought his head back up, confident in what Heero had said. Looking to clean up his stand, Quatre noticed that left behind was a dark blue small spiral notebook on Trowa stand.

He slid in into his backpack for safekeeping. He could give it to Heero or G the next time he saw them to give back to Trowa. The way he dashed off proved he wouldn't be back there for a while.

Great, now he was depressed again!

~*~

"So, how was the second day of school?" Trowa's father turned down the music to a dull pound as his son bowed into the car.

Trowa slouched down into the leather seat, his tall and composed demeanor totally shot as his chin rested on his chest, starring down listlessly at his bag between his feet, void of his beloved notebook.

He realized he left it in the music room the minute he opened his bag, but he couldn't face going back down that hallway while He was there, let alone go into the room.

But without the outlet the book provided, and knowing it was somewhere anyone could find it, left Trowa resigned to fate, and seemingly distant to the world. Hell, even his blind ass father noticed he wasn't his usual self.

He really didn't want to do this right now, but...a father's job is never done. "Bad day?"

Trowa didn't answer.

So, obviously he didn't want to talk about it. Figuring that was as good of an introduction as he'd get, he started. He had his own news! "Well, I was talking to Edward, you know, the head of the entire company, and the other department heads. They're all pals and they were saying their little missus's are having a... Tupperware or something, party. So they and their kids were going to get together on Friday. So, I thought, HEY! That's a great time to get in with the group. They are the higher-ups you know. And from what I caught, their kids are your age. You can make friends..."

Trowa blocked out most of his father's drabble. He just had the worst two days of his entire life! His entire controlled little world was crashing down. He was attracted to a boy. A boy!!

And now his father was trying to pimp him off to office friends.

OH! He just mentioned one had a daughter his age too! Lovely! And the elbow bump made his father's expectation's clear.

He was going through hell, and now he was expected to be polite and make preppy little rich friends he'd despise. The kids of the 'higher-up's' were always self-absorbed snobs that would peck at every little flaw.

So he had to show none, while he was tearing apart inside.

This had to be what Hell was like. And his father babbled on... About Mr. Odin Yuy and whatever-the-fuck Chang, can't forget the chipper Maxwell, and of course, God himself, Mr. Edward Winner, the Buzzilionaire who lived in this god-forsaken hell hole for God knows why!

And his father babbled on. Not even noticing.

Typical.

~*~

He knew he shouldn't of done it. It was wrong.

He should've looked harder to find G after school, but she did leave at weird hours and he had to get to practice.

But he still shouldn't have looked in it, it was a private notebook...

But he so desperately wanted to know about the mysterious boy. His eyes seemed so full of passion when he played, then so confused. From what Heero said, he must be in a lot of pain... so Quatre turned the cover.

Trowa was talented for sure. The notebook held some sketches and the poetry had him tearing. But the best and by far the most loved by the owner were the pages filled with music notes.

One of them stood out most to Quatre, its pages were smudged with eraser and thumb prints attesting to the work put in to the done, then re- done, notes that set the piece to sync, even the clef was drawn in. "Dark and Light" it was called and Quatre couldn't help himself as he let his fingers curl around his violin and gave it a respite from the same old piece he'd be performing to give life to this piece of work. And hopefully, he could experience what Trowa felt.

~*~

The next few days seemed uneventful for Trowa, compared to the first two. Thankfully, Heero had given him his notebook the next day, saying Quatre had given it to him, and the next few lunches were spent in the library doing research and trying to avoid blondes: Quatre, as well as the blonde cheerleader squad, and the jocks.

Sadly he knew at least one of the idiots would be one of the corporate son's he'd meet at the party that loomed overhead. They always were.

Before he could think of a really good reason that would opt him out, it was Friday and he was checking and re-checking all the food was ready, since it was his job to do the serving. His father dusted imaginary dirt from his immaculately clean black shirt and re-checked the music was programmed.

Three stark no-nonsense knocks echoed through the room, and as per duty, Trowa went to the door and his father pretended to do something important... Let the superficial festivities begin!

There stood a serious looking man with piercing cobalt eyes and deep brown hair. He nodded down to Trowa as his father, playing host, came from behind with a friendly welcome, "ODIN! You're the first to arrive! This is my son, Trowa." He introduced while giving the man room to remove his shoes, "Where's your son?"

Trowa had just made his way away from the small entrance to leave room when an all too familiar voice introduced himself. Trowa found himself locking his unbelieving eyes with amused all knowing cobalt eyes. Heero.

At least one person at the party wouldn't be absolutely base. And if he was just close friends with Heero, maybe his father would let him off the hook for the others. Hopefully.

With a trademark Heero smirk, he cut off Michael's introduction of his son, "I thought I'd meet you here, Trowa. How many Barton's just moved here after all?" Sliding out of the door entrance Heero started to make his way towards the living room, pausing only for a moment near Trowa's ear so only he could hear, "I can promise you, this will not be the night you expect."

A second car pulled in before Trowa could even formulate a question.

"Like clock work, " Odin commented, glancing away from his watch to the pair coming out from the white Hyundai. Nodding his head, he cleared the way for a regal looking Chinese man followed by the boy he had met in the cafeteria named Wufei.

The surprises kept coming. Trowa did not doubt Heero's warning in the least now.

Wufei arched an eyebrow at Trowa's look of slight shock, "Barton? Have a starring problem?" He retorted sharply, not sure why the new boy was acting odd.

Trowa's father shot his son an extreme look practically screaming 'apologize'. But Wufei had already walked inside.

Needless to say, Trowa was relieved immensely that two of the people were cool, they could most likely deal with the others. Now all Trowa had to really fret was the girl and the young Winner, who would have to be a jock.

So, set to fate again, he ventured to check the food platters away from socializing.

Not that there was much was going on, "So you boy's go to high school?" Michael Barton asked. He got a curt 'yes' and a 'Hn' in return.

Nope, not his father's specialty of people, but defiantly Trowa's.

~*~

"So, you boys go to High school?" Trowa's father tried to start up conversation, but all he received was a curt "yes" and a "hn" from the obviously anti-social boys.

Who were these people anyway!

They both seemed to know his son. That Heero seemed awfully close to Trowa... But they both seemed so... Weird.... He was starting to wonder what kind of people Trowa was meeting in this new town.

Odin was the first to notice the glare his son fixed on Michael Barton the second he had walked in. Heero had just met him, and already something had him mad. Odin decided to start a conversation his son would like and hopefully lighten the mood, "Duo's back to school on Monday, right? They gave him a week for turning the rat colors?"

"Maxwell deserved it. They really nailed him to the floor on this one because they all know that it was him who duct taped the Math teacher and his chair together. Just couldn't prove it since the little shit did it after class the day before." Wufei grumbled, while sitting relaxed in the deep white rocking chair across from Heero, who sat in Trowa's favorite dark blue armchair.

"Ah, justice IS served." Wufei added superiority, "I can't believe you allowed him, Yuy."

"I'm not his conscience. I don't control him or permit him." Heero responded, resting into the soft chair he was finding deceivingly comfortable.

"But he takes your opinion to heart. Especially if you say it strongly enough." Odin started as he watched the window, oblivious to the murderous glare of warning his son was sending, "You are his boyfriend after all."

A sharp choking sound came from Michael as he tried, unsuccessfully, to pass a cookie bit, his eyes wide and pale as a ghost as Heero's glare rounded on the host, then his father.

Trowa was frozen in the kitchen, his hand hovering over a tray. Heero was gay? He never told him he was a queer!

What would he have said to it anyway?

Oh, GOD! He had confessed how he felt about gays. To a gay guy!

How could he have been so stupid! He said all those things... All those names... And he had been talking to one the whole time! What had Heero thought? Maybe he was even hitting on him behind his back! Damn, he had liked Heero! He seemed rough, but he was genuine... except when considering his sexuality!... although...

Then it hit.

He never said he wasn't. Heero had tried to make him see reason and never seemed to judge him solely on that. Heero wasn't shallow or forever trying to be in fashion. Hell, he was the only one who wore immaculately clean army boots. They were his and his alone.

Trowa's eyes fell to his feet, and staring back were newly shined black oxford shoes. Trowa wasn't oxfords. He knew he wasn't. But still he wore them. Still he showed them. Still, he hid. Heero didn't do that... Trowa would bet his life, if he had asked, Heero would have told him he was gay. No apologies, no excuses.

Trowa decided: That was something to be proud of.

Trowa griped the tray, stood tall, and walked out to the charged living room.

Mr. Chang and Odin made a few exchanges, but the tension crushed any words.

Trowa put the plate down, and looked straight at Heero. His eyes stayed strong and true. No apologies, no excuses.

Trowa smirked over the resolve, "I was wondering why you didn't change in the locker room."

A harsh chortle broke Heero's ice glare and most of the tension left the room in a heart beat, but Trowa's father's continued look of disguised disgust still haunted the room.