Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Oxfords ❯ Light through the Glass ( Chapter 4 )

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 like dit the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

Summary: AU 3x4. Same mindless jocks. Same big-bested cheerleader girlfriend. Trowa Barton knew what was expected of him. And he wanted that too. At least, he thought he did.

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Chapter 4 Light Through the Glass

A knock at the door to a little tune interrupted the small talk. Whoever it was happened to be about 15 minutes late, and 3 more were still supposed to show. Then another knock, a bit lighter and to a different tune sounded.

"Hey! I already knocked! It's rude to knock twice, Babe!" An unfamiliar male's voice came through the door.

"And it's ruder to call a lady, 'Babe'!" A girls' voice retorted. Trowa had heard it clearly, but his brain refused to think that he was somehow given a brake from the cruel fate of a cheerleader. But it couldn't be...

The door was opened, and his first site was of a heart-shaped face twisted in pain with a fishnet covered hand clutching a long chestnut braid. Following the arm, his suspicions were confirmed.

"G? What are you doing here?"

The braided boy, since the tight black pants and ever tighter black shirt proved it could be no other thing, pouted, and walked in. Immediately locking eyes with Heero, the boy pouted even bigger, "Hee-Koi! Did you see what that she-witch did to me!!?" He whined pointing an accusing arm and finger waving almost in between G's two eyes. Heero just rolled his eyes and motioned his intense blue towards the ignored host, whom his boyfriend nearly trampled.

Duo looked back, and gave a huge goofy grin while avoiding his Father, David, sliding in behind him and perching on the sofa annoyingly close to Wufei whom growled and pushed him over.

"Hello. Sorry! I was in pain!" Duo shot a glare at G who was busy removing her boots and setting the dirty, worn things next to Heero's.

The two were alike. Both took him for what he was and never passed judgment. Both were secure and stable friends. But, like the boots, each had different qualities.

Duo's were slightly odd shoes, they were short but with leather straps crossing, looking slightly like a cross if one starred hard enough. Two sides.

"Name's Duo Maxwell." He finished, cutting Trowa off from his pointless musings to shake his offered hand.

Duo strolled across the room and sat on Heero. Not beside him, not strategically close, ON. Then started to kiss the Japanese boy. Then he shot back from Heero, pouting and holding his lip. "YOU BIT ME!"

Heero simply glared back, "You deserved it. What the hell were you thinking, Maxwell? Because of that rat, Cat's been taking all his spare time to bleach it while you've been at home watching porn!"

Duo pouted a bit guiltily,"...Cat's not supposed to be in charge of the rat this week, that Relena cheerleader bitch that's been stalking you is.... BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BITE ME!"

"Yes, I did. Now I have to kiss it better."

"Damn it Yuy!" G quipped into the flirt session, "Find a Room!" The room erupted in laughter chorused by the two newcomers who had made themselves at home, completely oblivious to the look of mortification the older host wore under his fake smile.

Michael patted down his hair again and surveyed his room. The teenagers had congregated around the edges of the room and near the door, Heero and Duo sitting next to the back wall in a sofa chair and Wufei perching on the edge of the couch his father and David bickered at, Wufei looking ready to strike at any moment if need be, but no one paying much attention to him, he figured that was natural. Odin sat closer to Michael between His son and the Maxwell boy, also in a sofa chair watching the room with calculation.

After Duo had removed himself from Heero's lap, Michael started to lighten the mood by chatting with the adults about the absentee President. "They're always late. They don't mean to be, unlike the Maxwell's." Mr. Chang shot David a glare.

"Hey! We had to pick up G. She didn't want to be stuck with Tupperware like her dad and brother were. We did a good deed!" David defended the family honor.

"You're always late because of sheer bad planning." Odin cut in before Chang fumed back and the two tempers flared. Those two loved to torture each other.

"Edward is always late because eight things always come up on him or his son. They volunteer and help so many things, there is always someone calling." Odin added.

And with that sparkling introduction, a knock sounded.

Trowa, who had been chatting with Wufei about martial arts, stood as per duty, and answered the door to the shock of his life.

The man was incredibly tall, even compared to Trowa, with broad shoulders and he even had brown hair, but his frame wasn't as feline as Trowa's. He was definitely Arabic and wore a tastefully casual vest and matching brown pants over a crisp white shirt. But the shock was that...

Someone else had his screwed up hair style!!!

The man's brown hair fell over one side of his face just like Trowa's... Just not as long and free flowing. But the same idea anyway. What was the world coming to!

"Michael." With a nod, Edward Winner addressed Trowa's father as he slid off his shoes gracefully at the door and slid into a living room chair. Although he looked a lot like Trowa, the way about him reminded him of someone else.

Trowa was about to close the door, when a figure slid from the newly parked car. A thigh length cream colored double breasted coat cut a petit, yet regal, form and a matching cap hid the face and fair hair from view. Practically jogging to the door, the newest guest ducked in and pulled a case through the door.

Turning, eyes bright crystal blue, cheeks slightly flushed from the run, and smile radiant, Trowa again found himself lost in Quatre, breath gone and stomach twisting in a giddy sort of way.

Quatre gasped once his eyes fell to the beautiful green depths. It was Trowa. He looked even more beautiful this close. They were barley a hand away, the foyer being so small and all, and Quatre felt his flush deepen.

Composing his raging fantasies, Quatre found his tongue, "I wasn't expecting to see you, Trowa. Shall I assume you are Trowa 'Barton' then?" he tried to be charming.

The song of words yanked Trowa from his stupor and he gaped while stepping away from the siren.

Which was exactly what he was.

A temptation.

A test.

Trowa had to keep his thoughts clear of capturing his soft pale lips. He was not gay.

Those were the facts.

He stepped even further away and chilled his tone. "Come in." He squashed the beginnings of conversation and took a seat. Quatre set down his white running shoes adorned with the pen drawn bunnies beside Wufei's black martial arts slippers.

"We apologies for being so late." Edward started. He wasn't sure why, but the room pulsed with tension, "Quatre had his music concert, then work called. I had Cat sending the documents by E-mail on the way here. Please do forgive us."

"Of course!" Michael brightened at the change of elbows to rub, "You're so busy being the head of the company, living all the way out here must be difficult."

Edward nodded, "It is worth it, though. My wife thrives on nature, she hated the city. Down right refused to have her son brought up with so much cement and metal. She was right. They are birds of a feather those two, Cat loves to practice under the trees." With that Quatre blushed, still bundled in the coat in a chair near Duo.

"Take that coat off and why don't you play us your piece? I know the guys love hearing you." Edward good naturedly ordered.

Quatre blushed and hid under his fair bangs. But how could he refuse to "Go for it, Kitty, let's hear" and "Don't be nervous, Winner, it's only us for God's sakes!" Then of course he could not overlook the pull from G right out from the chair and standing. With her characteristic disregard for personal space, G shed his coat off for him.

Trowa couldn't peel his eyes away. Under the coat, his manila pants tightened onto his slim beautiful hips, highlighting every fluid move he made. He was also hiding a thin, flowing peasant shirt in cream white, the sleeves billowing back, slit to the shoulder so when he moved his slim, milky arms, the sleeves would frame his body like the wings of the angel he was.

Nervously, Quatre bit his bottom lip in the cutest way Trowa had ever seen as he announced the title then prepared his violin. He'd play the same piece he had heard him play on that fateful day in the music room.

Trowa felt a pang of something and had to ask, "Who was your partner?" He couldn't figure out why, but just the thought of another guy playing flute next to Quatre... watching how he swayed playing and witnessing the adorable pout Quatre gave when he missed a note, or the way he closed his eyes playing as if worshiping. Not that he was attracted to him in any way!

Nope.

It was Edward who answered as Cat shuffled music sheets, "A flutist a few levels lower named Dorothy. Cat really should find a better partner. She missed notes and lost the beat for a few seconds while Cat played perfectly. Overall she's average, but compared to Cat she's horrible!"

"Oh, dad." Quatre sighed as if this was a usual conversation, "There is no one my level at the conservatory... I might have found a flutist at school... But I don't think he'd play at a concert." Quatre glanced subtly to Trowa who refused his eyes, but was inwardly glad that not only did he think highly of him, but his partner was not a guy. Then he was angry at his relief.

But Quatre started to play and the music surrounded him. Washing away the anger and sordid thoughts he closed his eyes to experience the sound. Letting the player's image be forever etched behind his eyelids.

The piece was only one side, but still absolutely breathtaking. The last note struck Trowa with loss and he added his clapping to the applause already filling the room. Cat gave a blushed bow, and began to clean when his father spoke up.

The tension in the room had virtually cleared with the playing, and Edward wanted to keep the mood light. He would suggest another piece.

But Cat would only agree if he had practiced the piece recently, and because of the looming recital, he had barely touched anything else. Then it hit him. Quatre was working hard on a piece just a few days ago.

"Cat, play that other piece you did a few days ago. I only heard through your door, but it was breathtaking. I hadn't heard it before, 'Blacks' or 'lights' or something like that, right?"

Quatre gulped, and palled slightly, his teeth gnawing on his lip again.

His father meant the song in Trowa's notebook.

It was beautiful and Quatre did have it memorized. He knew he could play it. But what would Trowa say? Did he have permission? It was Trowa's song.

Quatre locked clear blue with deep forest. "Would you mind if I played it? It's beautiful."

Trowa nodded his consent, of course. Cat's playing was addicting. Why did he even ask permission? Perhaps that was polite or something?

The bow pulled slow but happily, like a smile and a nod. Light and fluffy, calm and strong, showing the light.

But the notes slipped sharp and slow. Mournful and black under the smile, hurt and torn by the dark.

Then a sharp change back to the smiles. Quatre even gasped with the change.

The lights on the surface, the real darks below, another switch, then back again.

Quatre's fingers plucked violently and his whole frame swayed as one side battled the other through music.

Then, as if the battle over, the low mournful note trailed in the silence.

"That was breathtaking." David whispered, voicing the thoughts of all.

"It's sad..." Edward commented, "It ends so monotonous. Sorrowful and painful, almost. But absolutely beautiful."

Quatre looked to the most important critic and practically broke out in tears.

Trowa sat ridged, not even breathing. His face pale, and his hands gripped the chair like a vice. His eyes warred between confusion and anger. He could not believe what he just heard.

"...Trowa?" Quatre tried meekly after all eyes had fallen to the odd looking host. Something in his eyes snapped like a dam collapsing and unleashing the floods hidden before. The anger covered his face as his eyes screamed betrayal and hurt.

"How dare you." The venom whispered across the room as Trowa began to practically shake with rage. "How dare YOU." He snapped to his feet and rigidly strode to the stairs.

"Trowa? Trowa, please!" Quatre begged, but the slam of a door was the only reply.

Quatre had seen the hurt, he couldn't take it all. His knees felt week and he tried not to cry out. He hadn't meant to hurt him. He thought he had allowed him to play it?

Cat hadn't realized he was crumpled on the floor until he felt Duo wrap his arms around his shaking body and coo soothingly while G pet his hair motherly.

Heero and Wufei both shot up after the shock wore off and their eyes burned at the spot Trowa had retreated to, out for blood. "He will hurt for dishonoring Quatre like that. And to think I was starting to like that rude bastard!!" Wufei seethed, Heero agreeing with his poisonous glare, and both set for the stairs.

"NO!" Quatre cried, "DON'T! It was MY fault. I shouldn't have played. I thought he knew when I asked. Don't hurt him for getting upset. I should've warned him better..." His whole body still shook, but his voice was confident and clear.

"I don't care WHAT warning 'ya gave, Quatre " Duo snapped, "No one has the right to act like that to you."

"No. It was ME who didn't have the right. I shouldn't have read his notebook or tried his piece, let alone play it for you all." Quatre struggled to keep a stern voice.

The room seemed to stop and blink, taken aback.

Edward, always first to recover, spoke, "Do you mean... that brilliant piece...was written... by Trowa?"

Quatre's hand flew to his mouth, mortified he let that out. Trowa was right to hate him. He was a horrible person! Even after everything he had already done, he couldn't just keep his mouth shut! He told everyone Trowa's secret that he wasn't supposed to know. 'How dare he' was right! Sobs wracked his chest in heaves as he crumpled further to the floor. He was horrible! A horrible person!

"My son doesn't write music." Michael interjected almost humorously, "He hasn't even touched a musical instrument since elementary school. He's not musically inclined at all; you should hear some of the stuff he listens to."

"Exactly." Quatre calmly added. Here was his chance to try and patch this up, "I didn't mean he wrote it at all. I was shaken... and misspoke. He doesn't write or play anything."

"Bull shit. Don't lie. It doesn't become you." Heero's cold voice cut like a dagger. "I was there. I heard him accompany you in your duet. He's an expert flutist. And you left me with his notebook. I saw the music too. Don't cover up for him." With that finality, the room was stunned into silence.

G pushed a cup of tea into Cat's shaky hands and glared Fei and Heero back to their chairs. She, Duo and David started conversation to try and give the boys some time to collect themselves despite Heero and Wufei's murderous glances upstairs, barely containing the urge to leap up and turn Trowa black and blue.

A few minutes had passed when Quatre stood, tea in hand, and started to the kitchen while G baited Wufei into a debate on justice to keep everyone's attention. They all needed a little comedy.

He gulped down the last of the warm, soothing, (but not as confidence boosting as he had hopped) tea and set his resolve. Quatre couldn't just let his and Trowa's friendship end like that. The last thing he saw was Trowa's eyes full of pain. He had hurt him and now he had to apologize.

Peeking around the corner to be sure everyone was focused on Fei's ever-reddening complexion as he flew more heatedly into the conversation, he slipped up the stairs, and hopefully closer to forgiveness.

~*~

He wasn't sure where Trowa was, but as he climbed he heard the low hum of music and rippling light reflecting off the navy walls. Padding closer, Quatre saw the source of light, and gasped at the beauty.

The wall had a large pane of glass showing dark blue, crimson, and violet fish swimming through the eerie dark world in the wall making the room it showed behind look stark black. A slightly moving black?

Looking closer he saw it was Trowa leaning almost against the other side of the tank as if starring at the wall behind.

Just watching his jerky movements, Cat knew he was hurt and upset and he just couldn't bear the thought.

He sank down to his knees in the hallway, eyes focused only on the snail at the bottom of the tank, exactly how he felt. Biting his quivering lip, he started out with a small and weak "Trowa?"

He had gone up there because he couldn't take Quatre's look, or his father's disdain. Trowa had seen Quatre walk by the tank on the other side of the wall, he could see him, but Cat couldn't see Trowa.

Quatre's beautiful hair practically shone with the light as he knelt before him with his white sleeves dragging lifelessly and beaten beside him, shaking with his trembling shoulders. The angel's eyes were closed as the shimmer of tears welled and slid down his usually smiling cheeks. Just the sight made Trowa want to run out and gather Cat up into his arms and never let him go. His for eternity. But that was wrong!

"Trowa..." Cat's voice wavered again, but he had to get his attention. He tried to still his shaking hands and stop his watering eyes.

The figure on the other side moved a bit. He must have heard him.

"Trowa please..." He begged, "Forgive me. I never should have read your book. I knew I shouldn't have... I just... I just wanted to get to know you so much."

He stopped another sob, "Every time we meet you shut down and turn away! I didn't know any other way. I'm so sorry Trowa... I don't deserve to know you..." his voice had become so soft and shaky by the end he had to close his eyes and wipe away the tears.

But when he opened them up again, Trowa had gone.

He couldn't see anything through the once clear deaths. Every thing was murky and cloudy and he couldn't tell what was what anymore. He truly didn't deserve Trowa's forgiveness... Burying his face in his hands his body surcame to the soft sobs again.

"Shhh..." A deep soothing coo whispered beside him and he felt a strong hand across his shoulders. Before he even knew what he did, he buried his tears in Trowa's warm chest, sobbing in grief and relief all at once.

"Shhh. Don't cry... Let's get you out of the hall." Trowa started ushering the distraught blonde to his feet and, half cradling the petit form, he led him into the room and away from possible prying eyes to the boys weeping heart.

The room was dark. Blues, violets, and crimsons adorned the walls all covered in a venire of black. White gray wisps led up to the beautifully smoke and dragon muraled ceiling.

Setting Quatre on the bed, Trowa continued over to a desk chair across the room and looked up at the ceiling as well.

"That's why we bought this house. My father is a superficial bastard most times, but when he saw how much I loved this room... Especially since I hadn't shown the least bit of interest in the other huge houses he'd been wanting... He bought it." Trowa explained. Half speaking to open up to Quatre as he had begged, and half watching the angel perch on his black comforter. He couldn't stop the lecherous guilty part of his brain that yelled how fitting he looked on it, or rather would look IN it.

Quatre's eyes trailed down the wall and onto the floor, avoiding Trowa. He wasn't sure what to make of him. Trowa seemed always calm, with a polite smile and happy friends. But this room, in it's darkness and elegance, seemed to fit him more. Sitting so far away with a somber look seemed to match the Trowa he met through his music.

Trowa's head turned and Cat was again trapped in the deepest forest green and not wanting rescue. But in his eyes he saw what he longed for... Forgiveness.

The somber tune he had been listening to before Quatre had arrived changed to a new song. Quatre's feet instinctively started to sway to the slow flute and guitar folk song, his soft pink lips mouthing the tragic words like a pained goodbye. Only the slow music filled the room and Quatre's eyes fell closed, his body gently rocking.

God he was beautiful.

Trowa stood silently, thankful for his stealth, and walked over to the humming angel. He hadn't noticed him yet. But Trowa was pulled into his presence; he had to have him closer. He reached for Quatre's outstretched hand, gaining a surprised breath as he pulled him up. Resting his other hand on the blonde's slender waist, he gave a gentle lead and began to sway him to the song.

Trowa rocked to his other foot leading the blue-eyed beauty with him. The heat beneath his hands grew as they gravitated closer. The sent of vanilla and the airy warmth of Quatre's breath on his collar consumed Trowa's world. The only thing that mattered was that Quatre was with him and he could hold him close.

The song slowed to a close and soon he'd no longer have an excuse to hold the angel; he had to act. He had to be closer to him. He had to be more to the angel. His face lowered closer to the boy's sweet breath as they both closed their eyes and their lips brushed.

Just a touch at first, like a whisper, but both needed more.

Quatre had dreamt of a kiss from the boy, but the real thing was so much more. Meeting again, they tasted each other's breath in nips and slow savory sips. Trowa pulled Quatre closer and Cat wound his pale arm around Trowa's neck, intertwining his fingers in silky brown locks. Pulling the two closer and deepening the kiss to a prayer they tasted and basked in the other's essence long after the song had gave way to a hard beat.

All too soon, breath became an essential again and the kiss slowed to tender nips between air, neither letting go. Breaking the kiss for the last time, Trowa rested his forehead on golden strands and looked into half- lidded blue as they both breathed deep and giddy, still wrapped around each other and all problems forgotten in the perfect moment

"I hope he didn't kill him!" G's voice broke their stupor as her heavy steps closed in on the room. Looking back down at Quatre's beautifully flushed lips the possibility of getting caught after what he just did was looking almost certain.

He jumped from Quatre's grasp and strode across the room, leaving the blonde a bit confused and hazy.