Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sunrise ❯ Dawn ( Chapter 2 )

((I do not own Gundam Wing, blah blah blah))

"Dawn"

~*~

Trowa sat upright just as he heard the jeep drive up into the driveway. He
had fallen asleep in the recliner, watching the television. He glimpsed
upwards at the clock on the wall. It was barely 21:00 hours.

First to walk in was an angry Heero. He jerked the door open, dropped his
coat carelessly beside the closet door, and then proceeded up the stairs.
Soon after Wufei entered the house, the door to Heero's room could be
heard, slamming.

Wufei's entrance wasn't all that different than Heero's. Unlike the
Japanese boy, he grabbed both his and Heero's coat and carelessly threw
them into the closet, leaving the door open as he also proceeded up the
stairs to his room. Just as Quatre walked into the house, Wufei's bedroom
door was heard, slamming.

Just as Quatre slowly closed the door behind him, Trowa stood up from the
couch, walking over to the television to turn it off.

"That was awfully quick. What happened?" he asked as Quatre bent over to
retrieve the two recklessly thrown coats from the floor of the closet,
after slipping out of his. Standing back up, he carefully hung the three
garments onto coat hangers and replaced them back onto the rack inside the
closet, closing it soon after. Turning to Trowa, he offered the taller boy
a delicate grin.

"He's all right. He just didn't want any visitors at the moment," said the
blonde, a slight hint of distress in his voice. Trowa walked up to him,
and then wrapped his arms around him.

"All right . . ." he said, nuzzling the blonde lightly. Quatre grinned and
sank slightly into his embrace, also wrapping him arms around him. He
lifted himself up to Trowa, softly planting his lips upon his. Suddenly,
at the light touch, Trowa felt a slight sinking feeling in his stomach.
Quickly, he withdrew from his lover and released his hold upon him, casting
his gaze to the floor. Puzzled, Quatre still kept his arms around him.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, attempting to pull Trowa's gaze at him.
Trowa avoided his gaze, keeping his onto the floor.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered. Quatre pouted and released his hold
on his.

"You've been like this ever since I came back. Why won't you tell me
what's wrong?" he asked. Trowa shook his head slowly, still keeping his
eyes locked onto the floor. Quatre sighed, then stepped in front of him,
placing his hands at his knees, attempting to catch Trowa's gaze by
standing in his view. Surprisingly, it worked.

"Nothing's wrong, little one. I just haven't been feeling so well," he
muttered, softly. Quatre pouted again, standing up.

"Do you need to go to the hospital too?" he asked. Quickly, Trowa shook
his head, finally lifting his stare from the floor to his blonde lover.

"No, it's not that," he said. Quatre reached out and clasped his hands
over his, looking deeply into his emerald green eyes with his sea blue.

"Are you sure, love? I don't want you feeling badly in anyway for
anything," he said, his voice full of worry and concern. Trowa quickly
tore his stare from the blonde's, the guilt rising up more so in his
stomach than it had been earlier.

"I'm sure, Quatre," the taller boy replied, his voice cold. Quatre's heart
jumped at that tone of voice, making himself let go of him quickly. He
looked up at Trowa curiously, but the latter boy whipped his head away and
quickly began to venture up the stairs. Quatre could only pout and follow
in response.

***

Trowa lay on his side of the bed, facing away from Quatre. He was wide
awake, staring at the wall in front of him. He suspected that Quatre laid
asleep, his arms wrapping around his waist.

". . . Trowa . . ."

Trowa was suddenly jerked out of his semi-trance of staring at the wall.
He felt Quatre's arms tighten slightly around his waist.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, his voice barely in a whisper. Trowa sighed
and shook his head.

"I was never mad at you, Quatre," he said, shifting himself about slightly
to face Quatre. Quatre met him with his innocent gaze.

"Then why are you acting as if you are? You're avoiding me . . ." Quatre
whispered, leaning forwards to Trowa, planting his lips upon his. Trowa
didn't draw back, in fear he'd hurt Quatre's feelings again. Yet, the deep,
sinking feeling returned to his stomach gradually; the guilt from within
beginning to eat away at his insides once again . . .

"Quatre . . ." Trowa began as the smaller boy pulled away. Quatre pulled
himself closer to Trowa, once again pulling him into an embrace. He
nuzzled his lover slowly, turning his head to Trowa's neck; his tongue
darting out to slide along his skin. Trowa shivered and placed his hands
at Quatre's shoulders.

"Quat, don't . . ." he pleaded. Quatre pulled back his tongue and rested
his head against Trowa's shoulder.

"You've been avoiding me for the past couple of days, love. It's been a
while since we . . ." Quatre pleaded right back, pulling back an arm from
around the taller boy. Trowa felt himself bite his lower lip, to prevent
himself from saying anything hurtful to the blonde, if not, blurting out
the truth all together.

Just as Trowa opened his mouth to protest, Quatre slid his arm down between
them, his delicate hand grasping between the brunette's legs. Instead of
words, out came a sharp gasp, preventing him from saying anything all
together. Seeing his lover's reaction, a smirk crawled its way onto
Quatre's boyish features. With a low growl in Trowa's throat, Quatre
turned his head again to his neck, placing his lips upon his flesh and
sucking lightly. Trowa felt his heart almost beat out of his skin.

Trowa wanted, more than anything in the world for Quatre to stop. He
wanted him to stop squeezing him, to stop kissing him, to stop teasing him.
He couldn't help his body's reactions to the other boy's touches, and yet
he couldn't bring himself to yell at him to stop. His heart was in his
throat and it wouldn't move. Even as he felt Quatre's mouth take him
whole, he couldn't get himself to make him stop. Even as he came, words
had no use. His actions were now being guided by his body's needs. Those
damned needs that got him this guilt in the first place.

All that happened made him pay later that night. He ended up in the
bathroom, hovering over the toilet, vomiting what little had settled in his
stomach. This had to end soon . . . It wasn't right for Quatre, for Duo,
for Heero, or for himself . . .

In the next bedroom, Wufei had his headphones on full blast in his ears, a
stern look of anger upon his face as his arms were folded stubbornly over
his chest. Trowa had BETTER confess soon, for Quatre's sake . . .