Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sunrise ❯ Morning ( Chapter 3 )

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

"Morning"

~*~

The next morning came by quickly. As usual, Heero was the first to arise
out of bed, then Wufei soon after. If waking up in the usual manner,
though, Trowa would be the third to awake. That morning, Quatre was the
third, instead. Trowa refused to arise from bed, no matter how many times
Quatre asked him to.

"I'm going to go check up on Duo . . . Are you sure you don't wish to come
along?" the smaller boy asked Trowa, as he placed his hand upon the door
knob. Trowa, lying with his back towards Quatre, shook his head slowly.
Quatre pouted somewhat.

"Are you still feeling ill?" he asked. Trowa turned his head slightly to
face his lover, with a slightly startled look. Quatre caught that glance
and hung his head.

"I'm sorry. I heard you last night . . . It was my fault, wasn't it?" he
asked, looking down at the floor. At that, Trowa sat himself up quickly
and fully faced Quatre. A stab of guilt had once again begun to eat away
at his stomach.

"Perhaps if I just didn't do anything last night, you wouldn't be feeling
this way-"

"Quatre, it wasn't your fault," said Trowa, cutting off Quatre mid
sentence. Quatre lifted his gaze from the floor and looked at the
brunette, his expression attempting to hide the guilt that tugged violently
at him. Trowa slowly curled his hands into fists, casting his gaze down to
the blanket bundled up in his fists.

"Trowa," Quatre began, not knowing what to say to him. Trowa gritted his
teeth, his heart pounding with the hurt inside that begged to be released.
He wanted to tell Quatre, so much, about what was bothering him. Of
course, he didn't want to hurt Quatre, either. If he told him, he'd end up
hurting him. The longer he waited, though, the more it'd hurt Quatre in
the end. Should he just tell him now and get it over with? Or should he
continue to leave Quatre in the dark, for his own sake? The decision was
about to drive Trowa insane. He never wanted to hurt Quatre.

"Go visit Duo," he managed to say. Quatre stared at him for a moment, his
hand still upon the door handle.

"Trowa, I'm sorry," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. Trowa
looked up at him and saw his eyes; they were close to tears. He felt a
giant lump grow quickly inside his throat, preventing him from saying
anything more. His heart dropped into his stomach, making it turn and
twist in agony. Quatre was in pain . . .

Turning quickly, Quatre left the room and shut the door behind him. Trowa
bite his lower lip in hopes of preventing his own tears of anguish
threatening to fall.

It felt like an hour had sluggishly passed since Quatre left the room on
the verge of tears. Looking to the clock on the wall showed Trowa
otherwise; it had barely been ten minutes. With a pained groan, he lay
back down onto the bed and drew the bed covers over his face. The scent of
Quatre was still in them . . .

The door to the bedroom knocked. Without burying himself out of the
covers, Trowa didn't reply. The knock came again, a little harder. Still,
no words came from the mute pilot. Finally, there was another knock,
louder then the first two combined.

"Dammit Barton, open up!" came Wufei's voice. Trowa buried his face deeper
into his pillow. There was a pause, and then a click, then the door
opened.

"You plan to just sit lay there doing nothing all day?" asked Wufei, still
standing at the door way. Trowa didn't reply.

"You didn't tell Quatre yet, didn't you?" he asked. Trowa still didn't
reply. Wufei leaned against the frame of the door and folded his arms.

"You're going to have to tell him some day, you know. The longer you keep
it from him, the more it's going to hurt him in the end," he said. Trowa
growled, and then suddenly leapt up from the bed, tossing the blankets
aside as he stood up.

"Don't think I know that already?!" he shouted, his eyes narrowed slightly.
Wufei was taken aback. He hardly ever saw any kind of emotion emit from
the tall boy, thus resulting in his surprise. Trowa gritted his teeth
again.

"I know its only going to hurt Quatre more. Why don't you put yourself
into my place? With all this guilt burdening me and having the knowledge
that as soon as I tell him, chances are he's going to leave me? Have you
ever wondered what it felt like? All this was purely my fault. Had I been
in more control of myself, none of this would ever happen-"

"You're not the only one to blame."

Wufei glanced behind himself as Trowa lifted his head up. Behind the
Chinese pilot stood Heero, leaning against the wall in front of the door
with his arms folded. He bore no expression on his face.

"I could've resisted you; I know I could have. I didn't. Now we're both
carrying his burden of guilt; you with Quatre, and me with Duo. I don't
know what Duo's going to do. Whatever it is, though, I know I deserve more
than that. What we did was unforgivable, Trowa. Face it," he said, in a
dead monotone. Trowa bit his lip again and clenched his left hand into a
tight, white knuckled fist. Wufei shook his head as he continued to lean
against the frame of the door.

"You both are soldiers; I don't see how you two could've done such a
thing," he said.

"We're not perfect, despite what other people say," Heero growled. Trowa
lifted his head in surprise. He knew that Heero had always demanded
perfection within himself. People had claimed that both he and Heero were
"perfect soldiers", though he knew personally that they were far from it.

"You better tell Quatre soon," muttered Wufei as he turned away from the
two and headed down the hall to the stairs. Heero watched him for a
moment, before turned once again and taking Wufei's place against the door
frame, continuing to lean against it with his arms folded over his chest.

"Wufei's right," he said. Trowa sighed and turned away from him.
Sluggishly, he walked over to the window near the bed and opened its
blinds, letting in the bright sunlight of the morning into the room.

"It's only going to hurt him more," said Heero, still at the door. Trowa
stared outside, his expression unreadable.

"How are you going to deal with Duo?" he asked. There was a pause for
silence, before he heard Heero sigh uncomfortably.

"I'm going to let him decide what to do," he said. Trowa felt that lump
gradually grow inside his throat.

"Should I . . . allow Quatre to . . .?"

"You don't own him, Trowa. He's going to make his own decision, and
whatever happens, happens. The least you can do is be there for him when
he needs you," came Heero's answer. There was another pause of silence.

"You're always saying to act on your emotions. Is that what you were doing
when . . .?"

"I thought I was. Turns out I was wrong about myself," said Heero,
quickly. Trowa felt himself sinking deeper and deeper.

"It hurts, Heero. I don't know what to do . . ." said Trowa, weakly.

"You're a solider. You can handle it," mumbled Heero as he unfolded his
arms. His words pierced through Trowa's heart.

Silently, Heero turned and walked away from Trowa's room, heading back down
the stairs. Trowa felt his knees grow weak, and then forced himself to sit
back down on the edge of the bed. When he did, he drew his knees up to him
and buried his face in his arms, weeping.