Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ When angels die. . . ❯ . . . rain upon us? ( Chapter 4 )

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. . . rain upon us?

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"Are you alright now, Duo?" Hiiro asked as the braided boy slumped against the bathroom wall.

"Yeah." Came the half-hearted melancholy response.

"Convince me." The stoic boy frowned slightly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Duo was quiet for several moments before the deafening silence was broken with the sounds of his ragged sobs. "W-What do you want me to say, Hiiro?" he chocked out, burying his head into his arms as he pulled his knees to his chest. "M-My best friend. . . is hurting h-himself and there's n-nothing I can do to help! I-I a-alright. . . b-but h-he's not!"

Hiiro watched his friend for a moment longer before kneeling down before him, "Duo." He whispered, tentatively touching the boy's shuddering shoulder, "Look at me, please?"

Slowly, teary violet eyes lifted to meet his cobalt blue. "Quatre will be alright too. Sally and Trowa and the rest of us will make sure of it."

Duo watched Hiiro for a moment before allowing his eyes to drop to the floor. "Why, Hiiro?" He whispered, his voice hitched with conflicting emotions. "Why did he do this?"

"I don't know." The Japanese boy answered honestly.

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"I don't know what to tell you, Sally." Trowa stated miserably.

"Anything that will help me understand what is going through Quatre's head." Sally said gently as she handed him a mug of hot coffee..

Trowa remained silent, starring into the dark liquid as if it held the key to everything.

"How about this? I ask you questions and you answer them the best you can?"

"I'll try."

"How has Quatre's appetite been? I noticed he was looking a bit thin."

"He doesn't eat much." Trowa started, "Maybe a peach in the morning along with his tea. Or dinner if I make him, but even then he just nit-picks at it."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A couple of months."

"How has his energy been?"

"His reaction times are slower. He takes a lot of naps- doesn't want to do the things he usually finds enjoyable. . . He won't talk to me."

"How long has this gone on for?"

"Longer than he's been cutting."

"Trowa!? You knew!?" Sally asked incredulously.

Swallowing harshly, Trowa hesitantly nodded.

"My God, Trowa! For how long?"

"August of last year."

"Why didn't' you tell anyone!?"

"He said he'd stop."

"People who have this problem can't just stop, Trowa! He needed help! God! That's. . ." She paused in her ranting to do a mental calculation, "Ten months! Trowa- HE could have killed himself!"

Miserably, the banged boy buried his face into his hands.

"How did you find out?"

"I heard him crying."

"The scars aren't that old." The doctor frowned.

"Not the ones on his wrists."

"Where else has he been cutting?"

". . ."

"TROWA! WHERE!?"

". . ."

"Never mind, a physical exam will tell."

"Sally -You can't!"

"It's a hospital policy, Trowa. He'd be getting one even if you hadn't said anything."

"But he'll hate me. . . he already hates me. . ."

"Do you know the cause as well?" The doctor asked tensely.

". . ."

"Trowa, I need to know."

"I gave my word. I won't break it."

"Even if it costs him his life? You are an idiot!"

"You don't understand, Sally. . . I'm doing this to save him."

"I fail to see how!"

"I can't explain it."

`Damn it, Trowa! I thought you loved him!"

"Don't. You. Dare. Question my love for Quatre. He is my life, the air in my lungs the beat of my heart." Trowa seethed, barely keeping his emotions in check. "I'd die if I were to lose him."

"Then why won't you help him!?"

"I am. I'm doing everything I know for him."

"But it's not working."

". . ."

"Trowa, what happened?"

"Ask him."

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To be continued. . .