The Way Back - gw
The Way Back
pairing: trowa/quatre
rating: g
warnings: lame? sap? i dunno
setting: after the wars
notes: i was originally writing for gw500, but at the end i thought, "no, too generic, too over-done!' so enjoy. :0
The Way Back
We don't say anything as we walk side by side in the park.
I breathe deeply and remember why it was so hard to leave Earth the last time I was on it, the last time I was with Trowa.
I hear children playing. I feel the wind cool and ease through the folds of my jacket, and ardently embrace it all, welcoming the energy and beauty of Earth back home into the warmth of my chest.
Smiling is so easy when I'm next to him and thinking about reaching out and touching him - the edges of his light jacket or his elbow, maybe one day his hand - but I just dig my fists deeper into my pockets and smile wider at the thought, the imagined texture of his skin against mine…
We slowly follow the path, which is leading us back to his car. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him falter slightly, evening out the pace into a lingering saunter.
"Thank you for inviting me back," I say and know I don't have to. He knows I'm grateful, but I wanted to say it. I wanted to communicate to him after all of our quietness, even if just something trivial.
"I'm glad you accepted," he replies, but it's hesitant. He looks up and then around him.
It's an odd gesture for him, doesn't fit quite right. I realize, gradually, that he hasn’t met my gaze for a while.
"Do you want to go back home?" I ask, and when he shakes his head I say, "Do you want to keep walking?"
He stops abruptly, looking back at the way we just came with a soft expression. I don't know what to think of it. I almost reach out to him, but curl my fingers tighter. I take that image of him: wrapped in his dirty brown coat that matches with the surrounding dying leaves of Autumn, the expression, the smell of him - I imprint it into my mind, stored with the countless others.
"We can keep walking," I suggest.
He gives a slight nod and we're walking back through the trees and the redolent scent of nature. For a short time, I am content to immerse myself in the sound of our feet on the gravel, keeping in sync with one another.
"Is there something on your mind?" I ask him gently when it feels like the comfortable silence shifts into an awkward one.
"Yes," he breathes out, but says nothing else.
After a few moments, I tell him, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine...but I want you to know that I'm here to listen. If you need any kind of help, I'm here, Trowa."
I hope my conviction strengthens my words. It's selfish, but I admit that out of everyone in his life, I wish that Trowa feels the most comfortable with me. I want him to believe in me, to trust me the most.
"That's what I want," he murmurs and I don' t understand.
"Pardon me?"
He struggles with the words, with uttering them again, and eventually gives up with a sigh.
My heart is pounding, my whole body is tingling like it senses something; I feel I'm at the apex of something new...something different...and I'm about to fall right into it.
I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm giddy.
It's awful; it's so, so wonderful.
"Say it again," I shyly plead.
His face is turned away from mine and carefully he lifts up his hand offering it to me. 'What does it mean?' I wonder, ‘Please, please mean what I want it to.’
I give him my hand and instead of holding it, I feel something placed inside my palm, warm and hard. He holds it there a moment, meeting my eyes, and then lets go and turns away again. The wind pulls back his hair and his face is pale and unreadable as he watches the children off in the distance.
Curiously, I slowly open my palm, my hand shaking slightly. When my cold fingers spread and present the gift, I see what I had thought it was. My chest strains to breathe. I feel like I’m plummeting and there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing else I want to do more than…
"Trowa?" I wonder aloud, my words fumbling over the common syllables.
His eyes study my opened hand and he simply asks, "Stay?"
I slip the ring onto my finger and whisper, "Absolutely."
pairing: trowa/quatre
rating: g
warnings: lame? sap? i dunno
setting: after the wars
notes: i was originally writing for gw500, but at the end i thought, "no, too generic, too over-done!' so enjoy. :0
The Way Back
We don't say anything as we walk side by side in the park.
I breathe deeply and remember why it was so hard to leave Earth the last time I was on it, the last time I was with Trowa.
I hear children playing. I feel the wind cool and ease through the folds of my jacket, and ardently embrace it all, welcoming the energy and beauty of Earth back home into the warmth of my chest.
Smiling is so easy when I'm next to him and thinking about reaching out and touching him - the edges of his light jacket or his elbow, maybe one day his hand - but I just dig my fists deeper into my pockets and smile wider at the thought, the imagined texture of his skin against mine…
We slowly follow the path, which is leading us back to his car. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him falter slightly, evening out the pace into a lingering saunter.
"Thank you for inviting me back," I say and know I don't have to. He knows I'm grateful, but I wanted to say it. I wanted to communicate to him after all of our quietness, even if just something trivial.
"I'm glad you accepted," he replies, but it's hesitant. He looks up and then around him.
It's an odd gesture for him, doesn't fit quite right. I realize, gradually, that he hasn’t met my gaze for a while.
"Do you want to go back home?" I ask, and when he shakes his head I say, "Do you want to keep walking?"
He stops abruptly, looking back at the way we just came with a soft expression. I don't know what to think of it. I almost reach out to him, but curl my fingers tighter. I take that image of him: wrapped in his dirty brown coat that matches with the surrounding dying leaves of Autumn, the expression, the smell of him - I imprint it into my mind, stored with the countless others.
"We can keep walking," I suggest.
He gives a slight nod and we're walking back through the trees and the redolent scent of nature. For a short time, I am content to immerse myself in the sound of our feet on the gravel, keeping in sync with one another.
"Is there something on your mind?" I ask him gently when it feels like the comfortable silence shifts into an awkward one.
"Yes," he breathes out, but says nothing else.
After a few moments, I tell him, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine...but I want you to know that I'm here to listen. If you need any kind of help, I'm here, Trowa."
I hope my conviction strengthens my words. It's selfish, but I admit that out of everyone in his life, I wish that Trowa feels the most comfortable with me. I want him to believe in me, to trust me the most.
"That's what I want," he murmurs and I don' t understand.
"Pardon me?"
He struggles with the words, with uttering them again, and eventually gives up with a sigh.
My heart is pounding, my whole body is tingling like it senses something; I feel I'm at the apex of something new...something different...and I'm about to fall right into it.
I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm giddy.
It's awful; it's so, so wonderful.
"Say it again," I shyly plead.
His face is turned away from mine and carefully he lifts up his hand offering it to me. 'What does it mean?' I wonder, ‘Please, please mean what I want it to.’
I give him my hand and instead of holding it, I feel something placed inside my palm, warm and hard. He holds it there a moment, meeting my eyes, and then lets go and turns away again. The wind pulls back his hair and his face is pale and unreadable as he watches the children off in the distance.
Curiously, I slowly open my palm, my hand shaking slightly. When my cold fingers spread and present the gift, I see what I had thought it was. My chest strains to breathe. I feel like I’m plummeting and there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing else I want to do more than…
"Trowa?" I wonder aloud, my words fumbling over the common syllables.
His eyes study my opened hand and he simply asks, "Stay?"
I slip the ring onto my finger and whisper, "Absolutely."