[FIC] "A Smiling Face" - Trowa & Quatre Short
I hate mirrors and, unfortunately, Quatre has a plethora of various mirrors hanging around every corner of his mansion. I suppose it would be fine for him to have a mirror handy. After all, his appearance is important to his work. He has to maintain a pleasant smile and a neat, tidy demeanor for the cameras and his employees.
It doesn’t matter for me. Nobody sees me and I don’t particularly care to see myself.
When I look at my reflection I don’t see anything. There is no emotion there. I even tried smiling at myself once, but the effort strained my face and made me appear to be some sort of psychopathic killer preparing to strike.
No… I was never meant to smile. The last time I recall smiling was when Heero told me that joke once; about dying… he said it hurt like hell. He always had a way of-
“Trowa? What are you doing?”
I quickly closed the browser window I had been typing in and turned to face the blond who was standing in the doorway with his oxford-clad arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Nothing.”
He wasn’t convinced. One of his thin eyebrows lifted high upon his forehead. “It was obvious you were doing something…”
I shook my head. “I was just writing Heero an e-mail to remind him about Relena’s conference next week.”
The mere mention of Heero’s name brought a scowl to Quatre’s lips. “You were writing in that Livejournal again, weren’t you?”
I was caught. I continued to stare at him with my most placid expression, hoping that he wouldn’t press the subject further.
“Trowa, why don’t you ever open up to me? How is talking to complete strangers on an online journal easier than confiding in your very own lover?” He asked in an exasperated tone. I was convinced he would march up to the computer and read the entry I had been working on like he had the last time. I began to silently pray to whatever deity would listen that he wouldn’t.
To my surprise my prayers were answered. Instead of intruding on my internet privacy he stepped lightly over to my dresser and slid open the top drawer. My heart sank when I saw him retrieve my smiling, half-clown mask from beneath a pair of folded boxer shorts. He held it out to me.
I stared down at its large, black star-shaped eye and the grotesquely large smile that had been painted upon its pale ceramic surface. “Please, Quatre… not tonight.”
He continued to hold the mask out to me in silence, waiting patiently for me to obey him. I frowned and reluctantly approached him.
I decided that I had been careless in getting caught spilling my soul on the internet and that I should accept my punishment. I hesitantly took the mask from his small, pale hands and carefully placed it against the right half of my face. It was cold and it blocked out half of my vision.
“There, see? You can be happy.”
I nodded mutely and dropped to my knees before him.
“I am happy.”
It doesn’t matter for me. Nobody sees me and I don’t particularly care to see myself.
When I look at my reflection I don’t see anything. There is no emotion there. I even tried smiling at myself once, but the effort strained my face and made me appear to be some sort of psychopathic killer preparing to strike.
No… I was never meant to smile. The last time I recall smiling was when Heero told me that joke once; about dying… he said it hurt like hell. He always had a way of-
“Trowa? What are you doing?”
I quickly closed the browser window I had been typing in and turned to face the blond who was standing in the doorway with his oxford-clad arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Nothing.”
He wasn’t convinced. One of his thin eyebrows lifted high upon his forehead. “It was obvious you were doing something…”
I shook my head. “I was just writing Heero an e-mail to remind him about Relena’s conference next week.”
The mere mention of Heero’s name brought a scowl to Quatre’s lips. “You were writing in that Livejournal again, weren’t you?”
I was caught. I continued to stare at him with my most placid expression, hoping that he wouldn’t press the subject further.
“Trowa, why don’t you ever open up to me? How is talking to complete strangers on an online journal easier than confiding in your very own lover?” He asked in an exasperated tone. I was convinced he would march up to the computer and read the entry I had been working on like he had the last time. I began to silently pray to whatever deity would listen that he wouldn’t.
To my surprise my prayers were answered. Instead of intruding on my internet privacy he stepped lightly over to my dresser and slid open the top drawer. My heart sank when I saw him retrieve my smiling, half-clown mask from beneath a pair of folded boxer shorts. He held it out to me.
I stared down at its large, black star-shaped eye and the grotesquely large smile that had been painted upon its pale ceramic surface. “Please, Quatre… not tonight.”
He continued to hold the mask out to me in silence, waiting patiently for me to obey him. I frowned and reluctantly approached him.
I decided that I had been careless in getting caught spilling my soul on the internet and that I should accept my punishment. I hesitantly took the mask from his small, pale hands and carefully placed it against the right half of my face. It was cold and it blocked out half of my vision.
“There, see? You can be happy.”
I nodded mutely and dropped to my knees before him.
“I am happy.”