Author/Alias: Sphynx (firstname.lastname@example.org OR email@example.com)
Title/Part Number: Trowa's Journal (aka My Quatre)
Catagory/Warnings: Shounen ai, slightly AU, DEATH, very OOC (but remember, our little blonde angle managed magic)
Pairings: 3x4 (maybe I'm obssesed@_@)
Comments/Disclaimers: Hehe...THEY'RE NOT MINE! The story is...That cover it? "Quatre's Journal" in progress...Don't expect it too soon, my disk was damaged and I have to retype it. I wrote this, meaning to kill Trowa...I'm sooo sorry, but Quatre was willing to sacrifice himself! This is obviously a journal...Written by Trowa, trying to remember Quatre. "Quatre's Journal" will be this from Quat's POV.
Quatre: Hmph, very well couldn't live without Trowa, could I?
Trowa: I miss you.
To my Quatre, you left me, and I miss you.
The day he left me was cold. I don't know why I remember that particular detail, but it has always stood out. I must have been really out of it, because I remember little else, except for his leaving. I still can't believe that he is really gone.it seems that every time I turn around, I see him out of the corner of my eye. I know that I will never really learn to be happy without him, he is my soulmate. I hear his voice everywhere. I wish I could really hear it come out of his mouth, but that will never be again. I know he didn't want to leave, as he left, he swore he would always love me. And then the last breath left his body, and I couldn't see anything. My heart went numb, and I could no longer feel. The pain didn't come till later, when I came out of the shock. I saw him lying in the coffin, and he looked like he was just sleeping. I couldn't handle it; I just broke down, then and there, sobbing like I would never stop. His beautiful blue eyes shut forever, the graceful fingers folded across his chest, never to play a violin again. My beautiful blonde angel, just lying there, all alone. Then they closed the coffin, and I never saw him again. I know he is not coming back, but I find my memories of him fading, so I write. Aishiteru, my darling angel. My Quatre.
I remember the first time I saw him after the war was over. He was at a concert that I had gone to see in my precious free time. It was intermission, and I had gone from my seat for a drink. He was there, laughing with a few women he introduced as his sisters. When he saw me, our eyes met, and I realized how much I longed to see him and talk to him. He walked over, and there was one moment when we couldn't say anything. He asked how I had been, and then invited me over for a casual dinner then next night. What could I do but accept? He was always so polite. And so I went to dinner, and we had a wonderful time, everything was so perfect. After we ate, we migrated to the sitting room, and tea was served. We must have talked for hours, when we finally had nothing left to say, the sky was starting to get light. As I was leaving, he hugged me, and I thought I would be content to always hold him, but alas, that was not the time, and I left.
The circus was in town for a week more, and I saw Quatre every day. It was amazing to spend time with him with no war going on. We went to cafes and concerts, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn't opened up to anyone before. I wanted nothing more than to stay with him forever. But eventually I had to leave. The circus had to move on to a new place, and I went with it. He cried when I told him I was leaving, and I hated to see it. I never wanted to cause him pain. I held him as he cried. He fit so perfectly in my arms, like he was meant to be there. I had to leave to help pack everything up and he promised he would come say goodbye. I almost asked him not to, I knew that it would upset him, and me. But I didn't, and he came just before we left. He made a valiant effort not to cry, he really did. But the pain on his face was evident and I couldn't help but tell him that I didn't want to leave, and it hurt me just as much, and he just broke down. I held him again, tears running down my face. When he looked up from my shoulder, he was shocked, and I realized I had never cried in front of him before. I had adjusted to life after the war, and now was more able to show my emotions openly, but I still think that I hadn't cried in front of anyone for years. I reached down and wiped the tears from his face and told him I would be back soon. And then I kissed him. I don't know why I did this.but I definitely have never regretted it. At first it was soft and sweet, just like Quatre, and then it grew passionate. I knew then that I never wanted to leave him, I loved him. But I had to go.
This journal is getting so hard to write in. It's not that I don't remember, it's just I seem to feel the hole in my heart where Quatre's physical presence was more so when I remember the times he was with me. I love him so much still, and I know he is still with me emotionally. I can feel his spirit in the room now, a gentle loving presence that never really leaves me now. I left that day with the circus though, and its presence was gone. The circus traveled for a few weeks, stopping at a couple of colonies and performing. After about a month, we were on a colony and gearing up for opening night. Catherine was practicing with her knives, and I was stretching. I suddenly heard a voice calling my name. It was his, my Quatre's. I jumped up and turned around and there he was, just standing there looking at me. I started to speak, but all I could get out was his name, and he was in my arms, kissing me. I kissed him back, holding him tightly. It was perfect, I knew I was meant to be with him. He stayed on with the circus until we were ready to move on. And I went with him when the circus had to leave. We went back to his father's house, where he was running the family business.
We arrived at his house on a wonderful sunny day. Some of his sisters met us at the door. They were staying with him, helping him run the business side of things. Quatre led me to a bedroom that was richly decorated, showed me the closet and bathroom, and left me to unpack while he went to check on a few things. It was a bedroom that I would rarely stay in after the first week. I put the one bag I had on the bed, and started to unpack. At that time, I didn't know how long I was going to stay, but that would have made little difference, as I never needed much, being in the circus and all. After I had finished unpacking, I went to see the bathroom. It was gorgeous, and huge. I put the few toiletries I had on the marble counter, and then heard a knock on the door of the bedroom. I went to the door, and there was Quatre. He was smiling that beautiful smile of his, and I melted inside. I gave a quick smile in return. His smile grew wider, and he said that dinner was ready, and asked me to join him. I went, and the food was marvelous. We ate, and then retired to his sitting room to have tea and dessert. We talked very little in the time that followed. We sat comfortable in each other's presence, content just to be. We went each to our own beds later, content and happy.
We spent most of our time for the next few weeks getting settled in a routine. We would get up mid-morning and have lunch, and then go out for the afternoon. We went to concerts, out riding, to plays, and so much more. Dinner would either be out at a small bistro or fancy restaurant if we went out, or in the stately dinning room of Quatre's home. Always dessert and our quiet time together would be in a sitting room, usually his, after dinner. I started reading the various novels I could find, and we would sit in the quiet, reading. If we weren't reading, we were playing duets. I played flute, and Quatre violin. For us, the two instruments sounded heavenly together, even though it was an unlikely combination of sounds. We didn't kiss after that first time for a few days. And then, one night, he went to bed before I did, stopping at the armchair I was curled up in, leaned down and kissed me. It was wonderful. I pulled him down into the chair with me to get a better angle. I picked him up and carried him to his bedroom, all the while kissing him passionately. That night we showed each other how much love we had welling inside. After our energy was spent, we lay in each other's arms. He told me he loved me, lying there in the moonlight, he was crying. I held him close and told him I loved him too, and that I would never leave him.
We were happy together. When we weren't working, we were together. Needless to say, I didn't want to be anywhere else. I was happy with him; he brought out a side of me I never knew I had. I opened up to him. I was able to smile more, and cry. This is why I miss him. He made me complete. One day he woke up with a bad fever. I took him to the doctor. It should have been a quick check, but they were in the examining room for what seemed like hours. The doctor came out first. He beckoned me over, and told me that Quatre wanted to talk to me before we left. I felt like I was walking to my execution, the doctor followed behind me with a grave expression on his face. When I walked in the room, Quarte was sitting in a chair with his head bowed, hands clasped between his knees. He seemed to be gathering his strength. I waited patiently until he was ready to talk. The doctor asked Quatre if he wanted to tell me, or should he go ahead and tell me. Quatre raised his head slowly and stated simply that he wanted to tell me himself. The look in his eyes was unbearable. There was great pain there. I went over to him and knelt before him, taking him into my arms. He sat there for a minute to gather himself, and then pulled back slightly so he could look me in the eyes. He said he was sick, very sick. I asked him if he would tell me what he had. He told me it was cancer, and started crying. I held him as we both cried.me for the pain he would have to endure, and him, I as I found out later for the pain that I would have if I lost him. Little did he know that he would end up leaving me so soon.
The doctor did everything he could. I really believed he tried. But as the months moved on, Quatre got worse and worse. The tumor was spreading and eating him from the inside out. He was in almost constant pain. The doctor did as much as he could. Quatre refused chemotherapy, it wouldn't give him much more hope, and he didn't want me to see him like that. I objected, of course, but he was adamant. I watched and supported him as he got weaker and weaker. It was torture that I made myself endure for his sake alone. I loved him too much to leave him to suffer alone. And the he couldn't get up on his own. I would carry him outside to the garden so he could see the sun, and he would lie in the hammock under the carefully cultivated oak tree, and I would sit by him reading to him from his favorite books, or play my flute. And then, one night, as he lay in the twilight of the garden, his time came. He asked me to hold him close, and told me he was scared. I held him close as the life slipped from his body. The spirit slipped from his body, I felt my heart rip itself out to go with it. I loved him so much.
This must be the last entry I write. I will keep this to treasure always, but the time after Quatre's death has been a hell for me. This has ripped my soul out all over again. Maybe someday I will learn to live with the pain of having half my soul gone. I will never love the way I love Quatre again. This is something I know in my heart. The day he died, he left me alone to struggle. One day I will find meaning to my life without him, and I will go from this world in peace.