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Quatre stood in front of the large mirror in the bedroom, looking at the small scar he had because of Dorothy.
The scar was unchanged, but he hadn't expected anything else. Why should it suddenly change? He was hoping that looking at the scar would ease the pain, but it didn't. He rubbed the scar, sometimes this helped against the aching.
This pain was not real, it was caused by a recurrent nightmare he had ever since:
Dorothy leaves right after stabbing him. She leaves him alone, slowly bleeding to death.
In his dream, Trowa does not come to save him. He dies alone on that spaceship.
His scar always ached after that nightmare, no matter how many times he had this dream, how many times he told himself it wasn't real. That the wound had healed.
It felt like a bad omen, that all this was happening when Trowa wasn't around.
Back when he'd dreamed about it regularly, Quatre was feeling incredibly lonely. He thought his friends didn't care, that they forgot about him, even Trowa who mattered most to him.
There was also a lot of stress with taking over the company, rebuilding... It had been hard. Really hard. But then he met Trowa again, they fell in love and became a couple. Since then, that dream hadn't haunted him.
It had been 2 years and a half since last time, he thought that he had finally get over it. But he was wrong.
Still rubbing the scar, Quatre turned to look over at their bed. They both had a violent argument, so harsh that Trowa left the house.
Quatre was sure they both just needed to calm down, eventually he went to bed. And woke up alone.
The last few weeks had been so tough that he was at the end of his strength. Trowa surely felt the same way, even if he tried to hide it. It’s been difficult for them both. They had often argued lately and, despite Trowa claimed otherwise, Quatre was taking most of the blame.
It was now 2 AM and Trowa had not returned.
Quatre missed him. Missed him like a lung, like the air he needs to breath.
The fight, Trowa's absence, the nightmare, the empty bed, his guilty conscience, fear. It was so much to bear right now. He was so scared that something happened to Trowa or that he didn't want to see him anymore. Did he destroyed what they both had?
The pain increased and he fell on his knees. What did Trowa always say? Breathe. He had to breathe. Longer out, then in. Calm, long breaths. He tried.
In, longer out.
In, longer out.
It was easier when Trowa was with him, when they did it together, when he could follow his rhythm. Without Trowa he felt helpless. A feeling he hated.
Quatre realized that this feeling had followed him like a shadow for few weeks. And now that Trowa wasn't there, it had descended on him.
He should have talked about it, right?
He had avoided all conversations, to not make Trowa feeling more guilty. He also didn't want to show how much he was affected, just wanted to be strong. For both of them.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Trowa was gone because he closed himself off to him, because he made it so difficult for him. And he also left Trowa alone, denying him the opportunity to talk about what happened.
Quatre had hoped that if he didn't say anything, pretending everything was okay, Trowa' s feeling of guilt would ease or eventually go away, and they both could just forget about that terrible evening.
But it all came up, hitting like a wave and giving him the feeling that he suddenly couldn't breathe anymore.
It was a surprise. A wonderful surprise from Trowa.
He got tickets for an orchestra Quatre always wanted to see but never managed to because he was too busy in the last few years.
As Trowa took out the tickets from his pocket, Quatre showered him with kisses. He was so happy, and the concert was wonderful.
Afterwards they stopped for a drink in a small cafe near the concert hall. It was a calm and cozy place. They spoke about the concert, how they urgently needed to go for a vacation again soon, and they hadn’t seen their friends for far too long either.
It was already late and cold when they made their way back.
Trowa passed the car keys, so Quatre could go start the car and sit down, while he would pay for the parking ticket.
When Quatre arrived in the parking garage a group of young men was also there, standing by a sports car, talking. Quatre didn’t pay much attention to them, they just seemed in a good mood. But when he passed by, one followed him. That was the moment everything started.
"Hey, wait a minute. A pretty like you shouldn't be walking around alone."
As Quatre turned to look over his shoulder, the man already grabbed his arm.
"Please let me go."
He tried it nicely. But the man, a good head taller than him, instead pulled him towards with a strong tug. The other hand grabbed his butt while the man grinned broadly.
"I'll get you right, little one. You're going to have the night of your life."
Quatre felt anger rising in him. With a strong twitch he teared himself off.
"Today it's just you and your hand. Please leave me alone. I'm not interested."
The other three men were now approaching, in a moment he was already surrounded.
By then, for the first time, Quatre felt a tinge of fear: he was the head of a big corporation; he couldn't just beat up someone, and he didn't want that either. Such a beautiful evening should not end like this. There was certainly a way he could talk his way out of the situation.
Thinking that was a mistake, he should have tried to run immediately, because as he got surrounded the feelings of the others overwhelmed him.
Due to his space heart, Quatre could almost visualize what these men wanted to do to him. In all the terrible details. Feeling that was like almost experiencing it already.
It paralyzed him, his hands started trembling. He could defend himself, but suddenly he felt helpless. So helpless.
That moment of hesitation was his downfall. Someone grabbed his waist, the first man approached, putting one hand between his legs, the other on his chin.
Quatre snapped out of his fear. Nobody was allowed to touch him like that! Yanking his head back, he smacked the man’s chin. That loosened the grip, so he punched on the nose of the man in front of him, who staggered back. It sounded like he broke the nose.
"Quatre!"
Trowa' s voice!
He turned and saw Trowa running towards him, then suddenly Trowa threw something. After the shot he heard someone falling.
One of the four men was lying on the ground, a knife stuck in his side. Quatre's eyes widened when he saw the man was holding a knife as well. Trowa shot past him as Quatre staggered sideways and in a few moments, all four of them were lying on the ground injured.
That moment made Quatre feel so helpless.
Those men just thought they had power over him, could do whatever they wanted to him. They touched him where only Trowa should. They seriously wanted to hurt him while he hadn't done anything to them. Quatre was shocked by this dishonesty, such a willingness to use violence.
To make it worse, Trowa was also accused.
He seriously injured the man with the knife and was charged with aggravated assault.
The press used it again to question the person Quatre associates with, how dangerous Trowa was. With all those rumors, it had been hell.
Quatre was the one who responded striking back first, yet all was about how violent Trowa was, how dangerous, and whether he should go to jail for aggravated assault.
Even if Trowa’ s actions were to protect Quatre, given his skills as a security officer he should have figured a different solution than a knife.
The trial lasted a few weeks, until all the witnesses were heard, and the judge made up a decision. Those weeks had been hell.
Trowa had been blaming himself, for letting him go alone, for being there so late.
Quatre blamed himself for Trowa having to take the guilt: no one thought to accuse him even though he also caused injuries. His name protected him from that, but Trowa had to take the public shame.
Trowa believed that he was suffering and wanted to help, but Quatre had always denied everything: he was just so sorry for how they taunted Trowa in the press and for being framed with such a lawsuit. He was okay, Trowa should worry about his problems.
Trowa didn't seem to care, he still regretted not having been there earlier and he was desperate because Quatre wasn't talking to him. This was the reason behind their frequent arguments.
The trial outcome was announced yesterday, a penalty fee: Trowa had to pay back the man a compensation for the injuries. Of course, Quatre was more than relieved, but it ended up into another fight instead of a celebration. Quatre, still feeling guilty, wanted to pay the fine and Trowa got so mad about it he also yelled for a moment.
"It’s not your damn fault, it’s theirs! They harassed and attacked you! And they deserve what happened to them! And I'm so damn mad you still won't talk to me about it! That you're always trying to take all the blame! I don't want your damn money, Quatre! This whole trial was ridiculous!”
"Ridiculous? You almost went to jail! Because of me! There's nothing ridiculous about that! And the least I can do is pay the fine!”
"Damn Quatre, it's not about the money, it's about you! How this matter deeply affected you! Both of us!"
"I'm fine damn!"
"Liar. Why are you leaving me out? All the time. No matter how hard I try. It feels like you don't want me to be with you anymore."
“That… that's not true! Besides, why does everything always have to be about me? You were charged! And you still feel guilty, even though it's not your fault! And you know what? I'm tired of arguing with you about it all the time!"
"At least we agree on that. I'm tired of it too."
With these words Trowa left.
In the end it was always a fight against each other instead of them fighting together. Now that Trowa was gone, Quatre could see it so clearly. Why not before?
They had sworn to be a team, to work out everything hand in hand. Quatre really disconnected from Trowa, throwing himself into work to not thinking about what happened. Burying everything deep inside himself instead of dealing with it. It was a huge mistake. Trowa perceived it, but he didn’t listen to him.
Quatre started to cry. He wanted to go back, to give them a chance to get over it.
Crawling on the floor, with both hands pressed over the painful scar, he couldn't breathe as Trowa taught him. Not alone. He couldn’t make it alone. He wanted to see Trowa. He just wanted to be with him.
Suddenly strong arms grabbed him, they pulled him up, but he recognized them immediately. Quatre let out a sob and squeezed against Trowa, who lifted him into his arms and held him tight.
"I am here. I'm sorry, my prince, but I'm here now."
"Trowa... I'm so sorry! Please… don’t go! You were right...I shut you out and I'm sorry!"
“Shh… breathe Quatre. Everything is okay. I won't leave you alone. Not again."
Trowa held Quatre tight. He must have scared him, being gone so long without a word, without being available after such an argument. He didn’t want that.
Quatre was completely overwrought and finding him lying on the ground shocked Trowa as well. Apparently, his scar started to hurt again, and Trowa hoped he could calm Quatre down enough to breathe properly together.
Right now, there were still too many tears, too much had accumulated over the last few weeks to be released, but that was good though, that’s what Trowa had been waiting for. Quatre's beautiful but sensitive heart couldn't recover when locked in, not allowing to feel everything.
He stroked Quatre's scar and waited patiently until the emotional outburst eased.
Few minutes later, Quatre calmed down enough that they were able to breathe together like they had done so many times before.
When Quatre was no longer completely tense in his arms, the worst seemed to be over.
"Is it better now with the scar?”
"Yes, thanks to you. Trowa, can we… Can we talk? Is that alright?"
Trowa nodded, that was all he wanted. He stood pulling Quatre up to his feet.
"Let's take a little walk, shall we?"
He took off his sweater and handed it to Quatre, who immediately put it on. Trowa knew how much Quatre liked to wear his clothes, especially if he had worn them before. He always said that they were so nice and warm and that he liked the smell. Like a hug from him. And it worked, Quatre didn't look so sad anymore.
Taking Quatre's hand, he led him out of the bedroom. Slowly they headed to their beautiful garden, a good place to talk. A calming place. Trowa took a deep breath, it was better here than inside, not so oppressive.
"Can you tell me why you didn't want to talk to me?"
"It felt… wrong. You were feeling so guilty, and then all this hassle, the trial, the press writing against you... that wasn't fair. Nothing was fair, and I just couldn’t add my own burden. This matter affected you way more than me. And I kind of... I had - I feel - guilty myself. I should have tried to run away, or I could have attacked them on my own, ending it all before it even really started. But I hesitated, I didn't want to get my hands dirty.”
"Don't say that my prince. For you, violence has always been the last option.”
"But it would have saved you so much pain."
Trowa looked over at Quatre, who was staring at the floor. He squeezed his hand gently.
"Quatre… I never thought once something like: Why me? or Why didn't Quatre acted differently? Why did it turn out like this? None of that was important to me. You were important to me.”
"And you are important to me, Trowa. I don't want you to suffer or that someone hurt you, even if it's only verbally. I couldn't protect you from the press, from all the rumors."
"I don't care what people say about me. Your opinion is important for me. I was… scared. Scared that you might start seeing me through their eyes. That you are ashamed of me.”
"I never would! I will always love you with the entirety of my heart, Trowa."
"Despite everything, you always stood by my side, never letting go of my hand in front of all those people. It meant everything to me, Quatre. I didn't care about the rest, about them. But then you made me feel insecure again because you shut me out, you closed your heart so much. That's the worst thing you can do to me. You could have come up with anything: screaming, raving, it wouldn’t matter. But not this shutting off, shutting ME out."
Quatre reached out to hug him tight, burying his face into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry...I didn't know what I was doing to you. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me."
"I do, and it's okay, talk to me now."
“What hurt the most was this… ruthlessness. They would just do this to someone -to me- just for their pleasure. I could feel how cold hearted and inconsiderate they were. Why are some people just so cruel? I don't get it... it's horrible. It all felt so awful. We are no longer at war; we are at peace. Why can't people accept the lives of others, respect them?”
Trowa gently stroked Quatre's hair.
"I don't know. I'm the last person who can understand how someone could harm you of all people. But that's why it's even more important that there are people like you. People who try to bring the good into the world, to set a good example.”
"You overrate me again."
"I don’t. It takes tremendous strength not to become apathetic in a world full of indifference.”
Trowa put his hands on Quatre's cheeks, looking into his eyes.
“It requires tremendous strength because it's so incredibly difficult and painful. I know how hard it is for you to bear the suffering of others, how much you want to help everyone. Even though one of the men tried to stab you with a knife, you didn't just leave him on the ground like I would have, you gave first aid. That probably saved his life, and maybe Quatre, maybe you made a difference in this man through that act of kindness. Maybe he will change.”
"Hate can only generate more hate, right? At least I think so. That’s the last thing I want to feel, the last thing I want to bring into the world. My heart still hurts so much when I think back to that evening and what happened after. How it changed everything. Every argument with you hurt. And I wish you could forgive yourself because you really aren't to blame."
"Maybe I can do it now. Our arguments hurt me too. I don't even know if we ever really argued before that. You keep defending me but by avoiding talking to me about it, somehow, I couldn’t believe you. When I left, for a moment I thought it was over between us, that you didn't want to be with me anymore. I was desperate."
Quatre’s eyes filled with tears, so he rubbed his thumbs over his cheeks, shaking his head slightly. No tears.
"I've realized something, Quatre: I don't want to lose you. I am not ready to see that this could tear us apart. I don't want to… just accept it. I want to fight for your heart. I would have regretted it for the rest of my life if I at least didn’t try. You are my sun, Quatre. The reason I'm glad to be alive, to have survived this war. I thought I could never really trust anyone again, that my heart was wounded too badly, but you healed it. You made me a Someone, gave me a home, shown me what it means to love and be loved. No matter what may come, I will always fight for you. I will not just let anyone, or anything separate us.”
Trowa took a step back, realizing how nervous he was getting. But there was no way back: It was Quatre or nobody.
He reached into his pocket kneeling down in front of Quatre.
"Marry me, Quatre, and I promise to protect you with everything I have. To get through everything with you. I love you. You are everything to me. And if you let me, I will do all I can to make you happy, to honor and love you as you deserve.”
Trowa opened the small box he took out of his pocket: it had two gold rings inside.
A prince like Quatre deserved nothing but gold and he also deserved more than any simple ring, so the music notes of their song were engraved on them. The engraving was very fine, slightly shimmering when the light hit it.
Trowa originally wanted to propose on the night that ended so horribly. First the concert, then the café and in the end, he wanted to surprise him at home. Eventually, everything turned out differently and afterwards he had been so insecure. But he didn't want to wait any longer for the "perfect" moment. It was now or never.
Trowa looked up at Quatre, who was staring at him with wide eyes. But Quatre was just keep staring, he seemed frozen, and Trowa's heart began to race. Would he get rejected?
"Quatre...?"
Quatre flinched and covered his mouth with his hands, but then his eyes were glowing full of joy and love.
"Absolutely! I mean... God, yes Trowa!”
Quatre leaned forward and kissed him fiercely and the whole world seemed to brighten. Trowa couldn't help but smile in that kiss, a sense of elation fluttered in him: Quatre said yes. He really did!
After breaking the kiss, Trowa placed the ring on Quatre's finger. It fitted perfectly and Quatre beamed like the sun as he looked at the ring.
“These are… Notes. Trowa, the ring is so beautiful. Those are... aren't they? The notes of our song.”
As he got off his knees, Quatre took out the other ring and studied it.
"Yes, that's right."
"It's so wonderful. So beautiful."
Trowa could see how deeply moved Quatre was and that made his heart race even faster. Quatre was the most beautiful when he was so happy.
"May I?"
Trowa nodded and gave him his hand. Quatre gently placed the ring on his finger, then interlaced them. While they both were looking at their hands, Trowa realized that it was always meant to be this way. He must have known subconsciously that his life was in Quatre's hands, even when he let him shoot him. Quatre was everything, nothing would make sense without him.
It had always been Quatre, from the beginning.