Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, its characters,
its quotations, or its plotlines. They belong to the
Sotsu Agency who owns their trademark, Bandai who
licenses their use, and, of course, the guy who
created them. I am neither receiving payment for this
work, nor will I accept any. No copyright infringement
Pairing: past 3+4, current 4+5+4
Warning: Third person Trowa POV. Angsty. Lime-y.
On a Park Bench
A year ago, he'd sat on this very bench, wearing this
very trench coat, and watching the warm spill of
candlelight through that cafe's very window. He'd
pulled his bangs off to one side and worn a pair of
small, round lenses. He'd been going for technogeek
and ended up with something a little too beat poet.
He'd missed technogeek this year, too, but he'd been
mistaken for a painter or sculptor. Maybe he'd have to
give up black; it seemed to bring out the inner artist
in him, the inner artist that really exist. It had
been cold then, too. He had seen his breath huffing in
the faint moonlight and the snow had fallen with
thick, heavy flakes. Like now, he hadn't felt the
chill, he'd only the felt the burn in his chest. He'd
been contemptuous of the trite and melodramatic idea
of ripping one's heart out. He'd learned otherwise a
year ago. It still hurt.
The difference between now and then was the face next
to the window. Last year, the face had been framed by
unruly blonde curls that did nothing to hide tears
tracking down cheeks that belonged more on a porcelain
cherub. Quatre had visibly sniffed his way into a sort
of pained stoicism that didn't fit him. He'd fiddled
with his fork, sipped at his water, and stared at a
front door that he knew wouldn't open. He knew it
wouldn't open because Quatre had reserved the entire
cafe for the night, just for them, and he wouldn't
going in. This year, Quatre's face shone as he stared
at the door, his joy visibly leeching everywhere. The
cafe had again been reserved and the champagne was the
finest he could find. No doubt the chubby, little chef
sang in the kitchen, lining the ingredients for his
most magnifique crea---
"I'm not surprised to find you here, Trowa."
He flinched, beneath his trench coat where no one
could see it. "Heero."
Heero settled onto the bench next to him, wrapped in a
navy peacoat. "Are you going in?"
He frowned at Heero, then tucked his chin into his
"I didn't think you would." Heero stretched his legs
out comfortably. "You sat here and watched him last
year, didn't you?"
"What do you want?"
Heero shrugged, his eyes on Quatre. The usually harsh
lines of his expression were gentle. "Did you stay for
the whole thing last year?"
He rubbed at his cheek and watched Quatre spend a few
moments in conference with the owner of the cafe.
They sat in silence for a few moments, while Quatre
bounced in his seat and watched the cafe's owner trot
off toward the back.
Trowa cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to ask why
I did it?"
"Nothing to ask. You followed your emotions." Heero
shrugged again. "I think you're the only one who
followed that advice."
He scowled. "It was the right thing to do."
"Most of it was."
Most? Trowa turned his scowl to his feet. "What do you
mean by that?"
Heero didn't say anything.
"Well?" He looked up from the ground and met Heero's
eyes. He had thought they'd be boring through his
skull, to see what sort of dangerous secrets lurked
inside, instead, Heero was watching him with something
between sadness and concern. "You didn't just give him
up, you gave up all of us."
He couldn't stop the tension seeping along his spine.
"I didn't give anything up."
Heero smiled, looking so much like the little boy he
hadn't been allowed to be. "I know you, better than he
ever did. You gave him up so he could---"
A few blocks away, the cathedral bells pealed the
Angelus. Quatre quit bouncing and turned toward the
door again. Trowa squinted enough to see the
anticipation fighting with apprehension on his face.
Quatre had no need to worry, he knew. Heero chuckled
beside him, quiet and almost happy. Before the bells
finished, Wufei climbed out of a cab, paid the fare,
and went into the cafe. Quatre shot to his feet and
cuddled Wufei into a hug.
"It's their first real date. Wufei made them wait for
He pulled the trench coat tighter around himself and
wished that Heero would just go away.
"It's what you wanted, isn't it? It's why you made
sure that Duo and I had tickets to the game that
night. You knew that Quatre would call Wufei when you
didn't come, to make sure you weren't suddenly called
in or that you hadn't been in an accident." Heero
leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees.
Wufei gave Quatre a lingering kiss before having the
seating rearranged. Instead of across from Quatre, he
sat diagonally, within touching distance.
Trowa closed his eyes and forced down the knot in his
Heero slumped back in the bench. "There were better
ways to do it, Trowa."
He was suddenly and unreasonably angry. What he would
have given for Heavyarms and an unsuspecting Oz base
right at that moment. "No, there wasn't."
"You could have told him."
"He knew I loved him. Hell, he probably still knows
that I love him." Trowa forced himself to uncurl his
fists. "He would never have let me go. He knew I loved
him so much, but he didn't know that he didn't love me
Heero's head jerked up. "What?"
"Once, he told me that he couldn't tell the difference
between my love for him and his love for me. He
thought it meant something great for our relationship.
And after that I started to understand." Trowa let his
hands burl back into fists.
He watched Wufei feed a tidbit Quatre, who shone in a
way that burned him to the core.
Quatre closed his eyes and kissed Wufei's fingers.
Heero nudged him with an elbow. "Trowa, what did you
Trowa couldn't tear his eyes away from Quatre's smile.
"How much I love him."
There was silence for a moment, then the sound of
Heero settling deeper into the bench.
"And how much he didn't love me." Trowa felt himself
smile, even though it hurt to do it. "Did you know?"
Heero shifted again. "About Wufei? I think so."
Trowa's hands relaxed so he shoved them in his
pockets. "It was the right thing to do, wasn't it."
Heero poked him with an elbow again. "You didn't have
to give all of us up."
He huffed in disbelief. "Yes, I did. There was no way
I could stick around."
Wufei paused in his nibbling to steal a kiss. The snow
started to fall, dropping thick, heavy flakes. A
waiter slipped into the glow of candlelight with a
silver hand cart, removed their plates and replaced
them with a different course.
"Where'd you go?" Heero was watching him instead of
the cafe, he could feel it.
He shrugged. "I went to the place where they made
Heavyarms. I thought it would be abandoned. They make
pots and pans now."
Trowa smiled a little more. It didn't hurt quite so
much when it involved Heero. "Got a job. Anodized
The snow settled around their feet and along the
sidewalk in front of the cafe. Somehow, Wufei and
Quatre had gotten closer together without moving their
Foreheads touching, Quatre and Wufei shared some pasta
He looked at Heero who was looking at him. "Maybe you
could come to L3. Visit. See a few woks."
Heero didn't say anything, not even a grunt.
He dropped his gaze to the bench between them, picking
at the lint inside of his pockets. "It's not time
"When it is?"
He watched Quatre and Wufei kiss again.
"I'll come home."