A dark nameless stretch of San Francisco highway unwound before him as he steered the truck in the direction of New Edwards base. The hum of the engine lulled him a bit, and his thoughts began to wander.

        Trowa thought of the blue eyes.

        In all his life he had never seen anything quite so blue. They were softness and mercy. Trowa liked to think that his mother would have had eyes not unlike those.

        Blue eyes, pale like the sky when lit by the sun.

        He had played the violin superbly. Were those small delicate hands the same which piloted the Gundam so similar to his own? Trowa wondered. He felt a sadness creep into him, at this one injustice. It was like a drop in an ocean, so insignificant to the whole of things.

        Did no one care that an innocent boy’s hands had been tainted in all of this? Of course not. A million other hands had also been, and a million others had yet to be. And then there were his own.

        He sighed.

        It was painful to think of this boy. He wasn’t like the rough men Trowa had grown accustomed to. This boy was like himself. Trowa knew he would see him again; the blue eyes would not give him peace.

        He brought the truck to a stop at the dock. His mind felt thick and heavy with his thoughts. He didn’t want to move. Hesitating a bit, Trowa jumped down from the cab. Like a dagger into the fog that clouded his mind, a voice spoke to him.

        “ Hi! We meet again... ”

        Quatre... Trowa frowned. He didn’t want him here.

        “ I guess we’re on the same mission, ” the boy continued brightly.

        “ I can do it alone, ” Trowa snapped.

        “ So can I, ” the blonde answered, undaunted, “ But if we cooperate, it will be more successful. ”

        “ I wonder about that... ”

    Words like violence
    Break the silence
    Come crashing in
    Into my little world
    Painful to me
    Pierce right through me
    Can’t you understand
    Oh my little one


        He walked away with an air of indifference, as if the other boy’s existence didn’t matter to him at all. And yet strangely, some part of him wanted Quatre to follow. Some part of him had found the sound of Quatre’s voice a relief. Then later when Quatre invited him to stay with him, Trowa did not refuse.

        “ Where are your attendants? ” Trowa asked softly.

        “ The Maganacs? Oh, I left without them. I could never endanger them on a mission like this one. ”

        Trowa hadn’t really heard the answer. He was staring at Quatre, only hearing the paper sound of the pages of the book he was reading. He was watching how Quatre’s blonde bangs hung in front of him as he bent to read each page, and how neatly the hair above the nape of his neck was trimmed. He traced with his eyes the shape of Quatre’s back as he lay on his stomach on the bed. He was seeing only Quatre; and Quatre, by some unconscious understanding, was allowing himself to be looked at. Surely he knew that Trowa had been watching him this whole time. Realizing this, Trowa looked away, ashamed.

        I don’t mind if you look at me, Quatre’s body seemed to say, ...I rather like it.

        “ This mission... could end things. ” He had to break up this silence. Any words would do.

        Quatre closed his book and turned towards Trowa. “ I have a feeling... deep down... that it won’t, “ he said in a quiet, peculiar voice.

        Trowa was startled when those bright eyes turned on him. He got up from his chair and looked out at a luminous night sky. But then he wasn’t looking at the sky anymore, he was seeing the ghost-Quatre in the window glass. Those eyes were brighter than any stars.

        “ Do you ever feel useless, Trowa? Does it ever seem like things will never end? ” Quatre was standing next to him now, gazing up at the sky with him. He smelled wonderfully clean, unlike the cloying artificial scent the wealthy seemed to drown themselves in. It made him feel peaceful, and Trowa thought to himself that he should like it if this simple, quiet moment never were to end.

        But time moved on, as it always did.

        “ ...Sometimes. We must keep fighting until there is change, ” he whispered in answer, looking down at Quatre.

        “ It’s nice to have you here, you know, ” Quatre smiled at him, “ You left so soon, before. ” Then he blushed and looked away. “ I would have liked to play another duet with you. ”

        “ With me? ”

        “ Of course! You play very well. Although I must say I was a bit rusty... ”

        “ Not at all. ”

        Quatre laughed a little. “ You’re very kind. ” He paused, and they looked at each other in silence. A shudder went through Trowa that made his skin tingle.

        But the moment stretched itself out too long. It made them both uncomfortable. “ Shall we get some sleep? ” Trowa said.

        “ Aa, ” said Quatre quickly.

        Trowa had offered modestly to sleep on the floor, but Quatre had insisted the bed was large enough for the two of them. They lay awake, hoping the other would think they were asleep.

        “ Trowa? ” whispered Quatre tentatively.

        “ ...Yes? ”

        “ You’re still awake, ne? I mean... I didn’t wake you? ”

        “ No. ”

        A pause, then: “I can’t get to sleep. Would you... talk to me for awhile? ”

        “ About what? ”

        “ Tell me about your family. ”

        “ I have none. I was raised on Earth by mercenaries, ” Trowa said flatly.

        “ Oh Trowa... ”

        “ It wasn’t a bad life. I never starved. ”

        “ Were you happy, there with them? ”

        “ I don’t think I've ever been happy. ”

        The words sounded ugly, but Trowa had to say them. He knew the concept of such an unhappiness was foreign to Quatre. He was struck dumb by Trowa’s words.

        “ That can’t be true, ” Quatre whispered finally, “ You’ve just forgotten. ”

        Is it true? Have I forgotten what it feels like? Trowa felt something warm press against him. His eyes widened. It was Quatre.

        Shyly, the blonde glanced at him. “ I don’t want you to be sad, “ he said simply, as if it explained the situation.

        Trowa could feel how tense Quatre’s body was, waiting for his acceptance or rejection. It was thrilling being this close to someone, but it also frightened them both. Neither of them knew exactly what was happening, only that strange urge, stronger than anything they had ever known.

        After a moment, Trowa slid an arm around Quatre’s waist. The smaller boy tensed again, then relaxed and inched closer still. In the darkness, in silence, they lay spooned against each other. They didn’t speak, for fear of breaking this new and wonderful spell. Soon they slept as if they had always slept together, as if they had known each other all their lives. Morning would come, and with it the weight of the world, but for now Trowa dreamed of Quatre, and felt happiness.

"Enjoy the Silence" lyrics © Depeche Mode

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