Nobody Knows

by Maria Rocket

***

[Author's Notes: Okay, the warnings. This contains 3x4/4x3 yaoi, shounen-ai, some lemon, a lotta sap, and guys in clown suits. If you can't handle it, flame me all ya want, but leave my boys alone. Ahem, life sucks for me lately, so this is probably gonna be on the angsty side... Song in this here songfic is 'Nobody Knows' by Tony Rich Project.]

***

***

Whispering strands of light filtered through the glowing window blinds within the trailer. Soon there would be no more light, and Trowa would be sitting in complete darkness. Not that it would matter to him. He already felt as though he were encompassed by darkness.

His sleek muscular form sat beside his bed, against the cold steel wall, folded into himself. His strong slender hands worked restlessly against the nape of his neck where his coppery brown hair feathered to an end. His forehead rested against his knees, his eyes tightly shut as he shuddered, feeling the pain that wouldn't let him rest.

Next to him on the floor was a single bright photograph. In it, he and Quatre were sitting against the lighted backdrop of the striped circus tent. Catherine had taken it a year ago during the month Quatre had traveled with the circus troupe while visiting with Trowa. The blonde was laughing, wearing the clown costume Catherine had made for him. During his stay, Catherine had worked him into their routine for one show. She had been amused at the idea of the most powerful man in the colonies running around as clown. Quatre hadn't minded at all though, especially since his costume had been made to match the one Trowa was wearing in the photo. In that same photo, Trowa was leaning in on Quatre's shoulder, giving his sister only a hint of a smile about his lips. But his eyes were shining. It had been a great night.

Trowa's body tensed as he drew tighter into himself. He could hear a knock on the trailer door. When he didn't answer, it rattled, but didn't open because he had locked it. There was more knocking, and a female voice calling out to him, but he could barely hear it. All he knew was the pain inside him.

The pain of what he had lost, and the pain of what he had done. It had been nearly two weeks, since he had seen Quatre for the last time.

"Why Trowa? What did I do wrong?" Quatre had asked him, his hurt aquamarine eyes practically burning into Trowa's heart. The blonde boy had reached out to touch the taller boy's arm, but his hand was swiped away.

"I don't want to be involved with you anymore," he had told Quatre. "It was all a mistake, and I want to be alone now."

"Don't do this Trowa," Quatre's voice had pleaded. "I know that's not true. Don't you know how much I love you?"

"Damnit, I just want to be alone!"

He hadn't meant to speak so harshly to Quatre. He had never wanted to hurt him in any way. But it had been so hard to do, and Quatre hadn't made it any easier. He had watched the terrible hurt on Quatre's face worsen, those blue jewel eyes turn pure liquid with pain. His lip looked like it wanted to tremble. Then almost as terrible was the anger that had quickly replaced the hurt expression, as Quatre turned away from him, fighting his tears.

"If that's what you really want," Quatre growled, swallowing hard. "Goodbye Trowa."

Then he was gone.

When Catherine had found out what he'd done, she'd been completely shocked. She had been as full of questions as Quatre, but Trowa had been able to remain cool with her. Even as she persisted, he'd only waved it off with an air of indifference.

"I just don't feel the same way about him anymore," he'd told her. "Besides, we belong to different worlds, it's better this way."

"You can't really believe that Trowa," Catherine had pressed on.

"Cathy, it's true. I couldn't continue to lead him on about my feelings could I? It was the best for both of us. I have more peace of mind now than I have in a long time."

So he had claimed. But it had been far from the truth.

"Trowa!"

Finally hearing Catherine's shouts, Trowa lifted his head towards the trailer door. His forest eyes were darker than usual, and his face was worn and unshaven. As his neck turned upwards, his hands slid away to the floor. His voice sounded hoarse as he answered his sister.

"Yeah?"

"You better hurry up, the show starts in another half hour!"

"I'm coming."

After pulling himself off the floor, Trowa brushed the photo away under the bed with his foot. It was time for him to give another performance.

And nobody knows it but me

Beneath the white wash of the spotlight, Trowa directed his lions into the center ring. He couldn't see the crowd beyond the lights, the people in the black shadows. Behind the tangle of copper in his face, and from behind the deceiving smile of the mask he wore, his eyes would occasionally divert from his routine towards those shadows.

Quatre had shown up there on many occasions, and Trowa had always been able to pick up that special voice calling to him from the roar of the crowd. He knew he would not hear Quatre's voice that night, or ever again. How much he wanted to hear that sweet sound... Launching himself into the air, Trowa finished his act like a machine.

Afterwards, he bowed to the audience in his usual flamboyant manner. He lifted his face and smiled at the cheering, but his emerald eyes shimmered with an emotion held in check like a storm on the verge of breaking. Then it was time for the next act. The rest of the show was a blur passing before his eyes. He saw none of it.

And nobody knows it but me

When it was all over, he headed back to his trailer. He was exhausted and trembling all over. He couldn't remember the last time a performance had worn him out that badly. All he wanted then was to get away from everything before he collapsed.

In his hurry, he brushed right past Catherine without acknowledging her. He could hear her calling after him sounding both peeved and concerned, but he didn't turn around. He held his smiling mask tighter against his face as he nearly broke into a run to reach his trailer.

After slamming the door shut behind him, he calmed down a little. The only light he bothered with was the small lamp on his desk. Then he stripped off the clown costume, letting it all fall to the floor, until he was only wearing his boxers. Falling back on his bed, he pulled the mask off and threw it over onto the desk. It hit the lamp with a clang, and the trailer fell into darkness.

Sinking into the cold sheets, Trowa could feel the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. His uneven breathing was loud in his ears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he curled up and rolled over onto his side on the bed.

"Trowa? You okay in there?"

He could hear Catherine's soft voice outside. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want anyone to see him. It was his own fault he felt the way he did, and there was nothing anyone could do to help him. He let her think he was asleep, and a few minutes later she left.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he released a shuddering breath, and immediately sucked it back in a sob. He tried uselessly to swallow it as the tears rolled out over his wet lashes, trailing down his face in the darkness. His body shook with the force of his sobs, and he felt as though he might die as his chest tightened painfully.

His thoughts were filled with beautiful blue pools, golden silk, a soft touch, a playful smile, and a gentle voice. Quatre. Quatre, who always knew what to say to make him smile. Quatre, who would break into that funny accent on the rare occasion he lost his temper. Quatre, who could make music like a master. Quatre, who liked his toast with blueberry jam. Quatre, who opened his heart as if he'd always owned the key. Quatre, who understood his silence. Quatre, who loved him.

And Trowa had forced him away. All because he had been too afraid. He had been afraid of his own intense feelings. Life had taught him that it was safer to keep all his feelings bottled up inside where they couldn't cause him grief. In recent years he'd finally learned how to open up again thanks to Catherine and Quatre, but one small step at a time. But when Quatre had finally told him that he loved him, Trowa had choked. He couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings, so he decided that he wasn't worthy of Quatre. Not long afterwards, Trowa broke all ties with him.

Now he felt like an utter fool. He should have trusted Quatre. Instead he'd hurt him, and lost him forever. There would be no second chances, he could never ask Quatre to take him back after what he'd done. Quatre was gone, and Trowa would never be able to tell the gentle Arab just how much he'd really cared about him.

"I love you, Quatre," he sobbed to the empty air. "I love you..."

I can say it so clearly, but you're nowhere around

Sleep was his only release from the pain. As usual, Quatre was there, smiling at him with those incredible sapphire eyes. His warm creamy skin glistening like dew on gossamer as he moved over him. Trowa took the face of his golden angel in his hands and pulled him down into a burning, moaning kiss. After Quatre pulled back, Trowa was left quivering for more. He felt his love's warm breath against his ear, and heard his soft, yet husky voice that sent waves of throbbing desire coursing through him.

"I want you, Trowa."

Unable to speak, the taller boy nodded, his forest eyes on fire. They closed into pleasure-dazed jade crescents as Quatre responded with another crushing kiss, his arms tightening around Trowa's waist.

Gripping the other's back, Trowa cried out and arched violently as Quatre entered him in a smooth stroke. Completion. Moving as one, they ascended together to the peak to the music of their cries of pleasure. An eternity later, they broke the threshold at nearly the same time. Feeling and hearing Quatre's soul-shaking shudder, Trowa's head fell back and his lips parted with a quavering moan.

Locked together, they slowly sunk back down, struggling for breath. Rolling Quatre onto his back, Trowa regarded his dreamy faced lover with adoration. Only having to move inches, he met Quatre's mouth with a tender kiss, closing his eyes briefly, then he caressed the smaller boy's lips with his own a few more times. Quatre rested his hands on the small of Trowa's back as they stopped to gaze into each others eyes.

"I love you, Trowa."

Holding Quatre closer, Trowa felt the tears gathering in his eyes. Reaching out to stroke the soft cheek beneath those smiling blue eyes, he fought with himself until he finally let himself free, allowing his tears to fall like stars.

"Quatre, I..."

Then it faded away. Slowly opening his eyes, he found himself surrounded by grey light. Somewhere there was the buzz of appliances, the scream of distant caged tiger, and canvas slapping against a steel pipe. The troupe was beginning a new day. Within his trailer, Trowa closed his eyes again, wishing to shut it out. Releasing the pillow he embraced, he rolled over with a roar of anguish. Just a dream.

All that remained was the scent of musk and... Trowa's face twisted in distaste. Not again. Dragging himself out of bed, he ripped the sheets off behind him angrily before marching off towards the shower.

And nobody knows it but me

Working through the morning, Trowa threw himself into his routines. He needed to do anything but think about Quatre. But activities he'd once enjoyed seemed like a chore when all he wanted to do was to run away and find the fair ex-gundam pilot. Despite his feelings, he forced those thoughts away as hard as he could.

He was so lost in losing himself, that he completely lost track of time. Catherine, being the perfect model of a mother hen, had to drag him away from practice when lunchtime came around. She sat him down in her trailer to make sure he actually ate what she put in front of him. He hadn't been eating much lately, forcing her to take matters into her own hands.

Sitting next to him at the table, she noticed him staring blankly into his coffee. Checking the coffee, she saw only Trowa's own face reflected in the dark steaming liquid. Her lavender eyes looked back up at Trowa curiously, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Trowa, are you feeling okay?" She noticed him pick at his food at the sound of her voice. "You seem really distracted lately."

"Mmm. I'm fine. I was just thinking that you need to work on your knife throw," he glanced over at her. "You nearly nicked me again today during practice."

"Pobrecito," Catherine grinned wickedly. "There's nothing wrong with my throw."

"Con una hermana como tu es, quien necesita enemigos?" Trowa gave her a tiny geniune smile as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips.

Catherine was good to him, and he refused to let her worry about him. He knew she was the only reason he hadn't completely fallen apart already. He was still her Trowa.

But Quatre's Trowa was dead. A walking ghost, suffering eternally without rest. Quatre had made him Trowa, the first person to ever make the name who he truly was. Now without Quatre, he was just No Name again. Or at least that's how he felt inside.

And nobody knows it but me

There were no shows that day or that night. Trowa was grateful, since he still hadn't fully recovered from his performance the night before. He spent most of the evening with Catherine in her trailer, watching a movie on tv. He didn't know what it was about, he didn't really pay attention, only that it seemed to be some sort of romance. He pretended to fall asleep before it was half-way through. At one point he felt popcorn fly across his face as she yelled at him to wake up before he missed the best part.

His only reaction was to tip over onto the cushions between them, and pretend to snore. She laughed at him, swatting at his shoulder, then turned her attention back to the movie. Not long afterwards, he drifted off to sleep for real. It was a dreamless sleep, and he welcomed the void while it lasted.

Hours later, he stirred awake to find himself still lying there in the dark. Slowly sitting up, he noticed a blanket had been tucked around him. He twisted his head over his shoulder, searching out the digital clock on Catherine's dresser. The glowing red display read 3:15 A.M.

His eyes shifted towards Catherine's dark sleeping form on the bed. For a moment he considered getting up and going back to his own trailer, but he knew he didn't want to be alone. So he settled back into the couch. Problem was, now that he was awake, he couldn't get back to sleep again.

Trowa lay there, staring up into the darkness. He wanted to sleep, but his thoughts were straying to Quatre again. Catherine could help him forget during the day, but at night, he couldn't escape the memories. From the very beginning, Quatre had held a sway over him that he could never deny.

His face scrunched up, and he clasped his hands over his forehead, crushing his hair against his face. Quatre couldn't just leave the person hiding behind the curtain alone. He had kept poking and poking, and Trowa had been unable to lash back at that pretty, caring smile. As a result, Quatre had succeeded in finding him.

A sudden memory of those graceful fingers brushing his hair away from his face sent a shiver of arousal through him. Damn that Quatre Winner. Those baby blue eyes had read his soul like an open book, touching him far more intimately than any physical touch. It had terrified him, and thrilled him. He had become fascinated with him, and it turned into obsession. When he realized that it had transformed into love, he had been shocked to his core.

That core wanted to scream, wanted Quatre there with him in his arms. He had never needed anyone before, but he needed Quatre now. Forget it, he told himself. You have to get over this. You made your choice, now live with it.

"Quatre," he whispered, loving the name on his lips, since it was the only tangible piece of his love that he had left.

And nobody knows it but me

It was at least another hour until he was able to fall back to sleep. When he did, he found his dream Quatre in his arms once again. But this time the small blonde was sobbing, clinging to Trowa as if his life depended on it.

"Quatre, what's the matter?" Trowa stroked the golden waves of hair, trying to comfort him.

"You pushed me away," Quatre looked up at him, his face streaked with tears. "And now I'm all alone."

"But I'm here, Quatre, I'm here," he kissed his face over and over. "Please don't cry."

"You're not here," Quatre said despairingly, dropping his face and looking away from Trowa. "I'm alone. It's all fine for you, but I don't want to be alone, Trowa! I didn't have a choice, and now I'm so cold..." He shivered.

"It isn't fine for me!" Trowa grit through his teeth, clutching Quatre to him. He could feel the cold in the shivering form he held, and no matter how he rubbed him, he could not warm him up. "I'm miserable without you! I've been a wreck inside since you left..."

"I never left you," Quatre held Trowa's face in his hands and stared into it with a dejected expression. His touch was like frost. "You left me. Because you didn't love me. I gave you my heart, and now I've lost that too."

It was so cold... He took Quatre's hands and tried rubbing them vigorously between his own. "No! Don't you know how much I love you!?"

His breath coming in crystalline puffs, Quatre smiled sadly.

Trowa closed his eyes and hid his face against Quatre's chilly neck. "I never wanted to hurt you. I was just confused. How can I...?"

"Please, find me, Trowa," Quatre faded into a mist in Trowa's arms. "I'm so cold. Bring my heart back to me. Make me warm again, please..."

"Quatre!"

Waking abruptly, Trowa's hands flew to his chest, still feeling a coldness there. Rubbing at the spot, his eyes glanced around the dark trailer, wondering if it had really been a dream. Quatre had seemed so real, so sad. He had been so depressed, he hadn't even thought that Quatre might be feeling the same way.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed at his face. He had been so selfish... Even at the risk of hurt or rejection, he had to make sure Quatre was okay. He had to let him know the truth. He owed Quatre that much.

A million years from now you know I'll be lovin' you still

Dawn was barely soaking its pale light into the dark corners of the world, when Trowa returned to Catherine's trailer a few minutes after leaving it. He entered quietly, not wanting to wake her. He had made up his mind to go find Quatre, and tell him his feelings. He didn't know if Quatre would forgive him, he could hope, but at least he would set things as right as he could. After setting a small note on Catherine's dresser, he turned to look at her.

He was sure she'd understand, though he expected to get an earful when he returned. Leaning over carefully, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he swung a dufflebag back over his shoulder and left the trailer again. He wasn't around to see her open her eyes after he left and smile gently.

"Go after him, Trowa."

And hope you come back to me

A few days later, around midnight, it was nearly deserted within the Winner Corporation's highrise office building. The L4 colony was still lit with city lights, but only one small desklamp kept Quatre company. He sat alone in his big, dark, empty office, his hands clasped over his forehead, his dull blue eyes staring down at the papers on his desk.

He had given up reading them hours ago. He was just too tired. But he didn't want to go home. His estate was too big and lonely. When he was there, he only became more depressed. He'd spent the last few weeks nearly living in his office building. He barely ate, and he didn't want to sleep. The dreams were too painful. His head sunk to his desk with an exhausted sigh.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks. His heart felt heavy and achy. He missed Trowa so badly, but he didn't know what to do. He had picked up the phone so many times, but hadn't the courage to go through with calling, afraid that Trowa would be angry.

Slumping over onto his desk, he didn't care that he'd accidently knocked a stack of papers over the side. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Sobs wracked his small body. He couldn't remember ever feeling that lonely before. Nothing made him happy anymore.

"Trowa..." he wailed.

"Quatre."

The blonde shook and gasped at the voice. Before he could pull himself off the desk entirely, he felt a familiar pair of arms reach around his waist and hold him tightly. He started crying all over again when he felt the muscular torso press against his side, and the face against his neck. An unmistakable male scent filled his senses.

"Trowa!" Forcing his head around, Quatre laughed through his tears at the sight of forest green eyes and coppery brown hair. Spinning away from his chair, he had his arms around Trowa in an instant.

Pulling the entire length of Quatre's body up against him, Trowa leaned in and kissed him passionately. The smaller boy, already feeling weak, went slack against him, and Trowa had to support all his weight to keep him standing. Not that it was very difficult. Quatre had lost a little too much weight, and he felt terribly frail in his arms.

Handling Quatre as gently as possible, Trowa lowered them to the floor. Quatre settled in his lap his arms around his neck. Moving his face back to look at Trowa, his eyes were shimmering with joy. "You're really here..."

Trowa nodded with a smile. He stole another sweet taste from dazed Quatre's trembling lips, lingering there for several minutes. Breathless, he eventually drew back again. "I love you, Quatre. I had to find you to make sure you knew that." His eyes fell away with shame. "I'm hoping you'll forgive me for the way I treated you, but I don't expect you to. Your happiness is all I want."

"Trowa..." Quatre sobbed happily, leaning into Trowa's shoulder. "I forgave you that same day." His eyes threatened to close, and he shuddered from the effort of staying awake.

"Mi amor," Trowa whispered lovingly into his hair, feeling absolutely elated. "You don't know how much I missed you."

"Yes, I do," Quatre nearly passed out, his head jerking back up after it fell. His eyes fixed determinedly on Trowa. "Because I know how much I missed you..."

"What's wrong?" Trowa asked, noticing his struggle to keep his eyes open.

"I'm just tired. But I don't want to sleep... I don't want you to turn into another dream. I couldn't bear to wake up without you again."

Lying back on the floor, Trowa held Quatre close, letting the blonde boy lie on top of him. He stroked his back soothingly. "Sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise."

With one last shudder, and a small pleased sound, Quatre tucked his limbs securely around his love before finally giving in to his exhaustion. Tucking his face against soft golden hair, Trowa let Quatre's warmth soak into him, lulling him into a drowsy state. It was heaven, he knew it was. With a blissful smile, his dark forest eyes closed into peaceful sleep, knowing that part of himself would be reborn in the morning.