Warning!! This story contains yaoi (male/male) relationships! If this offends you, please just hit the little 'back" button and save your flames for someone else. Thank you.

((In case you missed it earlier, Trowa tends to slip into French (see ending notes) when he's nervous for any reason. The song is "Ice Cream" By Sarah Mclauglin (sp?)I donít own the G-boys.As always- send any comments to Lucretia@jenovaproject.com Special thanks to Athanael for correcting my french in this story!))


Weak Hearts
By Deathswings


Trowa stared at the back of Wufei's head. The two of them had been studying in Trowa's room for the past hour or so, but Trowa found it was impossible to concentrate on his studies. Trowa envied the pilot of Shenlong at times like these. Wufei had nothing to take his mind off his work. The love of his life wasn't sitting so close he could practically reach out and touch him, and yet still be forbidden to him. Wufei didn't understand what it was like to watch the one person you truly cared about in this life walk away, and all because of some stupid war that you didn't want to be fighting in the first place.
He'd let Quatre go. The thought hit him anew everytime he thought about it. The young blonde boy had opened his arms and his heart and invited him in, and he had turned away. Had he gone mad? He'd been insanely attracted to the pilot ever since the moment they met and somewhere along the way, he'd foolishly let that attraction turn into love. Love wasn't allowed in war. Love gave the enemy a toehold, a weapon. Love was dangerous. Trowa wondered if Duo and Heero knew what they were doing, how vunerable they made themselves, everytime they tumbled into bed. They must have temporarily lost their senses.
Or maybe Trowa had lost his...

Your love is better than ice cream,
Better than anything else that I've tried.


More and more, this seemed to be the truth to Trowa, even moreso since Heero and Duo's little problem seemed to be cleared up. The two of them couldn't have been happier, and Heero wasn't the type to take risks if they weren't worth the prize. But could Trowa do it, even if he let himself try? Could he really abandon everything that made him who he was? Could he really give everything to Quatre? Despite his outwardly calm appearance, Trowa's stomache burned with butterflies. The five pilots were staying at a safe house of Quatre's, enjoying a rare moment of quiet between trying to muddle through saving the world, but Quatre had been oddly absent, and Trowa hadn't seen him this whole time. In fact, Trowa hadn't been in the same room alone with Quatre since ...
"Trowa?"
Trowa froze, muscles tensing.

You're love is better than ice cream,
Everyone here knows how to cry.

Where the hell had Wufei gone? How could Trowa *not* have heard him leave? If the owner of that voice had worked for OZ...
"Trowa?"
"Oui, Quatre?" Trowa fought to keep his voice level. He had already hurt Quatre enough, he didn't wish to hurt him anymore... but Quatre was still a weakness that he couldn't afford, that the world couldn't afford.
"D...Dinner is served at six tonight. I hope I will see you there," there was a note of meloncholy in Quatre's voice, despite it's professional tone- Quatre had never been good at hiding his true feelings from anyone, least of all Trowa. Trowa's heart ached for the blonde boy and wept that he was the cause of such suffering. He longed to turn around and sweep Quatre off his feet and into his very willing arms. For a moment, he faltered, turned... but as he did, all he heard was the sound of a clicking lock, and all he saw was the inside of his door.
Trowa let out a sudden gust of breath and flopped backwards onto his ridiculously large bed, fluffing a pillow self-consiously. This kind of luxury made him nervous. He didn't think he could go down to dinner. He didn't think he could watch Duo and Heero be so happy together and then stare into Quatre's big, blue puppy dog eyes, knowing that he was causing the pain in them. But could he really sleep on this huge bed...?

It's a long way down.
It's a long way down.
It's a long way down to the place where we started from.

Trowa's eyes snapped open in the darkness. Something was wrong. Something was different. Trowa shook himself a little more awake, ready to defend himself from this unseen assailant... and then he realised who his 'attacker' was.
Quatre's head lay against his chest, his breath fanning warm against Trowa's neck, one arm thrown across Trowa's waist. All thoughts fled Trowa's mind and he just stared at the ceiling, muscles gone completely stiff, unable to react to what had to be the best thing he'd ever felt and the greatest temptation he'd ever had to resist.
Quatre's eyes fluttered, woken by the change in his "pillow"
"Mmnn... Trowa?"
"Quatre... Est-ce que tu-" Trowa cleared his throat and tried again, "Why are you in my bed?" remaincalmremaincalmremaincalmremaincalm.
"You don't have to do anything else. Just hold me. This is my weakness, now, not yours. Just don't let me go." Trowa could hardly do anything else. This is my weakness, not yours. That was a lie. It was Trowa's weakness too. They shouldn't be like this. They shouldn't be doing this. But he couldn't push Quatre away. He felt so safe, so secure... and that little voice in the back of his head that screamed that this was wrong, that this was dangerous, was impossibly weak and distant. Instead, the usual insidious pull towards Quatre was a tidal force and Trowa found himself swept away in the waves. He wrapped his arms around the little angel, buried his nose in the blonde, soft hair, slowly took in the scent, like it was a drug he had been too long denied. Hell, *all* of Quatre was a drug that he had been too long denied. Quatre sighed softly and snuggled against him, small legs tangling in long ones. Trowa found himself running his hands up and down Quatre's back as if to soothe him somehow and he could feel the upturning of Quatre's lips even through his shirt.

Your love is better than chocolate,
Better than anything else that I've tried.

They just lay entangled like that a long time, the only sounds in the room their soft breathing and the gentle beating of their hearts. Trowa ran his fingers through the blonde sunlight that was Quatre's hair. His walls were crumbling, his defenses slowly melting into nothing. It was hard to resist this. He wanted this so badly and Quatre was right here- warm and soft and clinging to him. Trowa brushed his lips across Quatre's forehead, meaning to stop there... but somehow his lips were trailing down Quatre's nose, seeking his mouth. Quatre turned his face up and their lips met very gently, their breaths mingling in the darkness. They parted after a moment, then kissed again, almost an afterthought, and Trowa tasted the sharp salt of tears.
"Quatre..."
"I thought..." Quatre sniffled, "I thought you didn't want me. I thought you didn't-" Trowa laid a finger across Quatre's lips, silencing him,
"Don't think that. Don't ever think that. I love you, Quatre... and I can't love you."
"I know. I know. I'm a weakness. Love is a weakness," the bitterness of Quatre's tone cut Trowa to the very soul. The words tumbled out of Trowa's mouth before he could stop them,
"You're right... You're right to be bitter, Quatre. You've given me everything, handed me your body and soul on a tray and all I can do is turn away and tell you that you're a nusiance, when really you're exactly what I want... exactly what I need. You're so much more than I could ever have dreamt of Quatre. Je suis desole... I'm sorry Quatre, I'm so sorry. What I'm doing to you is utterly unforgivable." Quatre claimed his mouth again, briefly,
"I forgive you, Trowa."

Your love is better than chocolate.
Everyone here knows how to fight.


"I love you," Quatre continued, " and if you think we need to wait until this war ends to love, I'll wait until the war ends. But Trowa... what if the war never ends? What if one of us dies tomorrow. What if one of us dies tonight? What then? What have we lost? Everything." Quatre was holding on to Trowa so tightly by now that Trowa was beginning to have trouble inhaling,
"Quatre... Quatre... Je ne peux pas respirer!"
"Nani?"
"I can't breathe!!" Quatre let go and Trowa could feel the blush somehow,
"Sorry, Trowa."
"You really feel that strongly about it?" In the dark, Quatre nodded fircely. Trowa took a deep breath and plunged headfirst off a cliff, " Then I can hardly refuse you."
"Trowa?!?!", Quatre's voice was beautifully estatic and Trowa might have liked to hear more, but his lips were already closing over the blonde's as he fell belatedly, but gladly, into the spell that was Quatre.

It's a long way down.
It's a long way down.
It's a long way down to the place where we started from.


Sometime later...

Trowa looked down at the little blonde angel asleep in his arms. *His* blonde angel. He'd thought this a weakness! How foolish of him. He'd never felt so free and so strong. An incredible pure strenghth ran through him, laced his blood with something he couldn't define, but liked very, very much. Trowa leaned over and kissed those forgiving lips gently. Quatre was a saint. Only a saint could face that kind of rejection and still stand up and worm his way into Trowa's tangled heart.
Quatre stirred slightly, pink lips parting softly and Trowa kissed him again, delicately sliding his tounge past those lips. Quatre let out a soft sigh and snuggled closer against him. Trowa placed a hand on his angel's waist, turning him around to lie spooned against him and Quatre automatically sighed and fitted himself closer to the tall pilot. Trowa smiled just a little bit and closed his eyes. The relaxing feel of this beautiful dreamer's skin pressed so close to his own lulled him gently into oblivion. The last thought in his mind was- Je t'aime, Quatre. Je t'aimerai jusqu'au jour de ma mort

It's a long way down to the place where we started from....


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just to clear up any confusion, this story actually happens *after* "Could I Ever Forget You".

Basically all of the french (yes, I'm assuming Trowa's French- ya got a problem with it?) explains itself except for the last sentance which roughly translates to "I'll love you until the day that I die."


Go on to Could I Ever Forget You!