February writing challenge TQ5
please don't hate me! this bit is very angsty.
using table 4 from the 5sentence_fics community
Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Trowa/Quatre, Rating: PG-13, Warnings: ANGST, BL, word count: 149 note: written for darthanne, because a one-sentence fic wouldn't do, and twenty-five five-sentence fics will tell the story. :)
Table 4, #18 - Sentimental Journey
In the music room, Quatre ran his hand over the violin’s scroll, and down the back of its neck, longing to hold it, and play out the emotions in turmoil inside. It had been two days since he’d last played, and then he had wished for Trowa to join him, to pick up the flute and blow counter harmonies. Trowa’s quiet raspy words made it clear that he would never play again, and if his words came true, Quatre doubted that he would either.
“I’m dying,” Trowa had said, and continued to echo in Quatre’s ears; the truth was in Trowa’s eyes, in his expression, and though Quatre wanted to call them a lie, he couldn’t. A string broke in his grip, blood ran down his thumb, and a tear splashed on the back of his hand, but Quatre didn’t notice, lost in the memory of music once shared.
.
using table 4 from the 5sentence_fics community
Fandom: Gundam Wing, Pairing: Trowa/Quatre, Rating: PG-13, Warnings: ANGST, BL, word count: 149 note: written for darthanne, because a one-sentence fic wouldn't do, and twenty-five five-sentence fics will tell the story. :)
Table 4, #18 - Sentimental Journey
In the music room, Quatre ran his hand over the violin’s scroll, and down the back of its neck, longing to hold it, and play out the emotions in turmoil inside. It had been two days since he’d last played, and then he had wished for Trowa to join him, to pick up the flute and blow counter harmonies. Trowa’s quiet raspy words made it clear that he would never play again, and if his words came true, Quatre doubted that he would either.
“I’m dying,” Trowa had said, and continued to echo in Quatre’s ears; the truth was in Trowa’s eyes, in his expression, and though Quatre wanted to call them a lie, he couldn’t. A string broke in his grip, blood ran down his thumb, and a tear splashed on the back of his hand, but Quatre didn’t notice, lost in the memory of music once shared.
.