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In a Letter

a Gundam Wing fanficlet by Scheherazade

Disclaimer: Nope, I dun own ‘em. I just like ‘em. So please, don’t sue me! They belong to the people who dreamed ‘em up. The creators of Gundam Wing to whom we are so indebted to.

Warnings: Shonen-ai, Angst, Sap, and this may be OOC, I dunno. It takes place sometime after the series... it really doesn’t matter when.

Pairings: 4+3

C&C: please? At alicit@aol.com

Trowa-

I just couldn’t trust myself to say this to you in person, so I decided to write you a letter. The only problem I have now is where to start. I suppose I should start at the beginning.

I don’t know why I trusted you; why I’ve always trust you. It just seemed to me that I should, I mean. Something inside me, instinct maybe, told me I could trust you. Did you feel it too? When I came out of Sandrock and surrendered to you, you surrendered to me as well.

Looking at the sentence I just wrote, it seems so ironic. Because here I am coming out and surrendering to you once more, I hope you choose to surrender unto me again. But I’m getting ahead of myself, again. I seem to do that whenever there is something truly important I have to say. I just talk until something stops me and I never get to the real point.

The point… the point is, I love you. I feel this as I felt that I could trust you. I can’t explain it beyond the fact that love you. I hope this voice, feeling, thing… that it speaks to you too. Remember after we first met? Well, that is when I first felt it. When I was playing my violin and you came in and joined me with the flute, that’s when I discovered it. The feeling that you would complete me. It took so long for me to figure it out for what it was. At the time I thought it was a figment of my imagination. I didn’t even know your name, Trowa, but I felt this undeniable urge to be near you. Just to be in your company.

What I ask for now is for some sort of acknowledgment. I can’t just be your friend now. My feelings run too deeply. I pray that you don’t despise me for my admission. Know that every word is true.

I find that I can’t write anymore, I can’t hold the pen straight and my tears are smearing the ink. But you can probably see that. I will go now.

Yours,

Quatre Raberba Winner