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Tea: Version 2
It was one of those days that even the most cynical of technology-accustomed people would appreciate. The air was warm but not too humid, and a light breeze cooled down those few who were slightly uncomfortable. The sun was putting in a concerted effort along with the gently rolling landscape to provide the most aesthetic view possible, and the air was laden with the scent of late summer blooms.
All of this was completely lost on four of the five sitting on an elegant piazza.
Quatre beamed sunnily at his friends as he added a sugar cube to his tea. "It certainly is a nice day outside, ne, minna?" he asked, slowly stirring the rapidly dissolving lump into the liquid.
As usual, Heero and Trowa were silent, though Heero's expression indicated that he would rather be elsewhere; probably working on their mission checks, Quatre thought. Wufei stared down at his cup of steaming Black Oolong, apparently sulking at being forced into this little show of comradeship. Only Duo smiled at him.
Encouraged, Quatre smiled back. "It's times like this, when we can relax together, that let us forget the war. And look at that view!" He swept a hand out toward the river sparkling in the distance. Gratified, the sun and the landscape contrived to look even more beautiful for their perusal.
Unfortunately for them, only Quatre looked. Luckily for the other pilots, the Arabian didn't notice. "These are the times that make life worth living, ne?"
Even Quatre had had instances where he'd wished just to die and be done with. His expression turned somber.
"At first, when you all self-destructed—even you, Duo, wasn't that a surprise—I thought that my uchuu no kokoro couldn't take it. I thought I was going to go mad with the pain." Quatre looked out at the expanse of blue sky. "But I didn't, and I brought you back here to take care of you. Don't you feel so much better now that you've had some rest?"
They certainly looked better. All the broken bones had been set, all the cuts had been bandaged, and there was no trace of the blood that had seeped from their horrible injuries. Quatre frowned slightly. There had been so much blood, covering everything . . . too much . . . and so cold . . .
Abruptly, Quatre shoved the thought away. It was too gloomy for such a day as this, and therefore had no place in it. Fixing his mouth into a wide, innocent smile, he turned to look back at his friends. Noticing a fly hovering around Trowa's too-pale lips, he leaned over to brush it away. Not to be deterred, the pesky little insect resettled itself on the Heavyarms pilot's closed eyelid.
As if in answer to a sentence or a question, Quatre nodded. "Yes, I know, the flies do get to be a bit much, ne, minna?" His expression was unbothered, though. "Oh, it's okay, I don't mind them or the smell at all." He waved one of the matrons over, who sprayed a bit more floral scent into the air. "You get used to it quickly, I've found."
The hapless matron hurried away, thinking dourly to himself that preferential treatment to the rich shouldn't extend to this kind of lunacy. His footsteps on the tiled floor were the only sound save for the clink of fine china and the masked trauma of a gentle, utterly broken boy.
~owari~
Notes: one of my friends didn't get what had happened at first; I was a little too subtle. I basically shoved it up into her face. You do know that Heero and the others are . . . ?
I actually prefer this version over the other. I think it fits Quatre better, like I said. Remember how well the little dear reacted to his father's death? *sadistic grin*