Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Hell ❯ Silence ( Chapter 1 )

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Trowa was lying in his bed in his room at the clinic. Ever since the attempted suicide he had been in this place. Cutting wrists was never really the number one on the suicide charts instead putting a bullet in your head was. For two years he had laid in the same bed, eating the same nasty food, getting different roommates, getting crappy therapy, taking pills and being a mute. It was one thing to the boys of Trowa's quietness, but now it was strange.

The boys would come and visit whenever they could or wanted to. Usually they tried to get Trowa to talk or even give them some emotion besides dirty looks, nods, shaking his head, and the finger. Duo mostly got the finger whenever he became annoying. Other times everything was sane-he played card games mostly with them. Heero was always as his partner since he understood the ‘Silence Language’. Duo had gotten dirty looks from Heero and Trowa when he said that.

Today Quatre was visiting. He was dressed in his black suit sitting on the roommate's bed.

‘So Trowa how's your new roommate?’ asked Quatre. It seemed like every week Trowa got a new roommate.

No response. This whole time Trowa didn't even acknowledge Quatre was there.

Quatre softly sighed. Not even a twitch or the sound of breathing from Trowa. He wondered if he was sleeping with his eyes open again or was drugged up.

‘Hey! Are you listening to me, Tro?’ Still no response. ‘Trowa! I know you can hear me! You could at least give me a sign or write something down!’

Trowa sighed.

Quatre stood up and looked around the room. White and plain on Trowa's side; colorful on the other side. He walked over to him and leaned down. Same hairstyle, same beautiful green eyes.

‘Goodbye Trowa Hopefully next time I come we can play cards or something.’ Quatre briefly kissed his cheek. Nothing happened except he saw Trowa stiffen his whole body. ‘Goodbye.’

Quatre left. Trowa sat up and wiped away Quatre's kiss. Dup had said Quatre was going through a bisexual spell, but had never believe him until now.

‘Your boyfriend looked pretty pissed off,’ stated Al, Trowa's roommate. ‘Did you give him a cold shoulder?’

Al was a crazy artist. He had reddish hair, tall and very thin. Al was an anorexic, bipolar, suicider. He weighed about 100 pounds and had tried to commit suicide at least three times. He took the wrong pills the first time, and twice his wrists were saved.

Trowa glared at him.

‘He's the Winner kid, right?’ Al sat down on his bed. ‘He's a real looker. Maybe you could introduce him to my poor, sweet sister?’

He shook his head and got off of the bed.

‘Its not time for dinner if you're planning to run off there. Oh, before you leave-‘-Trowa stopped at the doorway- ‘-Lilly in the anorexic ward wants to know if you'll date her. She'll probably catch you at dinner or something.’

Trowa left without signaling anything. He walked down the white hallways passing patients, nurses, and orderlies. A girl wanted to date him. What else was new? Quatre, his friend, wanted to date him! He strolled into the common room and went directly to the couch. Barely anyone sat in the common room anymore because they were either at group or individual therapy, were being visited or elsewhere.

‘Hi Trowa.’

He opened his eyes to see his nurse, Clara, standing over him. She was wearing all white like usual. She was very sweet to him and understood him very well. Someone told him once that her own daughter was a mute.

‘It's time to check your arms. I know last week your doctor saw some red on your arm. So c'mon! Lift up!’

Trowa, zombie like, lifted up his arms. Clara carefully looked over them, twisting his arms this way and that. New marks had formed several inches away from his vein. They looked about a week old.

‘They're healing nicely. If I see any new ones your arms are going to be wrapped up again. I'll see you after dinner.’

Clara left.

Unlike in the days when he was a pilot and he would wear long sleeves, in here, he wore short sleeves. He didn't really like the change, but he couldn't really do anything about it. He closed his eyes once more and fell asleep.
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