by Zed Adams
He called me Trowa.
His soft, lilting alto seemed to caress each syllable, sending a shiver up my spine.
I couldn't remember him, but deep in my heart I knew he's important to me. Don't ask me how or why. I'd trusted my emotions, abandoned everything and followed him.
Days passed in a hazy blur.
I could see the wistful smile in his eyes as he stole glances my way. I wanted to reach out for him, to comfort him, but I was afraid. I retired to my quarters, but sleep eluded me, Visions of gold haunted me.
A soft buzz at my door, and there he was, looking at me searchingly.
"Can I come to your bed?"
I nodded and made room. We lay side by side without touching.
"I'm cold and miserable. I can't sleep and I don't know why."
He looked at me, sorrow in his eyes. I pulled him close and held him tight. What the mind forgets, the body remembers. I had kissed this boy before, and I kissed him then.
"Trowa," he breathed into my ear.
We lay spooned together, he and I. And I knew with a shattering clarity that we belong together.