This fic has gone through several plot revisions before it even got written down and I love this song so much. It’s really very heartbreaking to hear and if you know Dido, you know this is the norm for her.
Trowa Barton blinked in confusion as his aimless staring from his position behind the bar was suddenly interrupted by a young woman. She was obviously African-American, with mocha brown skin and she wore glasses speckled with dust. Her hair was brushed down to her shoulders and...blue. It stood out against her red sweater and she smiled nervously before saying, "I noticed that there's a microphone over by the piano and I was wondering if it'd be alright for me to sing a song. For the holiday, you know?"
It was Christmas Eve and the only reason the Bloom Bed and Breakfast was decked for the season was because customers got weird if they were staying at an unfestive place. Trowa wrinkled his nose at her, "What song? Because I don't like those songs that you just hear over and over, every single year on every single station."
She beamed, shaking her head emphatically, "No, it's not one of those. It's called Christmas Day. It's about 20 years old and insanely pretty. Ok, actually, it's more like 10-ish years old, but either way, it's a very beautiful song." It sounded like an ok song, so he nodded his agreement. A smile split her face and she went up to the stage. He turned on the mic and she spoke into it, "Testing, testing." He nodded at her, indicating that the sound was good. Everyone in the large living room turned to look at her and she smiled sheepishly, waving a little, "Uh...hi everyone, I just wanted to sing a song for you guys right quick. It's called Christmas Day by Dido. I hope you enjoy it." She paused for a moment and when she began, he almost wished he hadn't agreed to her request, the words of the haunting song stirring up memories he'd have sooner left buried.
~A young gentleman came riding past on a snow blue winter's day
He asked to drink by our fire and I was pleased to let him stay~
Trowa Barton was 15 when his stepfather, Triton Bloom, decided to move to the mountains and open a bed and breakfast. The teenager hated it. He hated moving from the city to a tiny town, hated leaving all his friends behind and he especially hated when it snowed and he had to go out in a blizzard to shovel snow and sprinkle salt. The only good thing about coming out in the snow was the fact that his 13 year-old half-sister, Cathy, would have some hot cocoa and warm soup waiting for him when he got in. He didn't know how the younger girl made better hot cocoa than any he'd ever tasted anywhere else when she usually halfway burned even the canned soup, but she did and who was he to complain?
It was insanely early in the morning and no one should have been around. Hell, Trowa should have still been in bed—it was a cold, late November day and a Saturday on top of that. But for reasons unknown to the irritated young man, someone was driving a motorcycle through the snow. He didn't think anything of it until the rumbling motor pulled into the tiny Bed and Breakfast's parking lot. The owner of said bike got off. They were wearing a rather nice black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. They didn't take their helmet off, probably to keep warm, Trowa assumed and he lifted a hand in greeting. The faceless rider lifted their hand as well then, of all the unusual things to happen, slipped in the snow and landed flat on their back with a painful-sounding CRACK!
Trowa abandoned his shovel to run over and help the person, who was beginning to sit up as he got there, "Hey, are you alright?" The cyclist nodded, and he helped them up, introducing himself and welcoming them to the Bloom Bed and Breakfast. If this place went under, he went without food. Being nice to potential customers was a good idea. Once inside, the rider removed his helmet, turning out to be the most gorgeous blond man he'd ever seen in his life. The guy shook his head, rubbing the back of it with one hand and smiling sheepishly, "My helmet's supposed to protect me from crashes, not my own clumsy self." Trowa laughed at the joke.
Just then, Cathy came into the foyer from the kitchen. She frowned, obviously confused by the new arrival, then smiled nervously, "Uh...I made hot cocoa. Would you like some, sir?" "Quatre Winner," he corrected, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a rakish wink that brought a delicate flush to her face. "Please call me Quatre," he added as he shook Trowa's hand. "And I would love some cocoa, miss."
~He sat there drinking quietly for a while, then he said to me:
"Your eyes are green, like summer grass.
Your lips are red, like a fresh-cut rose.
Your hair is soft, like an Irish stream,
And your voice is filled with sweet beauty."~
Quatre chose to sit next to the artificial fireplace and Trowa turned it on with the flames low and the heat high. He then sat in the chair on the other side of the small table, where he sipped his cocoa and enjoyed the comfortable chair. Cathy had hovered for a few minutes after delivering the cocoa, mooning over the blond man, then said she'd get her father and bolted up the stairs to wake the owner of the establishment. It would take her a while. The man slept like he was dead.
The two young men sat in silence for what had to have been a good five minutes before Quatre commented, "Your eyes are a different color from hers." Trowa looked at the man, startled by the observation. He had inherited his green eyes from his father, while Cathy had gotten her rich brown eyes from her own. "They're very beautiful. Make me think of summertime, instead of that miserable weather outside." The blond looked at him now, smiling a warm, intimate smile that made the younger man blush furiously and look away, "Ah...thanks."
"Are you gay?" questioned Quatre, startling him again, "Because I think you're incredibly gorgeous and I want you." Trowa decided he had to give the man points for directness as he burned his mouth on his hot cocoa by drinking it entirely too fast. Ow. He was saved from answering by Triton's arrival, Cathy having apparently managed to awaken the big, blustery man, who enthused at Quatre and apologized for the wait. The blond assured him that he had been in good company, giving Trowa a heated look that went straight to his groin. He fled for his room, abandoning his mug in his haste.
~And the last words I heard him say were:
"I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day."~
Quatre rented a room for a week, but spent only the first night alone there. He spent the entire weekend wooing Trowa with sweet words, sultry innuendo, and heated glances. Somewhere in-between the nearly constant sex and school and insanely romantic overtures, Trowa learned a lot about Quatre. The blond was 3 years older than him at 18, had enough sisters to sink a ship, and loved Christmas music year-round.
His last morning there, Quatre held Trowa as he played with the brunette's hair, his voice soft as he said, "I have to leave this afternoon, you know." Trowa pouted into the older man's shoulder, his voice petulant as he said, "I know. Don't remind me." A soft laugh escaped the man beneath him. "I'll come back."
He challenged that with a defiant, "When?" He could feel soft fingers tracing absent designs on his arm. He looked up after a moment to see the owner of those fingers looking thoughtful, right before he answered, "Soon. Christmas." Blue eyes met green, "I'll bring you a present." He nodded. He would just have to accept that, because he was already head over heels in love with the man.
~The night will come, but I won't sleep as I watch the stars that lead him.
I cannot place where he is, but still my heart goes with him.
I'm saving all my Sunday clothes for the day that I'll be leaving.~
Trowa had a near-impossible time getting used to sleeping alone again. Within minutes of Quatre's departure, he ached for the blond's return. When he couldn't sleep, he looked out his bedroom window, wondering in the weather was better where his love was and tried to decide which outfit he would wear that would make him look mature and sexy.
~Father knows.
My sister knows.
And my friends, they're happy for me.
And the priest, he says:
"You should thank God for the blessing of such beauty."
And the last words I heard him say were:
"I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day.
I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day."~
He made new friends at his school and invited them over on Christmas Eve, hoping that they'd get to meet Quatre. Wufei Chang and Heero Yuy, who were half brothers and Duo Maxwell, the preacher's son, were all more than willing to enjoy his stepfather's comfy chairs and delicious cookies for the afternoon. He kept more than half his attention on the door, praying every time that it opened that Quatre would walk through. Duo noticed his lack of attention first, but thought it was depression about the current topic, which was dating. He slapped Trowa on the back with a cheerful admonition, "Don't be so glum! You're the hottest guy in school. Hilde, Lucrezia and even that scary senior, Une, all have crushes on you."
Trowa gave the long-haired boy a weak smile and confessed that it wasn't the girls he was worried about, then described his encounter with Quatre in cliff notes, ending with his combined doubt and hope that the older blond would return. Usually the most rational and unromantic of the group, Heero surprised him by saying, "I think he'll come back to you. You're too good a guy for him not to." It reassured him and he enjoyed the next few hours with them, before they headed home to enjoy the holiday with their families.
He continued to watch for Quatre after they left, but was eventually threatened up into his room by his stepfather. He fell asleep and was awakened by his sister, who told him that he had cool presents waiting for him. It was a private ritual they indulged in: Whoever woke up first on Christmas went to scout out and separate their presents, which were usually never wrapped or labeled—they kind of had to guess who got what, then woke the other. They played with whatever they got for a while, then went back to bed until later, when their parents were around to enjoy them enjoying their presents.
As they descended the stairs together, Cathy said, "I heard you yesterday, talking to your friends. I remember that blond guy, Quatre. Dad asked me what was going on with you two, but I didn't know until I saw you leave his room the day he left. I hope he does come back today." He nodded his agreement. He didn't go back to his room that day, instead watching as the couples or families gave each other their presents, which they had left under the large tree. Night fell and still no blond Quatre entered the door. Around 11, Triton found him still staring at the door and patted him on the shoulder with a succinct, "I'm sorry, Trowa."
~ And the last words I heard him say
Were the last words I ever heard him say
"I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas Day
I swear I will return on Christmas Day,
And yes, I shall return on Christmas Day,
I shall return for you on Christmas Day
My love, I will return on Christmas Day
I shall return, my love on Christmas Day
On Christmas Day."~
20 years later, Trowa owned the bed and breakfast with Cathy, although she was on her honeymoon with Heero at the moment. It was an unlikely couple, to say the least, but they seemed to suit one another. Everyone applauded for the girl on stage, who smiled and fled to a seat, where she grabbed a book and began reading. A few hours later, everyone had gone to bed and Trowa did, too. He awoke the next morning very early. He found himself restless and went downstairs. It was another blizzard outside and someone was coming in, snow swirling in with them. He turned on the light and was astonished to see familiar blue eyes peering from snow-covered blond hair, "Quatre..?"
The other man approached with a sheepish smile, brushing snow from his hair and shoulders. He looked older and no longer carried himself with the pride of a teenager who knew everything, but with the pride of a man who had been there and done that, "I'm surprised you remembered me, after all these years. I never forgot you, but I had...obligations. If I had come back before now, I would have left them in a heartbeat and it wouldn't have been fair of me to do that." He approached, blue eyes liquid as he asked, "Can you forgive me?" Trowa found that he could and demonstrated this by taking the blond to his room, where they rediscovered one another.
What he couldn't forgive was when he woke a few hours later to an empty bed. It put him in a foul mood, which he was careful not to take out on the guests, even though he was sure they noticed. Late that evening, a middle-aged and very elegant blonde woman with tear-reddened eyes came in. He welcomed her and she said, her voice quivering, "Could you find Trowa Barton for me? I'm Relena Winner and I have something I need to give to him." When he told her that he was Trowa Barton, she gave him an envelope and informed him, "I-In his will, Quatre said he wanted you to have that."
Trowa looked at her like she was crazy, "His will?" She nodded, "He died last week. Someone tried to shoot me and got him instead!" She burst into fresh tears and Trowa hesitated uncertainly. She apologized profusely and encouraged him to open the envelope. He decided not to tell the woman that he had just been with the blond man a few hours earlier and opened it. Inside was a letter:
Dear Trowa,
If you are reading this, then I am dead and have not made it back to you. I am so sorry. I truly loved you. I don't know if you even remember me now. I would have come back to you, but that Christmas, I think my family made a concerted effort to keep me away. In fact, in hindsight, I'm certain they did. They never approved of my sexuality and did everything in their power to discourage me, including arranging a marriage! I wouldn't have gone through with it, but Relena confessed to me that she would be disowned if she didn't marry soon and that she respected me. So I married her. Eventually, I came to love her very much. I never loved her as much as I loved you, but please don't ever tell her that. It would break her heart, because she loves me a great deal. We have three children now, two daughters and a son. Them, I love more than anything in this world. The youngest, my boy, has graduated now. I want to see you, but since I seem to already be dead, I guess that's impossible. I couldn't come to you before then, because I know that as soon as I looked into those beautiful green eyes, I'd never be able to leave you again. It wouldn't have been fair to my children, or Relena. Can you forgive me?
All my love,
Quatre
An online blurb about haunted places for Bloom Bed and Breakfast states:
"Visitors to the quaint bed and breakfast often claim to hear Christmas music, no matter the season. It seems the only day of the year that is music-free is Christmas itself. To make up for the lack, visitors can often see a blond boy in a leather jacket and jeans lounging by the tasteful decorative fireplace and are encouraged to bring him a mug of hot cocoa."