Press and Publicity



Life as a future billionair is not always easy. No matter how little you care, there are many people who are interested in what you do and are, and there’s hardly a way to hide. Basically, I’m not really of public interest, except if I cause a disaster. There are articles about the Winner Company in the magazines every now and then, notes on what we are doing, but it’s not like we are popstars. Charity and donations receive big praise in the colonial press, and are increasing the sympathies for our family My father runs a good business, so there are hardly anyfailures recorded in the papers.

As for our personal life… there are still those magazines who need stories to ramble about. The slightes bit of uncommon behavior will be recorded in a big article, if any of the paparazzi gets wind of it. With this, being considered handsome, rich and of general interest really is a disadvantage. Fortunately, there are people who gain more of those reporters’ interests than we or I do. And even though I tend to be the most important of all among us thirty children, I can be sure to be left alone as long as I don’t cause something extraordinary – which I don’t intent to in the first place. I can be glad, that I have my privacy most of the time, so do my sisters and my father.

Which leads me to the main point… is homosexuality normal? For me of course it is, but what do other people think? Ever since I started hanging out with Trowa, reporters have become supicious about my sexual preferences. It isn’t their business, but it gives them an issue to discuss, and worst of all, people are interested. I haven’t counted all the articles rambling aimlessly about my sexuality. It hurts me and Trowa alike, that our privacy, our young relationship, is treated like this. I often wonder why people can’t leave us alone. After the appearance of another big articles in a newspaper I can practically feel the gazes drawn towards me in school, questioning whether any of the reporters’ ideas are true. Indeed, there are many people who know; teachers, friends and circus people among them.


“I’m still getting sick of all of this. It’s between me and you, they don’t need to care,” I once told my love Trowa.

“I know, Mizu Me, but on the other hand, you confuse me with your complaints. We walk places hand in hand and it’s only coincidence we didn’t get caught by a reporter yet. We don’t make it a secret, and yet you complain. Why do you care about the papers knowing it, when you don’t care about anyone else?”


Yes, that was the question: Why did I? It was clear, that Trowa didn’t care – he had no aristocratic reputation to loose. Why was I not standing to my personality and to my love of Trowa? He didn’t seem offended, but I don’t think it was my right to act uncomfortable about it, bacause I loved him so much. Truth was, that it were those articles that bugged me. They made Trowa furious, too. I, at least, tried to act as if they didn’t matter to me, although each hurt in the heart. However, it didn’t take much time for Trowa to know better, and even less for my sisters.

“Quatre, what is it this time?” Ileah asked one day, sitting down next to me on the sofa. Out of all, she is probably the most concerned about my well-being. I don’t know whether it has to do with her being a nurse, or just with the family or me.

“This article,” I said, pointing at the magazine on my lap. A double-page held a large picture of me and the headline said ‘There certainly are possibilities, but we all know, Quatre has a warm heart in general.Still

“What do they say?” Ileah asked kindly.

I sighed and read a passage for her: “Dr. M. Loft, an experienced psychologist states that observing the Winners’ young heir, one could certainly come to the conclusion, that he might at least have an interest in both sexes. ‘His favorite clothing of tan, pink, brown and purple are certainly unusual on a boy. As for his friendship with the adopted circus-son Trowa Barton, who’s one year older than he is, suppositions about more are made easily. Yet, we should never forget, that Quatre inherited the generally warm heart of his parents and is extremely caring and nice to anyone, especially towards friends, and that closeness doesn’t have to mean anything with Quatre.’”

“Well, it’s better than most other articles,” Ileah stated.

“They’re psychologically analysing me!!!” I protested, “What is wrong with my clothes? Why does this world think being friendly is not normal?” She could tell I was hurt and upset, not really because of the article, but because of the lot of it, because of people’s interest in my privacy.

Ileah sighed, folding her hands on her lap. “Nothing’s wrong with your clothes, onii-sama. You are wearing the colors of a sunrise in the desert, because you like the deserts. Anybody knowing you can tell, and that psychologist doesn’t know you. These people just envy you for your ability to give anyone a second chance and to be kind no matter what. It doesn’t matter, what these people say.”

“I know… but this can’t go on forever.”

“As far as I see it, you have two possibilities. You either wait, until they make a good photo of you and him, or stop the rumors and make it public.”

I threw the magazine back onto the table, leaving the page open. “I don’t want them to write about it. Besides, it is also Trowa’s decision. I don’t want him to be drawn into all that public life with me.”

It was the exact moment, my koi came into the door. “It’s too late for all that, anyway, Mizu Me.”

I winced and looked up. I hadn’t meant for him to hear that, but apparently he had. He came over, kissed me on the cheek and had a look at the magazine on the table. He frowned reading the first few lines.

Allena, Natasha and Delilah, the mean three-some, came rumbling through the door and into the living room. Feeling the strange atmosphere, they asked what was up and we told them about the issue of the discussion. Trowa was reading the whole article meanwhile. It also contained an analyses of himself.

“Why don’t you go and talk to the Daily Independent?” Allena suggested kindly, “They are not interested in babbling and guessing but are straight to the point. They’d make it a minor deal, and you can be sure, you wouldn’t make it to the front cover of the paper.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. It was my privacy after all, and I was still young and insecure. All I wanted was to feel well with Trowa, without having to worry about getting caught. But the only way to not ‘get caught’ was to not provide a reason for it. If I made it public, the rambling would probably stop – at least after a while, and I couldn’t get caught on anything everybody knew already. However, starting this would mean a tough time ahead of me and Trowa, and it would put my whole family into a different life, unfortunately.

My koi gently stroke my back. “It would make things a little easier.”

“I’m not sure, Trowa-chan. They’ll want to know more and more. I don’t want to do this to you,” I answered miserably.

“You know I don’t care. I’d rather support you and tell the world how proud I am of you.”

Ileah and the three-some watched us, without me being really aware of it.

“Would you mind if I told the world?” I asked. He shook his head and granted me with one of his most intense, peaceful facial expressions. Such expressions are deep and meaningful, but hardly noticeable for someone who doesn’t know Trowa. It’s only readable for me, and only I know the depth of the meaning.


The next day, after inquireing my father whether he approved my decision, which he proudly did, I called the Daily Independent of the colony, having Trowa by my side while I was on the phone. I was transferred to a reporter, and introduced myself. I told him, that I was sick of all the rumors about me and Trowa and that I wanted to make a clear point on this. I asked the reporter whether he could find some time in his schedule to talk about it with me and Trowa, and he said, he could come over right away. Whether he felt that there was something interesting at hand, or whether he just didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t tell.

We scheduled a meeting at the mansion at five this afternoon, and I was pretty nervous when the bell rang. Fortunately Trowa was the calm source of energy, opened the door politely and let the reporter in, before I could go totally nuts. We lead him to the living room and sat down with him.

“Maybe this isn’t quite a story for your newspaper,” I said, “but I want this to appear in a reliable source which doesn’t put words into my mouth I didn’t say.”

“That is alright,” the reporter answered kindly, “nice to know you believe in us. … So, what is the truth, then, Quatre-sama?” he asked, using the name I had inofficially gained in the public world.

“The turth is, that I love Trowa and Trowa loves me, so we are a couple. It’s not a pleasant feeling to admit that the millions of magazines are right on this, but many of what they put up is stupid in my eyes and doesn’t prove anything, nor has it anything to do with this. Their analysises, suppositions and explanations have nothing to do with my love of Trowa. We are just normal people like any other, and a normal couple like any other.”

The reporter took out his sketch-pad and scribbled some. He smiled, but in a nice and friendly way, before looking back up at us. “Anything to add, Mr. Barton?”

“No. I love Quatre, that’s all,” he replied confidently, taking my hand in his. The reporter still had some questions for us, asking for statements and opinions, but not all of his questions were answered. I had made up my mind about how far I wanted to go on this, and he accepted our borders. He was very thankful when he left and he promised to us, that, as we requested, none of this would appear on the front page of the newspaper. He also warned us, that it didn’t make a difference and that it would probably be a big thing for other newspapers and magazines soon. We acknowledged his warnings, but there wasn’t really anything anyone could do about it, and we were sure public interest on this wouldn’t be too strong or at least not last for long. I was glad, the reporter seemed reliable and considerate. 


The next morning I was woken by Delilah, who often does that if I sleep for too long in her opinion. Trowa had left shortly after the reporter the day before, since he had had a performance. So I had done some homework, my mind not quite able to concentrate and crawled into bed late at night, hoping Trowa would call, which he didn’t.

Delilah opened the curtain, let the light stream in and batted me on the head with a rolled up newspaper – The Dayly Independent, of course.

“Do you want to read your article at all, Quatre?”

I yawned. “Oh, right… I’m the newspapers’ enemy number one now, huh?”

“Not at all. Here, I’ll read it to you.” She sat down on my bed and opened the paper. There was no photo or anything to gain attention, it was just a small article somwhere lost in the downer left corner of the page and the headline didn’t even say I was gay. I was so glad about it. She cleared her throat and started to read in that trained voice which has done many presentations so far.


Quatre Winner Wants to Put an End to Constant Rumoring


Daily Independent was invited to an exclusive Interview at the Winner’s mansion

by Seki Cha


Friday, five pm at the Winner’s mansion – Quatre Raberba Winner, the fifteen year old future heir of the Winner Company tells our reporter straight forward, that he and his supposingly best friend Trowa Barton have been a couple for several months now. He also states, that the love he is talking about stands in no relation to the descriptions and ideas frequently displayed in common magazines, and that the decision to make his sexual preferences public mainly evokes from the annoying articles he had had to read lately.

‘We are just normal people like any other, and a normal couple like any other,’ Quatre explains. According to himself, he cannot understand why it is made such a big deal. While Trowa Barton remains silent during the main part of the interview, but states repeatedly that he loves Quatre with all his heart, Quatre kindly explains their views about love.

‘Love doesn’t chose gender or beauty, even though Trowa is very beautiful. Love chooses a person, a heart and a soul. My koi is all that and more.’ It seems clear, that the young blond could keep on swooning about his choice forever, but he gently restrains from being too frank, fearing he might never be understood.

Both lovers agree on the fact, that they are hoping for a long and bright future and that their privacy and personalities will be respected. Trowa explains, that this might be easier for him, who is living in an open community of artists and different nations and views, than it is for a young aristocrat. Quatre alleges his family and his koi are very supportive which brings up a great relief in him. Both refuse to comment on the beginning of their relationship or anything more personal. With a winking eye, the young heir adds that finally getting their ‘fears’ confirmed, people and magazines will have ‘enough to deal with for now’ – just like he himself and Trowa.

And while some may consider this revelation a loss for the female world – and not because of the fortune the bishounen will inherit one day – others might very well see the freedom and blissfulness only love can bring up in a young man, and be happy on Quatre-sama’s behalf.



I leaned back against the pillow and beamed at Delilah. “That is good news. We should send the Daily Independent a card or something.”

“I’ll take care of it, onii-sama.” She left the article on my bed and went out of the door. I picked it up, read it over and found that I was still quite satisfied. Hopefully, the article wouldn’t drag too much attention to it too soon and this would be a calm Saturday morning.


Quatre was wrong, however. My morning wasn’t quite as peaceful as his. The first thing I did, of course, was going out to buy the newspaper. Everything went well on the way there, but once I held the paper in my hand, and had just finished reading the article, someone tipped me from the shoulder.

“Trowa Barton, right?”


“You are in the newspaper. Can I ask you a few questions about it? I am from the ‘Colony’s General Times’.”

“No. Goodbye.”

And I was off. As Quatre has warned me quite often, those people are very sticky. The guy followed me, babbling at me until I reached my own grounds and he couldn’t follow me, since the lawn the circus was on was considered private ground, and law forbid him to set foot on it. I showed Cathy the article and left the newspaper with her, intending to get to the Winners before more reporters could pile up in front of our grounds. I sneaked over the other side of the lawn and left the reporters in the belief I was still on the ground somewhere. I was uncomfortable with people looking at me with that weird look, some of them whispering. I could just be glad there hadn’t been any picture of me in that paper, so only those who had seen me before and remembered my name could tell I was in today’s newspaper.

Things went less smoothly, though, when I came to the Winners mansion. There was a bunch of people with cameras and sketch pads in front of it, trying to get a glimpse on my koi. They were blocking the gate, and I was glad that there was a high fence around the whole thing and a big garden that cerated some distance to the house, so nobody could look into the windows. I saw Quatre’s window was open, but these reporters probably didn’t know the one right above the living room was his. I dreaded making myself known, but I had to get in. Especially now Quatre was counting on me, and I knew that.

“Excuse me, I need to get to the door,” I said loudly. Some heads turned around, others showed rather little interest – until they recognized who I was.

“Mr. Barton, could you answer a few questions please? Is the article of the Daily Independent reliable?”

“Would you please move out of the way?” I asked and shoveled myself to the gate, pressing the bell. While the reporters kept babbling at me and I stoically looked at the house, not caring about the pictures they took, nothing happened. I rang the bell again but still there was no reaction. Since Quatre’s window was open, he had to be home. --- Suddenly a thought occurred to me: The reporters must have rang the bell, too, so someone possibly just switched off the bell or they were ignoring it – which meant, Quatre couldn’t know I was there. I retreated from the gate and walked along the fence, closer to his window.

I stuck two fingers in my mouth and let out a loud whistle, which is usually used to summon the ponies of the circus. My koi had heard it quite often. The paparazzi observed me with great joy and I would have loved to just beat them up for all that.

“Quaaaatre!” I yelled, when there still was no rection on the second whistling. The reporters enjoyed that even more. Still, nobody appeared. I huffed some. I seriously wanted to get away from these guys. To the display of all their evil eyes I went to the other side of the street, took a run-up towards a car parked in front of the house, jumped onto the hood, and with a flip landed on the other side of the lawn. I’d make Quatre responsible for that humiliation, I thought.

Immediately Rocky and Dix, the two dogs which had been barking at reporters on another part of the fence caming running towards me. They came right into my arms and in the opposite to all those reporter’s hopes and fears, they didn’t tear my apart, but licked me right across the face. I cuddled them a second before I stood up again.

At that very moment, Quatre appeared on the window. “Trowa?!”

“Too late, I am in already,” I said, looking up at him. Behind myself I could hear the familiar clicking of cameras. Looking at him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to blame him for anything.

“Geez… what’s going on out here???… oh well, come in.”

What did he think was going on out here? We had just become a very famous couple. Quatre, with all kindness, opened the front door for me and let me inside. I was very glad to be away from that thunderstorm of clicking camera noises and my koi excused guiltily. Embracing him in an all-forgiving, hearty kiss, I shushed him. We called Duo and Wufei to tell them, it was not quite wise for them to come over today. We didn’t want to have them deal with a bunch of reporters, and if Duo and Heero were seen together, it would make things worse, even for them. All of them were rather sorry for us – of course they had read the article. We have told them the day before to buy the newspaper and why.

Quatre kindly explained what we had to deal with today and Duo was rather pitiful. Wufei thought it was funny. I don’t know about Heero. He was with Duo when we called and we didn’t get him onto the phone. I think we gave Duo quite a lot he had to explain to Heero, now.



By noon I was rather upset. It was a nice day in fall, the wind was hardly going and after the nightly rain, the air was fresh and clean. Trowa and I were stuck in the house, due to all those paparazzi in front of the gates, and I really hated it. There is nothing worse than being locked in a cage like a poor singing bird. I had Trowa – fortunately – but nothing to do with him, but stay in the house. We had a lot to do in the house, of course, but the constant voices from outside and the nice wheather made me want to get out and away.

“I’m going crazy!!!” I yelled, standing on the large windows of the living room, watching all those reckless reporters banging on the iron of the fence.

“Quatre, calm down. They can see you on the window,” Trowa said calmly but insistently, worried himself. He knew he couldn’t come up there and take me, or a thousand cameras with long lenses would capture us together in the brink of a moment.

“I don’t care!!! It just can’t be true that these jerks control our life!”

Delilah dragged me away from the window and onto the sofa next to Trowa.

“Quatre, you made it public, you have to take the consequences. What is the problem?” Allena asked through the opened door while she prepared sandwiches in the adjacent kitchen.

“It’s not that,” Trowa replied for me, “These people are just from the wrong magazines. They’ll make it all worse.”

“Right,” I agreed. “But this is really making me edgy. I want to get away.”

Allena, ever caring as she and all my sisters are, came inside the living room with a huge basket. “Here, onii-sama, take this and have a picknick somewhere with Trowa, away from these guys.” She pointed to the window.

I sighed, “They’ll follow us.”

Delilah held up her car keys, “We’ll be away before they even relaized it. Deal?”

I smiled broadly, happy to at least try it. “Deal! Arigatou!!!”

Trowa squeezed my hand, letting me know he approved and together we sat in Delilah’s little car. She carefully pulled down the driveway, the gate opened automatically and the reporters scrambled away. As we passed them, they could very well see, who was in the car, but they couldn’t follow us anymore.

“What if one of them finds us?” I asked.

“You’ll have to deal with it, sorry,” Delilah said.

Trowa nudged me. “They won’t.”


Delilah brought us to a forrest in which midth there was a pond, where we would have our picknick. Hardly anyone came along here in the fall, and we could be almost sure we would have our privacy. Fortunately, it was not too cold in our jackets, and we sat down with a blanket without freezing. Delilah drove away, so the car, which the public was familiar with, wouldn’t reveal our hiding place. We knew we could not hide forever, but we could deal with the stuff later, when things had cooled off a little.

“Mizu Me,” Trowa said, feeding me with a grape, just because. “Your sisters are great, although I don’t even know all of their names.”

“Ileah, Delilah, Allena, Natasha, Desiree, Reene, Ayesha, Katinka, Sarah,…”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, stuffing me with another grape. I smiled and let myself be shushed, playfully biting his finger. We looked over the pond.

“We should come back here in summer and take a good swim,” I suggested, wrapping a hand around his hip comfortably, trying to pour tea with the other hand, which wasn’t quite possible, because the glass kept tumbling away. Trowa saw my trouble and helped me by holding the glass. I thanked him and took a sip of hot vanilla tea, enjoying how it warmed me from the inside.

Trowa kept eating grapes, with one arm slung around my shoulder. The soft breeze made me close my eyes every now and then, when it brought the semen from the forrest which were playfully landing on our sandwiches. We sat for a whole while, just exchanging a sentence every now and then, not talking about trouble or problems and enjoying the deserted place for what it was.

It doesn’t take long for me and Trowa to start kissing mindlessly when we are together like that. This was no exception. When we had finsihed eating and sat there for a while, I suddenly found my lips on his, and frankly, I has some fluttering sensations in my body. Even though our jackets were thick, we felt the warm bodies beneath, knowing it was all property to the one we love, and therefore ours as well.

Fate is a jester, sometimes a good, sometimes a bad one. We found ourselves disengaging from each others’ lips, and I looked at his beautiful countenance, when his face visibly darkened. I looked to the direction he was indicating and almost jumped right up – letting out a yelp. On the other side of the blanket was a young man, sitting there and waiting, staring at us with dark brown eyes. He had a big bag with him and smiled foxily.

“Mr. Winner, Mr. Barton,” he held out a hand. “Colonial Times, James Steamer my name.”

We refused his hand. I was angry. “How rude to be interfering like that!” I yelled, “Don’t you have any manners? Can’t you give a couple their privacy, and isn’t it enough to hunt us down like deer?”

Mr. Steamer smiled superiously. “That is an exclusive story, and I regret I didn’t have time to take out my camera,” he pointed at the big bag. I fumed with anger, and Trowa squeezed me unvisibly to calm me down. That reporter had no scruples or shame! It was disgusting.

“Is your damned story all that matters to you?” I swore. “Listen, Mister, I have no clue how you found us here, nor do I care right now, but I would be greatful, if you showed some courtesy and left us alone. We have been exposed to the lenses of reporters from all national and international newspapers all day, we have gone insane by the crowd in front of our house and we have enough of it. I am gay, so says the Daily International, and that is all the public needs to know.” I clung to Trowa. The reporter sat down more comfortably.

“You misunderstand or miscalculate the views on this. Reporters have been up and down the streets, asking people about their opinions on this. The news have travelled quickly to those who didn’t know about it, and we basically get the same responses from high to low. It’s all a mixture of ‘How cute, those two’, ‘We would love to see a picture of Quatre-sama’s boyfriend’, ‘What a loss for the female world, but he seems happy’ and ‘Can’t they bring more information on this?’ in the most approving and friendly way. It is not us reporters who asks for more, but the public, meaning it positively.”

I glared at him in disbelief. “Still, sir, it is no reason to drive us insane or insult our privacy.”

“We all have to live and we don’t want to loose our customers. A newspaper that doesn’t bring anything about this tomorrow will have a disadvantage. You have no idea what it does to the business, how hard the struggle to gain and keep readers is.”


The reporter nodded.

“So you tracked us down for the reputation of the Colonial Times?”

He shook his head. “No. I am not the reporter who was deputed to go after you, I came across here by coincidence. I am just a minor reporter, and the big, insistent ones are set on you and your boyfriend. Funny to see, you seem to have outsmarted them,” he laughed. “That’s quite something one could expect from two intelligent young men.”

“It was my sisters idea,” I smirked. I started to like this guy. “So what are you doing here, if you’re not trying to catch the runnaway lovers?”

“I’m in for some biological studies on the pond, never for anything important. I was dumped to do this job after the former editor of the Colonial Times broke up with me.”

I nodded. Trowa shifted some, which caught my attention.

“The former editor of the Colonial Times was Andrew F. Tesman…” he stated.

The reporter smirked. “Yes, he was quite a nice young man.” So the reporter even shared our preferences. “Ever since that day I haven’t been promoted.”

“And writing a story about the Number One Topic this Saturday would help you,” I guessed. He nodded. I looked over at Trowa questioningly, almost pleading. He looked back at me, caught my gaze and read it, then nodded.

“Unpack your camera and your notepad, and we’ll see what we can give away,” In told James Steamer.

He smild broadly. “I promise, I’ll not make you look back, and I’ll choose the best picture, and I’ll write really nicely!!!” he cheered and fumbled with his bag. I smiled.


So we had a nice little interview, on which we choose to give away a little more about our relationship. Of course I mainly was the one talking. We offered our reporter-friend something to eat, since we had enough for him and ourselves, but he was too nervous to eat. Trowa and I cuddled up and he made his fotos. We even went into the forest and positioned for some more pictures, until he ran out of material. He was more than thankful and promised to bring us the newspaper tomorrow morning - personally. He left us to the rest of our picknick, promising he wouldn’t disturb us any further, and he wouldn’t tell anyone where we were. I guess, we could believe that, because he would just decrease the value of his article, if he told anyone.

In the evening, Delilah brought us back home. The crowd in front of our mansion had cleared and I was glad Trowa would spend the night.


As promised, James Steamer stood in front of the gates the next day, waving with the Colonial Times.

“Quatre-sama! Trowa-sama!!” he called as we came down the path. “I was promoted! I was promoted!” He seemed extremely happy, because he was bouncing with joy. Through the iron bars he handed us the newspaper.

“I hope you like the article and the pictures. Thank you again! I don’t think I can thank you enough. Please give me feedback on the article, okay? Gotta run!”

And gone he was. Trowa and I went back inside. The front cover of the magazine showed me and Trowa on a tree in our jackets, looking at each other, arms intertwined. It was quite a good picture in brilliant colors and taken with skill.

“Read it!” I urged Trowa.



And Angel and a Panther in a Romantic Fairy Tale


An Insight in the Colony’s most adored relationship



Ever since yesterday, Quatre Raberba Winner has politely shared his deepest emotions with the International World, when he stated to the Daily Independent, that he and his lover Trowa share a blissful relationship. Positive reactions dominate the couple’s surroundings – never has a homosexual relationship been approved like this (for poublic quotes see page 10).

This Saturday morning, crowds of reporters have piled up in front of the Winners’ mansion, ignoring the family’s father as he goes to work, unwilling to give an interview. But Quatre doesn’t show up – only when the mysterious lover Trowa appears, just as unwilling to talk to the media as Mr. Winner, and gives himself access to the house with some acrobatic skills, Quatre appears on the window for the brink of a second. The rest of the day, they seem to have disappeared from the colony, away from the lenses and tape recorders of the total of 58 newspapers and magazines.


In an act of kindness, even though distrurbed in their privacy, the young couple was willing to give the Colonial Times an interview to give us a deeper insight into something, many people can only hope for. Feeling chased and pursued by every single newspaper and magazine in town, the two lovers have fled into the woods yesterday to have a picknick in privacy, away from the disturbing public. By coincidence, they were found by a reporter and were willing to spill some details to please the public, and let their first official pictures as a couple be taken.


Fate decided, that Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner should meet in spring, when the one year older Trowa became a transfer student at Quatre’s school, sharing some classes with him. ‘I was unable to adjust to the school, I wasn’t used to the upper society, but Quatre and his friends took me in like a friend. I observed him, and thought I was facing an angel.

Quatre himself explains that he had been wondering about Trowa a lot, for he had been restrained, quiet and almost detached from social life. One night, Trowa joined the young Winner’s heir on a fancy dinner in replacement for a friend. There, they ‘where talking and looking at each other all evening’ (Quatre), not knowing they both had been in love with each other already. Cuddling his lover happily, Trowa explains: ‘Quatre had received an anonymus gift from me and I had received an anonymus poem from him. I had it with me, and all evening I was questioning myself whether this really had been written by his hand, as I first had thought.’

The lovers refuse to give away the most blissful moment, wanting to keep that for themselves, which we will greatly understand. They only indicate, that the following week they were hardly separable, and that telling the Winners seemed to have been ‘quite a struggle’ (Trowa).

‘Whoever sees Quatre and me together isn’t opposed to us, as it seems,’ Trowa explains and the young blond angel nods on approval, adding ‘I was always welcome in the circus [Kaze Yume]’, which is Trowa’s foster home. We happily remember the performance earlier this year, where Quatre appeared as an angel for two performances. By then, the meida could only guess what was already true.


The two lovers, who both have gained their nicknams (Mizu Me and Tenshi for Quatre, Kamoku Koruhyou for Trowa) from each other, are rather surprised to hear, that the public has taken their relationship so lightly and with so much approval. According to Quatre-sama’s statement, they don’t intend to give much more away of their privacy in the close future, not until the media has calmed down some. They say, they would appreciate, if they would be left in peace most of the time and promise, if that should happen, they would see no more need to hide from the public. Generally, Quatre explains, finally ‘confessing’ openly has given him some relief and also self-confidence. He says, he stands to his love and preference, so does Trowa, and he should have from the beginning. As it seems, Trowa doesn’t mind the younger’s hesitation.


Quatre is my source of life, the one who can bring out those parts of me, that are hidden, who can make me smile and discover myself. He is more than a therapy, he is my tenshi and my confidence. He showed me, that love can bring out what insecurity and fright have opressed.’


‘Trowa is my peacefulness, the silent and thoughtful haven to calm me down and to bring me back onto the floor. He is the one moment telling me I am alright the way I am and I don’t need to grieve or hurt myself. He showed me, that someone generally liked can also be loved intensely.’



We loved the article! James had really done a careful and great job and deserved his promotion. We invited him for dinner the next day, and he became some sort of friend to us; not one like Wufei, Duo and Heero, but still a friend we can visit some day. He has no boyfriend right now and we hope for his best. He has a great advantage compared to many other reporters: He is really honest, so that we know we can believe him when he says, nothing of what happens when we are all together will ever appear in any newspaper.

And that is important, because there are a lot of things only for me and Trowa…


Sincerely, Quatre Raberba Winner and Trowa Barton