I stare at the wall before me, without really seeing it. How can one see something for not what it is, or what it
can be, but for what he makes of it? I notice the bareness of the expanse of white, a never ending plane of
loneliness and rejection; I wonder why Quatre never thought to hang a picture on it or something. Anything to
break the simplicity of the white paint.
....But isn't that how I usually like things? Simple, straightforward, ordinary, natural? To think that the ex-pilot of the
Heavyarms Gundam is unsatisfied with a commonplace, unvarnished system of life? What would my friends think?
Would they believe that their companion during the war had finally given up his right to sanity?
I feel so alienated, singled out. Wasn't I within reason, though? All things considered, I could see no reason why I could
no consider myself 'alone.' My individuality as the only remaining Gundam pilot, paired with my solitary nature, served
to further convince me of my isolation.
I wonder if the wall felt the same way as I did. Secluded from the rest of reality, with only my dreams and memories
keeping me lucid.
It was my own fault, my own damn fault that Quatre was no longer alive. He had wanted so badly to open up to
someone, release his mental torment. He often came to me, for my distant words, my cold glances...
Why? Why was I like that? I was so indifferent toward his feelings. It was my fault, I know it. Quatre, I'm sorry. And
yes, I remember. I remember....
"Trowa, do you believe in love?" Quatre's question was unexpected and unwanted. Though his eyes sparkled with
eagerness at the question, I pretended no to notice. He glanced to me, then directed his gaze toward the stars.
We were two separate people, brought together by a war, sharing a quiet evening under the stars.
"Do you?" I asked blankly, attempting a polite conversation. It was absurd! What could I possibly have to say to the
figure of innocence lying in the grass beside me? We were complete opposites, with only the war in common.... but he
didn't care. He obviously found some solace in me as an acquaintance.
"Of course." He turned to me, using his elbow to prop his head up. "It's what makes this life worth living. If not for the
love, this life would be only war, with no chance at peace. Don't you agree?"
"Ah," I replied. He was quiet for a short while, more than likely collecting his thoughts.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Trowa?........I love you."
I remember that night in perfect detail. Exactly why the memory etched itself into my mind, I'll never know. Why didn't
I say anything in return? Quatre had revealed his feelings to me, and what did I do?
...I remained silent, as always. I pretended not to notice the hurt in his eyes, the quiver in his voice as he quickly made an
excuse to leave. I was cold then....just like the wall. Cold, firm, unyielding....I'm sorry, Quatre. I just couldn't express
my feelings as easily as you.
I look back, with a little more experience now, and a deep pain in my heart. If I would have said something,
anything....Quatre would still be alive. It was my fault he now lay dead on the living room floor, his blood staining the
carpet. My fault...all of it.
But how was it my fault? I hadn't been the one to pull the trigger--he had. It was not entirely my fault.
The wall mocked me. Its purity reminded me of my own corruption. I had ruined the life of my best friend, the only one
who thought to bridge the gap between the rest of the world and myself. The wall laughed silently at me, reveling in my
feelings of sorrow and defeat.
Quatre, why? Had I hurt you that much?
The wall...my wall...smirked triumphantly...the power it had over me would rule me forever.
My mind wandered back to my recent past, back to the war. I wonder if those people who started the war are satisfied
yet? The war is over, and people are still dying.
Quatre didn't have to die. His death was meaningless, futile. But wasn't everyone's? Duo, Wufei, and Heero had each
died in their own futile way. So pointless.
Would the wall ever end? It went on, forever, an expanse of white. It would never end.
Thye seemed almost immortal...demigods of war. They shouldn't have died in such…….vain….
The End....the wall.....my wall...why isn't it....white...? Darkness was closing in on my wall from all sides....what was
happening?
Then I understood.
I glanced to my wrists, lacerated until the veins were severed. The blood flowed unhindered, slowly draining my life
away....the wall was spinning...would it spin forever?
Quatre, I love you too....
My wall, spinning, my world, my head, spinning forever....
.......then it stopped.
can be, but for what he makes of it? I notice the bareness of the expanse of white, a never ending plane of
loneliness and rejection; I wonder why Quatre never thought to hang a picture on it or something. Anything to
break the simplicity of the white paint.
....But isn't that how I usually like things? Simple, straightforward, ordinary, natural? To think that the ex-pilot of the
Heavyarms Gundam is unsatisfied with a commonplace, unvarnished system of life? What would my friends think?
Would they believe that their companion during the war had finally given up his right to sanity?
I feel so alienated, singled out. Wasn't I within reason, though? All things considered, I could see no reason why I could
no consider myself 'alone.' My individuality as the only remaining Gundam pilot, paired with my solitary nature, served
to further convince me of my isolation.
I wonder if the wall felt the same way as I did. Secluded from the rest of reality, with only my dreams and memories
keeping me lucid.
It was my own fault, my own damn fault that Quatre was no longer alive. He had wanted so badly to open up to
someone, release his mental torment. He often came to me, for my distant words, my cold glances...
Why? Why was I like that? I was so indifferent toward his feelings. It was my fault, I know it. Quatre, I'm sorry. And
yes, I remember. I remember....
"Trowa, do you believe in love?" Quatre's question was unexpected and unwanted. Though his eyes sparkled with
eagerness at the question, I pretended no to notice. He glanced to me, then directed his gaze toward the stars.
We were two separate people, brought together by a war, sharing a quiet evening under the stars.
"Do you?" I asked blankly, attempting a polite conversation. It was absurd! What could I possibly have to say to the
figure of innocence lying in the grass beside me? We were complete opposites, with only the war in common.... but he
didn't care. He obviously found some solace in me as an acquaintance.
"Of course." He turned to me, using his elbow to prop his head up. "It's what makes this life worth living. If not for the
love, this life would be only war, with no chance at peace. Don't you agree?"
"Ah," I replied. He was quiet for a short while, more than likely collecting his thoughts.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Trowa?........I love you."
I remember that night in perfect detail. Exactly why the memory etched itself into my mind, I'll never know. Why didn't
I say anything in return? Quatre had revealed his feelings to me, and what did I do?
...I remained silent, as always. I pretended not to notice the hurt in his eyes, the quiver in his voice as he quickly made an
excuse to leave. I was cold then....just like the wall. Cold, firm, unyielding....I'm sorry, Quatre. I just couldn't express
my feelings as easily as you.
I look back, with a little more experience now, and a deep pain in my heart. If I would have said something,
anything....Quatre would still be alive. It was my fault he now lay dead on the living room floor, his blood staining the
carpet. My fault...all of it.
But how was it my fault? I hadn't been the one to pull the trigger--he had. It was not entirely my fault.
The wall mocked me. Its purity reminded me of my own corruption. I had ruined the life of my best friend, the only one
who thought to bridge the gap between the rest of the world and myself. The wall laughed silently at me, reveling in my
feelings of sorrow and defeat.
Quatre, why? Had I hurt you that much?
The wall...my wall...smirked triumphantly...the power it had over me would rule me forever.
My mind wandered back to my recent past, back to the war. I wonder if those people who started the war are satisfied
yet? The war is over, and people are still dying.
Quatre didn't have to die. His death was meaningless, futile. But wasn't everyone's? Duo, Wufei, and Heero had each
died in their own futile way. So pointless.
Would the wall ever end? It went on, forever, an expanse of white. It would never end.
Thye seemed almost immortal...demigods of war. They shouldn't have died in such…….vain….
The End....the wall.....my wall...why isn't it....white...? Darkness was closing in on my wall from all sides....what was
happening?
Then I understood.
I glanced to my wrists, lacerated until the veins were severed. The blood flowed unhindered, slowly draining my life
away....the wall was spinning...would it spin forever?
Quatre, I love you too....
My wall, spinning, my world, my head, spinning forever....
.......then it stopped.