Chapter Ten
Trowa's footsteps echoed in the quiet street. The sounds of his shoes splashing through the puddles from the earlier rain sounded hollow and out of place. Even with all the distracting noises that he created, Trowa could not take his mind off what he had seen that night. His Quatre and Heero's Duo, in Duo's room, kissing. The one thought played over in his mind. Again and again. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it. Over and over, Trowa saw Duo being held by Quatre. Looking up, moving forward. Puckering his lips. Kissing Quatre...
"Why am I punishing myself?!" His voice died into the cold, still air. "I didn't do anything. It wasn't me with my lips attached to Duo's! Why did I even bother to look? I wouldn't have stopped and helped Duo anyway. I should have kept going. I should have gone straight to the kitchen."
Trowa continued to walk down the barren alleys, jumping over this fence and that. Eventually, he wound up at the old lot where his circus had been set up just the week before. He hadn't even bothered to go and see Catherine. After how she treated him. She saved his damn life! She let him meet that little two-timing, backstabbing asshole! She was responsible for this! Why should he have gone to see her?
Trowa sat down on the street curb and buried his face in his hands. The horrible flashbacks kept coming into his head.
The young boy reached inside his jacket and produced the face mask. Images of Catherine, the ringmaster, the other performers...Trowa dropped the mask on the ground. It's clatter resinated through the empty lot. Part of the edge of the mask snapped off and fell away. Kicking the mask, he stood up. The facial disguise flew across the parking lot and landing in front of another shoe. It broke into three large pieces and several littler ones. They scattered across the patch of pavement and lay silent.
He just left it there and walked away. It didn't matter anymore. The mask had reminded him that he had had a reason to keep from self detonating. Not anymore. The ex-pilot walked on, swallowed into the night.
His rage and pain left hidden in the darkness of his soul, he wandered in the general direction of
the Gundam boys' shared house.
* * * * *
A hand reached down and picked up one of the larger pieces of the mask and held it out toward the confused individual retreating into the night. A flap of white fluttered in the breeze.
"Self destruction for any reason, other than dishonor, is the greatest dishonor."
Trowa's footsteps echoed in the quiet street. The sounds of his shoes splashing through the puddles from the earlier rain sounded hollow and out of place. Even with all the distracting noises that he created, Trowa could not take his mind off what he had seen that night. His Quatre and Heero's Duo, in Duo's room, kissing. The one thought played over in his mind. Again and again. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it. Over and over, Trowa saw Duo being held by Quatre. Looking up, moving forward. Puckering his lips. Kissing Quatre...
"Why am I punishing myself?!" His voice died into the cold, still air. "I didn't do anything. It wasn't me with my lips attached to Duo's! Why did I even bother to look? I wouldn't have stopped and helped Duo anyway. I should have kept going. I should have gone straight to the kitchen."
Trowa continued to walk down the barren alleys, jumping over this fence and that. Eventually, he wound up at the old lot where his circus had been set up just the week before. He hadn't even bothered to go and see Catherine. After how she treated him. She saved his damn life! She let him meet that little two-timing, backstabbing asshole! She was responsible for this! Why should he have gone to see her?
Trowa sat down on the street curb and buried his face in his hands. The horrible flashbacks kept coming into his head.
The young boy reached inside his jacket and produced the face mask. Images of Catherine, the ringmaster, the other performers...Trowa dropped the mask on the ground. It's clatter resinated through the empty lot. Part of the edge of the mask snapped off and fell away. Kicking the mask, he stood up. The facial disguise flew across the parking lot and landing in front of another shoe. It broke into three large pieces and several littler ones. They scattered across the patch of pavement and lay silent.
He just left it there and walked away. It didn't matter anymore. The mask had reminded him that he had had a reason to keep from self detonating. Not anymore. The ex-pilot walked on, swallowed into the night.
His rage and pain left hidden in the darkness of his soul, he wandered in the general direction of
the Gundam boys' shared house.
* * * * *
A hand reached down and picked up one of the larger pieces of the mask and held it out toward the confused individual retreating into the night. A flap of white fluttered in the breeze.
"Self destruction for any reason, other than dishonor, is the greatest dishonor."
