Heero watched Trowa pace the room impatiently, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"What do you want, Heero?" the usually quiet boy suddenly burst out. Though anger was evident in his voice, it was quiet. "You disappear for months after the Eve Wars with Relena, without even contacting any of us, and suddenly appear in my apartment? What do you want?"

A puzzled expression came over the Japanese boy’s face, something that Trowa found both unusual and unnerving since the youth had never shown any emotion before.

"I wished... to see you." Was all that Heero could say. He was confused as well. Why had he come to see Trowa? The cobalt blue-eyed boy had always felt a certain kinship with the Latin youth as a result of the extended time they had spent together. It went further than that, he was sure, seeing that the two were so alike. Both were quiet, hardly spoke unless necessary, and weren’t exactly certain of their pasts. They understood each other to the letter... except the reason behind Heero’s visit.

"Why?" Trowa asked, sitting down. Most of his anger drained away to make way for curiosity. Heero clasped his hands and stared down at his feet, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I don’t know. I just had to get away. From her." Heero said. By "her", the Japanese boy meant Relena Peacecraft. A small confused frown marred Trowa’s perfect forehead.

"Why? I thought you were happy with her."

Heero gave him a small rueful smile.

"For some reason, I think your favorite word will be ‘why’ tonight." He said wryly. "As for the answer... She’s too... too... clingy."

He hoped that Trowa would understand. The taller boy stood up and headed for the small kitchenette in the corner, turning on the coffee maker.

"I see. You finally realize what Duo and I were trying to tell you."

Heero merely nodded mutely. His two best friends had warned him against going off with Relena, promising only unhappiness for him. Unsure of his future and identity, Heero had gone anyway, hoping that the blond girl could help him regain confidence. On the contrary, she had buried him in formalities and ceremony, dragging him from one peace conference to another.

With a sigh, Trowa sat down next to his companion and handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

"Drink." He said, taking a sip from his own tan-colored coffee. Obediently, Heero began to drink his black coffee. How had Trowa remembered that he liked it strong?

"She was taking away me." He said, trying to organize his thoughts by confiding them to Trowa. "Relena built so many illusions and images around me that I was forgetting who me really was."

Trowa nodded silently, his eyes on the ground.

"I guess that after a time, I got numb to it... but recently I’ve felt as if..." Heero paused, searching for the right way to say what he was feeling.

"As if you were suffocating?" Trowa asked quietly. The moss green-haired youth nodded.

"Yes. As if she were trying to keep me all her own and not mine." He said, hoping that the banged boy would understand the meaning behind his cryptic statement. "I wasn’t mine anymore. I was hers and she wanted to keep it that way."

"How did you get away?" Trowa asked curiously. Heero shrugged.

"Pargan lent me a car. Not her pink limousine, just a regular car." He said, motioning out the window. Rain was sheeting down from the sky so that the silver car parked in the street below was hardly visible. "I think he understands how I feel. I just drove away."

Trowa nodded.

"I’m guessing that you want to stay away from Relena for a while?" he queried. Heero hesitated before speaking.

"I want to stay away from her... forever." He said softly. Sincere deep blue eyes locked with Trowa’s emerald green ones. "I’ve had enough of her."

The Latin boy swallowed hard, trying hard not to react to Heero’s innocent stare. He walked into his bedroom, flicking on the lights.

"I’ve got a queen-sized bed." He said, "We can both share it until you find an apartment."

Heero nodded mutely in gratitude.

"There’s a performance at the circus the day after tomorrow..." Trowa said a few hours later when they were both lying in the darkness of the night. "Would you like to come? I can get you free tickets..."

Heero shrugged slightly.

"Sure." He said, "If it’s not too much trouble."

"It’s not. I’m walking the tightrope." Trowa said, his voice a bit sardonic. Heero didn’t reply. In a few seconds, his companion’s breathing evened out, indicating that he was asleep.

It was almost as if Trowa’s words had two meanings, Heero mused. He was, in actuality, walking the tightrope. What else did he mean? That he was walking the edge of control of... of what? Heero knew that he himself was walking the tightrope by staying here with Trowa. He didn’t mean that he was afraid Relena would find and hunt him down.

Heero was afraid of his feelings.

For a long time, ever since that prolonged month of unconsciousness in Trowa’s tender care, Heero had been in love with his fellow ex-pilot. The Japanese boy did not care that they were both boys since he knew that Trowa liked boys as well. What he was afraid of was what he would do if Trowa returned, or didn’t return, his feelings.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, the messy-haired youth would sit straight up in his bed, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, waking from a dream so passionate and real that he could almost feel everything in his unconscious state. The dream was a repeating one, though it varied from time to time... each time it included a naked Trowa and much passion... lust-clouded green eyes and Heero’s name issued from between rose-bud lips...

Heero shifted uncomfortably in the bed, trying to relax before he went too far. It would be hard sleeping in the same bed as Trowa for possibly weeks, but he had controlled himself so far. It couldn’t much harder after the war.

Could it?

Two days later, Heero drove to the circus. Trowa had left an hour earlier to prepare and given him a front row ticket.

Seating himself in the audience with his arms full of a large soda and cotton candy, Heero waited patiently for the show to begin. Soon, the Ringmaster stepped in the center ring and began announcing the first acts.

The very first act was one concerning a fire breather, a lady who jumped poodles through hoops, and a man who went flying out of a cannon. The second act was one that Cathrine participated in, throwing knives at a clown that was not Trowa. The clown visibly flinched every time a glittering blade made its whistling way towards him. Heero inwardly smirked. Trowa wouldn’t even blink, had he been the target.

The third act was the one that primarily interested the Japanese boy. The spotlight swerved up towards the tightrope as the Ringmaster informed the crowd.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced, "The amazing trapeze artist and tightrope walker, Trowa Barton!"

The spotlight stopped on a slender figure posed on a platform high above. Heero tilted his head back to look at his friend. Trowa was dressed in a skin-tight black suit decorated with silver patterns and had a long pole held in one of his slender hands, looking eerily calm despite his high elevation.

Heero grimaced slightly. Despite the fact that he was a former Gundam pilot, the Japanese boy was deathly afraid of heights. The reason for his ability to even pilot mobile suits was the fact that he was absolutely sure he could not fall out of the machine. Had he been in Trowa’s position at that time, he was sure he would have fallen off the platform in fright.

With a slight frown of consternation, Heero realized that no safety net was stretched beneath Trowa, but the boy had already started across. Heero held his breath, watching the Latin youth’s lithe and flexible body move almost sinuously. Uncomfortably, the Japanese ex-pilot realized that he was beginning to get aroused. Surrounded by many small children, there was nothing he could do to relieve his discomfort.

Trowa graceful walked the first few steps before tossing his pole high in the air to the startled gasps of the audience, performing an amazing triple cartwheel lightly along the tightrope. He came to his feet just in time to catch the falling balance and bowed, tumbling forward into a graceful somersault. How he stayed on the rope was a mystery. Again, Trowa threw the pole high and performed a triple flip. Even as he began to come down, Heero knew something was wrong. The rope, which had been absolutely straight when he had started, had begun to sag every time Trowa took a step. Now, there was a deep dip in the middle of the rope.

Below the rope, he could see the Ringmaster, Cathrine, and some circus hands talking urgently and pointing up at the rope once in a while. Concerned, Heero stood up, ignoring the shrill protest from a mother behind him. Trowa seemed to notice the dip as well, but was unable to do anything as he was already in the air.

The next few minutes seem to creep along in horrifying slow motion for Heero even as he leapt over the railing and began to run beneath the rope. As soon as the Latin ex-pilot’s foot touched the rope, it snapped, sending its walker on a fall of almost certain death.

Trowa began plummeting towards the ground even as Heero ran around trying to get the confused circus men to pull an emergency net.

The noises of the circus seemed curiously muted in the Japanese boy’s ears as he helplessly watched Trowa hit the ground. All else seemed to die away as he ran towards his friend’s broken body.

"Trowa!" he screamed, turning him over gently so that he could see his face. Blood was seeping through the black outfit, which glistened sinisterly in the dim lights of the circus. His face, broken and bloody, drew into a half-smile when he saw Heero’s face.

"H...H...Heero..." he coughed. Tears rose into Heero’s eyes; he had seen many battle injuries and knew the seriousness of Trowa’s.

He was dying.

"I...I’m sorry." Trowa choked,

"I love you, Trowa." Heero sobbed, pulling Trowa’s bloodied hand to his face and kissing it. "I never told you... I’m such a coward."

"No, never a coward..." the banged boy smiled weakly, "I love you too, Heero. Please... don’t cry. Grant me...one more...wish?"

Heero nodded mutely, his eyes locked with Trowa’s half-closed green ones.

"Kiss me?" the plea came as a whisper. Nearly blinded by his tears, the Japanese boy complied, leaning over to kiss Trowa’s bloodied, yet unblemished, lips. When he drew his face away, Trowa was dead.

He was smiling softly.

Gently, Heero crossed his hands over the dead ex-pilot’s crushed chest, standing up and looking down at him with cloudy blue eyes. Unaware of the blood on his own hands and lips, the Japanese boy bowed his head in grief as the paramedics, too late, drove away his love’s body.

A few days later, a small group of people gathered around a grave as a polished mahogany coffin was lowered into earth’s dark depths. Quatre Raberba Winner, Wufei Chang, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy mourned the passing of their friend with silent tears and bowed heads.

"Good bye, Trowa." Quatre said softly, throwing a bouquet of lilies down into the grave. He walked away, his head bowed. Duo came up and threw a single black rose into the grave.

"See you later, man." He said in a croaky voice, hurrying to catch up with Quatre. Wufei walked up to the grave, staring down into the depths, a bunch of multi-colored snapdragons in his hand.

"You were brave, Ba- no, Trowa." Wufei said solemnly, "I want you to know that I’ve always honored and respected your courage."

Quietly, he threw the flowers down and left silently.

Cathrine appeared next, a single white rose clasped tightly in her white-gloved hand.

"I love you, brother." She sobbed, throwing the rose down. The girl stared down in the grave for a few seconds before bursting into tears and turning away. The Ringmaster came over and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Soon, all the mourners left, leaving Heero alone to stare at the now filled grave. Haltingly, he approached the freshly-engraved tombstone, running a light hand over the words etched deep in the polished marble surface.

Heero reached inside his dark jacket and pulled out a small velvet box and a perfect red rose. Bending down, he lay the flower on the grave and stood staring down at it. Finally he opened the box to show a simple ring of silver and platinum, a beautiful rectangular diamond embedded in the band. Kneeling down on the grave, heedless of his black slacks, he bowed his head.

"I bought this after your death, Trowa." He said quietly, "I wished that we hadn’t discovered our feelings so late. Will you marry me, even in death?"

He waited patiently for a reply. A breeze caressed his face gently, almost like a lover’s hand. Heero smiled sadly, closing the box and digging a shallow hole in the soft dirt of the grave. He lay the box in the hole and covered it up, standing when he was done.

"Goodbye, Trowa." He whispered, "I’ll never forget you, even in sweet death."

He walked away silently, his right hand tucked in the pocket of his dark slacks, the other hanging loosely at his side.

In the cold sunlight, a ring of metal on his left hand glinted briefly before fading.

Minutes after Heero’s departure, a gentle wind blew over the still grave, bringing with it the sound of a soft voice.

"I do. I love you, Heero..."