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He took off his gloves, carefully peeling each finger free of his skin. It wouldn’t bear thinking about, those things that were trying to get his attention. He didn’t want to consider the resolute look that had been in the boy’s eyes. He didn’t want to think of the way he fell.
He didn’t want to think of unsent letters and unfinished promises.
Smoothing out the white uniform gloves, he poured a glass of wine. He would not think about watching that child blow himself up. He would not think about the loss of another friend.
He would not think about how the name Heero Yuy lent itself to noble deaths.
Treize sipped the glass, closing his eyes against the cool kiss of the glass.
“I simply must work around the mistake.” The tone of voice was quiet, sad.
There was another name of his list of the remembered.