Hurts So Good
Leaving was the right thing to do. Trowa knew that with every breath he took, every ounce of his being was screaming warnings about not allowing himself to have feelings Quatre. Caring made you vulnerable and vulnerability made you weak or sloppy or distracted; all things that would get you dead quicker than putting a gun to your head.
Yet, he couldn't tear his eyes from Quatre and walking away felt like it would be ripping himself in two; his guts falling on the ground as he slowly bled out. But not caring, what was the point of living if he couldn't be with Quatre?
Maybe it was selfish to want this for himself. Maybe it was reckless and he would pay for it, but he didn't care. He'd fought two wars because it was the right thing to do. Sacrificed his childhood and any innocence he'd had long ago.
Was it too much to ask for this one thing? If not for himself for Quatre. One of them deserved to be happy, loved, and treasured. Trowa was willing, deserved it more than anything in the world, to let go of his fears and just let himself stay.