A Friend's Argument

Dearka said nothing. He merely watched Athrun Zala's back disappear around the corner of the corridor, deep concern showing in his eyes.

He could tell that Athrun had not truly "stopped being lost," as he claimed.

On the contrary, he had simply chosen the most painful path—wrapping all his confusion and pain in a hard shell and pretending they did not exist.

He was not moving forward. He was running away—from the self that could not face his own guilt.

Dearka knew that such a disguise could not last.

When that shell shattered, all the pain and confusion accumulated within it would consume him completely with even greater force.

He turned the corner, his figure vanishing entirely from Yzak and Dearka's sight.

The two left behind stood there for a long time without moving.

"...We should head back too," Dearka finally said.

He patted Yzak on the back. The stiffness of his muscles made it feel as though he were striking a steel plate.

Yzak did not respond. He merely slowly raised his head and looked in the direction Athrun had disappeared, his eyes glinting with a complexity they had never held before.

There was anger, resentment, confusion, and a trace of... loneliness at being abandoned by a comrade, something even he himself had not noticed.

Only after Athrun's back had completely vanished around the corner did Yzak's tense body seem to draw breath again.

He sharply inhaled, then exhaled heavily, like a provoked beast with no target to attack.

"Bastard..." he forced out through clenched teeth, then turned and savagely kicked the metal wall beside him.

A thunderous bang exploded through the corridor. The wall's vibration traveled up through the sole of his boot and throughout his body, and that numbing pain seemed to slightly ease the pent-up frustration