Yzak heard Athrun's quiet curse as he rounded the corner and sped back to his room, breathing hard. What had he just done? It was no wonder the son of the renowned Patrick Zala was cursing him.
He had not meant to do that. He had merely meant to taunt the blue-eyed boy, to anger him until he felt what Yzak himself had felt every day since he'd been forced to cooperate with his adversary. Why then, had he made such a stupid move?
Yzak jumped as something just outside his range of vision stirred behind him. He whirled around in a panic, only to find Dearka standing right behind him, hands resting on his narrow hips while watching him through slitted eyelids.
"What do you want?" Yzak shot, in relief more than anger. "Don't do that."
Dearka shrugged. "Just wondering how it went."
Yzak averted his eyes, trying to escape the blonde's probing gaze. "Just buzz off."
"I knew it," Dearka smirked in triumph. "You're acting funny. What'd you do, Yzak?"
Yzak emitted a low growl. "Nothing. Forget about it. It's not important." He stormed across the room to the bathroom and grabbed a towel.
"Shower?" Dearka inquired, slowly making his way across the room to join Yzak at the bathroom door.
"What else?" the white haired youth barked in irritation.
Dearka raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Geez." Yzak shuffled aimlessly around the confined space, looking for the shampoo, and after a pause the blonde boy spoke again in a sly tone. "Something happen between you and Zala?"
Yzak's hand came crashing down onto the countertop, and Dearka jumped. "I told you to forget it," the irate pilot of the Duel spat through gritted teeth.
"I'll take that as a yes," Dearka responded with a wry grin. "Let me know when you decide to fess up. I'm sure not going anywhere now that I know you pulled something, at least not until I find out what it was."
The look on Yzak's face was one of maniacal outrage. "Get out," he said in a voice as calm as he could muster under the circumstances. For Dearka's sake, he hoped the blonde knew when to give it a rest.
The tanned youth raised his hands in a sign of surrender, and Yzak flung the door shut immediately, slamming it in his friend's face.
He started the water, and it hissed softly while steam poured out from over the top of the plastic curtain. As the scalding water trickled down over his forehead, Yzak squinted his eyes shut and his fist collided with the tiled wall.
He bit back a yell. What had he done?