Author's note: Okay, so I took an extremely long break from this story, but I'm back yet again to bring you another update. Also, I would like to point out something that has come to my attention. First off, it seems that I have scared all of my reviewers off save for one Foggy Brains. Did you not know that this was an Athrun and Kira story? Well it was sure listed under that pairing, but do not be afraid and hide under some table because I'm more of a person who likes to write fight scenes and totally brew up some major angst so you will rarely see anything that happened in the previous update. Last chapter is a whole new start to the story. But, sadly, to those who care, I bring news that may or may not be of any concern to you. This story will be ending soon because I just can't see it going any further, and my reviewers have all run away, I literally live off the response I get and that's the only thing that really keeps me going, especially with a story like this. Now get ready for some butt cramps and prepare for another chapter of Burn that baby!

Something incredibly bright bore into his tired and sore eyes. Sleep was hypnotic, constantly pulling him back into a world of happier times. But this was growing to be quite bothersome for a one blue haired Athrun Zala, who snapped his eyes irritably open and reached over to the window, pulling the thin fabric that were his curtains shut with one flick of his wrist.

His feathery pillow collied with the side of his face, bringing a calming warmth with it. He was beginning to lull back into a state of dreams, his own picked and perfected unconsciousness, when his bedroom door was slammed open, a very angered looking man, a particular Patrick Zala, Don of the PLANTs, standing frigidly straight in his son's doorway. Athrun knew the day wasn't going to start off on the right track. Hell, it never did.

"Athrun, get up. You're an hour late already for the annual ball!" The Don spun around, only sparring Athrun a quick glance to say, "And put something decent on."

His wooden door was slammed shut roughly, sending vibrations up and down the walls. A picture to his left rattled inside of its frame, the only picture of his family looking happy. Then, as if time had slowed down, the picture was pushed off of the nail holding it in place and went flying towards the ground. Athrun cringed as shards of glass littered his floor in an instant.

"Athrun? What was that?" Came his father's voice down the long stretch of a hallway.

"Nothing!"

The blue haired mobster fell to his knees, felt the sharp pieces of glass pierce his skin, and began moving all the bigger shards of glass out of his way, trying to find the picture as his hands, now shaky and blood stained, were corrupt with pain. It felt like an eternity before Athrun was able to clutch the picture, a sad and sorry link to the past, just one of many he harbored in his room.

It had been taken before the Mafia had split into different groups. A beautiful, delicate black and white photograph. The corners were a little worn from constantly being taken out, mostly during the times where he cried for better days as a child. His mother's face was lit up so brilliantly, a smile like no other gracing her lips. His father was dressed in a dark suit, arm wrapped around her waist, a smile just as genuine as his mother's, one he hadn't seen for so long, lighting up his aging face. And Athrun himself, small and clad in a school uniform, had his arms wrapped around science fair project, a ribbon with a big number one printed in gold attached to it.

He had lost that ribbon and that project years ago. His mother had lost her flare and her never ending smiles. And his father had turned his back on him and taken away the only person he really cared about. He never could have pictured his life like this. It was horrible.

"Mother... father... what happened to us?"

Athrun stood up, small slivers of glass digging deeply into his bare feet but he felt so numb and distant that he took no notice at the growing pain. His heart was hurting more than that right now. It was like somebody had taken a wooden stake and stabbed him with it.

He went for his unorganized closet and opened the door, coming face to face with nothing but darkness. A quick flick of his hand and the light beamed horrendously into his still sore eyes. He spent no time looking for something and grabbed a read suit and a yellow shirt, throwing them on in a hurry, then managed to pick out a half decent pair of black pants.

Nearly running out of his closet, Athrun headed towards his bed to hide the picture of Kira that he had taken out the night before. As he stuffed it gently under the lone, feathery pillow, reality crashed down onto his shoulders. Everything was hazy.

It wasn't long after they had met at the park while the moon was at its brightest before they started to talk. Kira was obviously hurt by all the quick changes that they had been forced into, but when he spoke it was like none of the sadness lingered in his heart.

They had small conversations about what they did during the day, who was doing what, and most importantly, the life they had before. It was heart wrenching for them both, to listen to some of the things that they did, activities that they never thought possible when they were young. But their memories were sweet and lightened the mood which they had both set themselves into.

Athrun learned that Kira's family was still strong, much unlike his own, and that his sister and father were faring well. He was told about some of the small adventures they had from time to time and then Kira told him about his encounter with Lacus. It was quickly brushed off and not too long after, they departed, each going their own separate ways.

They did that a lot now.

Separate ways... would they ever be as one again?

Looking back at his bed only once, Athrun quickly darted out the door, grabbing a pair of shoes before leaving, and left completely. The broken glass glistened magically in the sunlight that had managed to pool between Athrun's drawn curtains. Small droplets of blood stained some of them and as the reflection the glass created danced on the ceiling above, the orbs of light tinted red formed a broken heart.

Evey note was played with perfection. His fingers glided over the keys so swiftly that they were almost undetectable. The melody of which he created was so calm and peaceful that it had begun to lull Athrun into a light sleep, but it was rudely shattered when a sharp elbow dug roughly into his ribs.

Nicol glanced quickly over to where Athrun was standing, smirking when he saw his older friend start to drift off. He concentrated back on his music, eyes scanning over ever note and octave and quickly transferring the music through his fingers and onto the classic piano, beaming at the response he was receiving for all his hard work and long hours of practice.

Athrun's dad, the Don of the PLANTs, walked up to his son and Nicol fully turned away, exactly when Patrick Zala woke his son up, rather harshly too. Nicol himself wasn't too fond of the leader and aging man of their Mafia and always managed to move away or leave the room when he entered because the Don didn't have the presence of a man who was loyal and trustworthy. That was what bothered the young musician that most.

He looked over once again, just to make sure that everything was alright, but the only thing that met Nicol's wandering eyes were the tails of Athrun's suit before they completely vanished behind a stone corner. The pianist wanted to stop playing and rescue his friend from an obvious 'scolding', but could not.

Outside of the meeting hall that had been beautifully decorated with blue ribbons and silver balloons, Athrun was flung roughly against the stone wall, one of many that created the meeting hall. He cringed when his father's voice screeched loudly in his ears.

"I know what you've been up to!" He hollered. "Hanging around with the enemy! You're a sad excuse for a son I tell you."

"He's not my enemy! He's my friend!"

Athrun was rewarded with an angry slap to the face. Hot pain made itself known on his reddened cheek, causing his own anger to build up.

"What happened to you father? Why couldn't the Mafia be as one? Why did you have to ruin everything?"

By now Athrun was hysteric, yelling loudly and advancing on his father like a predator. His emerald eyes were filled with hidden hatred and anger and with every step he took the hatred grew and grew as all the pain and sorrow and longing for a better life caught up with him.

There was a loud click in his face before Athrun was staring down the barrel of handgun, his father digging it painfully into his forehead. But Athrun had been trained by the best and was an expert at getting out of tight situations.

With speed his own father had no idea he possessed, Athrun shot his arm out forwards, knocking the deadly weapon out of the Don's hands with his balled up fist. He crouched low for a few split seconds, eyes glowing dangerously and decided to run instead of injure his own father.

But as he ran for the nearest back alley, a loud noise broke the thick silence that had sprung up and Athrun felt immense pain before he tumbled into a world of darkness.