Athrun's POV
I watched him stagger back to bed after drinking a cup of tea in silence. I knew that he wasn't really awake, and hadn't been for the whole conversation—Kira was more than capable of seeming totally awake and then snoring mid-sentence. I wondered, about his unexpected confession, and his quick kiss. Did even he know why he'd done that? He seemed to have no memory of that earlier conversation, or he'd have been much more awkward.
I stared at my empty china cup. There were so many possibilities... and I still had no real idea of what to do. I knew I loved him. That was never an issue. I'd loved him—I thought—as a brother, but now I wasn't so certain.
I knew I loved him, though the word seemed insufficient for the depth of the feeling. I remembered realizing, seeing him laugh and catching myself in the thought that his laughter made anything worthwhile; he had been bright-eyed and glowing, and I couldn't have suppressed an answering smile even if I wanted to.
Kira had shown me a new way to express that love, and I was not at all averse. My only worry was that things would change again between us. The war had caused some strange gaps, times when I could not fathom what was going on, behind those stunning eyes. Our bond was just as strong as ever, but it was a brittle kind of strength, now. I couldn't risk breaking it.
I didn't see that I could really do anything now. Morning would come, and I would continue as I always have, making things up as I go along. Perhaps he would still remember my half-confession, and tomorrow we would kiss and laugh that it took us so long to figure out. Perhaps he will never remember, but will find the courage to say those words I never truly did hear from him. That would be much the same, though slower in coming. Perhaps he will continue to look from afar, and do nothing. Should that happen, I think I would be the one to go to him. I can't let him wait too long.
"Kira..." I whisper his name to the now silent apartment, where the noise vanishes beneath even the faint hum of the refrigerator. The name is familiar, as familiar as my own. The person it belongs to is even more so. I smile slightly. I think I'm in love.
AN: This is most likely the end. I'm sorry, but this is where the original short story cut off, and my interest is dwindling fast. If I write much more on this, it will not be pretty. Uninspired writing is worse than none. Anyone wants to continue this, well, you have an imagination. Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review!