Word count: 337
Curse
Athrun's voice felt hoarse from yelling, and he squirmed in his wet clothes, filled with a restless desire to be away, as far away as he could, from this uncomfortable place. He couldn't even remember what it was like to feel at home anymore, body at ease, swathed in a peace found only on a sunny Saturday's afternoon. Never mind that this feeling could only be grasped at Kira's house…vision blurry, Athrun found he couldn't even recall what Kira's house looked like. A vicious lump rose in his throat.
The rain felt like a curse. Meer's damp, shining face squinted at him just beyond his reach, and Athrun felt, once again, the wet tendrils of his life wrapping around him. Lacus, slipping out of his life the moment he blindly pointed a gun in her direction. Killing Kira. His irresponsible actions when he left Cagalli, alone, in ORB. And Athrun had disappointed his father until the very end. Sometimes, Athrun felt that if he didn't do something to redeem himself, all those that had somehow remained standing in his life would one day disappear. And leave him alone. Just as he had been abandoned, once.
"Meer!" He reached a beseeching arm towards her, begging her to come with him. He needed to help her. He could sense the distrust in her eyes, and her lips, a feverish red colour, were quivering. "No!" she cried in response, shaking her head, droplets of water shooting off her body. "No! I'm Lacus Clyne!"
He felt slightly disgusted. The wetness seeped through his hair and settled into his scalp, slowly freezing his blood. Watching himself from a distance, Athrun Zala's emotions packaged themselves neatly and settled in a hard lump near his gut. A wild rush of impatience and anger skittered through his body, and Athrun tensed, wanting to bolt. He didn't have the time for this. He didn't want to stay there anymore. Athrun turned around and ran, not looking back.
She stood in the rain, and watched him flee.