"Yzak, Hey!" Athrun shouted, waving from down the hall, "Send my wishes to Shiho!"
What wishes did Zala want to send? And they were to Hahnenfuss too. Did this have anything to do with what Dearka said earlier today? Was it what he'd−
"WATCH OUT!"
His eyes snapped open, and rebound the soccer ball shooting towards him just in time.
"HAHNENFUSS!" somebody screamed, "SHIHO, THE BALL!"
Immediately, Yzak searched for her form on the field. Luckily, he saw she was just able to slide onto the ground, ducking the speeding ball nearly colliding into her chest.
He stood still, watching as a group of players ran towards her, hugging her and patting her back. Then she'd smile, return embraces, and nod at their thoughts of concern.
Yzak examined her intently, and was convinced nothing was broken; he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and sighed.
Knowing everything was fine; he turned his back to the field, and left before he saw the hurt face following him into the school.
Yzak pushed opened the cerulean umbrella stepping out of the school's automatic doors, and spotted someone walking home without an umbrella.
"Hahnenfuss!" he hollered. "HEY!"
He smirked. "Didn't you hear me?" he said, raising his umbrella covering them both as she continued muttering his name between profanities in a deathly tone.
If she had heard him, which she did and had chosen to ignore, it may have saved her from being completely drenched by the car that was driving too close to the curb.
Extremely wet, and aware of his company, she ducked under his blue cover, and hastened her steps to reach the next block.
He noticed her sudden acceleration and quickened his speed, matching hers.
This game would have continued until he was home, had his temper not already raised and steam was boiling through his umbrella. Irritated, becoming wet (even though it was avoidable), and was constantly running up to Hahnenfuss, Yzak quickly grabbed her arm and blocked her path before she could go on further and farther away.
"Hey… STOP!" he said. "Listen to me; I want to tell you something!"
"I don't care." she said coldly through grit teeth.
He flung his umbrella to the side, and quickly grasped the wrist of her other arm with his free hand.
"Damn it, I said I wanted to tell you something woman!"
"I said I didn't care!" she screamed, "More sarcasm cracks are definitely what I need fromyou!"
Her large violet orbs met his narrowed sapphire spheres. They glowered at each other in utter silence, firm and unyielding. Neither blinked nor spoke.
The tension was thick, thick enough to become a force field, a field strong enough to shield both of them better than the one old plastic umbrella that had tried to.
"Just because you don't like me," she said, "doesn't mean you have to kill me...or yell at me even…Of all the 365 days this year," she screamed, "YOU CHOOSE MY BIRTHDAY TO DO BOTH!"
Yzak stood in shock, eyes widening at the hot tears streaming down her angry face.
That was it. That was what Dearka said he'd forgotten. That was why Athrun wished her. He should have known, should have apologized, and should have asked when he had the chances to.
He was the only one who'd forgotten. He did forget. He did.
How it was her birthday multiplied the damage he'd done by infinities. If it was any other day, he knew she could have controlled her anger; she should have forgiven him for his temper, and would have smirked at him right after her dodge on the field.
Her birthday was today. This was her day, her sweet 16. A day that'd become no sweeter than a sugarless, flavourless, birthday cake thrown and stampeded over.
If he could do any damage control he'd need God to give him one heck of a miracle.
And if Hahnenfuss was to forgive him, she'd need one enormously large forgiving heart and a miracle no one could grant her or give to him.
Shiho could feel his grip loosen, and without any hassle, she successfully freed her wrists from his hold, and bolted across the intersection.
A deafening, ear-piercing, blast shattered his thoughts returning him to reality.
Yzak stared blankly at the illuminated character frozen in the middle of the crossroad.
The noise blared louder, repeatedly, over again and again, straining his open ears.
He saw it, it was a truck, a large truck, going too fast− unable to stop− going to−
"SHIHO!"
Shutting his eyes, he couldn't stop the horn from blaring louder and louder, ringing harder and harder, through his head.
He tried to think. But his thoughts jumbled themselves into one solid clump, and the noise, the noise wouldn't stop. He couldn't think. He couldn't clear his mind, couldn't stop the horn. He couldn't tell himself everything was just fine, he couldn't. It was impossible to make up any logical excuse for what'd happened.
He'd tried to lie, tried to fool himself, tried to erase the very notion, and every possible anything in his mind that told him Shiho had … died.
Silence, silence came to him, engulfing him and Yzak stood, stiller than frozen ice.
He couldn't, wouldn't allow himself to dare raise his head and look. A coward, that's what he was, Yzak Jule is a coward unable to face truth with open eyes.
Truth was the reality, the logicality; the reasons everything was the way they were. Fantasy, fiction, masks, and lies could not make up truth. Whether it hurt or relieved depended on the answer, the way it was meant to be said, the belief one had for the truth.
Yzak didn't want the truth; he wouldn't be able to handle anything of the truth.
But he wanted to tell her, tell her in truth, that all he wanted was to apologize.
Only things had gotten worse, and had become out of his control. Except, he never really had control did he; it was all apart of fate, of destiny, of a reality, of the end of life.
Death cut the threads of life, death, a word that never meant much of anything to him. People died year after year, every year, everyday even, but they didn't affect him, he didn't know them. Only now she was gone, taken to hell in a split second before he even understood what was happening.
Death was a cynical monster, an unforgiving creature able to pull and escort living souls to hell in one breath, whose laugh was louder than thousands of prayers to God, and a dastardly demon, preying on the lives of the innocent, and spared the guilty.
Even if this was, forewarned, foreshadowed, meant to end in a tragedy for her, he should have done something, anything long before everything went splat.
Yzak knew he could have done something, or nothing, said something, or said nothing. Why didn't he run to stop her? What if he'd run and pushed her from behind? Why and if, there could be so many "whys" and "what ifs", but everything he shouldn't have had done, shouldn't had have said, was said, done, and paid for, courtesy of Death.
The showering rain descended over the city without any intention to stop until all was washed clean. It beat, its rhythms on everything everywhere, the buildings, the peoples, the living souls, surrounding them in a mystical glow, including him.
The rain beat him, washed down over him, soaked through his clothes, and dripped off his silver-haired bangs. It drenched him from the hairs of his head, and seeped into his shoes to the ends of his socks. He could feel it, like blood trickled on his bare skin, around his face, down his neck, along his arms, and from his fingertips to the puddle on the ground.
He stood firmly on his feet as the rain continuously beat him, and he beat himself harder than any drizzling downpour could do, because he didn't, from the bottom of his heart ever say to her: I'm sorry.
A shrieking siren wailed from down the street towards a lone teen still on the sidewalk, drenched in the sky's tears.
