The doorframe shivered in its foundation in the starchy white wall, as the silvery haired youth took out his anger by slamming the door shut behind him as he stormed his way out of the room. His exit had been tinted with his vile temper once again, and this time Yzak feared he may have let his arrogance carry him too far into deep water. Then again, he could not take any more. He could not.

"That insufferable Athrun Zala," he cursed the azure-eyed boy as he marched down the hall of their Nazca class spaceship in a foul rage.

"Yzak!" The door that was now fading into the distance was flung open again, and a darker skinned, blonde boy of his own age slid out into the hall and closed the door with a dry click, hurrying to catch up.

"What is it, Dearka?" Yzak answered his friend with a hint of annoyance.

"You didn't have to do that," Dearka accused with a frown as he fell into step beside him.

"Then what would you suggest?" the pale haired young man countered. "He's made a fool of me again! That idiot is going to get us all killed with his worthless ideals, and the Commander is lapping it all up like a lovable pet. It's disgraceful."

"No doubt it is," Dearka agreed, his face tightening into one of barely controlled temper. "I was hit just as hard as you were. But we should bide our time. If anybody notices we're up to something…" He trailed off, allowing his companion to fill in his own blanks.

The two came to a fork in the hall. Dearka gripped the railing and guided himself to the left as he began to drift lazily through the air in the lack of gravity.

He winked at Yzak. "I dunno what you're gonna do, but make sure you tell me. Don't forget I want to get back at Zala just as much as you do."

Yzak waved distractedly and brushed him off. "Whatever. I'll be back later."

He took the opposite corridor, the one on the right, and floated aimlessly, his thoughts concentrated on one thing and one thing only: Revenge. Athrun would have to pay for allowing the pilot of the Strike to live. It was because of the Strike's filthy pilot that Yzak now grimaced with pain whenever he thought of what his right eye must look like now, after the accident.

He placed a pale hand subconsciously over the ridged scar. "Athrun," he muttered.

To his great surprise, as he rounded the next corner, he nearly ran right into the sapphire haired Coordinator. Athrun Zala had his back to him - he gazed out the window at the inky blackness of space, his eyes stopping to focus now and then on a faintly twinkling star.

"Enjoying the view?" Yzak asked him bitterly, startling his adversary out of his silent contemplation.

"Yzak," Athrun said incredulously, his aquamarine eyes widening in astonishment.

"Feh, don't get excited," he snorted, crossing his arms and taking in his foe's casual appearance. Athrun had left through the back door of the meeting room and already changed from his red ZAFT uniform to a more comfortable outfit. Yzak frowned. Was he so superior that he could shed his uniform on a whim, whilst the rest of them were forced to endure the uncomfortable stitching all day long?

"Yzak, look," the blue haired youth started, "I didn't mean to get you into so much trouble. It's just that I -"

"Shut up," Yzak exploded. "You have no right to stand there and expect that I'll accept an apology from you. What makes you think…" he made his way closer until he and Athrun were almost nose-to-nose, "…that you're so much better than me?"

"I never said I was better, Yzak," Athrun stated calmly without moving a muscle. Although he appeared cool and collected, his shimmering eyes flashed in silent anger.

Yzak took a step back and sneered. "Oh, but you're thinking it, aren't you? Well, treasure it Zala, because pretty soon the people on this ship will be taking orders from me, and you'll be left behind with the rest of the incompetent fools aboard this vessel."

"I'm not like you," Athrun said quietly, "So don't dare assume that I'm basking in this victory. We had to take people's lives. I refuse to revel in a false triumph while others are suffering."

Yzak studied him for a moment, and the two exchanged glares in silence.

"Right," Yzak sneered, "But make no mistake, I'll have you cornered one of these days."

He backed Athrun against the clear window, placing one palm lightly on the glass and boxing him in.

Athrun froze. "Yzak, what are you -"

"Shut up."

The silver haired boy caught the other's lips in a forceful lock. His pale hair brushed the opposite boy's cheek. Athrun jumped slightly, quite unprepared for such a move, but the irate pilot of the Duel held him steady with his free hand. Releasing him shortly afterward, Yzak smirked and continued his way down the hall.

"Do you see how irritating you are, Athrun?" he called. "You make me so damn angry sometimes, that I just can't seem to stay away from you."

Athrun swiped the back of his hand roughly over his mouth, horrified that somewhere in the depths of his mind and body, he had barely been able to resist that.

"Damn you, Yzak…"