I am sitting on the bed trying to map out our next move in my head. The cottage room is dimly lit by the few sporadic candles. My partner, Athrun, is behind me, on the other bed, getting undressed. I try hard not to look, and focus on our next move, but him being naked behind me causes my mind to become victim to erotic visions. It's not that I haven't seen his...skin-I have, but only shirtless, or wrapped in a towel as he comes out of a hot bath. Those incidences just merely happened, but now he was intentionally undressing in my presence. Not that he has much of a choice because we have to share this room for the time being, and it's too cold to go to an outhouse.

Well, I'm not going to look if that's what he wants. That's stupid of me to think. Why would he even want that? He doesn't even care.

He's quiet behind me and I know it's intentional because he wants me to concentrate on thinking of where we'll go to next for help. We've been working together for almost two months now, and yet we haven't discovered anything to stop the cursed one. It's understandable. The cursed one is only marked every fifty years. Those who have seen and/or experienced the previous cursed ones are either dead, too old and frightened, or were just babies when it happened. So it seems we are shit out of luck.

"Did you come up with something?" Athrun asks.

He walks over to the bed I am sitting on, now wearing nothing but boxers and a tanktop, and sits beside me. I shake my head. He grunts.

"I don't want to hurt him," he says. "We've been taught all of our lives 'bout this damn curse on this cursed land, and everyone knows the legend. So, why is it so hard for them to help us? They must know how to stop it."

"Some know," I say, "we just haven't met those people yet. We haven't searched the whole country, ya know, and it hasn't been that long."

He gets up and paces the floor. His face is stern. I understand his feelings. I don't want to hurt him either, and Athrun must know that. "Everyone knows the legend" he says, but the legend is not a formula, a guide, or a map telling us what we need to do and where we need to go.

We all know that the curse lasts for a full year. The one who is marked with the curse is the first person who is hit by the light of the blood moon. September 21st...every fifty years. Being only eighteen I have never seen a cursed one before, but there are pictures. Some drawings, some actual photographs. Giant wings, fangs, hairy bodies, claws, whiskers...and the infamous glowing, red eyes. That's the first sign, the eyes.

As children we're told that the cursed one is strong, fast, and cunning. The unlucky soul is transformed into a monster who feeds on human flesh. Only when the year is up it will end, and the cursed one will naturally perish; be no more, human or cursed. It can end if anyone is able to kill the cursed one, but according to history it only happened once. No one is able to be in the cursed one's presence and make it out alive. And no one ever sees the cursed one in the safe period, transforming stage; the cursed one isn't even recognized then (sometimes not even to the very person who's cursed).

Athrun falls down on the bed I claim. He rubs his temple before looking at me. I try to smile to lighten the mood, but for some reason I'm embarrassed, not to mention my mind is on the current situation.

"You really think she'll be the one to know?" He asks.

"What other option do we have? She's lived through two curse years. Not many others have."

He sits up. His face is stern again, but mine is sterner.

"How do we know it's not a lie that they tell us as kids to make us feel better? Make the loved ones feel better? Tell kids, who parent may be the one cursed, that there's a way we can save your mommy or daddy."

He doesn't talk much, and I appreciate when he does, but at the moment I wanted him to shut up. He's ruining my optimism...the little that I have. Screw what he says, I know we can figure out how to end this because I refuse to kill him.

"We'll find out in the morning," I say, "when she returns."

He falls back down on the bed.

"It'd be better if I were born somewhere else."

His tone is so acrid I flinch. It makes me feel guilty because despite the many flaws of this country I love it. But I guess I have no choice because I, or anyone else, can not leave it. Only for 24 hours and if not back by then we die. Our everyday curse is that we're all bound here, and it's all because of the wars and endless blood shed from hundreds of years ago.

"Athrun, you don't-"

"Cagalli, it's not our fault, nor our parents, grandparents…"

"Pain and suffering so strong runs deep, transcending-"

"We're punished for nothing!"

He slams his hands down, one on each side of me. He burns holes into my eyes, nose flaring. He's saying something, but all I hear is my heart pounding in my chest. I watch his lips move, and all of a sudden I feel hot.

Sound returns and I hear him sigh loudly. He gets up and lies on the bed he claims. His back faces me. I stare at it for a while, thinking about what he said. I should just go to sleep. No use in crying over spoiled, spilled milk.

….

I've been tossing and turning in bed for about two hours. I turn to see if Athrun is awake as well, but he's still in the same position he was when he first laid down. I wish he would at least turn my direction. I feel lonely staring at his back. But now a days, without him, lonely is no stranger.

Things between me and Athrun have been mainly business. We have a mission and we're solely focused on achieving it. Rarely are we casual around each other, or should I say he's rarely casual around me. I think he's too stiff, too reserved.

I get up and leave the small room. I step into the small living area. It's dimly lit by a small lamp beside the love seat. The man is asleep (the cottage owner) on the loveseat. I ease my way past him, avoiding contact with any object. I carefully shut the door.

It's cold outside, and I curse myself for not bringing a jacket. But I need the fresh air. It's quiet, the streets of the town are empty, and dark with few street lights. The trees rustle in the wind, and leaves dance all over the stone and dirt ground. Lights are off in most of the cottages with the exception of one or two windows.

I look up and the moon is light pink, marking the end of the "safe" days. I start to shiver, so I decide to head back. I walked a ways away from the cottage. As I walk I hear banging, sounds like trash cans being knocked over, from between two homes. A cat comes running frantically from the alley. I can hear a man's moans.

I take a few steps closer and peer into the alley. Trash cans are knocked over, mist surrounds the area illuminated by the dim light of a street lamp. A man's figure emerges, and on his backs giant bat like-gargoyle like-wings spread, reaching each end of the alley. He's gripping his head and groaning; his pace slow and staggered as he moves towards me.

His eyes are closed, but I come closer opening my arms with each step. He stops. I stop. Now that he's closer I notice his torn clothings, from his jeans to his stained white shirt. Suddenly, his eyes shoot open, aiding light to the dark; confirming all that I knew and feared.

For a moment we stare at eachother, and then he whispers my name. My knees buckle, and my heart leaps. I can't help but to rush towards him. But his wings start to flap, and I am stopped by the strong gust they create. I fly back, but I am caught in between someone's arms. They hold me tight, fighting against the strong wind.

I pay no attention to whoever is holding me. I hear the person scream my name as I reach out. The person is pulling me away, but I don't stop. With every tear that falls I stretch out my arm. With every croak from my throat I try to pull away.

The wind stops, the pulling stops, and there is silence. Me and the man stare at each other before he cocks his head back and howls a vicious, strange cry of agony and triumph. I cover my ears.

The howling stops, and he flaps his wings once more, but this time it is to lift him into the sky. I follow his figure into the night until it disappears into the clouds. I drop to my knees. Tears roll down my cheek, and I quiver. I abrasively wipe away the dreadful tears, and try not to make any noise lest the person behind me hears.

The said person puts a hand on my shoulder roughly turning me around. I'm staring into worried, angry green eyes.

"Why would you approach him like that?" Athrun yells.

The concern in his voice causes me to smile briefly. I pull my shoulder back and say nothing. The answer is simple: I miss him. And now, seeing him like that, I more than ever-more than before want to save him. I want to save my brother.