Authors Note: This fic kind of happened by accident. I was feeling depressed one day, and in the middle of writing the DOA fic, I popped open a new screen and started typing, and this is what came out. So characters might seem OOC here. I'm not sure what I want to do with it, exactly, but my brother seemed to really like it, so I'll archive it here. Maybe I'll continue it some day.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy X and its characters are the property of Square Enix. This story is merely for fan enjoyment and not for profit.
The rusting faucet on the tiny sink was dripping, and a ring of orange was starting to form around the drain. He gave the knob a harsh tweak, which produced a trickle of water just enough for him to cup his hands under and gather barely enough to splash onto his face. After repeating this motion several times, he glanced up and caught a semblance of his reflection in the mirror. With an annoyed grimace, he took his damp hand and ran it down the clouded surface in a vain attempt to clear up his reflection. Finally, grabbing a towel off the rack, he swabbed at his face to get the last traces of dripping water and then threw it onto the counter on his way out the door.
The morning was gray. His room was still dark, but he carefully picked his way through the mess on the floor to the jacket draped precariously over the back of the desk chair. He tugged it on as he spun on his heel and walked quickly down the hallway and, hopefully, out the door in one smooth motion.
But he saw him before he even got a hand on the knob. Of course. That dark yet graying head was sitting hunched over his morning paper and coffee in hand as always. He was always the first one up. The kitchen table had a clear shot of the doorway, so he wasn't at all surprised he was caught before he made a successful escape. As soon as he came into view, that head snapped up and the gruff voice said, "Where are you going?"
"Out."
"No. You know what today is."
He didn't even pretend to hear. He just continued out the door.
"Be back by three, you hear me?" the older man's voice shouted after him.
Tidus made sure to slam the door behind him. Hands shoved deep into the fraying pockets, he turned his listless eyes skyward. It was truly a gray morning. And, he mused darkly, the day was about to get grayer.
-
Zanarkand had long since gone to hell since its heyday. It was one of those cities that fell into the unfortunate trend of urbanization—an industrial boom with a few glittering years of growth and prosperity before the entire mechanism collapsed on itself. Sure, business was everywhere. But unless you had a damn compelling reason, you didn't live here.
Tidus' shoe connected violently with an empty beer bottle, and it went flying before shattering against a wall. A damn compelling reason. He looked around him. The city was gray as the sky. Concrete buildings stained with pollution and random rubbish littering the sidewalks. Everything was fenced in and decorated with barbed wire, the harsh icing on the cake. Even the trees, sickly and thin in their concrete planters, were gray. But he wanted to remember. Remember all of this. It would be the last time, and despite the fact that others would love to be in his position, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. So he was going to walk. And he was going to remember. Until three o'clock.
-
Promptly at three o'clock, the gates rolled opened, and the inmates shuffled in. Each one was designated a window before they entered, and sure enough, when he arrived at window six, he was greeted with the image of his slouching son. As always, he wasn't looking at him when he took his seat. And, as always, he was wearing that scowl on his face that said he would rather be anywhere but here. Over his shoulder, he could see Auron standing by, not wanting to interfere with the exchange, but a visual reminder that minors were always accompanied by guardians, and it was he who was guardian now. When he made eye contact, Auron nodded his head in greeting which was returned.
Jecht took the phone off the hook. Tidus made no move to do the same. Jecht waited a long time before it finally looked like Auron said something sharply to the boy. The boy made the motion of sighing heavily before at last lifting the phone on his side of the glass off the hook so they could finally talk. If what they were doing was really talking.
They started with their usual awkward silence. And, as usual, Jecht took it upon himself to break it first. "How are you, boy?" Jecht asked softly.
There was an audible exhalation of breath before a sullen "fine."
"How's school going? Still having trouble in Al Bhed?"
"It's all right."
This was how their conversations usually went: with father asking the questions and son reluctantly answering in as few syllables as humanly possible. But the questions were merely a formality. Jecht didn't really expect answers. He'd get those from Auron when they talked afterwards.
"How about blitzball? That goin' good?"
"I guess. I'm supposed to be varsity next year."
Jecht allowed himself a chuckle. "That's my boy." But then he winced when he saw Tidus' face visibly darken.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Tidus continued to scowl, and Jecht silently berated himself for over-stepping that thin and fragile line lain down only after several years of meetings like this. If he wasn't careful, he'd destroy this…truce? tolerance?…they somehow managed to agree upon. So he stayed silent, though he desperately wanted to say something—anything—because the silence was killing him.
Finally, Tidus sighed. "Look, old man. Don't you think we should stop now?"
Jecht, who had been waiting nervously for a response, felt something hit him like a blow. "What are you talking about?" Without even asking, though, he knew the conversation was taking the direction he was most afraid of.
If his son noticed his reaction, he didn't show it. "I mean, this," Tidus continued, gesturing vaguely to indicate the entire situation. "We both know neither of us are getting anything out of this—"
"Tidus!" Auron's gruff voice attempted to interject.
"And plus with me moving tomorrow, it's not like I can come over here easily anyway," Tidus finished, as though he never even heard Auron speak.
"I see," was all Jecht said.
Tidus glared at the quiet response. The hatred bubbling up in his gut seemed to increase tenfold, and he wanted to shout how dare he try to look forlorn and sorry now. It's too late for that, old man, he wanted to scream. You should've thought of this when you started drinking. You should've thought of this when Mom started crying. I hadn't really expected much from you, nothing that normal fathers did. But after all those times where you were unconscious in some alley, I stopped expecting anything from you. And I guess Mom did, too. That's why she left, you bastard. And you know it. I guess I didn't need to tell you that, though. Unbidden, as it often did nowadays, his hand unconsciously reached for that small area he knew was there on the back of his neck. A faded line still vividly harsh in memory.
Tidus hung up the phone. "I have all the memories I'll need of you, old man," he muttered under his breath, and broke for the door.
Auron shook his head and watched him go. Then he came and sat down in the place the young boy had until recently occupied, picking up the phone. "Sorry about that. He's just stressed with the move coming up."
"I know," said Jecht. But he appeared to be in the process of convincing himself. "Listen, Auron…"
But his friend had already anticipated this. "We talked about this before, Jecht. It'll be better for the boy to get away from Zanarkand. For his sake."
"I know, but—"
"Bevelle isn't too far away. I'll see that he comes in when he has time." His friend didn't say anything, but his eyes said all that needed to be said. Auron sighed. "Jecht, you know this has to be done."
"I know." A shuddering sigh rattled in his chest. "I really screwed things up, didn't I?"
Auron's look was sympathetic, but there was no way of speaking around it. "Yeah, you really did."
-
It rained on the day of the move. A light misty drizzle fell on Tidus' back as he loaded the last box into the rented truck, and he slammed the door shut just as Auron started warming up the engine.
Tidus turned and looked up at the sky. The overcast was complete without a trace of sun trying to break through. Closing his eyes, he stood in silence for a moment, just feeling the moisture on his face.
From the truck, Auron impatiently honked the horn. Opening his eyes, Tidus slowly turned and got in. And as they drove away, he watched the house that held so many memories for him grow tiny in the side mirror until it eventually disappeared. Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.