Disclaimer: -clutches Hayner plushie- I do not own Hayner or Seifer or Seiner or anything along those lines. I own the plot, if that helps? XD

"Yeah? Well... Fuck you!" Seventeen year old Hayner Landon turned abruptly on his heel, hands clenched into tense fists. He headed away from the insufferable (in his opinion) boy that was currently laughing coldly at his retreating form and toward the ice cream parlor that was ironically named Mr. Frosty's.

Hayner mumbled under his breath obscenities that would make his grandmother turn in her grave, but at that moment he didn't care.

"Sea salt ice cream," he barked at the cashier and she raised an elegant eyebrow at the harshness. She refrained from saying anything however and continued with her job – she didn't get paid for standing around. Any anyway, she reasoned, Hayner was one of her favorite customers. She had been serving him every Sunday for the past three years and it wasn't like him to be short with anyone. Well, there was one person...

"Stupid fucking Seifer," Hayner continued to mutter under his breath, "Who the fuck does he think he is? Acting all tough and mighty just because he cheats his way to the top of the Struggle tournaments... Stupid fuckface..."

"One sea salt ice cream," the woman recited and handed him the popsicle along with his change. The blonde boy nodded his head thanks and walked away, licking absentmindly at the treat.

As the sweet saltiness of the ice cream danced along his tongue, he allowed his body to finally relax. He had half an hour before he had to be home, and by God it was half an hour that he was going to enjoy.

His thoughts turned to the object of his anger as he walked along the shingled beach and his body tensed again. Seifer Almasy was only a year older than himself and yet he acted like a bratty toddler. It was hard to think that only a few years ago they were the best friends in the world.

Hayner snorted and licked at his ice cream again. Well, he thought, a lot of things can change in a year. For example, in a year a person can lose both of their parents. In a year, they can spend their time looking after someone twice their age. In a year, they could hide the razorblades and knives in their house under lock and key. In a year, a person could cry themselves to sleep at night wondering, just wondering, if next month will be any better.

And in a year, a person could hate someone with such a passion that they wonder how they could ever been friends. Never mind pinky swears for long lasting friendship; pinky swears were for babies.

And yet, deep down, Hayner knew that that pinky swear – committed so long ago and yet so vivid in his memory – was still a part of him.

So what if he spent every waking moment swapping insults with the guy? Details, mere details...

Hayner sat down on the shingle, overlooking the sea as his mind was cast back.

Seven year old Hayner laughed uproariously and grabbed his stomach, eyes clenched in amusement.

"Gosh, Seifer," he said, he breathing slowly returning to normal, "Only you could pull off that look."

Seifer Almasy glared at the younger boy, his eight year old face blushing under Hayner's gaze.

"Look, chickenwuss, it's my mom's fault, alright?" He slumped to the ground cross legged, leaning his elbow on his knee and face on open palm, looking undoubtedly glum.

"Yeah, obviously you'd blame your mom..." Hayner struggled to keep in his giggles, but one glare from Seifer had him guffawing once more.

Seifer growled. It wasn't his fault that he was currently wearing a bright pink sweater with a koala bear on it. And it wasn't his fault that his mom had decided to force him to wear his jelly sandals, either. The only 'normal' part of his apparel was his three-quarter black jogging bottoms and oversized beanie upon his head.

The two extremes coupled together did nothing for Seifer's 'bad boy' demeanor. In fact, it made him look like a gender confused eight year old – a fact that Hayner took no time in mentioning.

Hayner sighed and laid back to look at the mid-afternoon sky.

"Y'know, Seifer.. Don't ever change."

"Change? Why would I change?"He joined Hayner, lying down beside him to look at the sky.

"I don't know," he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, "Just don't, okay?"

Seifer snorted. "You sound like a girl," he said, looking to his left at Hayner, "But, alright, chickenwuss. I won't change. Best friends forever, yeah?" He held up his left hand, pinky extended.

"And I'm the one that sounds like a girl?" Hayner asked, eyebrow raised. But he shrugged (a feat rather impressive when one is laid upon the ground) and raised his right hand, pinky also extended. "But yeah, best friends forever."

They linked their fingers around each other for a few seconds before the silence became too much.

"C'mon, chickenwuss," Seifer said, standing and stretching slightly, "I smell cookies."

Hayner laughed once more at his retreating form, jellybean sandals squeaking slightly as he walked.

"Yeah..." Hayner whispered to the empty garden, "Best friends forever..."

"Yo! Hayner!" Hayner started slightly as his mind was brought back to the present. He groaned and looked to his hand. The sea salt ice cream that he craved for not too long ago had melted in his palm, the light blue color trickling down his wrist. He threw the ice cream to the ground and set himself to lick at the sticky blue liquid, turning to look at the offending voice.

Roxas Strife made his way towards his best friend, jogging slightly over the shingle.

"Hey," Hayner replied, now satisfied at his clean hand. He wiped them on his combat trousers but remained seated.

"What are you doing here?" Roxas asked, taking a seat next to him. "Shouldn't you be home by now? You're mom's got that OCD thing, right?"

Hayner almost snorted at the assumption but nodded his head anyway.

"Yeah, you could call it that. But it's Sunday, I don't have to be back by five."

Roxas raised an eyebrow.

"You need a watch, dude. It's almost six."

"What?!" Hayner cried, jumping to his feet.

"Hey, calm down, man," Roxas said, slowly rising. "Just tell your mom you had to... buy tampons or something."

"It's not that simple!" Hayner cried, quickly dusting himself off and jogging towards the beach's exit. "I'll see you tomorrow!" he called over his shoulder and began to sprint home.

They would never understand – not really. Oh, they could say that they understood, but it would only be words. He knew that deep down he would always be poor old Hayner, the one who has to spend his time looking after his mom.

And he didn't mind looking after her; not really. He loved her – he'd do anything for her. And if that meant looking after her every hour of the day, then so be it.

He finally reached the front door of his house, panting and out of breath. He leant upon his bent knees glancing upon at his humble abode. It looked normal, he reasoned. From the outside it almost looked like the home of a functional family.

The front door was a tender periwinkle blue, the golden door knocker resting calmly in its centre. The whole house was made from deep grey stone, giving it the image of a country cottage, not a detached house in the middle of town. Ivy crawled upon the walls and around the door frame, licking at the living room windows and finally stopping halfway to the upper floor. The garden was neatly kept, but simple. A few flowers loitered near the wall and the winding path needed weeding slightly, but it was still more than could be said for the neighboring houses.

Breath finally returned to normal, he entered the house. Kicking off his shoes near the door and hanging his jacket on the providing peg, he leant against the wall.

There it was. The same sight that met him every day. His father's leather motorcycle jacket hung limply from the neighboring peg. He always wore it – no matter what the weather. And yet, Hayner thought ironically, he never really wanted a motorcycle – he had always said that fast things were never his style.

It had been that way for five long years. It hadn't even moved an inch. And yet every day Hayner woke in the morning hoping, just hoping that his mom had finally plucked up the courage to pick it up.

But no.

He couldn't ask that of her.

So what if it was ten years? Twenty, even?

As long as she got better, that was all he wanted.

"Mom?" he called into the house, slowly beginning his walk down the hallway. "Are you here?" Of course she's here, a voice in the back of his mind said, she never goes out. You know that. Well, unless she's finally done it – did you even think to put away that knife you used for your breakfast this morning?

His breath became rapid as he ran through the rooms.

The living room was empty, the fold out couch still loitered with a comforter and pillows.

The dining room was also empty, one single chair pulled out from the table. A cup of coffee was placed before it, a forgotten place mat at the opposite end of the furniture. Hayner slowly dipped his finger into the cup and winced as the cold liquid bit at him.

Entering the kitchen, he sighed with relief. The relief soon gave way to worry, however, when the woman at the counter didn't look up at his entrance.

The woman there was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. Her blonde hair cascaded in waves around her face and her bright blue eyes gave the image of innocence. She was just like a perfect angel – and that was her name.

Angel Landon.

But Angel Landon was anything from beautiful at this time. Her hair was lank and full of grease, the shampoo in the bathroom upstairs simply calling her name. As Hayner reached forward and placed a hand on her arm, she looked up in shock, surprise and slight fear. Her once sparkling blue eyes were dull, dark panda-like circles contrasting with her pale skin. A scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks seemed to stand out even more than usual, rather than creating an image of prettiness, it made her whole face seem unnatural.

She let out a dry sob through chapped lips as she registered who it was. She leant forward and buried her face into her son's chest, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her form.

"I thought you'd left me," she whispered, "I thought you left me just like he did..."

Hayner clung to her tighter.

"I'm going nowhere, mom," he said, choking back the lump in his throat, "I'll always be here. Always. I promise."

-x-

Eighteen year old Seifer Almasy laughed coldly at Hayner's retreating form.

"What a great comeback," he called after the younger boy, though he was sure he couldn't be heard. "'Fuck you'. Yeah, I'll have to remember that one!"

He snorted, shaking his head. He lived for these days, really – the days where he would swap petty insults with the younger boy. It was all about competition, he told himself. Just like the Struggle tournaments, it was just about who could stay at the top the longest. And Seifer always won. Always.

When Hayner's form was nothing more than a dot in the distance, he turned on his heel, sauntering down the path with hands deep in the pockets of his white, sleeveless trench coat.

A few minutes passed by before he abruptly turned down an alleyway to his left, jumping over abandoned crates and stepping around turned over dustbins.

He finally reached the end of the alleyway, but turned left again. Behind a moth-eaten curtain, a hideaway lay.

The small sized room was big enough for three people to enjoy each other's company. Two couches sat at either end of the room with a table in between them. A make-shift fridge was placed in the corner and a fluffy (once white) grey rug was laid on the floor.

Seifer sighed and lay on one of the couches, a selection of almost invisible dust bunnies rising into the air.

Folding his arms behind his head and dangling his legs over the edge of the couch, Seifer smiled in contentment.

This really was the life, he told himself.

His mind was cast back to the incident that had happened earlier that day. He had run into Hayner by accident, in all seriousness, but obviously the chickenfuck had decided that the whole world was against him.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, fuckface!" he had yelled. It seemed that the word 'fuck' had added itself to Hayner's dictionary.

"Watch where I'm going? Look in the mirror before you say something stupid, chickenwuss," Seifer had retorted. Not his best, he admitted, but in all honesty he was taken by surprise.

The argument had escalated and soon they had an audience. Obviously not one to share his thoughts with fifty strangers, Hayner had left shouting a silly comeback as he went.

Seifer chuckled slightly to himself. Chickenwuss really did look quite cute when he was angry…

Wait.

What?!

He abruptly sat up straight, eyes wide in horror.

What did he just think?!

"Hey, Seif! That was amazing, y'know?" Rai stumbled through the curtain clumsily, falling onto the vacant couch. He seemed oblivious to Seifer's obvious disgruntled state.

"Agreed." Fuu appeared gracefully in front of the curtain, arms folded and silver hair hanging before her face.

"Yeah," Seifer stated, eyes fixed to the stained rug. "Amazing…"

All of a sudden, life wasn't so glorious as he first thought…

AN: Mmkay. Hai Guys. xD
This is my first attempt at a KH fic, never mind a Seiner one. ^_^
I'd love to know what you think.
Continue?
Don't continue?
Go jump off a cliff?
Free virtual Seifer plushie for the first one to review. XDD
LOVEYAZ.
xoxo