It was nearly midnight and Seifer Almasy was sitting in a tattered plaid chair with a woman on top of his lap, grinding against him, one of his hands on her bottom while the other held a half-empty bottle of whisky. The blinds had been shut and the only light in the room came from the dim glow of a television playing late-night infomercials. The TV was turned down but not muted so that above the noise of the woman's lips sucking on his neck Seifer could hear a loud-mouthed salesman peddling an exclusive new way to revolutionize your scrambled eggs.
He took a swig from his bottle of whisky and pushed the woman's jacket off of her shoulders, revealing her brassiere. It was ill fitting and she was nearly coming out of it. Love handles gently spilled over the tight edges of her lacy panties and fishnet stockings. She continued to grind emotionlessly against Seifer's lap, sucking so hard on his neck that he knew it would leave a love-bite. He felt only mildly aroused.
Outside the clock tower chimed twelve times.
"You gonna get hard or what?" the woman broke her mouth away from Seifer's skin and stared at him.
Her face was scarred from compulsive picking that comes with prolonged drug use and her hair was coarse and matted. Seifer contemplated her question and took another swig from the bottle of whisky.
"I don't know, are you gonna do anything besides grind your ass on my jeans and pummel my neck?"
"What are you sayin'? Are you sayin' you aren't enjoying this?"
Seifer leaned back against the couch and unzipped his pants. "I'm saying maybe you should try something different."
The woman smiled, revealing several missing teeth. Her hand slid down his stomach beneath the fabric of his boxers and moved slowly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes and for a fleeting second his muddled brain allowed him the imagination that Rinoa Heartilly was the one sitting on top of him. He could almost see her there, her long, beautiful black hair draped around her perfect round face; her pink, plump lips against his own.
But in a moment the illusion was gone and his eyes were open again, watching with a mixture of apathy and disgust as the woman he was with moved down between his legs to replace her hand with her mouth.
He watched the television without interest as the loud-mouthed salesman showed the eggs he had prepared with his miracle egg-cooking device. He could really go for some eggs and there was that twenty-four hour diner just up the road. If he could just hurry up and cum already he could get there in ten minutes.
His eyes closed and he tried again to imagine Rinoa and the summer they had spent together. The summer he had lost his virginity and fallen in love. He had no illusions of Rinoa harboring any warm feelings for him now. He had fucked that up royally long ago and had made no efforts to fix his mistakes since then. Now he was left with the sad memory of a girl he used to love to help him get off on lonely nights with meth-addicted hookers. This had not been how he imagined his life going.
Just as he felt he was on the edge of satisfaction, close enough to push himself over, the door burst open, letting in a harsh stream of fluorescent light around the outline of a woman with thick wiry hair. Seifer blinked and pushed the hooker off of him.
"What the fuck are you doing, Seifer?" The wiry-haired woman stepped out of the light and into the hotel room. "What the fuck is going on here? You bitch, what exactly are you doing with my man?"
"Hyne, Maria, how'd you find me?" Seifer scrambled backwards and fell onto a nightstand that easily shattered beneath his weight.
Maria was not listening. She had grabbed the hooker by the hair and was raking her nails across the half-naked woman's face. "You think you can fuck with my man? You got another thing coming!"
The hooker shrieked and clamped her teeth on Maria's hand. A catfight quickly ensued. Seifer struggled to his feet, swaying in his inebriated state. He downed the rest of his whiskey, tossed the bottle on the floor, and staggered across the room. He was close to the door when a hand clamped on his ankle and brought him sprawling down face-first.
"Don't you walk out on me you cheating bastard!" Maria screamed, clawing her way across his back to his face.
He quickly shielded himself from her long nails "What the hell, Maria? We broke up three weeks ago."
"You do not break up with Maria. Maria breaks up with you. And we are over! Do you hear me? You cheating piece of shit!" She ripped one of her shoes off and stabbed him in the shoulder with the sharp heel. He let out an exclamation of pain. When she wrenched it out, his shirt blossomed with blood.
Maria stood up slowly and put her shoe back on before walking out the door like nothing had ever happened. The hooker was lying in a small pool of blood sobbing loudly near the television, but Seifer had no interest in helping her. Rather, he was in a hurry to get out of the place just as soon as he was sure Maria was gone.
He waited by the open door for a while, peering out into the fluorescent-lit hallway and listening to the sounds of the hourly room renters making good use of their money. When he felt sure it was safe, he quietly slunk away from the room and down the stairs to the main entrance.
A lonely attendant was sleeping with his head propped up by his hand and took no notice as Seifer moved past him, out the door and into the city of Dollet.
Outside the air was brisk and refreshing and Seifer might have enjoyed it if not for the throbbing pain in his shoulder where he'd been stabbed. He'd had worse, though, and there was no reason to go to the emergency room when he knew they'd make him stay for detox. The better option was a quick dip in the fountain at the town center to clean the wound. His late night diner eggs would have to wait.
It wasn't far to the town center from where he was, but with the pain from his stab wound and an old injury in his leg hindering him, the walk was slow going. He kept his eyes peeled for any signs of his crazy ex-girlfriend. If he hadn't pawned Hyperion off for some booze money he would have been fine, but now all he had was a tiny little blunt dagger that wouldn't hold a candle to Maria's heels. Something told him he wouldn't run into her again that night.
Seifer's leg protested as he walked. He tended to hop onto trains or buses to get around the city these days and hadn't walked any great distance in a while. This was obvious by one look at the small gut hanging over his pants or how his shirt stretched at the seams to accommodate his growth. He knew if he lost some weight and ever had the money for the surgery he needed he wouldn't have pain in his leg anymore, but that also felt as impossible as becoming a SeeD.
By the time he reached the town center, his leg hurt nearly as much as his shoulder and both were screaming in pain. This late at night, the circular center of the city was quiet and empty and the only light came from the twenty-four hour diner across the way, its neon sign buzzing in the night. A fountain at the center of the circle flowed and bubbled placidly, filled with coins despite the sign strictly prohibiting them.
Seifer sat on the edge of the fountain and rubbed his aching thigh before he began to undress. First he kicked his off his boots, caked with mud and with holes wearing into the soles, then he peeled off his filthy stinking socks and wadded them inside of the boots. He shimmied out of his pants and underwear, which had grown too tight and left a lasting red mark on his hips. His beige trench coat he draped against the fountain, letting the bloodied end float in the frigid water in hopes it might resolve some of the stain. Finally, he peeled off his tattered tanktop and tossed it in the water before jumping in after it.
The water was ice cold and knocked all the breath out of him and for a moment he sat with only his head above it gasping, teeth chattering. After a few minutes, his body adjusted to the cold and he dunked his head under. When he surfaced, he was surrounded by brown, clouded water dissolving out in tendrils to the edges of the fountain. He tried to remember the last time he had bathed.
His stab wound stung at first contact, but the water was soothing it and taking the inflammation from his injured leg. He swam around the fountain and began to hum an old song he remembered learning long ago when he had lived by the sea with his foster parents. Edea used to sing it to him and when he closed his eyes he could see her smiling face as she leaned over him to brush away his tears.
"Seifer," she said softly. "Don't cry, little one. Everything will be okay."
She was the closest thing he ever had to a mother.
He opened his eyes and he was back in the fountain: freezing, wet, and drunk. He scrubbed his skin raw and sat on the edge of the fountain with just his feet dangling in the water. The door jangled on the diner and a young couple exited. They stopped to stare at Seifer and he stared back, oblivious to his nudity.
"C-come on, Ness," The man said, drawing his lover closer, "Let's get out of here."
She tore her disgusted eyes away from Seifer and hurried along with her boyfriend. Seifer curled his lip and spat in their direction, but he was too drunk to even spit properly and he wound up dribbling saliva down his chin.
"Fuck you too, pal!" He slurred.
He rose up and snatched his shirt and trench coat from the water, placing them gently on the ground to dry. He was in the process of grabbing his underwear when a loud voice sounded from the edge of the circle.
"Put your hands up. This is the police." A small cluster of men and women were gathered around the opening to the town center.
"Fuck me," Seifer groaned. He dropped his underwear and lifted his hands. It had only been two weeks since his last brush with the law and the bruise on his ribs that he'd earned himself during his struggle was just finally fading away. After the night he'd had, he wasn't up for getting stabbed again.
The police approached him with guns raised, "It's Almasy," one of them called back to the others.
An officer in the back of the group spoke into a walkie talkie, "This is officer Gentry, please be advised we may need back up. Suspect at town center is Seifer Almasy."
"C'mon, man!" Seifer shouted. "I'm not gonna fight you."
"You have the right to remain silent and I suggest you use it, Seifer," the officer nearest him spoke.
"All right, all right, just let me…" before he could finish his sentence, a burly officer with a thick mustache had shoved him to his knees, knocking his head against the cement fountain in the process. He felt blood trickling down his forehead. "WHAT THE FUCK MAN?"
"Shut up, Almasy," the man with the mustache replied. He pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt and locked Seifer's hands behind his back.
"C'mon, Fragey, can't I at least put some clothes on?"
Officer Fragey snorted in derision. "Get him a towel to cover up. Now!"
The officers behind him scrambled to find something Seifer could cover himself with. One of the female officers procured a thick woolen poncho from her rucksack.
"That thing? I'll look fuckin' ridiculous," Seifer spat.
"Hate to break it you, sweetheart, but you already do," Fragey replied. He shoved the poncho over Seifer's head and for a moment it got stuck and Seifer couldn't breathe, nor could he claw his way out of it. He struggled for a moment before his head came free in the opening. The wool made his skin itch.
"This is the last straw, Seifer!" Fragey shouted. "We're not letting you out in the morning when you're sober. You're costing this department way too much money using us like a goddamned hotel. You want out in the morning you better post some fucking bail like the criminal you are."
"C'moooon, Fragey! You know I don't have the money for bail."
"Oh? But you had the money for booze, didn't you?"
"Hey, fuck you, man!" Seifer struggled as Fragey pulled him to his feet, but he was no match for the muscular officer in his state. Fragey shoved him forward into the back of a waiting squad car, knocking his head once again against the roof of the car.
By now, Seifer's head was pounding, his stab wound was still aching, and as the cold wore off of his leg, it too was protesting at the efforts it had been put through that night. If not for the bail, he was almost looking forward to a night in jail because it meant a bed more comfortable than the street, in a heated cell with a blanket and a warm meal.
He could always figure out the whole bail thing later. Or just stay in jail. That seemed superior to being homeless for the foreseeable future.
Dollet County Jail was a familiar place for Seifer; a home away from non-home, as it were. When he arrived, it was to exasperated looks from regular night shift cops who recognized him from plenty of run-ins before. For the second time that night, harsh fluorescent lights bombarded his eyes.
At the main desk, they stopped for a moment in front of Officer Ramirez, a skinny brunette with no breasts who almost always ran the desk on night-shift.
"Almasy again, hm?" Ramirez asked.
Fragey groaned as an affirmation. "Junot, file a report with Ramirez while I take Almasy to his cell."
Another officer stepped forward to file the report and Fragey grabbed Seifer by the neck, shoving him down a narrow hallway toward the cells. They passed through a secured iron door with Fragey's access key and found themselves in a room with five cells. Two of them were empty and the others were filled with sleeping inmates.
There was a phone booth on the wall by the door and Fragey picked up the phone. "You get one call, Almasy, so you better use it well, 'cause otherwise I'm gonna make sure your ass ends up in D-district."
He handed the phone to Seifer, who took it reluctantly. He hadn't considered that they would actually try him and transfer him if he couldn't make bail. How likely was it he would actually see the inside of D-district though? That was a place for high-profile political prisoners, not drunks charged with public indecency or urinating on public property. It still wasn't worth testing Fragey's determination to get rid of Seifer. He had been a blight on Dollet for the past year and a half.
So who to call? Raijin and Fujin were out of the question. They had been Seifer's closest friends and at the end, his only friends. They had stuck with him when the rest of the world turned on him. He owed them everything and instead of paying them back he had run away and stopped returning their calls. If he called them now, he knew they would come, because that's the kind of friends they were, but he wasn't going to let them know what a mess he had become. He couldn't stand that embarrassment.
Cid and Edea also weren't an option. They had, for all intents and purposes, raised him and then trained him and he had failed them so many times along the way. He could never become a SeeD and he had failed to protect Edea. This would be one more failure for them to see. Besides, he had turned away Cid's help when he had first left Balamb; he couldn't go begging for it now.
Those were his only options that seemed likely to help him if he called. The only people he had ever felt friendly towards. Of course, there were less appealing options. "Options" was maybe even too strong a word: perhaps possibilities. Dincht was absolutely off the table. He would have rather offed himself than to see Dincth's smug face when he saw what Seifer had become. Squall was also an unappealing choice given that the most likely response to Squall Leonhart receiving a call from Seifer Almasy at two in the fucking morning was a quick hangup. Quistis wasn't on either. She would be too self-righteous about it and he didn't need her whiny shit.
This left him one potential choice. He dialed with clumsy, shaking hands, mashing his fingers against the buttons. He wasn't even sure if the number was still in service and with his mind clouded by alcohol he wasn't entirely sure it was even the right number.
It rang seven times before the other end finally picked up and a drowsy voice answered questioningly.
"Rinoa? It's Seifer. I, uh….need a favor."
A/N: Hopefully enjoyable first chapter. I'll try to update regularly. Reviews are appreciated