A/N: I shouldn't be doing this. I need to write the other fics. Oh well.
I got the idea of Treno being a nightclub from Karu Leonnese. She kind of inspired me, along with Zarla, to do my own AU fic. Well, here goes my feeble attempt at making something weird.
"It's been two years! It's time to let go, son."
He snorts, adjusting the two boxes in his arms. Fucking time to let go – maybe when you're about to get remarried, but that doesn't mean he has to forget.
"We're not exactly in a very good economical position. There are people who need this stuff more than us. Your mother would have wanted it this way."
No, mother would have wanted him to go to college, mother wouldn't want him to go into the military. Mother wouldn't have wanted to disappear from the mantle.
"There's a resale shop downtown that always looks empty. Maybe they'll pay for it all." Then, "You know, it's not as if I don't want to remember her! Don't give me that, you little punk. You see? This is the kind of shit that makes me think the military would only do you good."
"Give you a fist in the face, you asshole," he growls, glaring at the storm clouds. Why in God's name does everything have to be so miserable today? Even the goddamned radio had been belting out depressing teen-angst songs and then the oldies station – mom's favorite – had been playing all those depressing songs about car crashes in the rain and unchained melodies and shit. Fucking hell, he doesn't want to do this.
He thinks, briefly, of just shoving the boxes into the bed of his truck, covering them with the tarp, and pretending it was just another damned pile of wood for when he went back to the desert. But no, his father was expecting some form of money, and he grudgingly admits that his father's right – they aren't in a good financial position.
The resale shop is lodged between a Rico's Mexican Food and a discount bookstore. It does look empty – the windows have wood over the bottom and the selection of hats in the window looks a little bland.
He looks down at the boxes and sighs, using his shoulder to open the door. A bell above rings, but doesn't draw attention from the blonde boy at the register. His back is turned and he's bobbing his head in time to loud, frazzled music coming from his headphones. He's playing with one of those miniature skateboards, performing ollies and grinding along the edge of a pencil supported by two books. He rolls his eyes and goes to the counter, dropping the boxes down.
With a shout of confusion, the boy drops the skateboard and falls off of the stool, jumping up and pulling his headphones off. He realizes that the music is Guns 'N' Roses, and wonders if the kid even knows who the hell Axl Rose is.
"Sorry," the blonde boy apologizes, "Didn't hear you come in! Um, what can I do for you?"
"I'm here to sell this crap," he grumbles, feeling the words sting.
"Oh, cool. Um, let me get my brother. He handles all of the money stuff." The boy grins, "He thinks I'm going to pocket the money or something. Paranoid, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he shouts, "Hey, Kuja!" A moment of silence and then, "Kuja!"
"Coming," a softer, older voice responds from behind a door marked "Staff Only" and covered in random cutouts from magazines. It creaks open, and amidst laughter, two girls come out.
One is deeply tanned and has brown hair. She's wearing a black tube top that's about two sizes too small and a slinky little skirt. He rolls his eyes.
The other, however, has long silver-dyed hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, with a much larger gray sweatshirt and black slacks. She looks at the blonde boy with a raised eyebrow.
"What do you want, Zidane?"
He blinks and looks back to the two boxes. Okay, so, the silver-haired one is a guy, he can work with that. After all, he's seen worse...
Not really, but he'll pretend for the sake of his good name.
"Amarant!" the brown haired girl exclaims, eyes widening.
He winces.
"What are you doing here!" She flounces over to him and clings to his arm. "I thought you stayed away from places like this!"
"I do," Amarant grumbles. "But dad needs to sell some stuff."
The girl, consequently, leans over and looks into one of the boxes, grin turning into a frown. "Wait... Isn't this...?" She looks at Amarant and he looks to the silver-haired man.
"So, what do you have?" Kuja asks, crossing his arms. He looks content with the current events, and Amarant wonders if there's time to back out.
"...Just some dresses and crap." He pushes one of the boxes towards the other male, who sifts around in it with a disinterested glance.
That is, until he sees lace.
His eyes get wide and he grins, pulling the white gown from the bottom of the box of clothes.
"Oh my god," he exclaims, "This is gorgeous! Who would want to sell this to a shithole like here!"
"My dad," Amarant mutters to himself, arms crossed. The brown haired girl blinks.
"Wait, your dad's making you sell this!" she whispers, "What an asshole!"
"Lani, my dad isn't an asshole, he's a fucking soulless son of a bitch," Amarant hisses, "Now shut up and let me sell it." He turns to Kuja and nods, "So, how much?"
"...You want to sell this?" Kuja asks, confused. "Most of the time, the wedding dress isn't..."
"It is. Now, how much?"
He looks at it for a long time, and finally says, "Two hundred dollars."
"Kuja!" Zidane exclaims, "What the hell are you doing!"
"Shut up, little brother." He motions to the gown, "This is beautiful. You don't buy beauty cheap. Your little girlfriend can explain it to you later." He looks at Amarant, "Keep in mind, I'm not going to put this up in the shop."
"What!"
"Zidane, shut up! I'm going to bring it into class," he tells Amarant, "I want to have my professor look at it."
"Kuja's a fashion major," Lani tells Amarant, who rolls his eyes; figures. "He's the best – his designs are so pretty."
"Lani, stop it," Kuja laughs, "You're ostracizing me from the big guy."
"...Two hundred dollars...?" Amarant finally asks, "Are you sure?"
"Of course I am. Who's the designer, anyways? This is fabulous, but I can't find a tag..."
Amarant frowns. "My mom made it herself."
"Really? Why is she selling it, if that's the case?"
Amarant looks away, and Lani responds, voice low, "His mom died two years ago."
Kuja looks like he's just committed the worst social faux pas ever, and flushes. "Oh, um... I'm... I'm sorry. You shouldn't sell this." He pushes the dress into Amarant's arms, "Why in the world would you want to get rid of it?"
"I don't," the redhead growls, looking down at the lacy, white gown in his hands. "My dad's getting remarried and doesn't want Susan to come into a house filled with his ex-wife's stuff."
"What an asshole!" Zidane exclaims.
"Watch your mouth," Kuja snaps, "What would dad say if he came in here and heard you swearing like that around customers!"
"He'd say the same damned thing," the blonde crosses his arms, "That's not cool. Could you see dad selling any of mom's stuff?"
"Zidane, that's enough," Kuja growls, silently motioning for him to shut up. The boy does, which surprises Amarant. "I'll buy the dress for two hundred and both boxes for a hundred."
"There's only a few dresses and some shoes and..."
"Yeah, I don't care," Kuja waves a hand, "I normally wouldn't even buy the stuff, not if it means a lot to people..." The silver haired man shrugs. "But your dad probably wants monetary gain for this stuff, right?"
Amarant nods, dumbfounded.
"Then will three hundred be enough?"
"...Yeah. I guess..."
Kuja reaches under the counter and pulls out a check book, writing out a check. "Don't worry," he adds, smiling, "I'm going to make sure nothing touches this dress. And if you ever want it back..."
"I won't," Amarant frowns, looking at the check now in his hand. "...It's time to move on. What good is a wedding dress to me?" He raises an eyebrow, "It's not like it fits me. My hips are too big."
Kuja's eyes widen, and then he laughs, covering his mouth with a hand. Amarant smirks, and nods to Lani, "See you."
"Bye, Ama'!"
He leaves the store with a crumpled check and feels as if he's leaving half of himself behind.
Amarant finds himself wishing that he had a copy of Guns 'N' Roses as he heads back home. He grips the steering wheel with one hand and uses the other to flip through his stack of CDs. Between Smashing Pumpkins, Eminem, and Captain Jack, there isn't a whole lot to listen to. The radio blasts out some teenage pop hit, and he growls, glancing at the road.
"Shit!"
He slams on the breaks and turns the wheel, truck rocking violently as it skids to a stop, just missing a little boy in a huge hat. The boy looks as if he's just come within inches of death – which isn't far off. He forgot that the speed limit in the neighborhood was only thirty five, not fifty.
He climbs down and goes in front of the boy, kneeling down. "Hey, are you alright!"
The boy stares up at him and manages a small squeak.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!"
Amarant looks up to see a woman with platinum blonde hair running towards him, eyes flashing angrily. "You could have killed him! What the fuck!"
"What the fuck was he doing in the street? Are you watching him?" Amarant stands, and the woman continues to glare, not put off by his size. "You fucking moron, who lets a kid into the street!"
"I-I-I'm sorry, Freya!" the boy cries, "I didn't mean to run out, but I thought I saw..." He looks over at the other side of the street, then shakes his head. "I-I'm sorry."
"Vivi," the woman – Freya – sighs, dropping down to her knees, "It's not your fault. He should have been watching the road." She glares at Amarant, who crosses his arms.
"No moron would let the kid run into the street," he growls, before looking at the kid again. "Are you okay?"
"...Y-Yes, sir," he mumbles, looking at the ground, "S-Sorry."
"It's not your fault," Amarant grumbles, "Just pay attention." He gets up and heads back to his truck. The woman follows him, pale skin flushing with rage.
"Where are you going!" she shouts, "You might've caused psychological damage!"
"With a babysitter like you," Amarant throws over his shoulder, "I doubt he's not used to it." He gets in and slams the door, turning on the car and putting it into reverse. The woman yells something and then grabs the boy's hand, dragging him out of the way. Amarant takes off, eyes narrowed.
God, why is today miserable?
Zidane bobs his head along with the music, eyes closed. Techno always makes him want to dance, but when Kuja's around, he feels like he needs to be on his best behavior – at least, while the other's in work-mode. His brother is a type-A personality and he himself is a type-B, which makes them both great brothers, but not fun to work with.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and pushes his headphones down, spinning on the stool to face his girl. He grins, My girl. Man, never thought I'd get that one.
"Hey, babe." He wraps his arms around the giggling black haired girl, pulling her into his lap. "How's your weekend been?"
"Miss Garnet!"
Zidane winces, and looks at the bulky man in a suit with mild annoyance. "Oh, hey, old man. How's it going?"
"O-Old!"
"Zidane," Garnet chides, "Don't make fun of Steiner."
"Sorry," he apologizes with a grin, "It's just too easy." He kisses her cheek, "Really, how was your weekend?"
"It was fine. I'm sorry you couldn't come over yesterday, but father..."
"It's cool," he shrugs, "I know your dad doesn't like you dating a bad boy."
"He admits to it!" Steiner exclaims, pointing.
"Oh, little brother, you're simply bad to the bone."
Lani giggles and Kuja leans against the doorframe of the staff room, eyebrow raised. Zidane grins.
"Um, sorry, Kuj'. You know me and Dagger never get time alone..."
"With good reason!" Steiner shouts.
"Please don't yell in my shop," Kuja drawls, looking vaguely menacing. "And my brother is probably the least worrisome boy your little princess could be dating."
"Yeah!" Zidane exclaims, "I could be that big guy with the dreadlocks!"
"You mean Amarant?" Lani asks, grinning, "He's a real ass sometimes."
Garnet looks from Zidane to Steiner, then sighs. "Steiner, could you go get me a tall mocha from the Starbucks down the street?"
"...W-Why, of course..." The bodyguard backs out and then dashes away.
"Oh man, that guy is a piece of work," he chuckles, before leaning Garnet back. She squeaks in surprise, and he ducks his head in, kissing her.
"Zidane," Kuja warns, "Remember, you're on the clock."
"Oh, come on," the younger brother complains, "I never get any time with Dagger!"
"Isn't her name Garnet?" Kuja asks, rolling his eyes, "Why in the world would you call her such a stupid name?"
"That's between me and my girlfriend," Zidane drawls. "Hey, how long does it take a bodyguard to get a coffee?"
Garnet shrugs. "It's two in the afternoon – there's bound to be a line. Maybe half an hour?"
Zidane stands up, carrying the black haired girl with him. "Well, when can we ditch him?"
"Zidane," she chides, "We can't just leave your store and Steiner..."
Kuja rolls his eyes. "Take the back door," he says, pointing through the staff room. Zidane grins, but Garnet looks nonplused as he puts her down.
"What about..."
"We'll take care of him," Lani grins, "Hurry, though."
"Thanks, bro!" Zidane calls as the two run out.
Lani hops up onto the counter. "Ah, young love," she sighs.
"Yeah, gross, isn't it?"
Lani laughs, rolling her eyes. "Only you would say something like that. So, what are you going to do with that dress, really?" Kuja looks at her, and she continues, "I know you aren't just going to keep it for posterity. What, are you going to wear it to Treno?"
Kuja rolls his eyes. "Oh, yes, because a club like that deserves a dress like that. No, I was serious. I'm going to take it to class and get criticism on it, and then I'm going to build off of it." He waves a hand, "There could be some alterations made. I'll sketch the basics out and then modify."
"I thought you said you wouldn't let anyone touch it?"
"I'm not going to. I'm going to make a copy." He grins, pulling his hair out of it's ponytail, "After all, I wouldn't be any good if I didn't know how to remake something." He slips her a sly look, "So, who was that guy, anyways? A lover of yours?"
Lani laughs, shaking her head. "Amarant? No, we're just friends. I lived next to him for most of high school." She smiles, fondly, "He's a really nice guy. Real good with animals."
"Nice isn't the word I'd use," Kuja responds, eyebrows raising, "He looked vicious."
Lani rolls her eyes. "Not unless you get on his bad side. He's really callous and rude to people, but once you've known him long enough, he gets nice." She smirks, "I'm the only one he's ever let cling to him like that. Even his ex got pushed away."
"Where does he go now? Or is he out of college?"
"He never went." Lani sighs, "It's too bad. He's pretty smart, and wanted to do a lot of stuff, but his mom got sick and they used his college funds to pay for her hospital bills..."
"Oh, that's... that's horrible," Kuja frowns, "Now I feel really stupid for asking him about his mother."
"He didn't take it personally, I can tell you that. He really loved his mom, though – his dad's a real jerk. Ama's been living with him because any work he has ends up paying for food and electricity. His dad doesn't have a job."
"That's a shame." Kuja sighs. "Those kinds of stories depress me. Can you imagine, living with people who don't care, and the people who did died?"
"Hey, I care!"
"How often do you see him?" Kuja asks, "You're always performing or working on performing, or hanging out with me."
"I see him every so often," Lani says guiltily, "Like, once or twice over a few weeks."
"It's depressing," Kuja repeats. "Maybe we should hang out with him sometime?"
"Hah, and go where, Treno?" Lani chuckles, "He wouldn't be caught dead with either of us. He likes to keep his tough guy image."
"Well, couldn't he play tough with us? I mean, every tough guy has a woman or two."
"You're not a woman."
"Well, yes, but he thought I was, so it counts." Kuja sighs. "What, you don't think he'd want to?"
"Kuja, please don't tell me you think Ama's hot."
"...Fine, I won't."
Lani laughs, full on. "Kuja!" she exclaims, "He's one hundred percent hetero. He doesn't swing on the fence, he chases skirts, he eats at Taco Bell."
"That's the most disgusting euphemism for being hetero I've ever heard," Kuja makes a face, "Besides, isn't that exactly what you said about my last squeeze?"
"Well, yeah, but let's face it, Gilgamesh was hard to read in general! I can't be right all the time."
Their conversation is interrupted as Steiner bursts back in, holding a small cup of coffee in his grasp.
"Miss Garnet – where is she!" he shouts, looking around in shock.
"They left," Kuja drawls, looking at his nails idly.
"What? Where did they go!"
"That way," Kuja points to the left, as Lani echoes him and points to the right. They look at each other, and then shrug, pointing straight out the front door. "That way," they chime in unison.
"If her father finds out...!" Steiner runs back out and disappears.
The two college students look at each other, and then laugh.
All I own is the laptop I wrote this on. The characters and all related trademarks are (c) Square.
