As I walked away from the tunnelway entrance with a lump in my throat, I gave a little whimper, that bitter feeling of defeat sinking in once again. I threw my skateboard down in frustration and began to head for the Sunset Terrace. Something about that side of town always relaxed me a bit; it was nicer than where my apartment was located, and a hell of a lot better looking than the back alley.
After gazing out at the pink and orange sky for a few minutes, I began to make my way up the hill, finding the strange urge to play in the sand a bit. I always used to build sandcastles as a kid, and I was hoping to revisit that nostalgia, just to get him out of my head. Reaching the top of the hill and plopping down on the ground, I began pushing the white sand into a pile, absently picking out the twigs and pebbles.
About an hour of sandcastles and deep thoughts had passed before I heard that voice again. This time, his voice was much softer, less demeaning. "Hey," he murmured from behind me, speaking to my back. I didn't turn around at first, debating with myself over whether or not I should. But finally, I turned around and sighed, keeping otherwise silent. Seifer avoided my stare.
"Listen," he muttered firmly. "I… I was kinda harsh back there, I think." I shook my head disgustedly and snorted. "Yeah, you were. But as if you need to apologize… I'm used to your shit by now," I snarled. Seifer looked shocked, almost hurt. And even as I felt a tiny pang of guilt in my chest, I went on. "You're 'kinda harsh' to me every day, Seifer. One more day isn't gonna change anything… and neither is one little apology."
I stood up in front of the taller blonde, watching his bewildered, handsome face for just a moment. But before he could reply, I brushed past him, walking hastily down the hill and back towards the alley. But the further I got away from Sunset Hill, the worse I felt. The guilt became worse and worse, and I eventually felt tears of frustration begin to well in my eyes.
Seifer had just tried to apologize to me, even just for one little thing, and I shot him down on the spot. I had just ruined my only good chance to change my relationship with him, to maybe finally be on good terms. I ruined it.
Before I knew it, I was back at the usual spot, my face contorted with frustration and stained with tears. I stopped outside the chain-link face and wondered if anyone else was inside. Sighing, I reluctantly pushed past the tattered curtain as I wiped my face, relieved to find the spot empty. I took it as my opportunity to flop down onto the couch and allow the angry tears to wash over my face again. But just like before… I couldn't figure out why I felt this way.
I kicked the sand angrily as Hayner ran away, once again unable to find the words to stop him. All I wanted was to stop fighting, to stop being an asshole, but I couldn't. Every time I spoke to him, my words came out harsh and demeaning. Every time I tried to be nice, I was the complete opposite. It was as if my mouth had a mind of its own, and I hated myself for it.
But here I was again, faced with a debate over whether or not I should follow him. I paced around the top of Sunset Hill for at least twenty minutes, brooding over what I would do even if I did follow him. And yet, even during my argument with myself, I found myself unconsciously walking towards the direction of the back alley. And I really didn't care to stop myself.
By the time I got to the rival group's usual spot, I had slowed my pace considerably, giving myself time to change my mind… but I never did. Here I stood, in front of the narrow bit of chain-link fence before the infamous 'usual spot', praying Hayner was inside… and the only one inside.
To my surprise, my prayers were answered as I pushed back the tattered curtain. The only one inside was a crumpled, defeated looking Hayner, curled up on the sofa. I spoke up immediately, without really paying much mind to the situation.
"Listen, Hayner. I gotta say somethi—" I was stopped mid-sentence as I finally realized what was going on, by the shock of what lay before me. I realized that, as Hayner was curled up on the sofa, he was actually crying. But before I could say anything else, he snapped up off of the couch and onto his feet, hastily wiping his face.
"Yeah, say what you want," he muttered, voice cracking. "Call me a pussy or a wimp or whatever. I don't give a shit." I shook my head and sighed, my shoulders slumping. "No, Hayner. I'm sick of this… I'm sick of fighting when all it does is upset us both."
To be honest, I hadn't expected to see him react the way he did. He stared at me with a bewildered gaze, as if he was completely shocked at the fact that I didn't enjoy torturing him. He looked almost… sad. Shaking my head again, I spoke up softly, "I'm sorry."
Once again, Hayner gave an unexpected reaction, his gaze softening. As he took a step towards me, he looked almost scared, as if I were to hit him. But instead of cowering, he looked up at me; inching ever closer, pausing, and then… he turned and ran out the doorway.