Drabble time!
Whoo.
This was going to have the reappearance of Julia - since you all loved her so much - but it didn't quite fit. She gets a little mention at the end though.
And no, Leon isn't Hayner's dad. Or anyone's dad. Martine and Julia will always be Hayner's parents in these stories, and Seifer's won't ever have names. That's the only thing connecting any of these.
I don't own Kingdom Hearts.



The freezing cold of the air conditioner was pretty much turning the fine hairs on Hayner's arms into icicles. He sighed and leaned his back against the chair, only to be pushed forward by Olette's foot.
"Don't be lazy, Hayner." She teased.

He muttered several unfavourable words under his breath and set his gaze back on the blackboard. Olette got to sit wherever she wanted, but he had to sit at the front away from Seifer because of 'bad behaviour'. Whatever. Seifer started it - he always did. Seifer always started the 'friendly' Struggles, the punch-ups, and Hayner always took the bait like an idiot.

He kind of liked Struggling, though. It was so easy to just skate down to the Sandlot and demand a Struggle. Struggling made the blood pump through his veins, made his arms shake with uncertainty.

The teacher ranted on about stem-and-leaf charts a little more, not concerned over the rather obvious fact that almost no-one in the class was paying attention.
Hayner began to tap his pencil against the desk, stopping when a piece of curled up paper hit him on the head and tumbled onto his desk.

He was about to throw it back in the direction it came when he noticed the letter 'S' written on the inside. Hayner unfurled it, keeping his eyes on the teacher.
'Struggle after school' was written in sloppy, boyish handwriting, with 'And it's not a question, wuss.' written below it as an afterthought.

Now he had something to look forward to.
The paper in his hand seemed warm - warmer than the rest of this chilly classroom, anyway. Even in winter, Seifer's hands felt like fire against Hayner's skin whenever they Struggled. His tackles had more warmth to them than even his mum's hugs ever did, which was strange.
It was probably the whole sweat thing. Adrenaline and all that.



I'm sure that's what it is, Hay-Hay.