__Insert Melodramatic Title Here__

*disclaimer not needed, because of course they belong to me. Ha.

Summary: A/U, SquallxSeifer. YAOI! SHOUNEN-AI! The stuff you burn in hell for, apparently.

Author's notes: I wish I could write something witty, but ... never mind. Thanks for reading. :)

Bear with me as we encounter more turbulence in the headspace of the Boy Who Goes "……" And maybe I should change this fic's rating, cos we ain't coming to the good stuff for a long while yet, baby.

Dedicated to Annie D (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=154952), who refuses to let me read her Slam Dunk fics, because she insists I'm better than her. Yeah, right. Hunt for her fics… read it. She's bloody brilliant. Go compliment and love her to death. Even if she'll start going, "aiieeee!" and hunt me down with a machete.

And to the canteen people of my ex-college's cafeteria... I adore their tuna sandwiches.

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I woke up to find my face stiff with dried tears. All that crying myself to sleep was really starting to piss me off. I have no time to be maudlin dammit, I thought savagely as I stepped into the showers. It has been close to a week, and I had no luck in either finding a place to live or a job. I couldn't find a place since I had no income to support it, and I couldn't find a job with my reluctance to give out the personal information they needed. At that was how it went, on and on, during my entire stay at the hostel.

I was slowly being forced into the proverbial dead end, but I was just too stubborn to accept that this would be my life indefinitely. I would not give up. I would not give in. I... just couldn't. If everything else in my life had changed irrevocably, one thing remained: I was a stubborn son of a bitch. I never believed in letting the whims of fate control my life, but I was bound, by practicalities necessary to continue my existence, and the fears that I learned in the past.

It was near noon when I finally made my way to the cafeteria. They were preparing to serve lunch, so I decided to make myself useful and help in the kitchen. I was too weary of rejection and having my hopes crushed that day to bother going out into the city and continue my daily hunt for accommodations and work. Shiva was the only I recognised in the kitchen, the rest were voluntary workers whose lives, as far as I was concerned, was as impermanent as the lodgers they serve.

She was paying no attention to anyone, carefully cutting the slabs of sandwiches into triangular pieces ready to be served. Or so it seemed. Without looking up, her too-platinum-to-be-real blonde hair shining under the fluorescent, she greeted me, all the while still cutting those bloody pieces of mashed tuna, as if it was the most interesting and important thing in the world.

Yes, she was a special one, Shiva. I wasn't too sure what was it exactly, but there was no awkwardness of first time meetings with her. I remarked that her name was odd, given that Shiva was a Hindu god and she was, as far as I could tell, a female, and she laughed her cool silvery laugh and thanked me for not being a moron.

We got on very well after that. Best friends, as much as a week and my constant depression could allow.

"Here," she handed me a tray of sandwiches, without waiting for my response.

I duly nodded and walked to the serving table and set the tray there. A few minutes of quiet work followed before she spoke again.

"Any luck so far?"

"No."

A moment's silence. She knew better than to dispense false platitudes. "You'll find it," was all she said, before settling back into her task and bustling about in the kitchen, ordering the rest around in her regal manner.

I tried not to respond with bitterness, and failing that, just kept my peace and quietly went on with whatever it was I was doing, not that I was paying attention. I couldn't help but dwell darkly on whatever it might be that I would find. So far, hiding in plain sight had seemed to work, but pretty soon my cash would run out, and with it, my luck. What was the point in trying to find a job, I thought, when I couldn't even tell my future employer my citizen's registration number? I had no means to forge the necessary documents, and without those documents, no self-respecting employee would want to hire me.

"Jeremy? Jeremy?" Shiva called gently before I realised it was me she was calling for. I wasn't even using my own name, for Hyne's sake! I shook my head slightly before turning up to face her. Oh right, lunch.

Suddenly the thought of a meal was too much for me. I took a slice of sandwich, did a reasonable impression of a smile to Shiva and headed outside. Maybe a walk in the city would do some good, I hoped. The very least, the cacophony this city makes would be enough to drown the worries in my head.

Whatever.

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There was a seminar once, back home, when going to school still meant something to me. The speaker was tirelessly preaching about the powers of positive thinking. Let go of your doubts, he said, and be free. All you need is be positive. The world doesn't need any more negativity.

He also recommended talking to yourself, as a way of solving problems.

Nutter. As if the world needed any more muttering freaks walking by the sidewalk.

Although I was seriously considering it.

As I was a person not given to sighing on whatever occasion, I only scowled even harder. Managed to scare more than a few people into crossing the road to avoid me too. Which did not help my scowling any.

I suppose it wasn't exactly strange that at that time of what seemed like the beginning of a bleak future, I would be reminded of that motivational speaker. I also remembered how … arrogant he seemed, confident and strutting his gospel to a public that desperately wished to believe in something. And I realised then, I was jealous. No matter how misguided he was to me, he had something to believe in.

I wished for the same certainty.

More immediately, I wished for some nicotine.

I had walked aimlessly most of the day, and it was approaching nightfall. I found myself at one of Esthar's many parks just as the sun was setting. I barely noticed the beautifully illuminated fountains and headed straight to the row of benches, specifically one occupied bench, marked by the tell-tale flicker of a cigarette.

Desperation had made me shameless. "Can you spare a stick?" I asked, without preamble. He merely grunted, and offered me the pack from his pocket. I took one gratefully and sat on the bench next to him, our bodies divided by the armrests. He even offered his lighter, and I thanked him silently for his graciousness.

We sat together, in the dark, not talking, each dwelling in our own little man-caves. I found there was a limit at how much scowling my face can take, and as I let my expression go slack, felt the mass of doubt that was beginning to lodge rather firmly within me, turn liquid and flowed to the very ends of my fingertips. I imagined that they were dripping slowly away, drip drip, leaving me empty. But it would not drain fast enough, and I imagined it never will.

I tilted my head to rest against the back of the bench, and looked up at the thin crescent moon, low on the horizon, obscured by wisps of clouds but never truly hidden. I just wanted a break from all that brain activity. I just want to stop thinking. Stop worrying. I needed a moment where I could just be. And kill off my cells one by one with cigarette smoke. I took a long drag and savoured its poison. I don't often smoke, but stress makes people do all sorts of crazy stuff right? Like breeding cancer cells, for one.

And I must have sighed, because the next thing I knew the stranger next to me said, "It's that bad, huh?"

Talk about understatement. Might as well go for broke, I practically accosted the guy for a fag after all. What was a little heart-to-heart between strangers? "Worse," I said simply.

"My sympathies."

"Thanks." I couldn't help but be a little sarcastic in my reply.

There was a smirk in his low voice, as he said, "I don't suppose that if I said that it'll all be okay, you would believe me?"

"I would kill you."

"Try me."

And that smugness in his tone just loosed something out of me, and I laughed. It wasn't those big heaving gusts that I was never capable of, but it was still the sort that came from the gut. It felt as if I hadn't laughed in years. "I have worthier targets to kill," I said between chuckles.

I finally stopped starring at the sky and turned to look at him. For a split second, miraculously, my brain decided to shut up, registered the figure in front of me, and went, 'gyuhhh…". Then I saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and I knew this was someone who was used to such a response. Smug sumbitch. Still, he was fine.

"You?" Arrogant or not, I was in no hurry to end the conversation.

"Woman troubles."

Damn! "Yeah?"

He nodded, and slowly, taking his time, he started talking. I guessed that he thought I needed the distraction, because he did not strike me as someone who would just spill the secrets of his life to just anyone. He didn't talk much about his supposed 'problem' beyond the general points. She was too clingy, demanding, bla bla bla. Oh, forget about her, let's talk about you. Score one for the teenage libido. Just a few moments ago I was close to suicidal. Now I was horny.

I couldn't even remember what we talked about. Football, the weather, what a sorry mess humanity was, the usual philosophical shit. What we were lacking were alcohol and/or caffeine. What I did remember was how good just being with this man was. I talked a lot more for one thing. Managed to sneak in a few small laughs and I forgot about being depressed.

He did most of the talking, and I did most of the nodding. He had a persuasive voice and I find myself entranced by his words. I couldn't explain how, in all that inner turmoil, I found an oasis in just simple meaningless conversation with a person I had never met before and would probably never meet again. But I was thankful.

Gradually, we must have noticed the darkness in the park, save for a few streetlamps. He looked at his watch, and whistled softly. I took that as my cue, and stood up. But not before trying my best to commit his image to memory, though that wasn't hard to do.

"Thanks," was all I said. Yet there was a wealth of meaning behind that simple word.

He nodded, understanding in his keen green eyes. And he turned first, and walked away and my absolute last memory of him then was a tall figure striding away in the dark, his golden blond hair peeking out of the baseball cap he was wearing.

As I walked back to the hostel, I wondered what had come over me. To say all that was being out of character would be pointing out the obvious. But I decided not to question it. I wanted to forget my troubles, and my wish was granted. But as I grew nearer to the hostel, my briefly forgotten apprehensions flared up again. But there was no denying that my heart was lighter and that was all I could have asked for.

Shiva was waiting for me when I arrived (although I could see she was looking like she wasn't waiting for me), and gave me a hug before I even stepped inside. Standing halfway through, straddling the threshold, I returned the hug.

I went to sleep that night less heavy-hearted, though my problems were still unresolved. And as I closed my eyes, I remembered being hopeful that maybe, that motivational speaker knew what he was saying about being positive.

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"Promising forever is easy when you're not immortal," I announced as we were lazing about in the shade of the willow tree and allowed ourselves to be lulled by the sparkles of the stream before us.

He laughed. He had such a beautiful laugh, and it felt even more satisfying when I could feel the rumble of it in his chest, as I held him closer and rested my head on the crook of his shoulders. Thump. Thump. In my dreams, he was always alive.

But his face was too pale, too gaunt. "You have to stop this," I begged. "There's plenty of places where you can go and get help."

He shook his head. "I got it under control. Besides, our parents would freak."

Well yeah. "But--".

I think what I missed most about him is the way he could hold me, in his delicate wasted limbs, and make me feel safe. And his kisses. And a million other things.

I should have been stronger. I should have made my objections louder. I should have forced him. I should have realised that, of the many illicit secrets we were keeping together, this one should never have been hidden.

But I was giddy. I was giddy at the joy of being loved, and I was secretly thrilled that I had something so precious hidden away from everybody. We were so happy together, removed from the expectations of our families.

It never begins the same, but the ending never changes. Slowly I could feel myself falling, as I saw the body of my lover slowly fading away, after being struck down in a flash of silver and crimson. But his eyes never looked betrayed.

"I love you Squall," he said softly, before disappearing completely.

I cried in terror and began running away from the slowly moving shadows.

I had not stopped running since.

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END part 2

Author p/s: And don't forget. *points to banner*:http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=154952. Annie D. Check her out. Ha Ha Ha. :D And yes, I do talk to myself.