Prequel to Star Light
+ By Julie
+ rated NC-17 for explicit sexual scenes
+ yaoi content. Male/male having sex, getting each other off
+ Parings: Squall/Seifer
+ Disclaimer: I do own Zell but its just a cute toy chicken. Otherwise, I don't own any of the characters or anything else.... *le sigh*
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+ Chapter 2: Homosexuality Issues +~***~
Bret woke up in the early morning. The rays of the sunrise seeping their way past the parted curtains and onto the bed Bret lay in. Reaching over to grab the body that was supposed to be in bed with him, Bret realized he was alone.
Frowning, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around the dark bedroom.
The walls were wood, and old. The floor, wood as well, was covered with a deep-red throw rug that was actually fairly new. Aside from the broken dresser and nightstand, and the creaking full-size bed, the room's decorations were new and expensive. The large TV along with DVD player and a good number of DVDs. The stereo system with a lot of CDs shelved next to it. The camcorder set, and the computer in the adjacent corner to the bed. Then of course, Seifer's guitar and amp sitting at the end of the bed.
And what people were most surprised by in the room were the large number of books. Seifer, the owner of the bedroom, actually liked to read. Didn't seem the type.
Pushing off the heavy, warm blankets, Bret stood. He quickly leaned over and picked up his pair of jeans from the red carpet, pulling them on. Looking around for his shirt, Bret saw Seifer's trench coat and couldn't help but reach over and pick it up.
Pulling the suede coat on, Bret walked to the closed bedroom door as the floor creaked loudly.
Stepping out into the hallway, Bret listened for sounds of Seifer's foster parents. Last thing he wanted was to come face to face with one of those two assholes. They weren't supposed to be home, but still. Yet nothing came, so Bret made his way out to the front porch - where Seifer liked to sit in the mornings.
Crossing the dismal living room, the floorboards still creaking, Bret absently reached into one of the coat pockets. Feeling a money-clip, Bret couldn't resist pulling it out to see how much Seifer had made last night at that rich-kid's party.
Bret was forced to stop walking when he saw a piece of paper fall from the trench coat pocket after he'd pulled the money out.
Sighing, Bret leaned down and picked up the paper:
Squall Leonhart - (563) 814-9576
"The fuck?" Bret mumbled, frowning at the paper.
Closing his eyes, he put the money back into the pocket and crumbled the phone number into his hand, holding it tightly.
Seifer sat on the old front porch, beer in his hand. He wore only a pair of faded blue jeans and Nike shoes that weren't laced up. It was early, but he'd gotten used to drinking like this when he was 15. Drinking was about the only thing that kept him sane living in the dump of a house.
He'd tried to move out, or at least he'd looked for apartments to move into. Every place it was the same thing: he was too young, didn't have a steady job, and wasn't even out of high school. Not a good thing to let some low-life kid move into an apartment alone.
He even looked at some rooms in different houses around this part of Esthar - Old-Town - but it wouldn't have changed his situation. Still a dump of a place, still crack-heads running around the house, and still people abusing their children.
Seifer's foster-father wasn't a good man. And his foster-mother was almost never straight. Constant drinking and drug abuse. Oblivious or uncaring of the physical abuse Seifer suffered at the hand's of his father.
Not that it was as bad as it used to be. Seifer had grown into a large teenager. Seifer did look about 20, and he was nicely built. His temper wasn't as bad as his foster-father's, but it was getting there. And most of the fights he got into with his father now ended quickly, after a few exchanges of their fists.
Sipping the beer, Seifer watched the sunrise over the rickety houses that scattered the rest of the neighborhood. Dogs on chains barked, mostly at nothing, some at the few people sleeping on the streets.
Yes, it was a very bad neighborhood. Seifer had bars on the windows into his room, and a bolt that locked his bedroom door. He might live in a shit-hole, but he refused to live like a low-life, white trash bastard. Though his father had called him that time and again.
So Seifer's room held a lot of expensive things that he'd bought with the money from being in Blood Kiss. He didn't want to buy new furniture until he moved, it was pointless to right now really.
The front door creaked open, but Seifer knew who it was. His foster parents were off somewhere else for the weekend.
"Seif," Bret said in a low tone, stepping out of the house.
Seifer could tell Bret was pissed, but he wouldn't jump to his knees and ask his boyfriend what was wrong. Seifer just ignored the tone, watching the sun continue its rise as he took another gulp of his beer.
Bret sat down next to Seifer on the porch, his arms wrapped around himself.
"What?" Seifer asked, pretending now to just notice Bret's mood.
Bret looked over to Seifer then shrugged. "Nothing."
Seifer nodded, looking back to watching the sunrise.
Walking into the room, Laguna paused noticing that his son was sitting outside on the back porch. Walking over to the glass wall that separated in from out, Laguna frowned, wondering why his son would be outside his room, let alone the house on a Saturday.
Folding the newspaper he was holding, Laguna pushed the sliding glass door to the side then stepped outside. The cool morning air immediately rushed forward and swept Laguna into a moment of oblivion.
Breathing the air in through his nose, Laguna opened his eyes and smiled. "Beautiful morning, Squallie."
Squall looked up from the stone bench he was sitting on. "Daddy..."
Laguna smiled down at his son, walking the few paces to the boy. "Outside on a Saturday?" He raised his eyebrows, looking amused.
Squall turned his attention from his father to look out over the huge yard. Living at the Palace did have its perks. Like a beautiful garden that was a good 15 acres. It was fenced off of course, the huge white-colored brick wall that surrounded the Palace swept back and blocked the garden off from the rest of the city. It was the President's home, after all. Though sometimes it didn't feel like a home.
With all the strange people walking through the house, talking about governing and peace treaties, the Palace was more like a second Royal Office.
"Yes," Squall replied softly, letting his eyes watch the wind blowing through the beautiful deep-green grass.
Laguna sat down next to Squall, newspaper under his left arm. He too looked over the yard, smiling at its beauty. "Quite beautiful. And peaceful," Laguna said, then he turned to Squall and added "I'm surprised you don't sit out here more. With how much you like your solitude."
Turning back to the garden, Laguna continued, filling in the silence he knew his son would let grow. "Maybe you'd like to invite some friends over one night this week." He looked over to his son again. "Maybe have dinner out here. The night sky is quite beautiful, and the lights set up through the garden are bright enough to allow teenagers to run around."
"Friends?" Squall said softly, not taking his eyes off the rippling grass.
Laguna sighed. "Yes. You know, those people that talk to you everyday, even when you don't go looking for them. Those people that take an active interest in you."
Squall slowly turned his gaze from the garden to meet his father's eyes. "Dinner for two?"
"I am not your only friend, Squallie," Laguna said, shaking his head.
Squall cocked his head to the side, blinking once before speaking again. "...Only one that meets description, daddy." His tone stayed soft, almost dead sounding. It flowed, of course, but the words sounded hollowed.
Laguna nodded, scooting over to sit closer to his son. He wrapped his arm over Squall's shoulders and looked back out to the garden. "Just... invite some people over from one of your classes, ne?" He looked down to his son. "Some people you could withstand for more then a few seconds. Invite someone over! I ... don't like seeing you alone like this."
"Don't feel bad," Squall replied, moving his gaze back to the beautiful garden. "I don't care I'm alone."
Laguna sighed, leaning his head against Squall's. "But you aren't alone. You've got to realize that there are people who do actually want to be your friend. ... It's not healthy!"
Laguna pulled up, letting his hand drop to Squall's lower back. "A boy your age, no friends let alone girlfriends!"
Squall didn't bother replying.
"Hyne above! Are you even interested in sex? I thought you were," Laguna said, shaking his head. "Do you masturbate anymore?"
Squall turned to look at his father, locking eyes with the older man's on purpose. Squall didn't want to have this sort of conversation, so the best way to get rid of Laguna was to embarrass him.
"You want to watch?" Squall asked, his tone dead, expression blank.
Laguna pulled back his arm, blushing slightly. "That was an accident, and you know it!"
"You stood there," Squall replied. "I had to ask you to leave."
"I was stunned! I'm sorry!" Laguna said, turning a shade darker red.
Squall's head titled to the side slightly. "Did you want to help?"
Laguna stood up, glaring down at Squall. "Damn it! You know I didn't... I didn't even mean to see that! I couldn't look at you for a month after I walked in on you...doing that!"
"At least you knock now," Squall mumbled, turning back to look at the garden.
"All I want is for you to have friends and... you accuse me of-!" Laguna's eyes widened when Squall turned back yet again to meet his father's gaze.
Squall's lips parted, him about to speak but Laguna held up his right hand.
"Don't!" Laguna said loudly. "I don't want to know... Mother of the Divine!" Laguna shook his head, turning to walk back into the house. "Can't even have a decent conversation..." he muttered, opening the sliding glass doors.
Squall turned back to the garden again, back in his solitude. He'd gotten ride of his father easily enough. And now he was able to go back to thinking about the garden. His mother's garden.
Ellone glanced up from her TV-trance. Her favorite show, Moon Fame - Search for Stars, was on. But her father walking through the room had distracted her from the commercials.
She noticed Laguna was slightly flustered.
"Dad?" Ellone said, frowning at the man while muting the TV.
Laguna stopped and looked over to his daughter. "Don't talk to Squall today."
Ellone smiled, holding back a laugh. "He mean to you, dad?"
Laguna shook his head. "Will that boy ever have friends?!"
"Donno," Ellone replied, shrugging. "I tried to get him to go on a date with Teresa, but... he was just an asshole like always."
"It's not healthy," Laguna said. "A boy his age not even interested in going to the movies with friends."
Ellone sighed, standing up. "I'll talk to him... where is he?"
"On the backyard porch," Laguna replied, moving to continue to his home-office. "He's not being nice, though!"
Squall sat on his huge king-sized bed, looking out the window. It was 1 in the afternoon, but no one had knocked on his bedroom door to ask if he wanted lunch.
Apparently his family had had enough of him this morning.
All Squall had wanted to do was sit outside and look at his mother's garden. It was a simple task, requiring no participation by anyone else. But after the brief conversation with his father, Squall's sister had come outside to speak with him.
In all fairness, Squall had been zoned out. He hadn't meant to ignore his sister for 10 minutes before realizing she was outside lecturing him on how to relate to people. Squall honestly hadn't meant to piss her off, he had just been deep in thought. And over the years he'd learned how to numb out his sister's voice.
Squall wasn't hungry right now anyway. And the only reason he was back in his room was that people didn't bother him as much when he was in here. They forgot about Squall, or at least knew not to bother him. Outside his room, apparently people thought Squall wanted attention. When he didn't want anything.
Being outside, watching his mother's garden - Squall had done that because he kept thinking about his mother. Over and over, though she was a vague memory for Squall. Her face barely etched its way into Squall's mind, and her voice had faded into dejavu, though he could still remember her perfume - he kept a bottle of it in his top dresser drawer.
What had brought on Squall's thoughts about his mother? It was soon. Next week, though Squall didn't think about it. Didn't realize, when his inner-mind knew. Next week on the 19th.
He didn't hear the knock. Nor the voice. The sound of his bedroom door opening was what snapped Squall out of his gaze.
"Sir," it was the butler, a 25 year old man. Though he didn't look much like a butler, instead he should have been playing Blitz Ball or something of that sort.
Squall turned to look at the man, waiting for the reason of the intrusion.
The man crossed the room to Squall's bed, holding out the telephone.
Squall looked at the man blankly before slowly reaching up and taking the phone.
"From a Mr. Seifer Almasy, sir," the butler informed.
Seifer Almasy? ... Sei?
Squall nodded, waiting for the butler to leave.
After watching the door close, Squall brought the phone to his ear saying softly "Hello?" in his normal soft voice.
"Squall, right?" the strong voice on the other end of the phone said.
Squall didn't reply, waiting for the conversation to get somewhere.
"From the party last night," Seifer said. "I was the blonde you were staring at."
"Drooling over," Squall replied in a quiet and slow voice, remembered the full details of the blonde body.
The voice on the other end of the phone chuckled. "Yeah. So, what are you doing this Tuesday?"
"School," Squall replied in his monotone voice.
"What time's school get out?" Seifer perused.
Squall blinked, realizing in a sudden shocked moment that the guy on the other end of the phone intended to make plans for a date between the two of them. "3:25," he answered, his voice softening to a gentle tone.
"I get out at 3, so... if you tell me where to pick you up, I can take you out to an early dinner," Seifer continued.
With no hesitation, Squall found himself oddly willing. "St. Draigh's School of Honors."
There was a pause, then Seifer said "Off of Sorceress Avenue?"
St. Draigh's School of Honors was the most prestigious school in all of Esthar. And only the richest kids went to the private school, which cost 38,200 Gil a quarter for live-at-home students. (Dorm-students paid 47,630 Gil per quarter.) Aside from the price was the status-quo GPA, curriculum, and all around reputation.
"Yes," Squall replied.
"It's a 40 minute drive, so I'll pick you up at 4, that alright?" Seifer said, the shock completely dissipated from his tone.
"Yes," Squall repeated.
"I have a Dodge Ram pick-up," Seifer said. "Older, but in good condition. ... Look for me."
Squall nodded once to himself, forgetting to give a verbal reply.
"See you then?" Seifer asked, his tone not showing any sign of uncertainty.
Squall found that strange. Most people, even the ones that knew him, were confused by his lack of interest. Sometimes getting impressions of displeasure from Squall's asshole-personality. But Seifer wasn't turned off.
"Yes," Squall repeated the word again.
"Bye," Seifer said, his voice amused.
Again, Squall found that strange. And he held no answer to explain Seifer's disposition.
"Good bye," Squall replied then turned the phone off.
He looked down at the cordless phone in his hands, trying to think of a reason Seifer would be amused. If anything, Seifer should have been uncertain about the conversation. Uncertain of whether Squall really wanted the date. But that wasn't the case. Which was off from anyone else Squall had ever met.
Standing up, Squall crossed the room to the door. Outside his room stood the butler, waiting to retrieve the phone.
After handing the butler the phone, Squall slipped back into his room, shutting himself back into solitude.
He walked back to his bed, crawling over it to look out the window once again. Except this time he found his thoughts trailing to what his father had said earlier in the day. About how the garden was a nice place for a dinner party.
Squall couldn't imagine the looks on his family's faces if he brought Seifer home for a romantic dinner outside in the backyard. Even if his family was dense enough not to realize Seifer was his date, they'd be astonished that Squall would even bring a friend over.
But the beauty of the garden and the serene peace of the night air began to win over any ridicule he might receive.
That was, of course, if he went out with Seifer a second time. He'd just exist in his life until Tuesday came, then Squall would see whether or not it would be worth dating. His father and sister seemed to believe that Squall should have started dating a while ago.
Seifer sat in the backseat of the Ford Taurus next to Thoran. He clicked the cell-phone off, smiling.
"Where the hell are you going to take him?" Victor asked from the front passenger seat. "Some rich kid from the Upper-side, and you're going to take him to dinner?!"
"C'mon, now," Seifer replied, looking past the back of the seat to glare at Victor. "I've got a date. With the hottest guy I've ever seen. Who gives a fuck where I've got to take him?! I've money to burn."
Seifer flopped back into the seat heavily.
"Thought you were saving up for an apartment," Thoran said.
Seifer shook his head. "I've hella money in my account for that. I just can't find a fucking apartment complex that'll take me!"
"I can't believe you dumped Bret that quickly," Victor mumbled from his front seat.
Seifer turned to frown at the back of the singer's head. "What do you care?!"
Victor turned around to look to the back seats. "He was a nice guy. And cute. He was worth a little more effort. And now you're chasing after some rich kid who's decided to go slumming."
Seifer's lips parted, his hands open slight shock. He then closed his mouth and pointed at Victor. "Squall happened to think I was hot. He practically came in his pants when he saw me!"
Gregory (the who'd been driving during the conversation) and Thoran laughed quietly.
Seifer then reached to pull his cigarettes from his breast pocket. "Don't be a dick, Victor. You like Bret so much," Seifer moved to put a cigarette to his lips, lighting a match. "you go out with him."
Seifer shook the flames from the match then tossed the charred stick out of the open side-window.
Victor turned to sit straight in his chair. "You're a fucking lousy boyfriend," he mumbled, glaring at the passing cars.
Seifer blew smoke from his mouth, turning to frown at Thoran. He motioned to Victor with his free hand, continuing the frown.
Thoran smiled, shrugging his reply.
"What is the longest you've ever gone out with someone?!" Victor snapped from the front.
Seifer took a deep drag from his cigarette before replying. "Three weeks?"
"Dumb shit," Victor muttered softly.
Seifer leaned forward in the seat, wrapping one up and around the chair to rest his hand on Victor's chest. "What is your problem?"
Victor didn't flinch from Seifer's touch. He just turned his head to meet Seifer's gaze. "Just fuck off."
Seifer smirked at Victor, caressing his fingers over the singer's chest, careful not to drop the cigarette between his fingers. "What is it, sweetheart? Think I'm unfair to my boyfriends?"
"Do you give anyone a chance?" Victor asked, ignoring the flirting.
Seifer's smirk widened. "Sweetheart, I had no idea!" He moved his free hand to touch Victor's chin. "What? You want me to give you a chance?"
Victor turned away, looking out the passenger window. "Fucking... urgh."
Seifer leaned forward more, wrapping both arms around Victor's chest. "Victor?" he purred.
"Hey, you two stop flirting," Gregory said, turning the car around the corner. "We're stopping for lunch here. There's Hazen's truck."
Seifer pulled from Victor to sit back into his cushioned seat before taking another drag from his cigarette.
The Ford Taurus pulled into Berger King parking lot, stopping in a parking space next to an older Chevrolet truck which was packed with amps, a drum set, and other such equipment.