Untitled Document

The Bloodcross Key: Reversals
by Lady Tempest



Part 11

Seifer blinked. Squall was smiling? At him? Why? Seifer hastily turned back to rummaging through his clothes to hide the warmth blushing his cheeks. His throat tightened and he needed to take a deep breath just to be able to breathe.

Seifer couldn't dare hope he actually cared. Even though Squall had come back as he said he would. Even though he smiled, a rare if not impossible sight. Squall couldn't care. Couldn't. Shouldn't...

A change of clothes bundled in his arms, Seifer turned and fled to the bathroom, passing Squall as if he wasn't there. While he quickly changed into a pale-blue sweater and loose, dark pants, Seifer determined he would force himself to merely tolerate the time duty insisted Squall spend with him. The sooner it was all over the better.

When Seifer exited the bathroom, Squall was sitting on the floor casually emptying the contents of the paper bag. Seifer stood in the doorway, agitated, wanting Squall to leave. Desperately wanting Squall to leave.

"Hey," Squall said, looking up, his beautiful blue-gray eyes peering at Seifer through the tousled fall of his hair.

Seifer's heart spasmed, wrapping the back of his neck in tight heat. Squall was beautiful. So achingly beautiful it hurt. It hurt knowing his deepest dream he could never have; hurt that Squall looked at him with an unwittingly seductive stare. He shuddered, not fully knowing why.

Squall's eyes seemed caught and distant, like he was looking right through Seifer, to the corrupt core of his being, and was too morbidly fascinated to look away. Seifer wrapped his arms around himself, too naked and vulnerable and wanting to hide. Well, if Squall wanted to gawk at something disgusting and pathetic he chose the best example. Seifer just wished there was a lesser one to draw Squall's attention so he didn't have to be tormented by those ocean-blue eyes proving that the man he loved knew he was trash.

Squall suddenly turned away and reached for the bag beside him. Could he finally have reached his limit of what he would do for duty and would leave? Seifer held his breath, hoping Squall would soon be gone. But a part of him, a foolish one, hoped he would stay.

When Squall turned back, he held out a can of rootbeer to Seifer. "It`s not much," he said nodding to the two packages at Seifer's feet. "But it's the best I could do after the lunch rush."

Staring at the can in Squall's hand as if it would explode, Seifer hesitated. The whole scene terrified him in its air of normalcy. Squall was strangely acting like a normal guy; Like he was his friend. Although he knew better than to fall into the trap his heart set, Seifer took the soda, his fingers brushing Squall's in a electric tingle. No fear, or terror, or the sick feeling curdling in his gut when anyone else touched him. Just breath-stopping, heart-pounding warmth.

And in that moment came the grim realization that if not for the nightmare of his punishment and his crimes, in time, Squall's mere touch could heal him of almost anything. And if, by a miracle, Seifer's love could be returned, Squall could rejuvenate his soul, resurrect it from ashes, and rescue his heart from the black pit of despair. Oh, what irony that his salvation was lost to him because he needed saving. To deserve it meant not needing it, and to need it meant he didn't deserve it. However, was there ever a time in his miserable life when he could have been worthy? Without a second's thought, he knew the answer: No.

In a chaotic jumble of despair, self-loathing, and bliss, Seifer slid down the wall to the floor, savoring the warmth sparked at his fingertips flowing lazily through his being. He sat in a daze. Drifting aimlessly in numb sensation and vague thought, he barely noticed Squall handing him one of the packages.

Seifer absently took it as well, holding it loosely in his lap. Squall unwrapped the other and wordlessly began eating the sandwich. Somehow the silence was comforting. No pressure to act normal. No pressure to find words to hide how he felt. No pressure to be strong when he wasn't. The lull would surely end soon enough, but the illusion of acceptance chased away the ghosts tormenting him for at least while the moment lasted.

"Aren't you hungry?" Squall asked, his arm casually draped over an upraised knee, his tight leather pants stretched along his slender thigh like a second skin.

Seifer's hands trembled, fragments of memory and feeling that had once held desire irrationally terrified of himself. Swallowing, his unusually awkward fingers unwrapped the waxed paper in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes lowered.

"Why?"

Seifer couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't know. It just seemed the thing to say. It always seemed just the thing to say. Some way or other he always screwed up, always hurt someone without meaning to, or offended, or wronged. He could never apologize enough.

Squall was quiet for several moments. Setting aside his sandwich, he leaned forward and as if he was about to touch an ungloved hand to Seifer`s bare ankle, he curled it against the carpet inches away. Yet it was more than close enough for Seifer to sense the heat from Squall`s skin, soaking into his own.

"I...I was just wondering if I needed to call Kadowaki. If you weren't feeling well?" Squall said.

Seifer drew his long legs to his chest, unable to bear Squall`s closeness, more for his want of it. "I'm fine."

"Hmm." Squall shrugged, then sat back. "Well, I brought dessert too. Hope the cook got it right. I don't know if anyone can make peach cobbler quite like Matron."

Startled, Seifer's gaze snapped to Squall. "Peach...? You remember that?"

Shrugging again, Squall almost grinned. "I know. Weird the memories that survived the GFs. But the more I avoid using them the more come back to me."

"I'm glad I never really used them. Although sometimes I... wish..." Seifer's deep voice trailed off. "Nevermind."

Squall studied him, a unreadable glint in his beautiful blue eyes. "That was one of the things I always respected about you, that you were strong without them." He paused. "It's also why I avoided the Fire Cavern test for so long. It was bad enough the ones they made us use in class and during training. But to have my own... I don't know..."

"Yeah, duty and all that," Seifer murmured with a trace of bitterness.

"Yeah. It always amused me that the head of the Disciplinary Committee was so `free-spirited' with the rules." Squall flashed him a Squall-smile, wry and subtle. "And here I am, even when I tried to break free a little I still managed to stick to them."

"'Free-spirited'?" Seifer would have laughed if he had any laughter left within him. "Almost sounds like a good thing. I doubt Cid, or Xu, or Quistis would agree. `Problem-student' is more like it..." he muttered.

"We both were given the honor of that title." Squall rolled his eyes. "Maybe if they let us be us instead of trying to push us into a mold of whatever they expected, we wouldn't have been a problem at all."

"Hmm." Seifer glanced away. Maybe Squall would have been fine without the meddling disguised as concern. He certainly turned out fine in spite of it. Acting Headmaster. Commander of SeeD. But Seifer remembered his own life better than Squall remembered his. He would have been a screw-up no matter what. Had been since he could remember. If not, then why had Squall always rejected him? Even as a small child he was a failure, a reject. Seifer frowned as his fingers fidgeted with the wax paper in his lap.

"Did I get it wrong?"

"Huh?" Seifer blinked back to reality and Squall.

"The sandwich," Squall said, gesturing to the untouched food. "I told them extra cheese and hot mustard with Tabasco and no mayo. Is it right?"

Seifer looked down at the sandwich and lifted the top layer of rye bread. The roast beef was slightly pink, just as he liked it and smothered in red-tinted dark yellow spiced mustard. He stared. His hands trembled as his blue eyes ached with rising tears.

How could such a simple thing hurt and yet make him so happy he could cry? Blubber like a silly girl over anything and everything? Stupid! And pathetic. It was just a damn sandwich, and just a damn lunch. And all a coincidence. Squall couldn't have intended it. His favorite soda, his favorite dessert, his sandwich exactly as he liked it. It would imply Squall cared enough to notice or at least find out, that he cared enough to want him happy.

But Seifer knew it couldn't be true. Or if... If it was, Squall shouldn't. Squall should never care. It would hurt too much. Squall, if he didn't already, would realize how worthless and vile he was and then would leave. Would not only stop caring but hate him, like he deserved to be hated. And he couldn't do that to Squall. Couldn't let him care, even a little, for someone so not worth the time and someone only worth disgust and revulsion from the one whom Seifer had already hurt so much; The one whom Seifer never wanted to hurt at all.

Seifer pressed his hands to his face, digging his palms against his eyes, trying to shove back the tears streaming down his cheeks, drowning him in his despair.

"What's wrong?" Squall asked without pause, his voice so dripping with uncharacteristic concern Seifer knew it was pity at best, disguised disgust, at how pathetic he was, more likely.

Seifer's soul wept so violently, his body quaked and he couldn't breathe. Gasping and choking back the sobs he refused to let Squall see, he scrambled to his feet, turning his back coldly to the man he defiled just by loving him.

"You can stop it, you know," Seifer hissed, unsure of where he found the sudden burst of anger, since it all had already been spent on himself.

"Stop what?" Oh, how Squall's sweet whisper made Seifer's rage all the easier and all the more difficult to maintain. Hurt, confusion, concern, fear, were all double-edged blades far more razor-sharp than he kept Hyperion.

"Pretending to be my friend. I don't need your pity and I don't need your phony friendship."

"I'm...I'm not. I..." Bittersweet pain, had he been worthy, Squall's hurt tone would have given him a glimmer of hope.

But he wasn`t worthy. "Whatever."

"I..."

"I don't care why, just stop," Seifer growled. "I don't need your charity. I don't need your friendship." Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks like cold rain down window-glass. "And I don't need you. Just leave me alone." Not giving Squall time to respond, Seifer ran into the bathroom, and collapsed against the door with a loud echoing slam of flesh against wood, against wood.

*******

Squall stared at the shut door, too stunned to blink. Too stunned to move. And too stunned to hurt, although it hovered in a numb haze and tight ache over his heart, within his eyes. What had happened? Had he done something wrong? Seifer had seemed distant, but he had been since his return. Actually, to a lesser degree since his first return, after the war.

`I don't need your friendship. And I don't need you...'

All he wanted was for Seifer to be happy. To be himself again. What could he do? What should he do?

`... I don't need you...'

...And how could he end the pain? Seifer's... ? Squall clenched his eyes against the tears demanding release... And his own?

Seifer thought he was pretending to care, pretending to be his friend. What would show Seifer that wasn't true? He would, could, never fake caring about Seifer. However, not caring? That he had faked for too long. And maybe too well. But never could he pretend to be his friend. Not only would that require social skills he was fully aware he did not possess, but also required a lie so heavy there was no way he could carry it.

Seifer was his friend, his best friend, regardless of whether either of them had realized it or not. But fortunately, Squall had realized it. And hopefully, not too late. So, what could he do?

Squall rose from the floor and stepped nervously toward the bathroom. Leaning back against the wall, beside the door, his mind stumbled through what to say, what to do. Nothing felt right, not that him and feelings were on intimate terms.

His fingers threaded through his thick hair, clenching in frustration. If only it wasn't Seifer he needed to deal with the whole thing would be much easier. Detachment, apathy, and logic worked so well with everyone else. At least from his point of view. But, if it wasn't Seifer, he wouldn't have even been there at all. Damn paradox. Even if his experiences in the war against Ultimecia had taught him otherwise, he still didn't like involving himself in other people's problems. But Seifer wasn't just any other person.

"Seifer, please, talk to me. What did I do?" God, he sounded desperate. And pathetic. When had his icy control over his feelings shattered?

Silence.

"I'm not leaving until we settle this," Squall stated stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest. Thankfully, that sounded more himself, more reserved.

"There's nothing to settle," Seifer said coldly. Well, at least someone was doing a far better imitation of the `Leon-heartless' icy indifference. Damn frustrating that it happened to be Seifer.

Squall sighed, resting back of his head against the wall with a thump. "Seifer, you can't just hide away how you feel. It's not going to just go away." And how many times had someone, well, Quistis mostly, told him that? Before he believed it? Hell, if he wanted to be honest, he still had trouble with the concept.

"Thanks for your concern, Headmaster, but I'm fine. Your duty`s been done, you can go now." God, Seifer could be a cold bastard when he wanted to be. The chill in his voice was practically tangible, enough to cause Squall to shiver; Even through two inches of wood.

Calm, he had to stay calm. "You're not fine, or you wouldn't be holed up in your own bathroom like a coward."

"Fuck you!"

Ah, progress and a sweet glimmer of the Seifer he knew and loved. A pleased smirk twitched at Squall`s lips. "Come out and try, Almasy!" he taunted, turning his head to the door, his cheek brushing against the warm leather on his shoulder.

There was a long pause. "Just go away, Leonhart," Seifer finally snapped.

"I never took the Great Sorceress' Knight for being a coward." Leather creaked against leather as his finger tapped patiently on his forearm.

Silence.

The tapping ceased. Shit! Had he pushed too far? The old Seifer would never have let anyone talk to him like that, even Squall. The old Seifer would already be in his face with such a foul string of curses sailors would blush, if not just plain strangling him. Either would be more than welcome if it meant Seifer was Seifer again, even for a moment.

"I thought you were better than that. Actually, I know you're better than that."

"No, I'm not," Seifer choked. Was he crying? "Now go away."

"Prove it."

Another pause. "What?"

"I said, `prove it'." Squall couldn't help the slight smile creeping across his face. He had found the magic button. He sensed it. Clear and electrifying, like lightning crackling along his skin. "You see, the Seifer I know was the best fighter in Garden, probably in most of the world. Courageous, to a fault and the most arrogant bastard you'd ever meet. He'd never let anyone call him a coward. He'd never be a coward. But you seem to think he is one. As his rival, I take offense at that." He paused to let the words sink in and to fight back the satisfied grin struggling to break free. "So in defense of his honor and mine, I have to challenge you to a duel."

The door opened and Seifer just stared at him, his gorgeous aqua eyes wet and breathtakingly vivid from the redness of tears. "What...?"

Still suppressing a grin, Squall tugged one of his gloves from his jacket pocket and slapped Seifer in the chest with it. By tradition, it should be the cheek, but Seifer had suffered too much shame as it was. And he'd much rather have the bare skin of his hand against Seifer's cheek, than his glove. His gaze followed Seifer's high cheekbones and the smooth, pale flesh to his reddened lips, living satin and warm. Squall could almost feel their heat just by looking. Breath panting through kissable pink...

Squall bit his lip. Damn dreams! Forcing himself back to the moment, he Lifted his chin arrogantly, and without hint of the chuckle hovering in his throat, said coldly, "Seifer Almasy, I challenge you. If you win, then you have proved that Seifer is the honorless, unworthy coward you think he is, and if I win, then I have defended Seifer's honor and proven he is better than you think he is."

Seifer`s golden brows narrowed, his eyes an intense electric blue. "That makes no damn sense."

Squall glared at him with equal intensity, yet darker and softer. "Neither does you being worthless."

Seifer blinked. "I... never...said..."

"You didn't have to."

(end Part 11)
(tbc)