See first chapter for details.
Sorry this took so long. Erg.
A Fate Worse Than Death
Chapter 11
Squall:
Fishing, as it turned out, was fun. Sort of.
It started out all right, anyway, but things went downhill when Raijin actually caught something, and then dropped it on the deck, right next to Seifer.
Who promptly stepped on it.
And it was thus that I found myself in the hallway, walking to our dorm, and straining to keep an injured Seifer upright. He was very heavy, especially when soaking wet, and I had a sneaking suspicion that he was leaning on me a bit more than was necessary.
The suspicion was confirmed when he started licking my neck, the hand not slung around my shoulders inching up under my shirt to caress my stomach. I tired to glare at him, but he wouldn't let me turn my head.
"Seifer," I growled, hoping he'd get the message. Needless to say, he didn't, and only tickled my stomach in response. I hissed, lost my balance, and fell sideways, crumpling under his weight.
"Shit, Leonhart! I'm injured, here!"
Bastard.
I didn't bother to grace that with a response, and shoved him off of me, glaring full force. He had the sense to wince.
"I was trying to help you, but in order to do so you need to stop trying to have sex with me in the hallway, Almasy." He grinned infuriatingly, crawling to where I sat.
"But you're so pretty," he whined, hand reaching up to cup my face, and I tried to crawl backwards, but couldn't.
Stupid walls.
"How can you blame me for wanting to touch you?" He was leaning closer, now, lips hovering inches away. I wasn't sure what was going on, and was even less sure of what I wanted to do about it. Emeralds glowed from beneath golden lashes, spiky with ocean water. Everything smelt faintly of fish.
"You're injured, Seifer," I reminded him, indicating to the sprained ankle, "You're in no shape to seduce anyone, least of all me." He didn't move, though; remaining half-rested on my legs, chin on my chest. Did pain make people act this weird? I couldn't hurt that much. The lazy grin remained on his features.
"C'mon, Squally, you know you want me. I'm just cold, and for the first time in forever, you're warm." Arms were wrapped around my waist, and lips pressed once again against my throat. For some inane reason, I didn't want to move. Hyne, I hated hormones.
Regardless of my body's opinion, I pushed Seifer off of me, climbing to my feet. He frowned up at me from the floor. I sighed.
"All right," I gave in, "Just keep off of me until we get back to the dorm, and then you can…" I frowned, not wanting to say it. This was too weird. Why was I feeling like this? What was it about Seifer? He was an asshole, the Energizer Bunny of sex [1], and I hated him. Right?
…
No. Not anymore. Now…now I was his friend, and vice versa. And apparently more. I shrugged, leaning down and clasping his hand. I gave a heave, dragged him to his feet, and situated myself so that I was once more supporting him.
"And I can…?" Seifer prompted, leaning around to look at me with a lecherous grin.
"Go fuck yourself," I finished sourly, and the hand around my waist tightened. Seifer sighed, leaning closer, and all thoughts of sex seemed to disappear from his features.
"Hold you, right?" He asked softly, and I blinked, taken aback by this sudden change in attitude. This was just weird, that Seifer wanted things like that from me; that he seemed perfectly content with no sex, with just being near me.
What made me so special? Why was I the one he felt so attracted to, when every girl and the occasional male in this school would sleep with him in a heartbeat?
Whatever. I didn't care what it was that made me different, so long as I was. Strange as it was to admit it, I liked Seifer, and I was gay (apparently), and being held by him didn't sound as bad as it once had.
I gave a soft sigh, shifting so as to better balance his weight.
"Yeah," I avowed, starting to walk again, "you can…hold me."
3rd Person:
Seifer hit the bed with a groan, glaring up at Squall, who didn't have the energy to glare back. He stood to one side, his breathing labored, and the blonde mock-pouted.
"C'mon, Leonhart. I'm not that fat." He whined, moving so as to give his companion room to sit. The gesture, however, went unnoticed, or perhaps ignored. Either way, Squall didn't move; legs splayed to keep him upright.
"No," he confirmed, "You're all muscle, which is even heavier." Green eyes were rolled at this response, and a gloved hand reached for the brunette.
"You promised," Seifer reminded him with a grin, and the pale youth gave a small frown, and then shrugged in defeat. He fell onto the mattress, arms flung outwards as he stared at the ceiling. Sound caught his attention, and Squall turned.
The blonde was removing his trench coat and blue vest, dumping them off the side of the bed before turning back to his companion. An arm snaked over pale skin, curling around and under as he pulled the Lion closer and the other hand went to Seifer's mouth, where he tugged off the glove with his teeth. The naked hand then glided over alabaster features, through the silken silver-brown hair, and Squall let himself relax, just a little. Seifer smiled.
"See?" He whispered, inching closer, "It's not so bad to be touched." Golden fingers slid across darkened eyelids, smoothing out small creases that hadn't been there a few days before, then down the smooth arch of Squall's nose, where they lingered over soft lips.
Squall was tired, mortally tired. Seifer could see it now, in the way there was no resistance, no glare at his intrusions. This whole situation was having more of a toll on the young man than had he realized. The blonde sighed, and dropped his hand. He wouldn't take advantage of this, not now.
The gloveless hand went instead to the brunette's chest, where it proceeded to pull off the bomber jacket, and then the gloves. Squall only sighed, and Seifer frowned. He should be dead, for touching the Lion like that, but all that resulted was a sigh? Poor kid.
Sitting up, Seifer next stripped off the combat boots, and then the socks, watching as the too-pretty feet curled in on themselves from the sudden cold. He resisted the urge to tickle them.
When he was done down there, he lay back down, not even considering removing the leather pants. Strong arms went around the slender waist once more, and Seifer snuggled closer, careful not to jar his ankle. After they'd rested, he would talk to Squall.
In two hours time Squall had woken up once more, but this wasn't unusual. Erratic insomnia had plagued him for the better part of his life; gone some nights only to return full-force the next. It was nightmares that kept him from sleeping, that kept him hidden inside his mind surrounded by diamonds that glittered with Shiva's calming smile.
And it was so once more. The brunette sat upright, staring out of the window lit by neon glow with unseeing eyes.
Ah, my Lion, it has been so long, a sigh of wintery breezes behind the ice-blue orbs, and inside himself the slender youth smiled. Hands on familiar glass once more, his skin flushed in the cold.
Skin against his on the outside, and words muffled by a distance unseen to outsiders. Shiva smiled, the Ice Queen instead of the Frost Sprite; guardian instead of friend.
Already, he has done so much to change you, she murmured, pale skin glittering in the eternal sway of her body, and you doubted my word, cubling. For shame; disbelief in your own deity. Blue lips twitched in a smile, a slip in the ethereal mask, but Squall ignored it, as was expected of him.
I, he began, attempting an explanation. But what was he supposed to tell her? He hadn't believed her at first, and well… Squall frowned. He still didn't believe her. This was just a weird phase…it had to be.
Right?
Something curled around his waist, an imitation of entrapment, but there was no panic, no burning of his skin. At least, no unpleasant burning of his skin. The brunette sighed.
No, this was not a phase. Whatever it was, 'phase' was not a correct term. It seemed that he had been correct on the plateau, when the rain and the thunderstorms had tricked him into realizing the truth, the truth that Seifer…wasn't as bad as he seemed.
Squall's frown deepened. He hated to admit it, but to be completely honest, he sort of…
You want to kiss him again…It was almost taunting, sing-song and lighthearted on the other side of the ice, and the brunette glared at his goddess.
Or he would have, had he not started to fall backwards, arms clamped to his sides by some unknown force. It didn't even occur to the youth to struggle, only to open his eyes, and find himself staring into a sea of green and gold.
Lips were pressed against his own, a tongue against his teeth, and more through instinct that actual admittance, Squall opened his mouth and allowed it to enter. He felt Seifer smile, and push closer, crushing him into the mattress as his lips were bruised with the force of the kiss. The tongue in his mouth slid further, almost to the back of his throat, pressed against the roof and the caverns of his mouth, and the brunette felt his body arch in an attempt to get closer.
The butterflies had returned, wings fluttering against his stomach, and his skin burned with pleasure; so different from the pain before. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, but he also didn't want to.
Then cool hands were on his stomach, caressing the taut skin and sliding upwards, calluses eliciting delicious sensations on the sensitive flesh. Squall's breathing was suddenly labored, heaving as Seifer's lips left his own to map the pale throat and nip at the collarbone that rose and fell sharply as he gasped.
Fire raced through his nerves, running down to the hands that splayed over his chest, dancing over his nipples, and the heat continued down, much further down.
"Seifer…" Squall gasped; pushing at the other man, "Seifer, stop…" he hadn't expected it to work. Truth be told, the brunette had almost expected the taller man to rape him right there, but he didn't. The hands stopped, the lips pulled back, and the butterflies slept once more. He could breathe again, and glare.
He took advantage of both opportunities, but the other man only smiled lazily, and shrugged in that arrogant way that only he could do.
"What?" he asked, all innocence, "You went all cold again, and wouldn't respond when I called, so I had to try…" he paused, "…something else." He finished with a wink, all previous worries about the younger man seemingly forgotten, and winced a bit as he shifted from his position above Squall.
Concern flashed through the brunette for Seifer's ankle, followed closely by anger at his actions. Then lust, and concern again. Anger, lust. Concern. Lust. Anger. Lust. Lust. Lust.
Stop it. Squall reprimanded himself, and took a shuddering breath. Before he could say anything (which was just was well, since had had nothing to say), Seifer spoke again.
"Anyway, I just thought I'd tell you that I need to go to the bathroom, and I still can't walk," he moved to the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at the scowling teen, "care to join me?" Squall's scowl deepened.
"I hate you," It didn't even sound convincing to himself, and Seifer only smiled again, leaning back to press another quick kiss against soft lips.
"Oh, I doubt that," he whispered, his voice suddenly free of all mockery, "now come here and help me to the bathroom, Squally-boy." He beckoned, lecherous grin returning full force.
Seifer:
So I was a bastard; what else is new? I knew I was screwing with his mind, confusing him beyond repair, but my body didn't seem to listen to my conscience's weak protests; choosing instead to jump on Squall at every opportunity.
I hadn't forgotten my observation, though. I knew how tired the boy was, and how much this drained him, and I had come to the decision that I was going to help him.
By falling in love with him.
I mean, it wasn't as if I wasn't already halfway there. I was certainly attracted to Leonhart, and he was also one of the few people that managed to make me feel pity and guilt and all those other (usually annoying) feelings. So, trying not to drag us both to the floor as I limped to the bathroom with Squall as my crutch, I attempted to figure out how the hell I was going to get the Ice Prince to return my feelings.
And got nothing. How did you melt a glacier with only a small lighter, or crack an icy heart without shattering it completely? This was definitely not going to be easy; it would be a very precise operation, either complete failure or complete mental breakdown on Squally-boy's part. But it would be worth it, assuming I did it right.
Blue eyes watched me critically as I thought, glowing with some unknown and rare expression. I felt myself shifted with a tiny movement of the strong arms; far stronger than anyone would have guessed when taking into consideration the size of the guy.
"You're being quiet." It was quiet itself, a whisper all that was needed to propel the words the short distance between us. Yet Squall looked suspicious, eyebrows drawn sharply together in an image that contradicted the intimacy of the moment. I grinned, knowing it drove him insane, but tried to soften it at the same time. The scowl didn't change, no increase or decrease. Better than nothing.
"Just thinking," I sighed, leaning against his unusual warmth as he reached for the bathroom door. I didn't want him to let me go, as girly as that sounded. The arm around my waist kept slipping lower (with some assistance, of course), and my mind was hard-pressed to keep to clean thoughts. I'd lost count of how many days I'd been practicing abstinence.
Then, quite suddenly, all support was gone, and an explosion in my ankle and small white aftershocks across my vision resulted from the unexpected loss.
Fuck, my ankle hurt!
I turned on Leonhart, my hands clutching at the doorframe.
"What the he-"
The sentence was abruptly cut off as I stared, curiosity replacing anger and pain. Squall was staring at me, horror written in wide blue-grey eyes and parted lips. Slender hands on my shoulders, hips, traveling down to gently caress my ankle, shimmering green and soothing. I sighed blissfully, and then winced when I tried to move my injured limb. Leonhart hissed.
"I'm sorry," he apologized hurriedly, "I lost my grip, and…your ankle." The brief lethargy of another Cure [2], and he grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet, "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" The concern was gone, at least in appearance, and was replaced by an analytical seriousness. I ignored the question, focusing more on bare skin against mine and the cool fingers gripping my hipbones. My hand, of its own accord, slid down the exposed line of his spine. I felt Squall stiffen in surprise, and then relax when the gentile touches were replaced by a more substantial palm, running across pale flesh.
"I'm fine," I told the curve of his neck, enjoying the near-taste of his skin, so close to my mouth. Silver-brown hair shifted as he looked at me sidelong, his own hand tightening on my waist.
Then I remembered exactly how badly I had to piss. A swift touch of my lips against his jaw line, and I hopped into the bathroom, trusting Squall to remain just outside the door or face certain suffocation.
There was no tug in my mind, no cough from outside, and in a few moments I reemerged, grasping at walls and any solid objects capable of carrying my weight in the stead of my leg.
I had almost begun to resent being injured until those hands wrapped once more around my waist, and Leonhart helped Poor Wounded Me back to bed. A brief concern over my comfort, and then he was next to me, back facing my front as per usual, perhaps a bit closer than strictly necessary. He didn't object when I pulled him closer, arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
But then, he never did.
Morning saw me awake once more, two days from rejoining my peers in class and smelling of fish. I hated that smell. Looking to Squall, I was surprised to find that he was still asleep; legs curled up against his stomach and head tucked into his chest. My hand was clutched in his.
I didn't want to disturb him, but the fish smell was getting out of hand, and I desperately needed a shower. I leaned over the boy, pulling my hand out of his to shake him gently. He groaned, muttered something that sounded like 'sex'.
So, never one to disappoint, I rolled him onto his back and proceeded to press kisses down his nose, then to his lips, his throat and over his exposed chest.
Leonhart shot upright, hands warding me away from his body as he was shaken from his sleep. The first thing he did when he looked at me was glare.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, voice flat and just a little strained. I felt a smile pull at my lips, and shuffled closer, liking the feel of his skin against mine. He watched me warily, but didn't move. Good.
"You were the one who said 'sex'," I pointed out, deliberately ignoring the large voice of reason that denied this. You'd think someone would remember asking for that. Squall apparently didn't, however, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"I said 'a sec'." He didn't look amused.
"Well, then you need to speak more clearly," I informed him, just a little disappointed. I really wanted to have sex.
"Well you," Leonhart's annoyed look disappeared as he cocked his head to the side, and the urge to molest him resurfaced. I controlled it. Barely.
"Need a shower," he finished, taking a deep breath, "you smell like fish."
Oh, yeah.
"Right," I agreed, suddenly all-too-aware of the overpowering smell, "Help me?"
I usually hated to have to ask for help. It was stupid, and I was always capable of doing things myself, most often better than anyone else could. Something about Squall changed that, though. Asking him for help wasn't that bad, because he wouldn't gloat about it, or take advantage of my weakness. Though, I sort of wished he would.
He sighed, and slid off of the bed before he turned and beckoned. I acquiesced to his command, sliding to the edge of the bed and placing my good leg on the floor. Arms around my waist again, pulling me to my feet. I didn't really want to ever get better.
A few moments later, and we were in the bathroom, Squall sliding to the floor while I stripped, his head on his knees. I was a bit disappointed that he wasn't watching, but I also wasn't so mean as to try to make him. Even I had some tact.
It took a few moments of calculating, but I was finally able to get myself into the shower without hurting anything. The shampoo was a welcome relief from the fish smell, and I lathered my hair happily from where I sat at the bottom of the shower, even more happily running the soap over my body and effectively ridding myself of the smell. I struggled to my feet, turned the shower off, and stuck my hand out of the shower.
I didn't even have to say anything before a towel was placed in my fingers, and I wrapped it around myself and slid out of the shower. Squall was standing uncertainly by the sink, eyes focused on something I couldn't see, just over my shoulder. I shuffled over and poked his chest, watching the stormy eyes settle on my face. I smiled down at him.
"Your turn," I indicated to the shower, "You smell kinda like fish too." He frowned.
"Only because you were clinging to me," he said, though it was more a statement than an accusation. I shrugged.
"Doesn't change the fact that it still smells like a sushi bar in here." The frown deepened, and it was then that I noticed how his left arm was hidden carefully behind his back, a tiny bit of bandage showing on the upper arm. I met Leonhart's gaze, despite his attempts to avoid mine, and reached forward to tug on the arm. He glared, and I sighed.
I almost wanted to ask him why he did things like this if he hated the aftereffects so much. Was he just upset because he was still alive? Did he think he was incompetent for failing to…kill himself? I ignored the memories that were resurfacing, instead pulling the arm forward and starting to unwrap the bandages. Squall looked distinctly uncomfortable. He shifted sideways, eyes flickering uneasily from his arm to my face.
"Ah..." Leonhart protested, but that seemed to be all he could say. I frowned.
"You'll have to see it someday," I reminded him, trying not to remember why he had the scars. It was useless, though. Why would anyone try to kill themselves? Was he really that unhappy with life? How could anyone want to die so much, but then hate the mark of the attempt?
I should have been angry, should have yelled at him; asked him how death could be better than living. But instead I was just…depressed. I didn't want to ask him why. I didn't want to hear his answer, so instead I wrapped my arms around his pale torso, burying my face in his neck. The arm was dropped back to his side, bandages trailing the floor.
Not for the first time, I vowed that I was going to make sure he never wanted to attempt such a thing again. He was going to fall in love with me, just as I was already…
Whoa.
3rd Person:
Seifer took a hurried step back, tripping over the smooth tile. When had he fallen in love with Squall? Sure, he'd said he was going to, silently promised the brunette that he would, but already? This soon?
How was that possible? No one was capable of convincing themselves of something that fast. Unless…
Had he already been in love with Squall? Since when? Where?
Seifer blinked, spiky lashes over emerald eyes, and felt himself take a deep breath. He knew 'when', and as to 'where'? Well, he was standing 'where'. It was here, in the bathroom, that it had happened.
But it had been a different bathroom. Red was white, now, and Squall was no longer in stark relief with the rest of the room. He was white, as was the tile. There was heat, not ice, and nothing was blurred by tears, diamond or otherwise. There was no blood.
Squall was safe, and staring at him with a confused expression. Seifer smiled.
"Sorry," he apologized as he took a step forward to finish with the bandages, "I just…realized something." Squall didn't ask what. He never would. Instead, he let the other man unwrap the bandages and usher him into the shower stall. The pants were once again stripped off behind the shower curtain and dropped outside.
The shower was short this time, and icy cold. The scars were old, no longer angry and red, but a slight pink tinged with the rust of scabs, of healing.
The water was turned off, and Squall reached out of the shower for a towel. Seifer complied (with an actual towel this time) and the brunette stepped out from behind the curtain.
The tile was warm under his feet, the entire room full of a somewhat pleasant heat. Everything was so…routine, so comfortable. It was almost…
Squall frowned. Boring. He'd never been bored before. Why would he be bored now?
"What's wrong?" Seifer asked absently from where he lounged by the sink. Blue eyes met his, and he tried not to remember both their states of undress. A whisper of footsteps, and the brunette was next to him, looking up into green eyes.
"Why am I bored?" It would have sounded childish with anyone else, or annoying. Now, however, it seemed serious, as if Squall really did not comprehend boredom. Seifer shrugged and swung an arm around the slim shoulders, almost smiling when the smaller man leaned almost undetectably closer.
"Hell if I know," he admitted, and then smiled suggestively down at Squall, "do you want me to do something about it?" The only response was a roll of blue-grey eyes, and the brunette didn't speak again until they were in the bedroom clothing themselves.
"We could go for a walk," Seifer turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. A frown appeared on pale lips.
"Oh, yeah," he apologized, and there was another short period of silence, broken only by the rustle of clothing.
"Library?" It sounded casual, but the blonde detected a hint of pleading.
Personally, he would rather shoot himself in the foot than go to the library.
"Sure," he approved, and was rewarded by a smile.
For some inane reason, that made the trip worth it.
End Chapter 11
[1] Apparently they have batteries in Balamb.
[2] I've decided (*dances with artistic license*) that Cure only fixes what is broken; skin, bones, blood vessels, muscles. It cannot fix what is only strained, or stretched, because then you would never gain muscle, because it would revert them back to their original form, and take away the buildup that results in pain and (in the long run) strength. Or something. The most it can do for those is to lessen the pain a bit. Not to mention the fact that they are using Cure, which only heals a tiny portion of injury.
Erg…I don't post in forever, and this is all I have to show for it. I am sorry! Forgive me! *offers chocolate*
Ug. This chapter was weird, too. I keep feeling like there are inconsistencies in the patterns of thinking, and relapses and crap in the plot. Meh. Anyone else feeling that way? I need something dramatic to happen. Maybe I should bring in the other characters…Zell would be fun. Poor Squall, though. He is all confused. I'll have to re-read this thing.
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