A Week in a Madhouse

By: Ayanagami ( I still can't find anything to change it to... heh... 'The Author Formerly Known as Ayanagami'?)

Warnings: Shounen Ai, my oh-so-famous humor, cussing, and a gender challenged Seifer – except he's not confused about his gender.

Story: Squall grew up with Seifer. He hates him. Now he has to spend a week in the same house, with no one around, and a lifetime of bad memories. What kicks it? Seifer is convinced that Squall is a girl.

Day Two: Okay, Is Seifer Retarded Or Something?

-/Seifer's POV/-

"Hey! Watch ou-"

-thud-

The girl got hit in the back of the head with a freak flying football Monday morning. Man, she looked pissed. I was with a few of my friends not too far away as she walked across the lawn on her way into the building, and I got front row seats to her show of fury.

She spun on her heel and glared death at the jocks, who were sheepishly asking for their football back. She looked like she'd sooner deflate it.

"Dude, we're sorry... are you okay?"

I always found it amusing – and a little irritating – that everyone in school thought Squall was a guy; it was pretty obvious she wasn't. But she didn't help a thing by wearing guy's clothes. I mean, damn, all the girls I knew had worn a skirt or a blouse at least once in the time I'd known them, but not Squall. She was bound and determined to be a guy. It would have been fine with me, normally, but the fact that she actually fooled everyone got to me. I knew she was a girl from the first time I set eyes on her; how could anyone that pretty not be a girl? Granted, she was incredibly flat-chested, but she had a nice body. That got me, too. She had a good body, and most girls would flaunt it and be girly, but she... I mean, for god's sake, even her best friend, Rinoa, thought she was a guy.

And about the whole chest thing... see, I thought maybe she was hiding them, at first, so when her parents dropped her off one time and we were up in my room, I decided to find them... but she didn't even wear a bra! I guess that she was a late bloomer or something. So I found out she didn't like being groped and she had a very flat chest. But then, a year later, I tried going further. So, okay, maybe ripping that towel off her waist had been a bad move... I still have the scars to prove it. And I didn't even get what I wanted! I was too distracted to get the evidence as she attacked me with that damn knife of hers... Man, that is one girl you do not want to piss off. However, I seem to do it regularly.

I still shudder at the Basketball incident when we were seven....

Our parents were inside drinking up a storm and we didn't have much to do – all my friends had gone on summer vacation, and Squall... she hated everyone and didn't have any friends. So we ended up outside in my driveway drinking juice from those packets and playing around with a basket ball... well, I was playing around with it, anyway. She was glaring at her juice. Shit, I don't think that girl was ever happy. She just had something against the world. Me in particular.

Now that I think about it, I've never seen or heard her laugh. Well, she's laughed mockingly at me, and sarcastically, but never really laughed. She doesn't smile, either. I've been to a lot of her birthday parties (my parents always gave her presents you would get a boy... They never listened to me when I told them, quite seriously, that Squall was, in fact, a girl... no one ever did....)... anyway... about those parties, she was never very thrilled about them. In fact, if looks could kill, no one would have survived them. She refused to open her presents (the other kids were all too happy to do it for her) and she didn't blow out her candles, she didn't eat any of the ice cream, and she put up the fight of her life before anyone could get her to play birthday games. I think the parties were more for her parents, anyway. An excuse to get drunk was never wasted.

Huh? What was I thinking about? I was off in la la land right then... oh, yeah, the basketball incident. Long story short, I pointed out that she didn't have to be so gloomy and that most girls are cheerful and stuff like that (perfectly normal, really) and she just got really pissed and started yelling at me. I told her to calm down. She didn't want to calm down. I don't know what I said, but she just about went fucking nuts and gave me a concussion with the basketball. She's strong for a girl, let me tell you that.

Well, back to the present, the football situation sort of reminded me of that time with the basketball...

"Hey, could we get our football back, Squall?" One of them asked, smiling a little. I've seen them exchange a nod or two in the hallways. They must know each other from something, I guess.

Squall glared, picked up the football, and was just about to toss it back when she caught me watching her. Remember when I said she has something against me?

Well, next thing I know, there's this football rushing headlong at my face in this perfect deadly spiral and I know somewhere in the back of my brain that if that thing connects, I'm gonna be all veggie and crap. But my body sure took its sweet time reacting. I came this close to saying goodbye to my brain before I managed to duck and get out of the way. After that, as always when around her, I had a new appreciation for life. For all of thirty seconds, then I told myself that I either had to calm her down one of these days, take revenge, or move to another country. I mean... really... why was she always so pissed off at me?

She acted like she didn't want people to know she was a girl.

-/Squall's POV/-

Let's all sing together, now, kids. I fucking haaaate the diiiiiiick.... No, I can't say I really had an excuse to lob the football at him as hard as fucking humanly possible, but, then again, I don't think I needed one. No one needs a reason to lob objects at Mr. Dick, not in my world.

Besides, I got to see that vaguely horrified look wipe away that smirk he was always wearing. That made my day all the nicer.

I glared at my econ teacher. I hate this teacher. She was always trying to get me to speak up in class and always marked things like 'uncooperative in class' on those report cards that got sent home. She'd even arranged for a parent-teacher conference. Hello, lady, I'm not in fucking grade school anymore. I'm not going to jump around eagerly whenever you want me too.

I have to admit it, though – my parents dealt with her in ways that impressed even me. My mother cried and said that my grandparents had died in a horrible fire when I was fourteen (they were alive and kicking somewhere in Florida even as she said that) and I had been very close to them (I met them a few times when I was a kid, they were okay... I knew where my mom got her alcoholic ways, though) and I was still in therapy, trying to get over the loss even now (I had never seen the inside of a therapist's office to date). My teacher's face had crumpled in sympathy as I sat immobile on a chair off to the side, trying hard not to laugh. My dad expressed his grief, saying that it was hard trying to understand me, since both of my dogs had died when I was six by being hit by cars right in front of me, and my canary had suffered a heart attack in mid flight, plummeting into the fishbowl and somehow killing all five fish in the tank. (To set things straight, I never had any pets, and the one time my parents had taken care of the neighbor's cat, it had survived the interaction unscathed. Not to mention I don't like animals, much less dogs.)

They even went as far as to tell her that my favorite cousin, who was close in age to me, had suffered from amnesia and forgotten all about me. My dad claimed this had severely hurt me since we had been best friends most of our lives, inseparable at family occasions and so close that it seemed we practically knew what the other was thinking. (First, my family almost never had 'family occasions,' second, I hated my cousins, all of them, and third, no one in my family was prone to amnesia of any sort. We all had pretty good memories, except for my great aunt who couldn't for the life of her remember what the name of her cat was, so she called it something different every week.)

As soon as we left the classroom, my mom and dad dropped the 'distraught parents' act and proceeded to congratulate each other on their stories. I trailed behind them, shaking my head and grinning. I would remember that day for years to come, I swear.

After that, though, I don't know if it got worse or what. She kept giving me sympathetic looks and cutting me slack everywhere, always giving me encouraging words and shit like that. Good god.

I sunk further down into my seat in the back of the room. I glared. Yeah, that's just about all I did in first period. Sure, I do all the worksheets, take all the notes, do well on all the tests. I should get good grades, but I have a thing about projects – particularly group projects.... as in, I don't do them. My econ teacher cuts me slack there. So I have a good grade in this class. The rest, though... well, who cares? At least they don't make any comments about my lack of interaction. They don't make parent-teacher conferences... that makes all the difference.

Yaaaay. Bell rang. Yes, I'm so fucking happy. What? Sarcasm? Me? You lie!

I glared at Rinoa. It was a nice glare, though, more like a thoughtful scowl. I would never really glare at her. I think. I haven't yet. At least none of the death glares.

She had been chatting with a girl who sat in front of her a few minute's before the bell for fourth rang, talking about god knows what. But after the bell rang, she quieted down and listened attentively as the teacher gave instructions on the chem lab. Oh goody. We get to blow shit up. I swear, that's the only reason I'm still in this class... that, and Rinoa is in it.

I paid attention to what the teacher as well, just not as obviously as Rinoa did... I slumped in my chair next to her and stared at the table, listening to every single damn word. This teacher talked a lot. I suppose that if I were a teacher, I'd give instructions to a class full of high schoolers when dealing with combustible chemicals a few hundred times, too, just to ensure that I wouldn't get blown to hell and back. But, then again, some kids don't pay attention to a single one of the warnings, despite how many times they're repeated. They end up going to the nurse's office. Sometimes the hospital. I say, the dumb-asses deserve it. Especially the guy who stuck his finger in the soap bottle and couldn't get it out. The teacher cut most of the bottle away but he ended up walking around the rest of the day with a wad of plastic around his middle finger. He seemed proud, too. I hate this place.

But after a few minutes, Rinoa managed to ask me how my stay at Seifer's was going. Thus my scowl.

She smiled and poked my cheek, and I had to bite back a snarl I would have left unchecked with anyone else. Rinoa was special, though. Special... But I really wanted to fucking bite her for bringing up Prince Prick.

"From your expression, I'd say it's going just as planned!" She chirped, her tone more suited for something like 'I don't have a care in the world!' It didn't fit the situation at all.

I glared at her, my 'Just drop it' scowl firmly in place. It changed to 'I don't want to talk about it!' as she opened her mouth to say something more – luckily, our lab partner snapped at us to stop flirting and actually help with the lab.

How about I set you on fire? I asked, silently, glaring at him.

I almost did, too, but Rinoa was onto me before I could finish the preparations and whisked the chemicals from my reach. Damn! Foiled!

Chem lab survived for the day, the students intact.

Lunch came, lunch passed, and I hid from the world. I found a nice dark corner, listened to System of a Down, and blanked out. Everyone knows not to bother Squall when he's in his dark place. Everyone except for Dick Dick van Dick. Luckily, he was preoccupied for something or other and didn't try to come and find me. I was tempted to scare one of the freshmen, but I was feeling too anti-social for even that.

But eventually lunch ended and I suffered through more school.

Then came English.

The Dick of his own little world came with it.

A class spent with Seifer was always... something. Needless to say, he managed to talk a girl who was sitting next to me to trade seats with him (she didn't need much coaxing... I think she was creeped out by me or something) after which he antagonized me, as usual, and, without saying a word, I stabbed him in the leg with my pencil, as usual.

"You stabbed me in the fucking leg again, Squall!" He accused me at the top of the stairs later that evening. I raised my eyebrow.

"Yeah." I left out the 'so?' part, thinking it wasn't really needed. He'd talk even if not encouraged.

"You're one vicious little girl." He spat out, wincing as he put too much weight on his leg. I looked over his shoulder at the stairs behind him. An idea took form in my head. He was fucked, he just didn't know it.

"I'm not a girl."

"You sure look like one."

"So? You look like a monkey, but apparently you're not. Monkey's smell better."

"Ooh, the girl has spunk!"

"...." I smiled. I'm told it's unnerving. "The monkey's going to learn how to fly."

Before he could figure out what I meant, he was tumbling down the stairs once more that week, cussing the entire way down. Was it wrong to feel so fucking elated?

I heard that lovely thud and turned on my heels, disappearing into my room whistling a song as I went to town on my homework.

-

Apparently, I was drunk while writing some of this. Heh. That's fun. I don't drink as much anymore… it makes my stomach sick. Sigh. Anyway. Not much changed on this chapter. Yay. Iskander… I know what you mean. Everything works out. I just find it hard to care.