A/N: Okay, finally uploading Chapter 3 now. Finally getting back into the whole writing thing! (travelling slightly threw me off the track). To answer some questions/issues that were brought up in reviews: no, Seifer isn't a ghost. This is not a supernatural fic. And yes, I've assumed the role of a narrator that is only aware of Squall's feelings and thoughts, not of Seifer's, and therefore isn't an all-knowing 3rd person narrator. I'll change that a bit for the Epilogue though... but you'll see. :) Also, I'm sorry if I'm stepping into any clichés or if the story has been done before! I'm not aware of clichés because I rarely read fanfiction, sadly.
As always, thanks so very much for reviewing. I don't know whether I'd have the motivation to edit and upload all chapters without reviews, so just: thank you!
Chapter 3 is a bit more light-hearted than the previous 2 chapters. Don't think it'll stay that way, though. Remember, I'm evil and hentai.
Melancholy Requiem
by Cosina Veloce
Chapter 3: I feel free...
The first thing Squall thought when he woke up that morning was 'shit'. Shit, it was already morning and he'd slept from last afternoon to now. Shit, it was Monday and he was definitely not where his teachers wanted him to be right now. And shit, to top it all off, there was something in bed with him.
Squall groaned deep in his throat, distantly wondering just that something was that was heavily pressing against his windpipe. Lazily fluttering his eyelids, he turned his head to the right and looked right into the peacefully sleeping face of Seifer, his hair hair tousled, a small, healthy blush on his cheeks, breathing quietly. He looked younger than Squall that moment with his golden hair in spiky disarray, a healthy rosy tint to his tanned skin, his arm on Squall's chest that was currently about to cut off Squall's oxygen as it was a pretty long, pretty muscular, pretty heavy arm. Groaning in dismay, Sqall removed the arm from his chest, staring disbelievingly at Seifer as he not so much as grumbled at the brunette touching him.
And he said he would not fall asleep in my bed, Squall thought sourly. "Hey," he mumbled. "Asshole. This is my bed."
Seifer just mumbled something in response, smiling a small smile in his sleep, looking like he was having a happy dream. Squall poked him into the chest, but Seifer only stirred and soon relaxed again. Squall dimly wondered how that guy could sleep so long. The brunette himself felt very heavy and logy, having slept too long and too heavily, feeling just like turning around and sleeping more even though he had more than slept his daily pensum already. He tried to remember last night, but could only recall watching some stupid TV show and exchanging a couple of phrases with Seifer every once in a while. About Deling. About the shows. About whose ass was nice, a discussion that had mostly consisted of Seifer yapping and Squall contributing occassional 'mmh's'. About whether Squall's eyes were bluish grey or greyish blue or even 'bley', one of Seifer's original word creations. That sort of thing.
Squall shuddered as he remembered the ruined face of the guy the day before, his ruined mass of brains, eyes, blood and other things, silently thanking whoever was in charge of it for not having sent him a bad dream about the corpse.
They had pretty much been in a trance the day before, from when they had seen the corpse to when Seifer had fallen asleep next to him, right in the middle of a sentence about Galbadian Idol. The dead person had shocked Squall right down to his very core. It had... Squall angrily shook his head, closing his eyes until he could see stars. He didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to forget about those masses of blood and brains that had once been a face, perhaps a handsome one, a face with eyes, maybe expressive ones like Seifer had. He quickly checked his watch. 8:47. Monday.
Oh, how the brunette had always hated monday mornings, for as long as he could remember. Monday, that was when he had to leave his room in which only Squall and the few people he allowed entrance existed and the day on which he had to return to school, sitting there for hours and hours on end, listening to the lectures with half his brain, at best, while the other half was busily entangled in his own world. Squall Leonhart was a good and diligent student, though, not because he cared very much, but because he knew that it made Raine happy, and also because it wasn't very hard to get good grades as long as he showed up everyday and looked at his notes for ten minutes every day before school started. He also read through them on breaks, since there wasn't much else do to on them. He sure wasn't about to form giggly cirlces and engage in mundane chit-chat about the most mundane bullshit with his even more mundane classmates anytime soon, so reading through notes he'd already memorized seemed like a bearable alternative. Nonetheless, Squall had never, ever skipped a day of school. Mainly because he knew that once he indulged himself in his own world completely without letting the real world have at least this tiny bit of him, at least his physical attendance, he would soon stop coming to school at all, letting the possibility of skipping consume him.
Squall groaned as he remembered his mother. Oh right, Raine. He had forgotten to call her last night and she was probably sick with worry, had called him at least a dozen times. He'd have to get his cell phone out of his bag and check.
Sighing, he leaped onto his bare feet, as gracefully as his body would permit, which was so heavy with too much sleep that it was still lightly fogging his brain, which in turn caused him not to stand up quite as gracefully as he would have on most mornings. Well, fuck this. The last couple of days had definitely not been like most days, so he was not surprised that this morning hadn't turned out to be quite that usual either. Something else that definitely didn't happen on most mornings that occurred that morning was a strong hand grabbing his wirst, yanking him backwards and causing Squall to clumsily lower himself back on the bed. He yelped in surprise.
"Morning, Squall," Seifer said.
Squall huffily wrestled his wrist free, shooting Seifer a look that suggested murder.
"Not a morning person, I take it," the blonde yawned. "What's the time, babe?"
Squall raised his eyebrows at the uncalled-for nickname. "Can you read alarm clocks?"
"Uh, yes?" Seifer answered sleepily.
"Then do so," Squall spat, hurriedly jumping off the bed. He fished his cell phone out of his bag. 24 missed calls. Squall groaned lowly. He'd totally forgotten about her the day before.
"Your mom?" Seifer asked.
"Yeah," Squall muttered moodily, stuffing the cell phone back into his bag, starting to extract various shower utensils which he had carelessly stuffed into his bag the day he had left home, not really knowing whether he would need them. He inwardly congratulated himself on having been thoughtful enough to bring them just in case .
"Eh? Aren't you gonna call her back?" Seifer inquired from somewhere behind Squall, his voice still sounding sleepy, almost adorably so.
"She's at work."
"Are you taking a shower now?" Seifer asked, his voice sounding just the teeniest bit suggestive.
The brunette turned around, noticing that Seifer had taken off the shirt with the karate chick on it during the night, since he was currently wearing a tight, black muscle shirt that was clinging to him like a second skin. Squall let his eyes briefly travel up Seifer's elegant, yet very powerful, muscular and nicely tanned arms for a second until his eyes snapped into focus on the other man's face once more. "Indeed. Leave."
The blonde feigned hurt. "You're throwing me out? How terribly, terribly rude of you. I'm hurt, Squall."
Squall mumbled something under his breath, yanking a towel out of the bag with a bit too much force than would have been absolutely necessary.
"Don't scream like that, you're making me deaf," Seifer muttered sarcastically.
Squall made an annoyed sound. "I said you weren't supposed to sleep here in the first place."
A big grin played around Seifer's lips. "Yeah, but it was cozy, wasn't it?"
"Whatever," was Squall's cool answer. He stood in the middle of the room, towel, shower and shampoo bottles loosely collected in his arms, looking at the other man expectantly, who just answered the look with a point-blank stare. Squall dramatically rolled his eyes. "I am showering, Seifer," he started patiently. "Doesn't that ring a bell..?"
It looked like Seifer wanted to make a snappy comeback, but stopped himself at the last moment. Squall watched as Seifer's cocky smirk vanished from his lips, instead letting a soft expression takie possession of his angular, handsome features. "All right, Squall, I'll go. I'll head down and ask the portier when the trains to Balamb are leaving, okay? Is that all right with you?"
Squall looked at the softly smiling man, a gentleness and genuine sympathy in his demeanour and voice that it revealed a completely new layer of what was the other man's persona, stirring something in Squall as he watched the other man lounging on his bed, his soft gaze trained on Squall, his flawless, bare arms loosely crossed over his stomach.
"Damn," Seifer muttered sarcastically. "Please don't pass out over all this enthusiasm."
"Why are you so nice to me?" Squall asked quietly. It was a mirror of what he'd said when they'd first met, back in that alley, back out with the soft snow, the sharp cold. Back then when they truly hadn't known each other, back when that small spark of weird comfortableness that was now flaring inside the brunette hadn't yet been ignited. Yeah, back then.
Seifer's gentleness wavered and his cocky smirk appeared once more. "So I can finally fuck you, what did you think? I've been waiting to do that, you see."
Squall made a displeased noise, but noticed that this time, it had been more of an automatic reaction. He hadn't.. really felt any discomfort, any shame, any disgust towards the other man.
"Hey, don't be like that," Seifer said softly. "I didn't mean it. Not fully," he winked, got up, stretched his sore muscles and yawned open-mouthed. He straightened his clothes, the muscle shirt and the pants he was still wearing from the day before and quietly left a Squall behind who was finally seriously thinking about why he shouldn't just give in to the man when he so obviously wasn't disgusted by the idea, wouldn't see the other man again anyways, felt such a distant, but definite attraction to him. He couldn't yet exactly place his finger on what exactly it was that had sparked the attraction – after all, it had not been an instant one – but Squall was aware of the fact that it was there, and it was time for Squall to admit that while the other man didn't yet know him fully, most likely never would, there was something about him that made the brunette at ease, something foreign, something strange, something exciting that allowed the stoic brunette to be less anal to him than he would be to any other person.
Whisper in a stranger's ear doesn't make things real?
Squall frowned and let himself fall into the sheets of the bed, face first. The pillowes, blankets, even the mattress smelled of him. That spicy, intriguing scent. He wished he had a shower gel that smelled just like that. Speaking of...
Sighing, the brunette got up, undressed and quickly got under the shower, scrubbing his limbs and chest, coating it with his lemon-scented shower gel. He didn't think of anything in particular as he was massaging the sleep out of his still heavy limbs. Squall had a boner, like he always had under the shower, like he knew most guys had when the warm water rained down onto them and trailed down their bodies, but he paid it no attention. He grabbed the shower handle and changed the hot water to cold water, and his whole body immediately stood attentive as the sudden coolness slithered down his back, as the coldness delicately trespassed that line to uncomfortableness as his nipples hardened and his mind jumped to sharp focus..
He spent quite a bit of time like this until he stepped out of the shower, dried himself off and casually dressed himself in yesterday's leather pants and and a grey t-shirt, carelessly stuffing the still wet towel along with the bottle of shower gel into his travelling bag, at the same time feeling around it to produce a bottle of coke that he had thrown into the bag when he'd bought it at the Balamb train station. Well, he had never been the neat type. He was currently trying to convince his mother that a healthy dose of untidyness and chaos was in fact healthy and much more natural than her own neat freakness. Squall couldn't understand why some people were so obsessed with having everything in perfect array when life itself, everything that nature had intented, in fact was very much not in array. Raine frequently accused him of trying to use philosophy as a futile vindication for his laziness. Squall thought she just might be right, though he would rather bite his thumb off than admit that to his mother.
Just as Squall had unscrewed the bottle and was about to take a sip, his eyes were drawn to a blackness amidst the whiteness of his bedsheets. He curiously walked over and picked it up, seeing that it was Seifer's pullover, the one with the karate chicken on it that Squall had instantly liked the moment he had laid eyes on it the day before, in that lockpicked room next to the Arc. Thoughtfully sipping on his coke, Squall decided to bring Seifer his shirt, since the blonde hadn't mentioned when he would come back to Squall's room to tell him when his train would leave. Checking his watch, he noticed that he'd spent a significant amount of time under the shower, so he thought it quite likely that Seifer had already returned to his room. Even if he hadn't, he would just leave the shirt hanging at the doorknob. Having something around that didn't belong to him had always been something that Squall had disliked greatly. He hated the feeling of other people's possessions around him, things that carried their scent, their memories, that were so utterly theirs... even if he was getting increasingly comfortable with anything belonging to Seifer around him, the thought that he might end up forgetting to return the shirt to Seifer, then going home with the cute shirt scared Squall. He knew he wouldn't be able to throw the cute thing away, which in turn meant a connection to Seifer, however minor it might be.
Casually carrying the shirt and the coke, Squall stepped out of the room, remembering that Seifer had told him sometime duringre-runs last afternoon that his room number was 103. He soon found said room and knocked purposefully.
"Who.. who's that?" Seifer asked from inside, sounding startled, like Squall had interrupted something. Something evil creeped up inside Squall as the possibility of paying the blonde fucker back for what he had done to him last morning when he had been taking a bath came to mind. He would've grinned an evil smile if Squall had been capable of smiling.
"It's me," Squall answered, sleazily.
Silence. "Squall...?" Seifer asked. His voice sounded very unsure and a bit... scared? Squll frowned deeply, feeling the malice seeping out of his body as he silently wondered about the other man's curious reaction.
"Who else?" he asked testily.
"Oh, sure. Of course. Hang on a sec. I'm under the shower."
Squall relaxed, pushed all suspicious thoughts out of his head and took a sip of the bottle while he was waiting for the other man to open the door for him, figuring he would take a while to dry off and put on some clothes, and just as he was gulping down large sips of his beverage the door suddenly flew open and an almost-naked Seifer stood grinning in front of him. Squall choked.
A whole load of coke landed right onto Seifer's towel, who yelped in surprise and took a couple of steps backwards, looking down disgustetly at the once white towel which was now messily sprayed with dark brown liquid.
"What the fuck, Squall? What is this, coke?"
Squall blushed furiously, but kept staring at Seifer's exposed chest. He had been caught totally off guard by Seifer opening the door like that. Sure, Squall had opened the door in a towel and a shirt the other day as well, but there had been the slight difference that the brunette had been wearing a shirt at all, and his towel had also been knee-length. Seifer's looked more like a loincloth than anything else, and he was chest was naked, so very naked, and wet too, to finish the effect. Squall could see hundreds of little pearly water drops trailing down his chest, the wetness making his broad chest look even more tanned than it already was, giving it a honey coloured hue that cooperated nicely with the glossy water pearls. His nipples were hard, his stomach hard and defined, and Squall saw just how much wider he was around the waist and hips than he was, how almost girlish his waist looked in comparison to Seifer's, how the blonde's body spoke of so many years of toning and training, whereas his was just the average, skinny body of a teenage boy.
"Done staring yet?" Seifer snorted. "And, you tell me you're not gay?"
Squall blinked and quickly covered his startled expression with his typical indifferent mask. "You startled me."
"No shit. I kinda figured that out already," Seifer said, rolling his eyes. "So, what is it?"
Squall, trying hard not to look at Seifer's wet, naked chest, concentrated on the blonde's face, which was already gleaming with mischief and barely hidden amusement. There was a soft smirk on the blonde's lips. As usual.
"Can't you put something on first?" Squall aked, realizing that it had come out a bit more splenetic than he'd intented.
Now it was Seifer's turn to raise an eyebrow. "No. Why should I?"
Squall made a frustrating noise. "It's.. irritating."
The blonde whistled. "Irritating, huh? How very, very interesting."
The brunette snorted, annoyed, deciding to just give the other man his shirt and get back to his room as fast as he could. He wordlessly shoved the shirt into the other man's arms, wincing slightly as Seifer's warm, wet arms brushed against his hands. He then quickly turned around to leave, but soon felt Seifer's stopping hand on his shoulder, like he'd dreaded he would. The hand was warm and wet, even through the material of the brunette's thin grey t-shirt.
"Don't you want to know when your trains are leaving?" Seifer whispered into Squall's ear, causing the brunette to go rigid at the sudden invasion of his private space. Squall could feel the other man's body behind him, knew that he was close, way too close, even though they were not physically touching. Way, way too close.
"I can look it up myself," Squall said, trying to yank himself free from Seifer's hand, which was grabbing his shoulder quite firlmy, not seeming like it carried any notion to let go anytime soon.
"Don't be bitchy," Seifer breathed into the other man's ear. "You know what? Fine, I'll get dressed. Despite what you might think, I'm actually not that much of an exhibitionist." He let go off Squall's shoulder and the smaller man sighed in relief as the vice-like hand was mercifully removed from his aching shoulder. "I didn't expect you to come here so soon. I just wanted to return to your room in half an hour or so, but seeing as how you've come here, we might as well chat here," Seifer added calmly. Squall felt his presence retreat into the room, but leaving the door ajar. His way to invite the brunette in.
Squall turned around hesitantly as he heard the rustling of clothes, watching the blonde get dressed in a starking wine red, tight, sleeveless shirt, then disappearing into a part of the room that Squall couldn't see due to the fact that the fact was only partially opened. The blonde re-emerged about 30 seconds later dressed in casual blue pants and looked at Squall expectantly, who hadn't moved an inch during the time Seifer had been getting dressed.
"Relieved?" Seifer asked smugly.
Squall narrowed his eyebrows and Seifer just laughed good-naturedly and told Squall to come in. Despite the fact that Squall felt the urge to spill what little he had left in his bottle of coke right into that oh-so-smugly grinning face, he couldn't deny that a small part of him was quite curious to see what Seifer's room looked like from the inside – looked like, smelled like... felt like. He hesitantly stepped in and slowly scanned the room. He was immediately delighted to see that it was slightly messy, but, oddly.. orderly so. It wasn't like everything was just laying around, like everything was in complete chaos, it was more that things were around to give the room a soul. It wasn't like most sterile hotel rooms that looked like nobody ever lived in them and it also didn't look like his living room back in Balamb that Raine kept in so fanatic order that she had long derived it of any personal feel it had ever had. Things were scattered around Seifer's room, a bottle there, some flowers here, magazines and zippos there, a gaming console of some sort with a couple of game cases next to it on the floor. It looked very ... homely. It felt very charming... very Seifer.
"You like my room, huh?" Seifer asked.
Squall mumbled something before he crossed his arms and looked at the blonde expectantly.
Seifer reciprocated the stare.
"..What?"
"So... when?" Squall asked.
"The DCL 302 leaves every hour. Shouldn't be a problem, really. Last one's at 10 PM."
"DCL 302..?" Squall frowned. "That is a train?"
"No – it's a sandwich," Seifer answered, shocked.
Squall made an annoyed, exasperated sound. "Trains have names in Deling?"
"Dude, people from Deling City give their cocks names – why shouldn't they name their fucking trains?"
Squall started to say somthing, but hesitated, running his tongue over his pillowy lips.
The blonde smirked widely. "You want to know what my cock's name is, right?"
Squall snorted like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever had the misfortune to hear. "Like I care."
"Well, you should care, you know," Seifer said and winked and then broke out into laughter as Squall made an annoyed noise.
Squall didn't move a muscle and just continued to stare at Seifer point-blankedly, ignoring the small spark of interest - or at least wonder, that much he had identified without a doubt – he had felt flaring the second Seifer had talked about the name-giving habits of Deling City. He had never been into perverted stuff before, had always found it incredibly dull and brainless to talk or joke about sexuality the way teenagers his age were so fond of doing and thus he was confused by not being too disgusted whenever this blonde guy made a sexual joke. It's not like he ever found any joke really funny, be it on sex or on the philosophical tendency of middle-aged Centra, but the mere presence of Seifer's jokes oddly didn't disturb him as much.
Maybe you should finally come to terms with the idea that you might simply not hate him as much as the others?
Squall bit down on his tongue, but looked up when he felt Seifer's intent gaze on his body.
"..What?" Squall asked, feeling irritated by the alien stare Seifer was giving him. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being stared at by Seifer – he very much was, gazes with fucking sexual meanings and all other things he had loved to despise all those years to top it all of – but the current gaze was a bit different, less focused, more serious. Not being able to praise himself as an expert on humans Squall shifted uneasily under the gaze that lacked all the sexual innuendo, wits and charms of the usual hunky blonde's self, though it also lacked the painful glittering of sorrow that Squall had spotted the day before. Squall vaguely wondered if this gaze meant Seifer was lost in thought.
"What..?" Squall asked again, a bit harsher than he'd intented to.
It took Seifer a few moments to find back, but when his usual self returned from whatever foreign lands it had travelled, the glittering mischief returned to his sparkling green eyes and he snapped his eyes into sharp focus on Squall's face. "I was just wondering what we could do today until you leave at 10 PM."
Squall frowned. "Who said I was taking the last train?"
Seifer just shrugged, and flashed him another grin. "Aren't you?"
The brunette shrugged.
"See."
"Don't flatter yourself. I just like Deling," Squall mumbled.
"Oh, really?" Seifer teased. "Judging by these stares you're giving me lately it isn't only Deling you like."
The brunette felt another hot wave of shame wash through him, his cheeks burning furiously. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said with what he hoped was non-chalance.
"Come on, you can admit you're only staying to find out what I named my dick," Seifer teased, winking.
Had Squall been drinking anything then, he would've choked on his beverage without a question.
The blonde chuckled throatily, but quickly regained his composure. "You've seen a lot of Deling already. How about we rent a car and I show you some of the nature surrounding Deling? Legend has it there's a Lost King's Tomb nearby" he said, obviously quite amused by his own tale. "Also sightings of some curious birds as well as snow-covered mountains that I'm sure you don't see in humid Balamb. Not as impressive as Trabia of course, but Galbadia does have four distinct seasons. I hear you Balambians were all born on surfboards or something."
That certainly had some truth to it, though Squall, of course, had never surfed in his life. Nor done any of the other 'trendy' things, which included snagging your older brother's/father's porno magazines, surfing, skating and listening to sappy, heartbroken teen girls showing their not so heartbroken-looking bellybuttons singing about lost love, world piece and similar horseapples. Stuff like that.
"So, what about that trip...?" Seifer cut through the brunette's thought, causing the smaller man to blink.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, all right."
"Great!" Seifer exclaimed, breaking into a radiant smile that didn't leave his face for what might've been a split second but might just as well have been several minutes. They silently looked into each other's eyes and Squall felt a soft tickle somewhere inside him, barely more than a fleeting thought, yet leaving a strong impression of awkwardness. Squall opened his mouth to say something, found it dry and closed his mouth again. He once again noticed how intense the other man's eyes were and how they expressed his emotions so well... clear blue eyes were always thought of as the the kind you couldn't hide any emotions in, the kind you could read as easily as children's books and functioned as a perfect mirror to the owner's soul, but Squall had come to the startling conclusion that green eyes like Seifer's.. and only like Seifer's.. had to be the most intense, most brilliant kind. Or, screw that. Perhaps it wasn't about the colour at all, maybe Seifer was just exceptionally.. soulful.
"Squall, I've come to a fascinating conclusion. If some good fairy walked up to me and said I could either have a lifelong supply of free beer as well as an endless array of Naughty Boys porn mags or know all and every one of Squall's thoughts, man, it'd be a tough decision."
Squall looked up, startled.
"Well," Seifer mused aloud, putting a finger to his cheek in mock-thoughtfulness. "I guess I'd choose your thoughts after all. I mean, judging by those pervy glares, they're probably a more than acceptable substitution for Naughty Boys porn mags, huh?"
The brunette bit down on his lip. "Jerk," he spat.
Seifer chuckled. "My, my; denial's tough, huh? But I remember when I was in denial about this whole, gasp, homosexual thing, I wasn't nearly as bitchy. You don't happen to be a woman, are you?" He looked at Squall expectantly, who didn't dignify this comment with an answer. Seifer chuckled lowly. "Oh, yeah. I remember. You definitely aren't a woman."
Seifer's amusement was so evident in every little intonation of his words and the whole way he carried himself, the way his eyes were dancing merrily and the way his smirk was plastered on his lips that Squall noticed he had lost all connection to Seifer's other side, the side he had shown to Squall on rare occassions. The thoughtful one, the almost errily intelligent, to-the-point one, the side that had dropped all the slightly childish behaviour and revealed a serious adult underneath. The adult hiding in the layer just underneath the joking, smirking, cocky shell.
"Well, Squally, go and call your mom now – even if she's still working, leave her a message or something. Get ready, we should leave soon," Seifer said, still smirking. "Come back to my room when you're done phoning, we can go rent a car then. Well, I guess since it's morning and we both haven't eaten in a while we should go and grab some food first. Oh yeah, you might also want to go and pack now, I think this hotel expects leaving visitors to check out before noon."
Squall thought a couple of seconds, then nodded and turned to leave. Just as Squall was about to close the door behind him, Seifer spoke up again: "And by the way, I named it Torpedo."
The brunette rolled his eyes and was followed by Seifer's laughter as he quickly shut the door.
---
It stopped snowing that afternoon and the sun found its way through the thick Galbadian clouds, bathing Deling and its surrounding in a mild light lacking the obstrusive brightness of humid Balamb days. It was in no way warm, especially not to Squall, but the air had lost its biting, cruel cold, and it was pretty comfortable walking around that day. Squall, who had previously seen Galbadia as a land of ice and snow, his impression shaped by the past two days, could now vividly imagine the hot temperatures this area had to reach in summertime.
"That seems like a good spot to picnic," Seifer said from the driver's seat, throwing Squall a casual glance.
Squall whipped his head around to look at Seifer like he'd just suggested cutting each other's crown jewels off. "Picnicing?" he asked. "There's snow."
Seifer laughed good-naturedly and threw another glance at his passenger. "It's pretty warm today and the sun has already melted some of the snow. Over there is a snowless spot, see?" He pointed to a little green isle surrounded by half-melted snow. "I know it snowed quite a bit yesterday and especially the day before, but the sun has been quite strong today. North Galbadia is like that sometimes. And, by the way, do you really want to mess up that rented car by eating in here?"
"I told you we should just have gone to a breakfast place," Squall mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to the blonde. "Fine, but as soon as I freeze my ass off, I'm leaving," the brunette added, now louder, loosening his sky blue scarf that was way too hot around his throat. The car Seifer had picked a couple of hours ago was quite big and comfortable (Squall had asked, quite irritatedly, how the heck they needed such a big car for just the two of them at which Seifer had just winked suggestively. Squall had then wanted to castrate the blonde with a rocket launcher, but had found that they sadly didn't offer any at said car rental store) and it also had a neat sound system and excellent heating. It looked like that big mamma-jamma of a car had been quite pricey to rent, but Seifer had refused the brunette's offer to pay half of the price. Since Squall wasn't really comfortable with other people throwing presents at him but didn't really lose any sleep over it either, Squall had let Seifer and his choice in cars be, but had compromised that he would be the one to pick the food.
"Don't be such a pussy," Seifer teased. "You know as well as I do that it's not that cold today. And even if you get that cold, I do have some ideas how to change that rather.. enjoyably, y'know."
"Thanks, but no, thanks," Squall spat in reply.
"You're sounding less convincing by the hour."
"Cool. We going now or what?"
"Oh, so we are picnicing after all?"
Squall rested his fingertips against his forehead as if in great pain. "... just shut up, will you?"
"As you wish," Seifer muttered sarcastically, though he seemed a teeny bit frustrated this time. "It's unbelievable, but I'm starting to think you're about as much of a dick as I am."
Squall stayed silent and just looked at Seifer out of bored eyes. The blonde killed the enginge and unfastened his seat belt but didn't break the eye contact with the other man throughout this entire procedure. Seifer, who had thrown some old, a bit tattered brown jacket over the stunningly red shirt he had dressed himself in that morning, had a healthy red tint to his cheek and slightly tousled hair, as well as a more serious expression on his face that emphasized his handsome, very Aryan features. Squall again felt slightly insecure with his girlier features and skinnier body, a feeling quite new to the very much un-vain youth, who had never bothered to compare himself to others and had never bothered with his own appearance much, having lost himself in his own world where nothing but his own thoughts mattered, giving him more comfort than real friends had ever been able to. The only other human being he had ever allowed entrance into his own world had been the one who had so willingly left it few years later, the one who perhaps hadn't even realized what a priviledge had been bestowed upon her. Squall felt a brief shot of pain that soon subsided.
"What's your secret, Squall?"
Seifer's question came so totally out of the blue that it caught Squall off-guard. He whipped his head around to meet Seifer's eyes, his eyebrows laced together in a questioning frown.
"What?" Squall asked frostily, shivering slightly at Seifer's calm, serious face that showed no sign of jest or sarcasm.
"I asked what your secret was, Squall."
Squall looked at him, non-plussed. "What do you mean?"
"You're more than meets the eye," Seifer told him quietly. "Like I am..."
Squall frowned. "Like you are?"
Seifer remained serious for a while and that look that Squall had interpreted as thoughtful before resurfaced on his handsome face. Drumming his slender fingers with the silver ring on his middle finger rhythmically against the steering wheel, it took him a couple of moments to snap out of his musings and when he did, the atmosphere in the car filled with so much awareness of each other's presence that Squall shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Um, I'm getting the blanket and stuff," Seifer said at least, his voice sounding unusually crackly. "Go and get the food out of the boot, m'kay?"
Squall frowned. ".. boot?"
"Or rear trunk for you Balambians," Seifer added sulkily.
"Oh," Squall said, blinking. Oh right, there wasn't only a difference in accent, but also in vocabulary. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again as he saw Seifer turning around on his seat, leaning forwards to fish for the blanket he must had stored somewhere on the backseat. Shrugging, Squall quickly opened the door, got out and got a medium-sized plastic bag out of the trunk which he had filled with relatively cheap supermarket food this noon after having checked out and paid at the hotel. Hey, if Seifer wanted to waste his money on renting an uber-awesome car, then that was his business; Squall saw no point in getting exquisite cusine when supermarket food could taste just as good, especially if you bought all the good stuff. Squall noticed distantly that it really wasn't all that cold. Though it was definitely warmer in the car than it was outside (well, duh) it was in no way uncomfortably cold that day, especially since Squall had dressed warm enough for the worst case scenario that morning. He could see himself staying outside for a while without freezing his balls off, which made for quite the promising outlook.
From his position in front of the so-called 'boot', he watched Seifer spreading a thick, bright red blanket on the grassy spot. Lazily, the brunette strolled over to the blanket and sat down unceremoniously, barely noticing the blonde sitting down opposite of him and staring curiously at the plastic bag Squall was still clutching in his hand. Oh, right. Seifer didn't know what Squall had bought for them. The brunette felt faint amusement crawling inside him as he shoved the bag into Seifer's arms quite rudely, a mischievous glint in his eyes, calmly watching Seifer as Seifer quickly opened the bag with a huge grin drawn across his face, which soon fell when he saw himself confronted by the bag's content.
"What the fuck, Squall?" Seifer exclaimed.
"What?" the brunette cooed innocently. "You don't like it?"
Seifer looked up at Squall. "You want to fucking kill me, kid? You want me to pass out from a sugar high? What the fuck, man?" Seifer shoved the bag back at Squall, his eyes spilling poison.
Squall felt wonderful, sweet amusement blossoming inside him. "What? You don't like candy?"
Seifer looked just about ready to launch at Squall and tear at his throat. "Chocolate and candy for breakfast, Squall? Newsflash; we're not in a stupid chick's flick. Where's my bread, instant coffee and strawberry jam?"
"I like chocolate," Squall stated matter-of-factly.
"Now I definitely know you're a bigger dick than me," Seifer muttered, a very annoyed look on his face.
Though Squall was enjoying Seifer's displeasure, he distinctly felt uneasy at Seifer's annoyance and apparent disappointment. For a long while, neither man said anything and with the time that passed, Squall's discomfort at Seifer's annoyance grew until it had suffocated the amusement that had flared inside him minutes before. He distantly wished he had picked something decent that day instead of buying his preferred breakfast which he had more than suspected Seifer wouldn't like. The blonde stoically watched some birds sailing by and time crawled by with what seemed like a snail's-with-a-broken-leg speed.
"Um.. so would you like a Zungo chocolate bar? A strawberry-flavoured gummi snake?" He looked at Seifer blankly. "A chocolate-covered-"
"Go fuck yourself, will you?" Seifer interrupted.
Squall was genuinely surprised. "Why?"
"I don't eat stuff like that," Seifer said harshly.
Squall frowned. "Never?"
"No," Seifer answered, taking a deep breath, then looking at Squall casually, though there was still a thoughtfullness lingering in there somewhere that caused Squall to pay the blonde man his full attention. "I used to be fat," Seifer said quietly.
"Really?" Squall asked, instantly remembering Seifer's body which his eyes had feasted on just a couple of hours earlier, how tight it had been, how there had been no excess skin like he knew people who lost weight very quickly had to fight against. Seifer's body looked like he had spent training it since a very, very young age, perhaps forever, like he'd always been an avid sportsman.
"Yeah, really," Seifer snorted. "I'm short of thyroxine, which means my metabolism is slower than most people's. I gain weight easily and when I was a young teenager, I went through a heavy depression phase in which I just ate everything I could get my hands on. As a result, I got really fat and stayed that way until..." he trailed off. "Until two years ago," he added briskly, turning away to look at the clear, white clouds slowly flying by above them, making it very clear that this was all he intended to say about the matter.
"I see," Squall said quietly. A long pause followed. "Chocolate is all I eat."
"No wonder you never gained any muscle mass from that junk," Seifer muttered darkly.
"Thank you," Squall answered icily.
"But at least you can get away with it," Seifer said casually. "I always wanted a nicely thin, lean body like yours, free of fat and bulky muscles. The leanness of youth."
Squall made a surprised face at Seifer, one he must have shown so vividly that Seifer broke out into loud laughter. The brunette made a dismayed face at the laughing blonde, not sure whether the compliment he'd just received have been a joke or whether the muscular guy had really meant what he'd said about Squall's skinny teeange body, a body which the brunette had never thought of as being desirable, especially not compared to the fit, ripped physique of Seifer's that showed striking resemblance to the male models Ellione had plastered her now so girly room with. Squall mused that his sister would probably go crazy over a guy like Seifer with his dangerous bad-boy air and his good looks.
"I actually meant what I said," Seifer chuckled. "I do think you have a nice body."
Squall felt oddly honoured but didn't return the compliment. Instead, he silently started to eat a chocolate bar filled with coconut, feeling the familiar, sweet taste of it explode on his tongue, rolling it on his taste buds before he swallowed. It was true that Squall barely ate anything other than chocolate, mainly because he detested the taste of anything that wasn't either really sweet or really sour, particularily everything that was bitter or had little taste or contained meat. The brunette was a strict vegetarian, but not because he loved animals or wanted to make a political statement. He actually didn't give a flying about animal rights (he didn't care for any animals oher than felines anyways) and was politically-inept and widely desinterested. He just happened to dislike the taste of meat, which was why he had stopped eating any at an early age. People often congratulated him on being so strict with his diet and how they too thought that eating fellow creatures was strong, at which Squall only stared at them blankly. He never bothered to explain he wasn't exactly on an ethical crusade, though.
"I'm so hungry," Seifer moaned. "You're such a little bitch, Squall. Where am I supposed to get any food here?"
"I might have some other stuff in one of my bags.." Squall said hesitatingly. He hadn't dared mentioning it before because he didn't want to disappoint the blonde in case he was mistaken. "Some fruit and stuff..."
Seifer made a face so surprised it was eerily funny. "What?" he spat. "Why didn't you say this sooner?"
Squall just stared at him.
"All right, all right, I'm sorry," Seifer raised his hands defensively. "Can you get me some, please?"
Squall nodded, got up and lazily walked towards the rear trunk, fishing his bag out, rummaging through it in the search of an apple or maybe some sort of bread that his mother might've packed him the other day. Since Squall didn't particularily like neither apples nor bread, he never packed any himself, but his mother insisted on him eating some, so she packed him an apple or a banana rather frequently. It was good she didn't know he never even bothered to give these questionable traits to people who appreciated them more and instead just threw them into a trash bin on his way to school. She should have become a nutritionist the way she got her kicks out of lecturing her son on what was healthy for him and what was not.
Feeling the cool surface of a small plastic bag inside his travelling bag, Squall's shoulder relaxed and he let out a content sigh. Pulling it out, he narrowed his eyes to check for its content and couldn't keep a relieved sigh from erupting when he saw that it contained three red, ripe looking apples, apples that he was sure Seifer would appreciate, apples nice and firm and, trusting Raine, of second-to-none quality. Pushing the irksome question that was lingering in his mind out of his head, which was curiously demanding just why exactly he was so glad he could make the other man happy, he casually raised his head – and froze dead in his motions.
Squall's eyes widened and he dropped the apples. His mouth opened as though to say something, to scream, but no sound came out and he took in the winged monster that had suddenly emerged, looking at the brunette boy with beady eyes. Squall was willing to bet his right hand that he had seen nothing but maliciousness in the bird's mean little eyes.
With a cry, the Thrust Avis attacked.
To be continued
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